Training Session #26- July 1: Keep Your Head Up
In 2013 I was diagnosed with sarcoidosis, an autoimmune disorder that chewed a hole in my cerebellum, atrophied various muscles, impaired my vision, balance, coordination and consequently stole my ability to run. I have dedicated the summer of 2018 to regaining my strength, coordination, balance, and relearning how to run. I am participating in a 5k run on September 23rd in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This is my training journal. This is my attempt to grow physically strong again.
Write on. Fight on.
The previous training sessions can be found here, under “Fight on- Summer Training Log”
5:40 am to 7:00 am
Outdoor- 77 degrees
*This week I’m training in Wildwood, New Jersey.
No hurry. No pause.
1 hour and 5 minutes of walking/jogging intervals. Today’s training also included:
- 60 push-ups
- 60 squats
- 40 calf raises (each leg) on the bench below
- 40 step-ups (each leg) on the bench below
A 1 minute run finale. I wanted to close training with a 1 minute run. This was much harder than I anticipated. I failed in the first two attempts. I ran for 54 seconds each time. However, it wasn’t until the third attempt that I succeeded in running for 1 straight minute.
Quote I’m Thinking about Today:
“…earlier generations faced worse problems with fewer safety nets and fewer tools. They dealt with the same obstacles we have today plus the ones they worked so hard to try to eliminate for their children and others. And yet… we’re still stuck.”~ Ryan Holiday
Early in training I was jogging with my head down, avoiding eye contact with other runners. Runners who kept a quicker pace. Who had better form. Who ran with confidence and poise. Who made running easy and effortless.
In the final 15 minutes of training I decided to run with my head up, eyes focused on the path ahead. And even though I was tired and hot, it felt good. My pace didn’t quicken, my strides didn’t lengthen. But it felt good to run with my head up–I deserved to run with my head up.
A few strides later, another runner, a short, blonde haired woman wearing a pink shirt stamped with the white words ” I Survived” inside a heart, smiled and said “Hello” as I passed.
And if you want to know the truth–it felt good to be acknowledged.
From Yesterday’s Training Session:
For almost five years I accepted my limitations. I believed in my illness more than I believed in myself. My illness stole my abilities, my confidence, my toughness. It emasculated me and quieted my spirit. I was only in my mid-30’s and I was just surviving.