On Tuesday, October 14, I will be celebrating 90 days of being smoke free.
I never thought that back in July, I'd be where I am now. I haven't had a smoke since the night of July 13. I'm running and walking. I'm doing tummy crunches. I'm going through a divorce. I have my shop again. And, yet, through it all, I haven't had a cigarette.
Honestly, I am amazed at myself.
And now people are calling me an inspiration.
I'm not an inspiration. I'm just doing what I have to do to make my short time on this planet a little longer and more enjoyable. It's scary enough to realize that your life may be cut short due to an illness (and the medication used to treat it), but then to realize that you can't even simply run around the yard and play with your own children is devastating.
I mean, three-quarters of the time, I'm so tired that it's a large effort to play with the kids. How fair is it to them that the 25% of the time that I feel good, I got out of breath so quickly that it wasn't worth it to play? What kind of mom was I?
Now that I'm feeling better, I take my kids to the park often. They find little friends to play with and I end up running around with a bunch of kids while the parents look on, sitting on the bench. It feels good to be the mom who gets muddy and dirty with the kids.
Oh, and as far as running? If I hadn't quit smoking, I would never see scenery like this: