Fighting on

You tattered me, you tethered me to you
But when the light grow dark
You were forever gone
But I remember you
You were full and sweet as honeydew
- Decemberists

Yesterday I had drinks with an old friend who knows me very well. I was lamenting g my asthma problem and how it doesn't make sense and isn't fair and how I'm supposed to use my rescue inhaler before running even though I'm on two other medications. He asked, simply, so are you going to fight it? And it's such a ridiculous question, but that has been, in fact, what I've been doing. Going on my piss poor runs, heaving and sweating, pissing and moaning. In fact he's the third person I've had this conversation with, but he addressed it in such a different matter-of-fact way that it really smacked me. Last Sunday I actually did try my inhaler before a treadmill run, and it was a decent run. I did 3.5 miles, in part because of the stroke of luck of having a dateline episode on the tv that I hadn't seen. But it was the best run I've had in a long time. And the week prior I did a good treadmill run in my hotel. So I guess I will accept this burden for what it is. After all, what's the point in fighting?