Day 22: Don't Say That

"I can't do this," I panted.

"DON'T SAY THAT!" She barked it at me almost automatically. And the force of her voice instantly made me reconsider my negativity. So I kept going.

I ran 3 miles today! Well...I jogged/walked three miles today. But I jogged more than I walked, so I call it success. My goal is to spend the next couple of weeks tackling those same 3 miles until I can run all of them without taking a walking break. But OH MY there are some gargantuan hills on those 3 miles, so this will be quite an accomplishment on my part.

I am not a runner. I can ride a bike for miles, or do a non stop extreme cardio class. But running instantly causes my muscles to seize up in sheer panic, and even if my brain says, "RUN HEIFER," my body seems to respond, "Eh...maybe another time."

But she would have none of that. She, of course, being my friend Emily. She has been around for my whole life, although it has really only been in the last 5 or 6 years that we've known each other on a deeply personal level. We have an extremely low maintenance friendship where we can go for months without a conversation but then pick back up like no time had passed. And she's on the list of people who I know beyond a shadow of a doubt has my back. I love her.

She inspires me. She is a rock solid fitness and nutrition guru. She has more marathon medals than I have toes, and she is one of those moms who feeds her children homemade peanut butter and dried fruit that she made in a food dehydrator. (I used to pick on her for depriving her child of the glory of sugary treats and tried to convince her one time that kids were cruel. I just knew they would collectively pick on the little girl that brought cottage cheese in her lunch in a piece of Tupperware. Emily scoffed at this as obviously, her child would not be caught dead eating out of a piece of chemical leaching Tupperware.) And I'm convinced that when, years ago, brain cancer invaded her body, the deadly cells encountered her endorphins of steel and quickly plotted their escape route having realized that they had obviously attempted to mess with the wrong broad.

I hope I'm more like her when I grow up. So when someone like that barks at you, "Don't say that," you stop saying that and you keep going.

I kept going. And I did it.

I'm starting to believe I can do anything.