Running Wild

I’m tempted not to tell you the full story. My strength is returning, and so is the human tendency to put up smokescreens. Hiding my vulnerability would keep me from being completely honest and prevent me from giving you my “me too.” Me too—I have struggled and overcome, fallen and stood up, experienced loss and then healing, and all the messiness in between. Cancer will break you down, stripping every ounce of pride and constructed assurance, yet at the same time show what a warrior you really are. Yep, this book is about cancer, the Big C, and so much more. Can you handle it? This

is my fight song.

My calendar reads March 19, 2018, mastectomy; March 26–29, write book. I had so much to say about my life and the fire burning inside after learning I had cancer. I wrote without inhibition—after all, I might die. The book would be a gift I’d leave behind. I wouldn’t have to answer questions or live with the uneasiness of people knowing too much about me.

But what if I didn’t die? Why do we hold back while we live? I found stepping close to death does so much for living. It breaks the mundane, the assumed progression from one day to the next. I hold on to that terrifying time, living with the unknown, but also living in love, surrender, and spontaneity.

The cancer journey, as many call it, aligns itself with an analogy of an endurance event. A marathon has an extensive training phase, the race, and then recovery. Life, with all its ups and downs, joys and losses, struggles and successes prepares one for that race. At race time, it is all on you, but it’s not all you. It is your race but made easier to endure by friends and strangers who offer encouragement. Recovery starts with complete mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion. Recovery happens slowly and opens the possibility for building back stronger than before. I’m not dead. I have so much to say about that.