Four years ago I was a pacer in the New York City Marathon. I was the guy who held up a sign that said 5 hours and those that stuck with me finished the marathon in 5:01:30. I thought that was the guy that would do that every fall and I thought every spring I was gonna go find a rural marathon and see how fast I could do it.
Then GBS happened. I got a freakishly rare disease that nobody ever heard of and doctors lined up to tell me I'd be Fine in a year. WTF, fine in a year isn't something you tell someone to make them happy. It might be something a gardener would say about someone's shrubbery, but I was a human being. Whatever, I've accepted the fact that I'm never going to be fine.
This post first appeared on What You Do Not Know Because You Are Not Me!, please read the originial post: here
