Melissa's 300lb. plan

My former running partner, Melissa, jokingly refers to her food and exercise routine as the 300lb plan for it's inconsistency and her lack of motivation. I've been on that plan since January 10th, the day after the Disney Marathon. I've basically stopped running. Oh about once a week, I force myself on to the dreadmill to try and convince myself I haven't totally abandoned running, but my heart just isn't in it. I'm now trying to decide "Am I a runner?"

I've never run for the pure joy it brings me. I started running because Melissa and I got bored with walking and she said "Hey, I have this run/walk plan to do a 5K." That was in 2005. I kept running on and off over the past 5 years to help me deal with the stress of Jim's illness and grief of his death. Then I ran to complete the marathon we planned to do together - some unfinished business with Jim. Now I feel like I'm done. I don't see anything there for me now. I've never been an athlete. I'm a back-of-the-packer. I've never cared about becoming faster. Oh sure, the competitor in me does try and beat a previous time at races, but for the most part, running was just plodding along trying to go a particular distance.

I've considered that this is depression talking. It's still cold and icy outside. The sun looks inviting, deceiving you into believing it's not frigid out. You open the door and get that blast of cold reality. I have three friends within the past two months diagnosed with cancer - all beginning that difficult journey in treatment; one for the second time. The cancer door has been opened again. The cold, frigid air chilling me to the bones.

Maybe someday soon, the Spring warmth will entice me onto the roads again. Mother Nature will once again beckon me with her promise of growth and renewal. "Come" she'll say, "Let me soothe your hurt." But for now, I just want to hunker down against this icy blast...trying to keep my heart and soul from freezing up, and wondering "Am I a runner?"

I'm tired and I want it to stop

In 2006, my brother was diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer. He fought for a year before the beast won. It was an awful year. The stress of waiting for test results. The highs when treatment was working. The lows when treatment stopped working. The fear of the unknown - What's next? What's left to try? Can we win? The nightmares, the cold sweats, the panic. One would believe that once you lose the battle, taking the one you love, that cancer moves on. But cancer truly sucks. Once it invades your life, it doesn't ever let go. You're changed by it. It becomes part of your subconscious, ready to jump to your conscious thoughts at any second. The pain courses through your veins, lying in wait to seize up your heart. Every time you hear of someone with a cancer diagnosis, your feel for them and their families. You know the fight against the beast is difficult, tiring, painful, and it now has more people in its clutches. Your heart breaks. Cancer chips another little piece of your heart. It leaves another wound.

I want it to stop hurting the people I know and love. I want it to go away. I'm tired and I want it to stop.