3 Years Later: Why I'm Really Running That 5k

{Today is the 3rd anniversary of my open heart surgery. It is a very emotional day for me, and as a result, this post is quite personal. I wrote this post over a month ago in preparation for my surgiversary because deciding to run a 5k was such a huge deal for me. Not too long after finishing this post, I had an atrial fibrillation cardiac event which occurred on September 18th and landed me an overnight stay in the hospital. Because we aren't exactly sure why it happened, or what, if anything, contributed to the event, I chose to give up caffeine and, to my great dismay, running. However, I still feel like this is a relevant and powerful post for me and I still very much want to share it. It speaks to my current mind-set, where I want to be emotionally, and what I want my focus to be on: the positives. Last year, I would have seen this cardiac event and the subsequent choice to stop running as a failure: my body once again letting me down. What happened last month did indeed unnerve me a great deal and I am working on processing those feelings and emotions accordingly, but this isn't a failure. Instead, I like to see it as a change of plans. There are plenty of other ways I can show myself that I'm strong and healthy. I hope to one day resume my goal of running a 5k, but for now, thank you for reading but most especially and importantly, for being in my life.}

Three years ago today, October 29th, 2009, I had my chest sliced open, my sternum broken, and my heart operated on. I have always struggled with anxiety but following that day, anxiety became an every day reality for me. It's very common for open heart surgery patients to develop anxiety issues, depression, insomnia (which I also experienced but thankfully, that didn't hang on all that long), etc but for me, anxiety and fear-fueled emotions skyrocketed. Instead of fighting against the negativity, I started allowing my fears to control my life. I found myself starting too many sentences with "What if..." and started retreating in to myself. I was afraid to try new things because I didn't want to fail but in the process, what I really did was fail to LIVE. Successes and failures are a part of life and I ceased to have either, because I wasn't really living. I was treading water.

I swore to myself, bargained with God even, that if I survived the surgery I would really appreciate my life. I would learn to count my blessings, and notice the small things because in the end, the small things are indeed the big things. I promised to be better, live better, stop being afraid all the time. My recovery was hard. It kicked me down a lot and I kept getting back up again but I was tired. I was angry. I didn't want to be an inspiration, I didn't want to have to be strong anymore, I just wanted to be ME again. Wanted to go back to feeling normal, feeling like I did before September 2009 when the heart palpitations started. So I got bitter. And my bitterness only made the fears speak louder to me. They became all I heard. I was the Queen of Worry. Who wants that title? I didn't want it, but I had it, and in time, it defined me.

Over the past three years, there have been other challenges. Things have happened that we didn't have any control over, because guess what? Control is an illusion. To think we have it makes us feel better, it's comforting, but in truth, all we can truly control is how we think and react. And even then, it takes a LOT of practice. Over the past three years, I let the challenges become who I was. Instead of learning from the past, instead of taking those challenges and rising above them, using them to be stronger, better, I let them punch me down. Yes, some of what I felt, what I still feel, is warranted because it has been a hard few years but it became bigger than I wanted it to, than it should have. The fears became too much and it was time to shut them up.

Moving to Indiana presented me with an opportunity. I was given the chance to begin again, be the person I knew I could be, knew I was, really be the person I projected to the world but had suppressed for far too long. Jason was/is incredibly busy with school and until I found work, I had a lot of time on my hands. At first, it was scary. I didn't have any idea what to do with my time. Most things cost money and we just didn't have it. We still don't and probably won't for a long time. But then it came to me. Running. I had talked about doing a 5k around this same time last year but one thing lead to another and it just didn't happen. But now I could, and this time, there wouldn't be any excuses. I'll be honest: when the idea popped into my head, the old "But what if I can't" whispered loud enough for me to hear it. But I wouldn't listen this time. This time, I would do it, prove to myself that I could. I would do something I never thought I could or would do. I would tell those old insecurities to take a hike.

In high school, I tried to start running a few times. It seemed glamorous in a way. Everyone I knew who ran looked so great, seemed to glow, the picture of health. They said running was calming, that the pounding rhythm of their sneakers on the pavement was like therapy. I went to the gym but the gym was pricey and I could run for free. I had sneakers, and I had legs. How hard could it be? I remember one morning I set out for a brisk morning jog. I started out fine, breathing deeply and all that. But soon it became apparent that I was winded, really winded, and kind of faint. I remember sitting on the curb, head between my knees, willing myself not to pass out. I turned right around, defeated, and headed home. I supposed I just wasn't cut out for running. I didn't enjoy it, it wasn't in my blood. Over the years when I'd try to go for a jog, similar episodes would unfold. Each time, I'd arrive at the same conclusions: it just wasn't the exercise for me; I hadn't eaten enough beforehand; it was too hot out; I wasn't properly hydrated. I had no idea it was because of my heart murmur. I went to the cardiologist religiously every two years for my EKG and nothing ever changed. It was fine. I was healthy. Then came October 1, 2009.

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So now I want to run. I want to run because I can. I want to run because I need to prove to myself that the little voice inside of my head telling me I can't do things is a damn dirty liar. I want to run because there was a time that I thought I'd never get better, never recover from my surgeries. There was a time that I thought I'd never feel like me again, that I'd always feel "less than". When I had my pacemaker implanted because my heart could no longer regulate itself, I felt imprisoned by my presumed limitations. I felt less than who I was because I was dependent upon a tiny implanted device to keep my heart beating properly. I failed to see the reality: the tiny implanted device allowed me to keep being me. It enables me to wake up every day and have a life. It is a medical marvel, and I am so grateful.

I am running a 5k on December 16 in Indianapolis because I am here. I am a survivor. I made a promise three years ago and it's high time I made good on it. I am fortunate. I am blessed. Thank you for being in my life and for loving me. Happy 3rd Surgiversary to me :)