Everybody Dance Now

My grandma, Lillian, was hospitalized and was not doing well the day I ran my 2nd Half Marathon. I remember feeling so angry. I was being ripped off! Over the last several years, in my early adulthood, I had been growing connectedness with her. She was tough, and sarcastic, but warm and tender-hearted when she allowed you into her world. She had a story I hadn’t gotten to know in full, and I knew she held the magic I needed as I grew into adulthood. The morning of that race, we knew she wasn’t going to be here much longer. And I was pissed!

It was so rainy that morning, and as I walked across the bridge to the start line, the rain was moving sideways by the wind and shooting directly at my body as if I was its target. My socks were already soaked, and I could already feel the blisters that were going to form during my run. I took my dripping self to the start line, got my Ipod (it was 2010, so that was still cool) on my running playlist, and desperately tried to shield it from the rain.

The race began and it was a terrible start to a half marathon with thousands of runners kicking up water and mud. My body was uncomfortable and wet, and about mile 5, the sun began to come out radiating the heat. My body was its own sauna surrounded by thousands of other personalized saunas. But, emotionally, I was a little numb. I hadn’t slept much the night before due to anxiety, sadness, and anger toward what seemed inevitable with my grandma’s future, or lack thereof.

When I reached mile 7, my Ipod, full of moisture, could no longer control itself and just played whatever it wanted, and due to the moisture, I had no control. So it was playing songs that weren’t motivating at all, and advancing my annoyance with everything going on around me. Full of displeasure with the music selection, I pulled my earbuds out as I approached the biggest hill on the race route. It is almost a half mile of straight elevation, it’s not fun, even for the most advanced runner.

I looked up at this hill, which was the breaking point of my anger. I audibly let out the biggest exhale. I could hear other runners complain to their friends about this hill and heard them decide with their running partners to walk. Many around me talking about quitting. I was so sick of the negative at this point, I stuck my earbuds in, turned up the music to draw out every negative word being muttered, and decided to get this moment over with. The music blared “Everybody Dance Now” by C & C Music Factory, which is ridiculous, as I looked down at my feet picking them up and moving them faster and faster to get this part over with. As I sprinted up this hill, in complete agony, thinking about the rage that surrounded my relationship with my grandma ending far too soon, tears came to my eyes with full ignition. My feet moved faster and faster. I felt charged up and powerful when I got to the top of the hill, conquering this piece of the challenge.

I have no idea my time in that race, I don’t remember any of it after that moment. But, it was at that moment I knew running could be a vehicle for me to literally process anything. It was cathartic and powerful.

Years later, after being diagnosed with Stage 2 Triple Negative Breast Cancer, I asked my oncologist, “But can I run?”

I knew everything would be okay if I could just run through all this. He didn’t say no, but he didn’t say yes. The drugs I went on during chemo could cause damage to my heart, and watching my heart rate was important. So, I was allowed to be active, but with caution. Feeling defeated to not do what I wanted, I began walking. I walked mile after mile craving that rush of endorphins. Some days I walked 8 or 9 miles. It didn’t matter how far I walked, I struggled to receive what I wanted most.

A month after I completed chemo, I was scheduled for a bilateral mastectomy. In addition, I had six lymph nodes removed. I suffered lots of nerve damage and very little mobility. My chest was held together with stitches and glue, and I was left with 2 drainage tubes that collected body fluid and blood that we needed to squeeze out twice a day. This was the most uncomfortable thing. I was told while I had the drains, I needed to be careful, short and slow walks were a good idea, but to be careful. It was agony.

Exactly ten days after surgery, my drains were literally tugged out of my body, and I was told to resume whatever activities I wanted to do and to follow my body’s lead. I took a walk that day and the following. But 12 days after surgery, with stitches and glue still holding my chest together where my breast used to be, I struggled to put on some running clothes, determined to try.

Breathing in the therapy the outside air gave me, I remember the resistance of my left arm, as it couldn’t move in its normal range. I remember the shooting pains that would come from my shoulder down to my elbow. I remember the numbness my shoulder blade and chest felt with every vibration my body absorbed as my foot hit the ground.

I was running along a busy street. People were passing, cars were flying by me, and no one knew my body was missing pieces and I was rebounding from a major surgery. I couldn’t have run far that day, but the feeling of achievement held a reminiscence of that hill I ran up all pissed off years and years before this.

I was given, in that run, control over my body in many ways I hadn’t had in months. Prior, the vehicle I used for over a decade to process stressful events was taken away during the most traumatic part of my life, but I was getting it back! It gifted me hope of feeling more human and less of a twisted biology experiment.

I run differently now. I run with a stupid smile plastered on my face. I run sometimes singing (usually P!nk, TLC, Lizzo, or really any other smartass woman I appreciate). And the best part of my runs includes a moment when I want to quit. And I rapidly remind myself, of a period of time I was forced to quit, and it wasn’t my choice at all. Now, I control how fast, how far, what location, and, unlike the rainy half marathon, what songs I listen to. But, everyone SHOULD dance now!