Dear Lungs: I Hate You

I've always had issues with my lungs. When I was a kid, I was diagnosed with asthma. It was only an issue during strenuous activity, so I was given an inhaler and only used it as needed. My lungs would grow, expand, and become accustomed to activity but I would still have periods of being short of breath.

Ten years ago, I was diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma. When the tumor was discovered, it ran from my collar bone down to the middle of my chest. I had chemo and radiation, and after everything was said and done, I was good to go.

My radiation treatments were shot directly into my chest. Because of the regimen I was put on, I have a significant amount of scar tissue in my lungs. It can't be removed. Most of the time I don't have an issue.... That is, until I start physical activity. Because of my asthma, combined with scar tissue, I can't run for more than 60 seconds, swim more than one lap, or run the bases more than once without becoming completely winded. My already shot lungs just don't have the capacity to keep up. My mind and my body say, "Run baby, run!" while my lungs say, "No effin way!" It stinks, but I manage. I turn my run into a brisk walk. I take frequent breaks and tread water when I swim, and I make sure I stay hydrated.

So while I get envious when I see people effortlessly jogging, I understand my limitations and adjust. Getting physical is pointless if I end up turning blue in the process.