As I try to discover “normal,” in my newly-evolved life, it seems only natural to resume my quest for Boston Qualification (BQ). For those who new Tom, and perhaps have not known me for any period of time, it may sound strange that I am already to the point of persuing my goals again. I won’t begin to think that I could ever explain so that you might understand the importance that running has played in my life; you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Tom was still in the hospital, and we were still trying to wrap our heads around the idea of how our lives were to change in the future. My training as a nurse provided a little too much information than we really wanted to examine. Cancer that had already spread to his brain *had* to be a fight that realistically could not be beat. We guessed that he might have about 6 months left on earth with us.

Tom did not want to undergo the suffering of chemotherapy if it only yielded a few months extension of his life. He wanted to try to continue on as long as the disease would let him and create some more fun memories with the kids and myself. In the interim, we had much to discuss.

One night, he sat with the kids to explain the results of tests that confirmed our fears. At that time, we were told that he might have “a little less than 1 year” to live. As to the quality of that year, we were unsure, but he planned to undergo the palliative treatments with the hopes that he could retain some normalcy for a longer period of time.

Through the tears, Tom told the kids that he was going to be dying, that he loved them. He said that he wanted us to continue our lives with more dedication to our relationships with eachother and our goals than ever before. To the kids’ relationship as brothers, he reminded them that they would always have each other and stressed that it was important to stay close. He asked that the kids continue their sports (football, baseball, etc) and to support my need to run as well. He stressed the importance, “If your Mom doesn’t get her run, she will be a b!tch.” I didn’t try to correct him; he was right.

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Saturday morning there were no excuses. DD was home and the kids were still sleeping. I pulled on my running clothes and began to prepare my mind for a run. When I found that myPod was drained of all energy, I reached for hisPod. I plugged in the first set of headphones that I could find but no sound was to be heard. I found another pair of headphones, but still no sound.

I sat in a chair and contemplated skipping the run all together. I had planned for some music to distract me from my thoughts, but clearly that was not going to happen.

After a bit, I gave in. My return to running was overdue. I headed out the door with Garminia strapped to my wrist and, together, we began running a familiar 5 mile loop.

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I am not really one to panic. Sure, I stress about things as much as anyone else. Maybe even more. I had considered that my event during the dog run-around-the-block incident was induced by the stuff blowing around in the air. There had been a guy with a blower whose debris seemed to get caught in my throat. So, I really didn’t think much of heading down the street for another brief run. I did need a break from it all.

I wasn’t more than a quarter mile from my home, however, when I began to feel the same feeling coming on. Panic was raging through my body and I was hungry for air. “Oh, NO,” I thought, “this can’t paralyze me.” I slowed up, but kept running. I kept telling myself that I could get through this and that it would be okay if he died when I wasn’t there. I’m more than ready for it. I think that we all are.

But something is not yet done. Something has yet to occur. So today, I pushed through the panic and made myself get away for a while.

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