I went for a tiny run today and the biggest effect it had was that it made me want to write. Which is better than the shower I had afterwards, at which point I took a photo of my belly, which just made me want to cry. It looks pretty bad – all scarred and lumpy and disfigured. Don’t care about the scars so much but my waist only goes in on one side now – what’s up with that? At first it was funny to feel a sort of gap where my organs used to be but now that I have actually seen how straight my other side is in comparison, I’m a bit freaked out. Have things actually moved further towards that side in the past couple of months? It’s weird and I don’t like it.

Anyway, I went for a walk, with the intention of breaking into a run every now and then, which I did. I am not a runner. It didn’t hurt my side or anything, I just got tired pretty quickly because I’m not fit. I’ve never been very active anyway; I’m just not a sporty person, let alone a runner. I like the occasional swim but I love the steam room and Jacuzzi afterwards more. I like going for a walk. I might have to stick with that. The problem is I am quite hungry these days and I have put all the weight back on that I lost after surgery, so I don’t want to put on any more weight on top of that. Hence, running. For like a minute at most (probably less), at five to ten minute intervals. When I was running, it felt very much like pretending to be a runner. An imposter trying to trick everyone around me.

But you don’t even need to be the best at something, or even particularly good at it, to make it worthwhile, I suppose. And I’m so many other things. I have achieved, and will achieve, plenty of stuff. Just not as a runner. Or, at the moment, a person happy with their body. I am tired and maybe a tiny bit teary and wondering what I can do to make myself fitter. I feel like curling up under a blanket and eating chocolate.

It was an alright run, though. Nice day out there. I don’t really know what my problem is. A woman gave me a leaflet about God and said Jesus loves me and to have a blessed day. Which is quite nice, regardless of my religious beliefs.

Oh, my hair seems to be growing back again, which is great – you know, the half or so of it that fell out due to stress (I assume). It still feels really thin and will take a while to get back to normal, but I can see tiny strands on top of my head growing again.

It takes an awful lot of effort to have a positive outlook regarding my body image after cancer, and sometimes I just don’t have the energy for it. I’m just not there today. I suppose I worry that my best days are behind me and somehow it’s all downhill from here. Bit dramatic, but cancer is, isn’t it?