Racing While You Wait

And why I have the best cheering section

The first 5K race that I ran was the Angels Among Us event on the Duke University campus. To say that I am not a gifted runner would be an understatement. In fact, my running might better be described as “plodding at pace.” But I had trained and tried to prepare for the 5K, and moved off the start line with my back-of-the-pack plodders with a mix of nerves and excitement. 

No meme has ever been more true of me.

About a mile in, I plodded past a group of college-age girls who had slowed to a walk. “I am SO tired! How much longer is this??” I heard one moan. I gave myself a congratulatory pat on the back: “Look at you, running past the 20-year-olds! You are awesome!” Not even two minutes later, a woman who appeared to be twice my age zipped past me … race-walking. OK—so maybe my running is not exactly awesome. [Bonus life tip #1: Learn to run your own race! Someone else will always be slower or faster.] A little over two miles in, there was an enormous mountain that you had to summit. Or at least it felt like that to me—in truth, it was just a longish hill, but I was really flagging at that point. Just over the halfway point of that hill/mountain, I heard people cheering me on. My neighbors, who both ran track and cross-country at university and who were already finished with the race, had staked out a spot on the hill to cheer for me. [Bonus life tip #2: Cheer for the people behind you! You never know how much someone might need to hear that encouragement.] 

Finally I reached the final stretch, a gentle slope downhill with a left turn into the stadium parking lot and the finish line. I was going to finish this race with gusto. I had saved up just enough energy to power through that finish line and look like a real runner. I picked up speed, turned left … and the finish line was still another 400 meters away. I had misread the route map and didn’t realize the finish line was farther into the parking lot. I wanted to cry. I wanted to stop. What I really wanted was the feeling of sailing across the finish line like a real runner, and now I was out of breath with jelly legs and I was just going to have to be happy with a gasping, plodding, finish.

Racing While You Wait 

This week has felt like that 5K race. We’re still waiting for scan results. But while we’re waiting, the radiotherapy has been reminding me, “Hey, you haven’t actually crossed this finish line! You’ve got more gasping and plodding to do!” 

The oncology and radiology teams are very clear when you finish the treatment sessions: The radiotherapy is going to continue to work, with both good and bad effects. Good: You hope that it’s continuing to shrink the tumor. Bad: The irritation and inflammation from treatment are going to continue to increase for the next 7 to 10 days. I understand and nod along. 

But it has still been frustrating to think I was about to cross the finish line on this phase, and then have a huge inflammation surge that has created pressure on my spinal cord and made walking very difficult. (My hobbled tortoise impression has degenerated to a drunken Herman Munster.) We’ve adjusted my medication to address it, and every day now feels like a race between whether the inflammation or the medication will peak first. The painful irritation has also increased, which mostly affects how much I can use my right arm. And I’m more tired—which, again, the team told me this would happen! But somehow I still thought that maybe I’d have energy for seeing friends, or doing things around the house, or going outside … and I do not. 

That frustration has been in a race against joy all week. That deep kernel of joy still flickers, mostly as moments of gratitude. I am so frustrated by my limited mobility—but I am so grateful that I am still able to have the gift of time at home, even if it is confined to a chair, where I can be with my family and work and laugh at my silly dogs. I am frustrated when there’s an irritation surge and pain that makes it difficult to move—but I am so grateful that my medical team has been checking on me regularly and attentively monitoring my situation. 

And I’m grateful for all the people on the side of this longish hill who keep cheering me on. Even though I’m in this race right now mostly confined to a chair in my house, I have never felt alone. That has been one of the greatest joys, and it has washed over me in waves this week—when I read the cards and messages and notes and prayers, and when I smile at all the photos of shoes and babies and pets, and when my sweet husband helps me hobble to my chair and then makes sure I stay fed and have everything I need to make it through the day at home. 

I want the medication to win over the inflammation. I want the radiotherapy to win over the tumor. I want joy to win over frustration. I might gasp and plod, but I want to keep moving.

---

Being Cheered by the Ascension of Jesus

Last Thursday was Ascension Day, the day in the church calendar that celebrates Jesus’ ascension into heaven. This gets less much less attention and observance than I think it deserves. I love Ascension Day, for several reasons: 

• In German, it’s Christi Himmelfahrt, and that never fails to make me smile. I love German. It’s also an official holiday in Germany. Years ago when we lived there, friends invited us over for a backyard picnic on Christi Himmelfahrt, and they were slightly horrified that we said we could come over after work. Work?! It’s a holiday! What kind of deranged Americans are working on a holiday! Especially Christians on a Christian holiday! They thought we, of all people, would observing the day in some way. That challenge to our priorities and assumptions about how we order our time has stuck with me. 

• The Ascension means that Jesus has taken his resurrected body into heaven, and he is now interceding on our behalf before the throne of God. You can’t beat that for a cheering section! 

• In this present time, the Ascension has had special significance for me. Several people have sent me prayers and notes that have been especially meaningful. Here is one: 
  I wanted you to know that I remain in prayer for you. Last week, on the day of the Ascension, I prayed that our risen Lord would intercede for you before the throne of grace and send down another comforter. May the Holy Spirit rest and abide in you.

When I am stumbling—both in my body over my own feet and in my spirit over my  frustration—Jesus is still loving and still interceding. 

---

Pet Photos of the Day

It’s a tie for dog photo of the day between Lily, in St. Louis, Mo., and Ruby, in Rochester, N.Y. 

Yes, Lily, this is a very good expression of how I feel.

It’s a miniature schnauzer looking bashful in a hat. Of course I love this!

---