Running isn't pretty. Running outdoors tends to be even ickier. Cold wind cutting through my clothes. Blowing my hair into my mouth, trying to blow snot out of my nose, not always going the direction I intended. After work, as soon as they get home from school, I run. In the summer, waking up early, before it gets sweltering hot, I run. I won't lie. Often, I want to stop running and walk the rest of the way. Especially when there is a hill up ahead. Another hill. I want to wimp out.
I broke my little toe recently. Even while it is still sore, I run. Getting over a cold, I run. Irritated lungs from asthma, I run.
He runs beside me. Through lung infections, with IV's in his arm. Last fall, he ran coughing up brown mucus. Trying to battle fungus growing in his lungs. But, we run.
We aren't hard-core runners. We don't run very fast. Only 3 times a week. We only run 2.5 miles at a time.
The changes I have seen in his lungs the past few years we have been running, have been incredible. Even after his lung function decreased from a nasty infection, he bounced back faster than even the doctors expected. The amount of air he can inhale as increased. During our runs, he coughs up the junk that would otherwise stay at the bottom of his lungs.
We run for his lungs...
For him...
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