Some days you just want to declare victory and go home. But you don’t. You push through pain, nausea, illness or whatever malady is kicking your butt. You lean on your friends. You suffer alone. Pain pulses but you think it people who have it much worse than you. Sweat burns your eyes. Your stomach tries to either come up or go down. But you keep running. You keep pushing. You keep growing.
Rain fell in my eyes as I laid on my back. PLS has not been easy for me so far. We’re two weeks into it and I’m still recovering from a major hand injury. Add to it, I got a flu-like illness last week. This morning, I woke up with vertigo. Then my stomach gave out.
I couldn’t win for trying.
But I went. I pushed. I, for the most part, did well. My injured hand survived chips ‘n’ salsa (walking on my hands while dragging your feet on a platter) and pull ups. I ran straight even through my head was spinning. I survived it all.
I’ll have better days. And when I do, I’ll celebrate them. But they days when you gut out your problems and succeed anyway are the most special. Those are the days when you had to go out and earn it.
Today was one of those days.