It's the journey...

 

 

Last year I wrote about my dream of participating in a marathon and I decided to make that dream a reality this year.  For months I trained, as a matter of fact I trained so hard I injured my foot.

 

For four months I've been seeing a specialist, hoping and praying I would still be able to do the race, and I must admit it was a very bitter pill when I was told not only was doing the marathon out of the questions, but my foot injury had reached a point where I needed surgery...surgery I'm not willing to have until after the Ride to Cure Diabetes in August. 

 

So for the last 6 weeks I've been hobbling around in a walking cast...the giant, bulky, heavy boot that I have to wear until I give in and have the operation. 

 

Instead of giving up on my dream I decided to modify it to something I hoped was a bit more attainable...a 5K race. Normally a 5K would be a piece of cake, after all, before the injury I was walking 10 miles a day, but now every step feels like someone is shoving a knitting needle from the pad of my foot all the way through to the heel...it hurts...BAD!

 

I knew I wouldn't be able to run, but I hoped I would be able to complete the race today in under an hour if I walked at a brisk pace. I knew it would be a challenge, different from the challenge of a marathon but equally difficult given my current situation.

 

So this morning at 5 a.m., Bella, Elma and I woke up and got ready for the big race.  Elma had

changed her registration from the marathon to the 5K so she could walk with me, and Bella was registered for the Kid's Run.

We started about 1/3 of the way back in the line of participants and everything went well for the first 1/2 mile, then we hit the first hill and the angle on my foot was torture.  My pace slowed and soon people were passing by me...but I kept going.

As the race went on I fell further and further behind, and because Elma wanted to stay with me she slowed her pace to match mine.

By the beginning of the second mile I was trying not to cry...every step hurt more than I could have imagined it would and I honestly didn't know if I'd make it to the finish line, but then a wonderful thing happened...in the distance I saw the big inflatable finish line like a beacon in the night. As I went into the last half mile I knew my foot would literally have to fall off before I'd quit the race. It no longer mattered what my time was or if I finished dead last...I just needed to complete the journey.

As I walked that last mile I thought this must be what it's like for people with Type 1. A cure is in sight but still feels so far away. Our T1s struggle every day, but they never give up, never give in. They're in it to win it and win it they shall.  It may take longer than we'd hoped, it may be painful, there may even be days we want to throw in the towel, but our diabetic community is stronger than that, braver than that, more stubborn.  Giving up is NOT an option.

I finished the race today, coming in at 1 hour, 2 minutes...not bad for a limping woman in a cast, and miracle of miracles I wasn't the last person.  As I crossed the finish line the tears started flowing because I realized I was stronger than I thought, stronger than people give me credit for...just like my daughter and all the other people with diabetes.

So even though I had to modify my dream I now realize it was never about the mileage, it was about the journey. It's about challenging yourself then rising up and meeting that challenge head on.

Today a 5K...in August the 100 mile Ride to Cure...and hopefully soon...a CURE!