
Early in my fitness career, I attended the IDEA World Fitness convention. I will never forget the words of the keynote speaker (although I forgot who said them). They asked the audience to imagine they could put all of their worries, struggles, life burdens into their gym bag, and bring them to the stage and leave them. The only caveat is, you have to pick up someone else’s gym bag. In one minute I went from ‘that would be so great’ to ‘uh…no way. I’ll keep my own’.
It’s a principle I have held as a core belief ever since. I believe that we each get what we are prepared for, what we need for our soul’s growth, at just the right time. This core belief, like all core beliefs is not the ultimate Truth, but it is my truth. It helps me navigate the times when my backpack is extra heavy. Like now.
Here’s an update. Last week I had an MRI and a CT scan. The results came back as “all good” meaning the cancer is responding to the meds, I am tolerating them with minor side effects, and we plan to stay the course.
The meds I am taking are oral chemo. Specifically Kisquali, a Targeted Chemo drug. Instead of taking down the whole body, these new drugs target the specific cancer. I am also getting injections of Faslodex, a hormone blocker that prevents the cancer from finding new sites to attach to.
As I understand it, we are inching closer to cancer being a chronic disease that one can ‘live with’ for a long time. I’m going with that.
My backpack is heavy, but some of that is the weight of my tools…my yoga mat, meditation cushion, journal, and an army of people cheering and praying for me.
I honestly wouldn’t trade my backpack for anyone else’s. People say to me every day ‘my problems aren’t anywhere near yours’ and to that, I strongly disagree. Your struggles are heavy to YOU. We all have a backpack, we all have heavy loads, and we all have the muscles (and hopefully a few friends) that have prepared us to carry our load.
If your load is a little lighter today, Thank God, and then look for someone who might need a little break. We’re all just walking each other home.