Happy Cassy Day

From what I can remember on August 17, 2000 there was absolutely nothing positive about the day. There was no fond memory to hang onto. There was no love affair with food or words or places. There was just sad. And pain. And confusion. And more sad. On August 17, 2000 I received a phone call from my then general practitioner stating that the MRI that I had had the previous Wednesday had shown a handful of lesions in and on my brain and spinal cord; Multiple Sclerosis. I remember holding my breath and not understanding but understanding fully that my perspective on life would be different. From that day on, I quietly proclaimed that, my Cassy Day, throughout each and every year. With only a handful of people that would acknowledge it with me. Send me a card. Show up for an extra long hug. With the birth of each of my children I can remember holding each of them on the day that they were born and promising them that whatever will happen to me, it would not matter in the least because my choice to bring them into the world was the best choice that I have ever made. The availability that they have given me to move, and strive, and live would greatly trump any "spot" that is on, my, anywhere. It wasn't until August 17, 2005 and the birth of 1 fuzzy little blond haired new friend did I realize that the day that I so quietly acknowledged as a "smart ass" kind of "celebrational" day was in fact a day that I dreaded. A day that would show up on the calendar and spook me worse than the symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis itself. But on that day, in the hallowed flowered papered walls, I realized that this sweet moment of birth was my ticket to not be so angry and sad anymore. It wasn't until 2009 when I was face to face with the absolute devastation of a somewhat ironic injury that placed me directly in the eye of the "This is how I really feel about having MS" storm. I can remember sitting and being in so much pain from the injury and feeling so terribly down about not even being able to move from the couch to the chair. I can remember promising myself that from then, on, I would do everything in my power to move, and continue to move for as long as I possibly could. A few short months later, I jumped out of an airplane, a few short months after that I decided to return to college, a few short months after that I completed my very first 29 mile Iceman Cometh bike Challenge, and 6 months after that I completed my 1st half marathon. On 2 very sassy, stubborn legs that beg to be rested more than I am willing to rest them.

So this year I celebrate. I celebrate movement. I celebrate strength. And I celebrate that even though there are things that steal away your positivity like a cold hearted bandit, its OK to brush yourself off and stand up against the not so good and take one careful step at a time to regain your pace.
This year I celebrate the beautiful haven that gave me my strength back. The beautiful VASA trail that allowed me to visit it and deliver all of my uncertainty's about movement and bury them deep within the wooded halls to never be seen again. The ups and downs of the hills that chattered back at me after I had conquered them. This year I celebrate the place that helped me to return to somewhat of a healthy outlook and perspective on where I could go and what I could do. This year I celebrate the wonder of the not so unattainable that has moved onto the attainable list.
Thank you for joining me. I will spend the rest of my days telling people that the journey isn't going to be easy, but I'm telling you its going to be worth it.

Be strong, keep movin,
Cass