I will not be running the San Diego Marathon even though I completed EVERY BIT of the training. MONTHS of preparation. It’s like a conspiracy.
I am sick again. Deborah is sick again. Between us we probably don’t even have an intact immune system combined.
While my Leukemia and Lymphoma Society cohort will be running the marathon on Cancer Survivor’s Day, June 4, I will be waiting for a message from my doctors as to whether I have bacterial, viral, or fungal infections. I cannot even imagine making the drive to San Diego. Besides, Deborah is so desperately sick that I will not leave her alone. We lie in bed together and wait out the long, worthless days.
With my compromised system, every infection is a serious deal, and it will take weeks for me to recover – such as recovery is. That means that it will take months to get back to attempting a marathon distance.
Time to get a grip on things. I should know what readers of this blog may know, that I'll constructively wallow for a while, become intolerable, and then one day I will find myself lacing up my shoes, and again set about trying to become my own hero. Really, we all should. And therein is the uncomfortable blessing of epic failure.