Day 3--No One Cares How Fast Your Pace

Every former chemo patient knows about Day 3.  That's the day that the drugs have had enough time to wreak havoc on your body and you finally feel the full effects of your new cocktail.

Yesterday was Day 3.  When I woke up and rolled over to look at my phone, my Champagne Sister had sent me a text...with a nod to Beethoven's 5th, she said: 'Da na na na....And we have arrived at day 3.  How do you feel?"

(First, take a second to note how she says "we"...how lucky am I to have people who are truly in this with me?)

I had to take a minute to wake up and do a self-assessment.  Nausea?  Nope.  Body aches?  Nothing other than the usual 40-something cricks.  Malaise?  Nothing unusual...

I knocked on my wooden nightstand for good luck and told her that I was feeling surprisingly good.  Don't get me wrong...there are a few side effects.  The craziest one so far is this odd vertigo.  Every once in a while, I feel like the world turns about 5 degrees on me and I have to take a second to reorient myself.  I also seem to be hitting the wall a lot more than usual, but nothing significant.  This new drug cocktail is nothing like I've had in the past.

I had planned to do a stint on my elliptical, so I went down to get my coffee and gear up for a few minutes of pedaling in place when my dad knocked on the door.  Remember how I said I live in Mayberry?  Yeah, I do--my parents live down the street--pretty cool stuff.  Anyway, he was coming back from his run to check in.  Apparently, it had warmed up quite nicely and he suggested I go for a walk and get some fresh air instead of pedaling in our basement.  So I donned my running clothes, found my headphones and Spibelt, and headed out the door.

I decided to try jogging for a bit.  I didn't set a quick pace: it had been over a month since I'd gone running, and honestly, I hadn't stretched because I wasn't planning on a run.  A slow jog, maybe a 13 and a half minute mile or so, and I didn't know how long I'd last.

Turns out, it was 2.5 miles.  It was slow, steady, and it felt fabulous.

The thing about runners--none of them care how fast your pace--as long as you are running.  Even your 6:30 minute milers will cheer on your 14 minute miles: if you are out there running, you're part of the club.  The race isn't for first place for most of us: the race is to do our very best; beat our best time, go a little faster than usual, or just get out on the road when we don't want to get out of our pajamas.

So yesterday, on my Day 3, I ran 2.5 miles.  I visited with my parents.  I went to Total Wine to pick up the 12 bottles of Prosecco for our weekly celebrations, went to Costco, and had dinner with great friends at their house.  I crawled into our king-sized bed with my family and watched a recorded show, then fell asleep, weary from a long day, and very happy.

Day 3 can kiss my sweet fanny.

This morning, I woke up a little sore...from the waist down.  That's from those 2.5 slow miles without stretching...not from the drugs.  That's kind of awesome, don't you think?

No one cares how fast your pace, friends, just run.  Run...walk...jog...and if you can't do that, do whatever you can do today to maintain a forward motion today.  Day 3 can be the toughest for us chemo patients: just getting out of bed on Day 3 can be a challenge.  Running for you on Day 3 may just mean getting in the shower and coming out of your bedroom.  And who knows? Next week, Day 3 may hang me out to dry.  But this week, on Day 3.  I ran.