Good Day? Good Day!

Yesterday was a good day…I think…I’m not really sure what one is any more as it’s been a while since I’ve had one.  It started with a bit of exhaustion – the kind where I opted to blend my porridge because the act of chewing it felt like hard work.  And lying on the sofa was ok but sitting at the computer was a step (ok – technically 3 steps) too far.  As coffee made a dent on the perceived effort of sitting still and typing, the lethargy gave way to dizziness, which I think might have been an improvement.

But, unlike most of the past week, I had cause to get dressed and ready myself, because I had people coming over in the shape of three amazing runner friends.  They need a funky team name like The Care Package Squad or something.  In any other circumstance, I’d probably have told them not to waste the trip. In fact, I had hinted this but it didn’t work: One of them had previously threatened to come over, unannounced if necessary, and drag me out the door, no matter how rubbish I felt, because it would do me good.  Don’t be alarmed at the tough approach – she has cancer too and is probably the only person who could get away with this! I’ll grudgingly admit she has a point.

So after about an hour in which three kind but assertive women took turns making me sit down and the room wasn’t spinning as much, we ventured out for a short, muddy forest walk, followed by an unhealthy, decadent lunch [Mandy – please mark expanded noun phrases on my tick sheet – I’ll try and fit a fronted adverbial into the next paragraph].  We had running to talk about, so only about half the conversations turned to cancer and death, which is an improvement for me!

Wearily, I made it back not as far as the sofa but to bed.  It’s a strange new reality where I need a nap after 3,000 steps.  Then the reality became even stranger.  I woke up and felt…ok.  Symptoms and side effects were manageable and I had this weird feeling like I had some energy.  This was my chance! As set out in Yesterday’s writing, I had a brass band to conduct.  And I made it.  I was kindly offered a lift to and a chair for the rehearsal but apart from that, it felt like…normal.  Normal is amazing.  I didn’t quite realise how much I’ve missed it.  Dodgy intonation, holiday chops and missed accidentals didn’t matter at all.  We were getting to work, being productive and sounding better and better as the rehearsal went on.  It didn’t matter either that I had to take rest breaks or pause for breath in the middle of a sentence to let a wave of pain pass.  We spent two hours making progress and making music. 

If I were to rationalise this, [tick off subjunctive voice] dragging myself to one rehearsal shouldn’t be much to shout about.  It represents about 4% of my ‘normal’ working week which would usually be augmented by at least ten hours of running and perhaps a gig or two.  But as is oft repeated by mentors, teachers, coaches and personal trainers, one is better than none.  Those same people also like telling us to ‘pick the low hanging fruit’ and go for the quick win.  I tend to be a bit more ambitious than that and bypass the quick win in favour of a more unlikely but glorious victory that risks falling out of the tree. But right now, I’m choosing to take that win and call this day a good one.  Because right now, that low hanging fruit tastes really good.