And...flip

Tomorrow is the Race for McGee, the 10k my wonderful friends have put together to raise money for the ALS Association.

Last year my coworkers put on the Race for Debbie, a 10k held in Arlington. Before the race, I thanked everyone and said I hoped, with any luck, to be running the race again the following year.

But I won't be running. It's too far. And it's too hard.

I'm trying extremely hard to be pragmatic about this; looking at the positive flip side that says I can still wog, can still work, etc., etc., yadda yadda. But when I drive across the Memorial Bridge on my way to clinic and see a lone woman running; when I remember the strength and energy I had in my legs and my lungs; when I see what I've become without the exercise and endorphins, it breaks my heart. I feel ungainly and unattractive, I miss the ease with which I would stride across the bridge and the other roads that made up my course, I miss the satisfied exhaustion I would feel at the end of a good run.

I am sad I won't again run in the snow with Adam, or on the W&OD with Kendall, or anywhere and everywhere with Lynne. I am sad that the best I can hope for is finding an outfit that hides my ugly body, my walr-ass.

ON THE OTHER HAND, I'm still here, and "fat is good for ALS." Hell of a consolation, but I'll take what I can.

A special note of thanks to Jenn, visiting from Orlando for the race. No one can talk to you for five minutes and stay feeling sad. You came at just the right moment and turned me around. I love you.