Run Forrest Run.....

I have been a runner my whole life.

Running in the sense, I land at Terminal A in Atlanta Hartfield Airport and have to be at Terminal C in twenty minutes. This inspires and all out sprint.

Running from the guy I thought was such a great catch and turns out to be a total pysco.And running from the guy who turns out to be just what I want in a man.This inspires a light jog or trot.

Running to the 75% percent off sale at Target.This inspires a quick walk that turns into a speed walk.

Each year I dutifully attend the NYC Marathon to cheer on thousands of people I do not know.And I cry as they turn the corner on Columbus Ave going into their 25 th mile. Exhausted, tired, their body and mind starting to give way to fatigue. Their sheer will and determination and pride has always left me thinking " next year for SURE I am running the marathon".

Ten months ago my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. In an advanced stage she was going to require care and support as she took on a battle that we all surely felt she would win.In caring for her, I discovered my love of the local YMCA. I soon found myself circling the treadmill. Eyeing it's running belt, hearing it beep and boop as time and acceleration ticked away.

I stepped on. I could not run longer then three minutes straight.That's fine I thought, everyone starts someplace. The next day, after a particularly trying day with mymother, I found myself thinking of my friend the treadmill. On it I jumped. I made it 5 minutes.

Early into my Mothers battle with cancer my sister and I entered a 5 K race. I found at mile 2, I could not breath. And started to panic. I thought of my Mother whose breath was being shortened everyday by this cancer spreading in her body. I thought how determined she was to make her body work stronger and better.
I finished the race.

I will never be a Kenyan runner. I will never break great records. But every week, every month my time gets better and my endurance grows.And my mind and heart heal as I pound away the anger and frustration on the conveyor belt of comfort.

This weekend my sister and I entered the Disney Princess 5 K. I'll be out there, not trieng to better my time or win my age group, but to breath for my little bird who no longer can breath for herself, my Mom.

OH and my 11 yr old niece reminded me this morning that I am more evil stepsister then Disney Princess...well if the shoe fits as my girl Cinderella so wonderfully stated!