TheBanyanTree: Running Thoughts

[Maria Gibson]

I stopped running about a year and a half ago.  I had been running for a
few months and was even training to run a 3k for breast cancer when I
had a little, mmmm, incident involving an ambulance.  Apparently, I have
a propensity to develop anaphylaxis when I exercise vigorously.  Sure
enough, going at it on a treadmill and the hives kicked in closely
followed by the dizziness and trouble breathing.  Never heard of
exercise induced anaphylaxis?  You are in good company, my friend.  The
only one who had ever heard of such a thing was the allergist and she'd
never seen a case subject up close and personal before I landed on her
doorstep.  Layfolk and doctors alike have looked at me as if I am nuts
when I say it.

I all but quit exercising.  Thinking you could maybe might possibly die
from it can do that.  Then this summer I had such a good time hiking and
bike riding and walking while on vacation that I began to slowly get
back into it.  Especially since 'it' has happened a few more times but
I've learned to read the signs, quit doing whatever triggered it and, if
it doesn't back off, take benedryl.  What am I gonna do...be afraid to
get my heart rate up forever and ever, amen?

I've been running again.  And this time it's a little different.  First
of all, I'm a good 40 pounds lighter.  Imagine running with big squishy
sandbags bouncing off yer butt and that is what it was to run, before.
It's amazingly easier now without that annoying butt bounce, I just
can't quite believe it.  I've actually hit 182 and am about to be out of
a size 12 and into a 10.  Wow.  Zowie.  Is it real?  My therapist
Barbara....

....yes, I've begun therapy.  Unless you actually get around to losing
108 pounds (is that number for REAL???) you can't know how incredibly
stressful it can be, in ways you might not imagine.  Just conversely but
not exclusively I told her that I've been fantasizing
about....some...er, men.  It totally isn't about Randy, my current sex
life or a wish or a desire to cheat.  However, I wonder.  She says I'm
normal and guys don't have angst over it and they do it quite a bit.
Hmm.  Anyway, that was the subject last week.  It changes.  I probably
won't keep you posted, just know that I've had to seek help.....

....is really helping me to get to know this body.  Because it surely
looks and feels like someone else's body.  I won't, however,
be returning it.  So, anyway, I'm running again.  Truly, it's amazing.
Like when I run into the back of our subdivision and get away from the
sounds of the highway I unfortunately live next to.  I went there this
evening and as the sounds of traffic faded I became very in tune with
the sounds I was making.  My breathing, not labored but steadily heavy.
My shoes chunk-chunked in a nice rythym changing only as I had to go up
or downhill.  I heard the sounds cars make when they sit in the driveway
cooling, ticking their pleasure at having arrived.  Families cooked
dinner in cozy looking houses as dusk deepened, the cooler night air
coming in with the scent of late blooming flowers hanging on for dear
life.  I breathed; in, out, in, out, in, out and chunk-chunked and was
on auto pilot in a world of pure pleasure.  I do it because I can, I can
because I do it.  I love being able to do it at all.  I had a problem to
think about, a question for my Father.  Take the job?  Don't take the
job?  Are gut instincts prayer answers?  It was totally relaxing to
breath and chunk and pray all as I ran.

I get sweaty in a whole new way.  Running sweat is different, it flows
freer or something, I can't explain it.  It's tangy, bitter and musky as
I lift my arm to wipe sweat from my brow, my day's makeup staining my
shirt because I don't take it off before I exercise.  What's the point?
My shirts can't quite soak the sweat up because most of them are way,
way too big. I look way goofy going down the road; not fleetingly, not
swiftly, not....gracefully.  Peacefully, happily, contentedly.  Slowly.
In big flopping shirts and cropped pants.  Socks inside out and rolled
down.  Tangy sweat in my eyes and sinus drainage trying desperately for
my mouth.  The tissues I carry along become tattered and ragged and if I
forget tissue then I have unsightly shoulders.  Still, happily.

I ran up the hill toward home thinking that I might actually get to
writing all these thoughts down.  Many times I think about it but I
don't actually sit down for the task.  I love the way I cool down as I
walk around the cul-de-sac a few times, thinking about writing my
thoughts down, wondering who might read them.  My skin feels flushed and
hot on the surface but with a distinct cooling sensation.  Winding down,
coming back.  Running me returning to earth from glorious flight.
Ticking my pleasure at having arrived.  Writing me trying to remember
all the sensations.  Mom me planning dinner.

Turns out, I guess, that oh-so-long-ago, a diagnosis of diabetes wasn't
such a bad thing after all.  I used it as a tool rather than a crutch or
an excuse.  My life has changed and all for the better.  I have made the
lemonade and it is good.

Maria