A Downhill Connection
May 13th, 2011
Yesterday, I ran on a shady paved trail through the park. The 5.8 mile path is a refuge in the heat, which was climbing toward 90˚.
I like running the same route week after week. Partly, I am a creature of habit. Also, running the same trail allows me to monitor my progress. I check in with my body. How fatigued am I? What pace can I go? How do I contend with this hill? How strong do I feel when I’m finished? I note all of these things and feel the runs getting easier, which is good for my confidence.
At the top of a big hill near the halfway point, I felt the fatigue setting in. The heat was draining me and I was sweating profusely.
Running helps me practice patience and compassion with myself, so I don’t tell myself to push on much of the time. I stopped to walk for a couple of minutes. After catching my breath, I felt much stronger and continued on my way.
It was time for a big descent. In the recent past, I have kept my pace steady, even on downhills. I don’t know what has been holding me back –– a fear of the speed, a fear of falling. I just haven’t been up to it.
With my renewed energy, I decided to let myself fly. It was a joy. I also felt hopeful that I might pick up some of the time I lost walking and make a good overall pace for this run.
As I rounded the curve, I saw a woman climbing over a wall separating my path with one of the many unpaved trails in the park.
She looked lost. She was about my age, dressed in running garb.
Pace be damned, I thought, letting go of the time I was making up. I stopped to see if she was okay.
She asked me how to find a certain trail. I told her that I am only familiar with the paved routes.
“We are about one mile from the exit,” I said. “If you want to run with me the rest of the way, I can drive you to your car.”
“Okay,” she smiled. “I think I’ll take you up on it. I’ve been running for about an hour and a half. I promise I don’t have a knife stashed anywhere.”
She continued with me on my flight down the hill. I took one of my earbuds out so I could converse.
“Are you training for anything?” I asked.
“No, I just like to run a lot,” she told me. “Are you?”
“I finished cancer treatment at the end of last year, so I’ve been doing half marathons like mad.”
She was unfazed.
“That’s great. What kind of cancer did you have?”
I told her.
“I had Hodgkins when I was pregnant with my fourth child. She’s 12 now.”
“I knew you were a cancer survivor! You didn’t blink when I told you. Usually people get really quiet and awkward.”
We ran the rest of the way down the hill, chatting about treatment, side-effects, fatigue, and children. I took her to her car, as I promised. She did not have a hidden knife, as she promised.
I realized, once again, what a unique bond survivors share. It’s as if we can enter the middle of a conversation and not have to provide all the explanation that other people require to make sense of our experience.
This is why our online community is so powerful. We are what my fellow blogger Feisty Blue Gecko aptly calls stranger-friends. We often understand each other in ways that our closest intimates cannot.
I hope to cross paths with my new stranger-friend some time soon.
This entry was posted on Friday, May 13th, 2011 at 9:14 am and is filed under Survivorship. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Lovely post CB. You now have me humming “Lean on Me”. I’d run to Nashville and back for you…….;)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HaVXfHZv50Y
I love this post. I don’t know if I would have volunteered my history so quickly. I give you a lot of credit for that. I’m started to change my way of thinking and maybe it is good to be honest. You never know who you might connect with. Thanks for sharing this. I find it inspiring.
when i run, i wear a compression sleeve and am flaunting my no-boobs. it’s kind of self-evident that something is up… people often ask me, “what’s the sleeve for?” so i tell them. i guess i’ve gotten used to just putting it out there.
CB,
Nice post. It is amazing how easily we can connect with other “cancer people.” You know the other day when I was seeing my physical therapist, also a bc survivor, we quickly bonded and got to discussing our cancers, reconstruction, and lots of other stuff. She was contemplating the “finishing touches” of reconstruction, and I casually said, “Well, do you wanna see my finishing touches?” She did and I showed her. Neither of us thought anything of it. Pretty crazy, huh?
Do you always wear your sleeve exercising? I just got mine yesterday.
ah, yes. recon booby flash bonding. ain’t nothin like it.
i *mostly* wear my sleeve when i exercise, particularly for longer stuff. i’m supposed to all the time (preventively) but sometimes i’m a bad #cancerrebel and leave it at home and exercise anyway…
So true. I sometimes feel like I want to go hug a woman in a scarf and let her know she’ll get through it – I feel an immediate kinship.
i know! i hesitate to just embrace them. i have a friend with alopecia and she gets well-meaning hugs all the time…
i hope you are well, ann. xo
I loved reading this post – you really told the story so well and I smiled when you said she never blinked when you told her about your cancer history. I too love that phrase of Philippa’s “stranger friends” – do you think we could shorten it to something?? If Frenemy is a word, why not…ooops i’m stumped now..but perhaps someone can come up with a word for us. Whatever we choose to call it though, I am so grateful for my sherpas, my stranger friends who help me navigage this terrain – not just the cancer journey, but the journey of life. Love to you all xxx
thank you, marie, for all you do. xo
Beautiful story! You make me want to keep running, and connecting with my survivor “stranger-friends.”. It’s amazing what we do for each other.
yay! go, emily, go!
CB, a lovely reminder of those unique bonds we have. Made me feel even more grateful for this fabulous online community of ‘stranger-friends’ we have. Thanks.
love to you, my stranger-friend.
Lani,
I know what you mean. It’s like picking up with a good friend you haven’t seen in a longtime. We have a bond that’s hard to break. I was imagining the thrill you experienced going full steam downhill:)
xoxoxo,
Brenda
This was such a lovely post. It’s pretty amazing how strangers can “enter the middle of a conversation.” These connections are so vital and affirming. Carry on, sister!
thank you gayle. that means a lot.
I love this, Babe. This has happened to me, too, so many times. When I was making my hotel reservation for the NBCC Conference, the phone reservationist for the hotel turned out to have had breast cancer. Instant bond, instant intimacy & sympatico, extra kindness all around. I love those moments. I hate that there are so many of us out there to have them, but I love having them. Stranger-friends is the perfect term.
thanks, sweet stranger-friend.