A few kilometres forward

I used to take for granted the sound of my feet hitting the pavement, a melodic beat that unconsciously reinforced my strength, agility and capability. It was easy to look past my great fortune in the lifelong unblemished career held by my vital organs, critical performers that went without recognition, only expectation and now gratitude and awe in their resilience. 

To most, panting is the unwelcome bitter note in a sumptuous, sweet dessert – a consequence of exercise or payment for fitness. It seems inconceivable that we could lose  this innate currency,  unconsciously affluent until we’re consciously destitute by defect or damage. To me, panting is a luxury. To me, panting is a welcome reminder that my lungs function and that I can once again relish in the sweet sound of my run- a sound that I thought I had forever lost – replaced by the intoxicating shrill of oxygen. 

Being human, we experience a wide range of sensation, a response that our bodies feed our mind. On the eve of a great battle, the soldier can anticipate the possible outcomes for their body but will rarely see beyond the war, unprepared yet conscripted to download the mental trojan. There were times when I asked for the sensation to leave my body, when the morphine wouldn’t help and the ache was too much to bear. I would rock back and forth, twitching erratically, illogically with a resounding plea for my motion to relieve the pressure in my back, my war zone. There were times when I would ask to disengage my consciousness and be put back in gear when it was over…but is it ever?

Living means taking the good along with the bad. I believe happiness is achieved in our ability to make the “good” the principal contributor while acknowledging the awful. The truth is that bad things happen and will continue to happen. Sometimes I feel like a camera with a perpetual need to reframe, refocus,  and re-expose my subject – forever searching for life’s Kodak moments. 

Today, I found one.

I followed my routine walking path, past the clay coloured track, imagining what it felt like to sprint as long as my legs would hold me, unbridled and unrestricted. After my transplants, life quickly became a series of mourning- chapters that detailed losses of life, health and capability. This feels like an enormous payment for a new life – reimagined, restructured and reinvigorated. Perhaps this will never be verified though I am constantly reminded that everything comes at a price, at one time or another…

And then I thought that maybe the only thing limiting me is my mind. What if I simply tried, one foot in front of the other – in opposition of my self doubt and insecurity- what if I can?

I did.

I’m not as fast and might not have as much stamina but I am more committed, more tenacious and the most resolute.

“When I reach the top, I’ll go higher, higher than I’ve ever ever been before”

And that’s not okay, it’s awesome.