I’ve always been a runner. Growing up, fütball (soccer) was my year round addiction. Put a ball at my feet and I’d go the full 90 minutes.
Up until the spring of 2016. I was still strapping on the old running shoes and heading across the street to run through the park.
However; that habit quickly vanished once my I.P.F reared its ugly head.
There are some people who are able to get portable oxygen tanks. With a comfortable back pack and continue running. If you can continue walking, jogging, running after your diagnosis, I highly encourage you to do so. For as long as possible keep moving.
My lungs weren’t have any of that.
Anyone with a lung disease who is attending Pulmonary rehab, knows the emotions tied up in getting on a treadmill. Or the dread one feels standing at the bottom of a staircase.
So, you might be able to empathize the effect of seeing the endless stair climber machine at the gym I joined. (After being cleared to do so by my surgeons.)
Even though my health is doing great… Even though I make myself take the short flight of stairs at the hospital to get to my clinic appointments…
This one piece of equipment.
I’ve given it a wide berth.
Today was an upper body day. (Shoulders, arms, chest.) Leg and cardio day isn’t suppose to be until tomorrow. BUT, tomorrow is also a clinic day. Which means no rehab and possibly no treadmill.
So as I tip-toed past the dreaded stair monster. Heading for the door post work out. Thinking I’d had a good showing today. A little voice in my head challenged me to try it.
I wanted to ignore the voice.
The little voice called me out in a not so friendly internal debate.
And that’s how I found myself figuring out the controls for the escalator to nowhere.
I still have no idea how the speed works. But I apparently had it set at three. Which seemed like a pretty good clip for my first go. I only did ten minutes. And I was huffing and puffing more then I would have liked. But not dangerously so.
I’ll be getting on it again.
I’ll go faster and I’ll go longer.
Don’t let the fear of not being able to breath stop you from doing what you can. (If you literally can’t breath. Don’t hurt yourself…)
But the FEAR…
Don’t let the fear control your ability to live life to the fullest that you can. Our illness does a fine enough job on its own of limiting what we can do.
Your goal is to live. As long as possible. At the highest quality of life possible.
So tell fear and apprehension to bugger off. You got this.