A difficult 7, but 7 none the less

Sometimes things sound like such a good idea in my head. And sometimes when those things take shape, you realize how unwise of a choice that really was.

Today's unwise choice?? Taking my sweet husband with me on today's run. I know, that sounds terrible, and I love him dearly, I do... And I'm glad we had that time together this morning. But here's the thing- as a runner, he is far faster than I. Lets call it the 7 inch advantage that he has over me. It's impossible for me to keep at his pace on a healthy day!

And today, was not the healthiest- you see, last night on my run I had an attack and had to stop after mile 2. I'm talking full on, can't catch my breathe, really hot... Attack. In retrospect, I was coughing a ton yesterday, and I hadn't had my usual amount if water. Dumb move to attempt a run. Lesson learned.

Anyway, we set out today to destinations far and wide... And uphill for a mile (idiot!!) for our 7 mile run. (Shh- I told Kevin it was 5 so he'd come.) I started off keeping pace with Kevin and feeling really great. 9:30 am, out on a run with my love, so ready to crush this. And then we hit mile 2 and that blasted hill... And Kevin took off and I realized, oh shoot- I am tired because I've been keeping up with this gazelle. Not good, friends, not good. So I slow, and bless his heart, he asks me what's wrong. Nothing- except I'm not 5'10". I'm 5'3" and trying to keep up!! Duh. My own fault. After that, I started to go more of my own pace, and that helped... But my mojo was already out of sync. I jogged, I walked, I jogged some more... I hacked my lung up- only a tiny bit, an then I jogged some more. I'm sure I didn't look nearly as athletic as I had hoped. Visions of Forrest Gump flooded my mind. But still, I turned that bend, and like the tortoise today, I kept going.

Not my strongest, but still - 7 is 7, and that in itself is something. And, as it turns out, thanks to gazelle boy... It was my fastest 7 to date. 7 miles in 49 minutes... Say what?! Still- I'd prefer not to die. I have time to work to his pace.

Moral of the story??
Go at your happy pace.

Half crazy- and hey, half way there!
Jenny

98%...and a solid 6

As someone with CF, I always pay really close attention to my PFT's. PFT's, or Pulmonary Function Tests, tell me how my lungs are doing... How much lung function I have been retaining through my illness, the capacity of both my major and minor airways, and how much oxygen is in my blood. To me, they are my grade by which I determine the current state of my health. They can be great, or they can be terrifying...especially if closely monitored after an illness. Maybe it's just me, but with every illness that strains my lungs, I am constantly battling myself and second guessing whether or not I did any lasting damage.

Top it off with the damning statistic that CF patients tend to lose between 2% and 4% lung function each year.

Is it me, or did a collective hush just fall over this blog???

I remember my first appointment and hearing about my PFT's. At 16, I rationalized it like any honor roll student. "96%... That's an A. My lungs are an A. I can live well with a 96%". Then I saw that statistic and realized even if it was only 2% a year... In 10 years, I'd be at a 76%. And I cried. Because I've never in my life been a C student.

It's a funny thing about us A students though... We are determined to keep our A's, and sometimes, they become even better A's.

Today, in that little room of the PFT lab, I solidified to myself what a lot of people have told me for quite some time now.

I am so much stronger than any statistic.

Today, almost exactly 12 years after those initial PFT's, my lung function is a 98%.

And tomorrow, when I celebrate my 98 with a 6 mile run, and my lungs start to scream at mile 4... I will smile and keep pushing because if they are strong enough to be at 98%, then they are strong enough for 6 miles. And who knows, maybe 99 is around that next mile marker.

Half crazy, and completely loving it,
Jenny