Running or Shopping.

So I started radiation yesterday. It was fine. Until I was so tired I couldn't sleep last night, and everything I ate tasted like metal shavings, oh and I couldn't decide if I was hot or cold - so I started to cry and couldn't stop for an hour. My husband tried to cheer me up, suggested that I crawl in bed, got me the heating pad, let me watch TLC, offered to put Christmas lights on the house to lift my spirits and ultimately agreed to let me buy new Christmas Dishes. I'm very blessed. He loves me very much.

I was thinking that maybe I should do something to help my energy level through this process. I thought maybe I should start running in the mornings...before I leave for radiation. (AHEM) However, running and Kendrah just don't mix very well. We're like oil and the Exxon Valdez. We stick together for a short while, but really it's just a disaster waiting to happen. And wildlife will die. I just don't run well. I once decided that if I ever die in a horrible and tragic violent crime, it will be because I refused to run. Killer would be all "Run or die!" and I'd be all "Can I hear those choices again?". Running just doesn't feel right. It feels wrong – I mean like, morally. Like the entire time I'm doing it I feel ashamed of myself. Humiliated and violated at the same time. And it isn't like I haven't tried to run. There have been a number of times when I've decided I'm going to become a runner. And I try. I try and I try. With no luck. "Maybe you're trying too hard" a runner friend of mine once said. "Maybe you should work up to it." And she proceeded to tell me to not try to do so much straight away. Instead, she said just run for a block, and then walk for a block, and then run again … she said to do that and it would make a big difference in the misery factor. So armed with this half-assed notion and a full-assed rear end I headed out the door. I got to the end of my block. I crossed the street and then broke into a run. I ran for a block then I stopped and walked for a block. Then I ran again. Then I walked. Then I ran. Then I walked. Then I ran. Then I threw up. Then I went home. The entire way home I thought my head was going to blow off my shoulders. My face felt hot and emergency-room red and I could literally feel my pulse in my ears … and it felt like machine gun fire.

I decided the Christmas dishes were a better option. I went to Target today. I didn't run. I drove. AND I LOVE my new dishes!