A little over 15 months ago, I was one long run away from attempting to finish my 30th full marathon. Then I walked into my doctor's office and spent the next 135 days in hospitals.
There were many many moments where I wanted to freak out. I didn't let it happen. I read somewhere that people with conditions like mine needed to mourn for what they lost. There was no fucking way I was going to do that. I wasn't going to start crying, because I was afraid I'd have no reason to stop.
I just changed please give it was insulted my thoughts to the moment to the right. To the moment where I can see the finish line. I don't think I let too many tears out because I still had a focus on forward motion. I had to see.
There I am, only yards away from the finish line of a real 5K. I started 70 minutes early so I finished with everyone else.
I did it to show my kids how strong I can be. I did it with the help of my new friends in the Achilles Running Club, I did it with the help of my old friends in the Prospect Park Track Club. I did it with Larry, Janet and David. I did it in Prospect Park. I did because physical therapists taught me how. I did it under my own power.
Fuck You Guillain-Barré Syndrome.
Fuck You Chronic Inflammatory Demyelinating Polyneuropathy
Fuck You Acute Motor Axonal Neuropathy