I ran the entire Iron Girl course yesterday, wahoo! It’s the same distance I have been running regularly at home, but it always feels longer and unfamiliar. I was running with two Iron Man Triathletes, Roseann and Kim, and they kept me on pace which helped immensely. Last time I charged off the starting point and ran my first mile in record time for me (post-chemo), but then was completely wiped out by the time I hit the last hill. Yesterday was slow and steady. It’s going to be brutal with the heat on race day, but I’m hoping I’ll just be able to get in my zone and enjoy that I’m there.

In other exciting news, my little one is doing incredibly well with potty training. It happened virtually over night and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Both of my boys have grown and matured immensely this summer. As I always say, I am savoring every moment.

I am enjoying a really long break from the hospital as well. I had chemo two weeks ago and I don’t have to go back until next Monday. It feels like such freedom I have almost had to pinch myself. When I think that there is a time in the not too distant future that I won’t have to go to the hospital every week, I float between elation and fear. I am focusing on the positive and remaining incredibly optimistic about my future, but there is this fog I have been swimming in that might soon be lifted and it feels surreal. I know I have used that word many times — “surreal.” Surreal to have had cancer, surreal not to have it.

The weird part for me now is making plans for the future. I’ve been doing lots of that  – taking on more responsibilities for work and my kids’ schools, planning vacations, etc. I’m going about it with so much enthusiasm to do it all, but also with the occasional voice in the back of my head whispering, “what if it comes back?” The good news is that I am very adept at silencing it and moving on,where a year ago I would have simmered a while in the anxiety of it all. I kind of enjoy responding to the voice and saying things like, “I have a 60% chance of not facing this again for at least 5 years, so bother me again later!” When I was getting chemo last time my nurse told me about a woman who was over 30 years in remission from AML. That means she was treated long before stem cell transplants or even donor transplants. She withstood old, nasty chemo and has lived this long. Once I heard that, I told her that was going to be me, except that I will live at least 50 more years. Can you even imagine 50 more years??? If I were to live as long as my grandmother has so far, I have 58 years to go. If that’s my plan, I guess I better stop wasting any time worrying