Celebrating 3 years without a Cigarette! Part 1

Three years ago today marks the day I quit smoking once and for all and chose to live again.  

I decided “no more” and I took control of my life, emotions, and once again began fighting for the fiery athletic girl inside of me.

It was shortly after my 35^th birthday and I was sitting outside smoking a cigarette.  All I could think about was this vivacious spirit that once embodied my soul: a girl that set goals and achieved them. A girl full of dreams and determination, a girl that participated in life, instead of just watching it.  “Where did she go?”

This night the cigarette smelled dirtier than usual and my shame for smoking felt deeper than ever. Done!  I broke the remainder of the pack and threw it away.  The next morning I went and bought the patch on and started a very painful withdrawal.

It was also the Christmas holiday.... and my marriage was hanging on by a tattered thread. 

I haven’t always understood why, however, I have always believed everything happens for a reason and “how” and “when” it’s supposed too. In a most unlikely situation I had both my mom and dad in town for Christmas. My mother was visiting from Seattle and my dad here from Montana working.  Never before had I ever shared Christmas with them.  Having both of them here was the support I needed during this emotional transition.

13 days after finally saying goodbye to smoking, I bought a new pair of running shoes.   This was the day after Christmas, and it was my first run in nearly 12 years.  The last time I had been running was when I was pregnant with my daughter.  

I have always had a passion for running, this was my sport. It began early first in Elementary School competing with the boys to prove myself and then on the track team in Middle and High School.  I started running longer distances my freshman year, running 3-5 miles about 5 days a week.  There was comforting solitude and peacefulness I experienced during these runs and it became my saving grace, alleviating some of the depression I already coped with. This is when I first decided I had to run a marathon.

I kept with running through my early twenties increasing my distances until I was pregnant with my daughter.  Running felt awkward, and I had little energy.  

....to be continued