Yesterday morning told myself I would run when I got home that evening. Round efficiently. Get home and get it done. On my calendar, check.
Day turned long, at the hospital until after 7. Still work to do that night. Hungry. Needed sleep. Many reasons not to run.
Calculated the time in my head. It was still possible.
But still, possible to catch up another day, to recover. What the mind and heart agreed on in the morning the mind was now starting to fade.
Then it happened again.
I thought of those who have been walking, riding, running and overcoming obstacles in the Race of Our Lives with our team. I thought of Janet and Diane, Kathleen, and PH Peddler Josh. I thought about the many people organizing their own challenges and literally taking this path along with us.
And I thought about "PHriends" living with pulmonary hypertension. Some fortunate, responding to medicines, living a limitless life. Others have days when I am sure their heart and mind live in different places. Yet although easier not to take on that day's challenge - whether it be work, taking kids to school, going to the store, or exercise (Unity event or daily life), they do. People living with - but certainly not overcome by - PH.
Together we are all reaching out into our communities.
Raising a blue and yellow banner from our hearts that most certainly says "We will not give up."
Yeah, so it happened again. Remembering those in the Race of Our Lives rejoined my mind and heart. I laced up my running shoes and stepped out into the crisp 32-degree night.
On my run I noticed the bright moon in its huge sky and realized the vastness of that space, the beauty of that moment, and the smallness of my being within it.
It's not just about the bike. It's not even about the race. It is much much bigger than that.
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