The first thing we tried was a new antibiotic. Over the years I’ve built up a resistance to a few different antibiotics so perhaps introducing something new could give me the kick start I needed to get back on track. Coupled with a few additional inhaled medications, mixing up my exercise regimen and taking full advantage of a lull at work to sleep and rest a bit more it was just what my body needed. A few weeks passed and I went back to the doctor. Feeling better, stronger and full of energy I was ready to tackle the PFT with the hopes of getting my numbers back up. And well, they were up. Not my highest, but at that point in time I would’ve taken higher than where I’d been for the past 18 months. A victory in my book. A step in the right direction.
A few days later I ran the New York City half-marathon. Coming of a dreadfully cold winter where outdoor training was extremely limited I had no expectations. I was just going out to have fun, enjoy the day and the race atmosphere. I started the race with a buddy of mine, Chet, running through Central Park at an 8:40 pace. I was feeling good. Half way through the park Chet and I split; left to run the last 10 miles by ourselves. I was feeling strong and my pace was dropping. Miles 3-5 were run in 8:15; mile 6 at 8 minutes. Out of the park and straight down 6th Avenue to Times Square I felt really strong. My lungs felt great. Deep, easy breathes. My stride felt strong. I was in the zone. I settled in and ran sub 7:30 minute miles for the second half of the race. While numbers are important and a key indicator of health and how my lungs are functioning, there is no better indicator than how I feel. On that day, in that moment, I was happy. I was relaxed. I was at peace. I was doing what I love to do and no one could take that away from me. I’d once again found my stride.