Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Third Person Memory: Race for The Rose's

Today's WEGO blog challenge was to write about a memory in third person. So, no usage of "I" or "me" when describing the memory.

The memory is of one not too long ago.

In September 2011, she was hospitalized to treat a complication from Cystic Fibrosis, pulmonary hemoptysis. After being released from the hospital she worked slowly to regain lost lung function. Her method was to be mindful and methodical about each exercise as to not cause further damage to her tender lungs. Over the months she battled a few bouts of the common cold, each time making sure to increase her nebulizers by adding one additional treatment per day as well as modifying her workouts. She could have given up. She could have said I have to much on my plate as it is. She could have placed her running shoes in the junk closet. To be honest, most people would not have blamed her. Most would have thought she was still strong. But she didn't though, she never threw her hands in the air gesturing submission. Giving into CF was not an option; no way, no how.

She continued to push on. Taking two steps forward and not letting the one step back detour her. As time went on she gained much strength and stamina. Her lungs were finally able to withstand a little hard work. She finally was able to run 2 miles none stop. As weeks pasted she built upon those 2 miles, adding a tenth to a quarter mile each week.

On April 1st, as she waited with the thousands at the start line at the Race for The Rose's, tears weld up in her blue eyes and trickled down her freckled face. Tears of jubilation. Tears for all those who have lost their battle with CF. Tears of recognition of how blessed she is to be standing at the start line about to run for the next for 35-40 minutes.

Running the 5k was more about her raw determination than anything else. Her ability to dig deep mustering what little strength the CF left her to complete her goal rather than a goal place upon her because of the CF. As her foot touch the finished she looked over at her husband beaming with pride. No feat is too large. At least in that moment.


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