Guest Blogger - Wendi Wiener

Reprinted with permission from Wendi. The words speak for themselves.
Thank you, Wendi.

WE ALL WISH YOU POSITIVE ENERGY, ENDURANCE, STAMINA AND JUST PLAIN OL' LUCK AS YOU RUN THE NEW YORK CITY MARATHON THIS WEEKEND. WE'LL ALL BE ROOTIN' FOR YA!

Running Your Own Personal Marathon
by sublimedigressions
Posted on 10/30/11

Several weeks ago, I posted this status on Facebook: “Every person you meet in your life is for a reason. Every situation that transpires is also for a reason. There are no strange coincidences in life - - they are merely signs, connections and great signals.”

During mid-August, when I was battling through my patellar tendonitis, a close childhood friend was being diagnosed with breast cancer. Little did we know our two journeys would cross paths and make for an even stronger bond. It was no coincidence. It was a sign.

I get choked up every time I write or speak the word “cancer” because I always thought it only happened to older relatives or older friends of the family. I have other friends who have already battled cancer but no one I witnessed firsthand, except for my grandmother. And, while I still have vivid memories of being at the hospital with her when she was going through radiation, witnessing how ill she became from chemo, the aftermath of her breast surgery and even accompanying her to pick out her wig, I was also young and impressionable. I still believed it could only happen to someone older or distant from me.

They say that G-d puts you on a journey of struggle to test your true strength and that he never gives us more than we can handle. I believe that in retrospect, but as it’s happening, you have to wonder why would G-d choose a healthy 34-year old who is in the prime of her adulthood and career to go through this, of all things?

When Ro initially opened up to me about her illness, I was astounded as well as honored. Coincidentally, around the time she had been diagnosed, I had a Facebook status that made her believe I was a fly on her wall. It was as though I knew what she was thinking or feeling. During the toughest times of my marathon training, I had the opportunity, actually the blessing, to grow closer to Ro. We opened up about our emotions, her fears of going through cancer treatment, and my fears of not being able to achieve my dream of doing the marathon because of my injury. There was so much unknown for both of us, and two very different journeys, but they were our own personal marathons. It was at this time that we learned the power of inspiration and how positive words can carry you through the darkest of tunnels when hope an d faith seem non-existent or possible.

On a Sunday morning, we met at Aroma, the brunch hot spot where Ro has her special Sunday outing with her friends. I was asked to write something inspirational that I could read to Ro. Below is what I wrote to her:

***

Last Saturday was the morning of my 10 mile run. It was the first double digits mileage for me since my training injury. I started off slow, but my calves were cramping, my knee was feeling tight and I just couldn’t pull it together to run. In fact, at 12 minutes in, I fell apart mentally. I thought to myself that maybe I wasn’t ready for this. I began playing ping pong with my brain. Should I turn around and go back? I wasn’t that far away to where I couldn’t make it. What would my coach say? What would my parents say? What would I post on Facebook to the friends who follow my training every week? There was no one around me to answer those questions. There was no one there to cheer me on or encourage me. It was dark, silent and the road seemed endless. I was scared and alone.

Earlier that week, Ro and I emailed back and forth. I told her about the doubt I began casting on myself as to whether I could do the marathon with the nagging training injury. Would it ever fully go away? As I was walking in the dark with the cramping muscles and aches in my right leg, I pulled my blackberry out of the compartment in my fuel belt. I began scrolling through the emails and found one of Ro’s emails. I started reading it:

I wholeheartedly agree with your attitude re: the marathon. You cannot give up now, you have worked SO hard. Just tell yourself that your health isn't worth it and if you feel that you can't continue while you're in the middle of the marathon, only you will know if it's time to stop. At least if that happens you will know you truly gave it your best. If you don't go, you will never know, and for me, personally, the unknown is always the worst as you will always wonder.

I closed the email and put my blackberry away. I began running; the pain subsided and never returned on my run. Eyes began welling up in my eyes. I was no longer alone. I had Ro’s encouraging words surrounding me. They were a miracle drug.

It’s amazing how words can be so therapeutic and heal us. We can’t always choose situations in life. Sometimes they chose us to teach us, to power us, and to teach others that the power of the human spirit is the most powerful force. That day I posted on my Facebook after the 10 miles, “The will to succeed is truly the most powerful drug.” That comment was for Ro though she may not have realized it. The will of a person to overcome and succeed through the most difficult of life’s journeys is the most powerful drug in him/her. We just have to reach deep down enough to find that will. And once we do, we embrace it and soar through the obstacles, leaping and jumping over the hurdles, the walls, while remembering the strength that exists within us.

The journey that you are on is a race - a race with people cheering you on with laughs, tears, applause, and most importantly - - open arms and hearts. It your race of true strength and a true will to succeed.

** *

On Friday October 14, 2011, I attended Ro’s “head shaving party.” Quite honestly, that’s when it finally hit me that she was really going through cancer treatment. My 34-year old healthy, vibrant friend was now embarking on the greatest personal marathon of her life. The head-shaving was done in stages - - from a short bobstyle, to a pixie-cut, to a Ro-Hawk, to GI Jane. Since there are no coincidences, I should mention that Ro was wearing a khaki colored tank top - - perfect for her “soldier” attitude. Ro was fearless. I kept my focus on her body language, her emotions and her facial expressions. She was so strong, so stoic and the paradigm of true bravery. She didn’t shed one tear as her hair was being trimmed, cut, and then shaved. That image remains to be a focus in my mind when I think about what true strength is. Ro’s attitude about her cancer treatment is best described as “I’m a badass. Cancer? I’m not scared of you. Bring it.”

The truth is, you don’t have to run 26.2 miles to be on a marathon journey. Ro is running her own personal marathon right now. Each mile that passes is another obstacle she conquers; the chemo sessions, the days when she doesn’t feel well; yet, she still wears her courage on her face, so bravely and without hesitation. Her personal marathon is one filled with lots of fans cheering her courage on and we are racing with her until she reaches the finish line. The celebration will be big and very sweet with the greatest embraces felt by her family and friends.