Sunday, September 20, 2009
Sometimes, when I should really be sleeping, at a late, late, too late hour, I get a hankering for mini-wheats. Because they taste so good, they can't be beat. Right now, I want mini-wheats. So that is exactly what I am going to have.
Sometimes, when I should really be sleeping, I shouldn't really be sleeping at all. Because life is too short to pass up a bowl of mini-wheats because you are too afraid to wake up tired.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
I said I would run 5 kilometers this morning at the Terry Fox Run. At least, that was what I said. And with pride when I decided it. But when I reached the 2.5 km turn around sign I kept going. My legs didn't do a 180 degree turn around and I didn't head back to the finish line. Not yet. Because I decided, within a few minutes, that I was going to run the 10 km run.
The reasons are plentiful. I woke up this morning entirely excited and nervous to do my first run. I had been 'training' - if you would like to call it - running just under 5 km and thought that I could handle that distance. But as I was getting ready for the run, I had a small breakfast and turned on the news. I was doing my stretches and on CBC they ran a special about Terry Fox.
He ran a marathon a day. He ran 42 km per day, for 143 days. And he ran it with just one leg. If I can just interject math into this for one second, Terry Fox ran over 5,000 km in less than 6 months. And all the while he did it without complaint - a 22-year-old man who faced cancer head on and decided that it would not hinder his dreams. I know this sounds cliche, but in all seriousness, it is blatantly true.
After listening to what the news was saying about him, I couldn't imagine not completing the full run. I have both of my legs, I don't have cancer in my lungs or in my body, and I am not held back in any way other than by laziness.
And as I passed the 2.5 km mark, and then the 5 km mark, and back around to the 8 km mark, and finally to the finish line, picking up speed just to pass under the sign that reads 'Terry Fox, Marathon of Hope' I felt entirely overwhelmed and happier than I have felt in a very long time.
I raised $145, and my legs felt like rubber, and the second I walked under that banner I felt weak and ready to fall straight to the ground, but I ran. And I would do it again without any hesitation.
Monday, September 7, 2009
I can't believe I haven't written this before, but last week, after repeatedly running past signs labeled "Terry Fox Run, Sept. 13" for the past six days, I decided I am going to raise money and run in the Terry Fox Run.
I've never done it before. Independently, I mean. Of course every high school student is required to run - or in most cases, trudge slowly down the main street with a sullen look upon their face - but I've never voluntarily run for a good cause.
So I signed up for the run, and for the past week I've sweated and practically hoped that I wouldn't trip over a rock and end up flattening my dreams of running for a purpose that has nothing to do with getting into shape.
But I believe it's more than just that. There is something... encouraging, even inspiring, about running for someone or something other than yourself. Because I don't feel any sense of selfishness. I feel like, for all of the people I've known that have suffered from cancer - the friends, the family, the acquaintance - I'm actually doing something that is a little productive.
And I don't mean to sound boastful, or egotistical. I am just happy because next Sunday, when I run 5 kilometers, I'll be doing it for my grandparents, and my uncles, and for my mom and dad, who have seen so many of their loved ones taken away because of cancer. And of course, I'll be doing it for Terry Fox.
Friday, September 4, 2009
The last week and a half have been... intense. First, my sister and I had to pack up all of our belongings and take a leap of faith, heading back to Vancouver and Victoria for school. Sister is going to UVIC, I am going back to Kwantlen to finish my degree.
My mom and dad helped us in the move, and I am now finally sitting in my own place, on my own couch, in front of my own television and cooking in my own kitchen. And I don't think anything has ever felt so good, so independent.
I've never been on my own. If i wasn't living at home with my parents, I was renting a room in someone else's house. If I wasn't renting a room, I was bunking with my boyfriend's parents. I've never fully been able to appreciate the quiet, the personal space of my own place. And now I am!
It feels great. I baked my first pie the other day, I've decorated how I want to decorate, and no one can come in and tell me to change it, to move this here and suggest I do that. It is liberating. And furthermore, I can't wait for the day I actually come to own a home, I can only imagine that independence would increase.
For those of you who read my blog, thank you, because I'm not sure too many people do. But I will still write!