Just Breathe (Mile 1)

Despite living her whole life with cystic fibrosis, Sara wanted to be a normal girl.  This made her an exceptional woman.

I didn't know Sara as well as my brother or some of my best friends (the Hymans), but I always admired Sara.  One week we'd be at her house watching a movie, and the next we'd be dropping in at the hospital to check in on her.   Other than the trips to the hospital, Sara was completely normal.  She liked rock music, wine, fashion, art, sports, and downtown Memphis.  You would never know that she was living (and REALLY living) with an illness such as cystic fibrosis if you did not see her in the hospital.  Rarely would you meet a young person with so much strength.

If there is anything I know about Sara, it is that she did not like being told what she could or could not do (must be something about the name "Sara/h" ;) ).  When she was young, she played softball and other physical activities that was risky for her condition.  As she got older, she insisted on living a "normal" life that may not be expected from someone with her condition.  She had normal friends and normal fun evenings out on the town.  My brother and the Hymans tell a story of when they "kidnapped" her from the hospital and took her out to eat after being told she could not leave.  When it was finally time for Sara to depart from her body, she was not told when or how.  In typical Sara fashion, she called the shots on that too.


I think about Sara often when I think something is too difficult for me.  Before I even thought of sharing my progress on this blog, I would think about Sara if I was on the treadmill and my body wanted to give up.  I learned from Sara that I am the master of my body.  As I mentioned before, she was the initial driving force behind my decision to run.  Running is the thing that I always thought I could not do, and just like Sara, I will make the decision to do it.  My first mile will be in Sara's memory.

On the front of Sara's funeral program was a lovely rendition of Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Nights" that she painted.  I cut that out and it is now taped to the top of my bathroom mirror so I can look at it every day and remember that, like Sara, I am not a prisoner to my body.  No one, not even myself, can tell me that anything is not possible.

Sara's painting (taped to my mirror)

My view of the painting every day

Sara (far left) and our friends.  This photo was taken before my wedding June 13, 2009.