The Anticlimax

What a strange week.

I blew off my last echocardiogram because I figured what's the point.  And, my friend the Nurse Practitioner at the Oncology clinic said that I didn’t really have to do it.  I only had one more Herceptin treatment left, and we were going to go ahead and do it anyway.  Part of me wanted to see if my echo was actually any BETTER due to all the running I’ve been doing, but the larger part of me really just wanted to skip an appointment. I felt like I needed to make some kind of point or something. Feel rebellious, etc.  Anyway, I didn’t go.

I did my last (let’s hope anyway) Chemo (Herceptin) on Wednesday last week.  Again, like on the last day of my Radiation, I was sort of hoping that there would be confetti, or someone would ring that bell for me, or something. But, Alas, no one there seemed to know that it was my last treatment.  Nothing Happened. No Celebration. No Congratulations. Nothing.  I got poked, I got infused, and I did my usual best to ignore everything else going on in that room. I was on the phone and the computer, and I hardly even noticed the F------ harp player, but it WAS helpful that I was one row further away from her this time.  As I walked out, it was sort of like  s  l  o  w  motion as I passed that big brass bell on my left.  I’m not a shy person, and had I really felt deep down that the whole thing was over, I would have reached up and just RANG the () thing myself.  But…I didn’t.  I’m not sure if it was the fact that I knew I had to go back there the very next day to have the actual appointment with the oncologist, or the fact that I’ve still made no final decisions regarding the longevity of my left breast, made no plans for reconstruction, or the fact that I still have this port-a-cath imbedded in my left subclavian veins. But I just didn’t.  I just couldn’t, in full consciousness, ring that bell.  It would have been cool if someone else would have rung it, but, I just couldn’t do it myself.   Once I made it past the bell, I did, however, shed 2 tears as I walked out toward the stairwell.  I was not really clear on where the tears were coming from.  The last time I cried was July of this year (the last time I had a menstrual period) if you’re not counting the tears I shed 2 weeks ago as I got into my car to drive away from the trail race I did that weekend.  Those were tears of joy, though.  Tears of rejuvenation.  You know, the kind where you are sort of laughing and crying at the same time.  So, I really wasn’t counting that as crying. While one my think these tears I shed while walking out of the chemo room would have been of joy, or relief, they really didn’t feel that way.  Instead, during this slow motion scenario as I was walking out, I was experiencing a flashback of the last 16 months.  The infusions, the waiting, and the faces of the other patients.  I guess it was mixed emotion.  THAT, and as it turned out, a mere 2 days after the end of my Herceptin, I started my period again!  WOW! I thought that was over with!! I’ve been through hard core Menapause two times now and it is no fun.  In retrospect, I had noticed that my hot flashes were getting easier and farther apart.  Not really even waking me up.  I sort of thought that might be due to the fact that it’s been colder her, so I thought maybe I just wasn’t minding, or noticing them.  Well, I guess I’ll have to inform the doctor of this, but I’m thinking maybe it’s all part of the menopause. 

After meeting with the Oncologist for my “wrap up” appointment I really didn’t feel that much more resolve than I had prior to the appointment.  A summary of how that went: Wait in waiting room one hour.  Just about to get up to leave and the nurse came out to get me and said…”I was hoping you hadn’t left….the doctor is just getting back from vacation.  (At least the nurse knows me, I guess).   Once the doctor came in he began to dictate in front of me as he commonly does and he was saying something about how I’m continuing Herceptin.  I said NO, it was done yesterday.  We argued about it a bit, then he confirmed that yes, I was done.  He gave me a long spiel about Hi Tech vs. Low tech and Fatality rates with Breast Cancer in order to try to convince me for the 3^rd time that I DO NOT need any PET scans or further MRIs.  Maybe a chest x-ray, now and then.  He said that the patient ususally catches metastasis before the scans do, or "nearly" as soon :(.   Well,  let’s just hope I’m ON my CANCER game  a bit better than I was last time when I went in for the first time with a 7 centimeter tumor in my right breast.  He said that I can go get this Port out anytime, and that he would see me in four months.  We didn’t speak at all about the other side.  I know I’m not fully an optimist, but, I AM starting to think Conspiracy here.  Conspiracy between the Oncologist and the General Surgeon for me to keep this thing on the left despite initial recommendations to have it taken off too.    We’ll see though.  I’ll call the surgeon to make and appointment to discuss the port and the following surgery and reconstruction.  The reason I write this is in case anyone is reading this who has had breast cancer like mine where they initially recommend Bilateral Mastectomy due to aggressiveness of the cancer and due to young age.   Do NOT fall for the argument that you can remove the other breast during the reconstruction surgery.  When you have larger breasts, IT is really not cool to have one.  I won’t go into the details again.  I would have preferred to just have them both taken initially, as i thought was going to happen.  Remember, the general surgeon informed me only days before the surgery that we would wait to do the other side until the reconstruction happens.  I was not reconstructed at that time due to radiation.  I have, however, interviewed several of my therapy clients recently who have had single mastectomy with NO reconstruction and asked them how they have liked it.  They all say, it’s horrible to have one.  AND, a side note is that I’ve noted that many of them have moderate to severe scoliosis.  I don’t think it is a coincidence.  My chest, back and underarm are so tight it is affecting my right hip and groin.  This may be mostly due to the radiation though.  As my dermatologist said….As she was cutting a hole in my right thigh to rule out skin cancer…..Radiation makes the muscles “like beef jerky”.  She’s right.  So, I suppose I cannot blame all the tightness on the surgery alone.

Enough about that.  I’ve decided to attempt a medical free holiday and not make any appointments until after the New Year.  

As for running.  It is great.  Last week was my highest mileage week so far this time around.  47 miles and full of HILLS, HILLS, HILLs.  Long run was 21 miles trail with lots of HILLs.  This week is recovery week.  I’ll do my best not to gain much weight with Holiday Foods Galore.

This is the hairdo that happens when one is trying to hold down the wacky hair that does whatever it wants.

Next week 25 miles long trail run.

I wish everyone the Happiest and Healthiest of Holidays!

Lessons in Patience

One thing that I was pretty sure that cancer would not take from me was my patience.  Clicking off weeks and months of treatment and months and months of appointments, surgery and recovery, I often thought how this practice could help me become more patient as a person, and a more patient distance runner.  It takes patience to train for, and to run, long distances.    

Prior to cancer I was not really a fast runner.  My strengths as a runner were primarily that I was very patient, and very controlled, and “kind of strong” in general.  Some called it toughness. Whether it was physical or mental I'm not sure.  I was the queen of the perfect repeat, or of the negative split in workouts and many races.  I have many times relaxed and watched as competitors have run past me at mile 18 in order to pass them again at 25.  I’ve been able to control my pace to almost exact times.  I could follow a race plan to a “T”.  Once, I ran a marathon within 6 seconds of my goal time. Also, the average pace of the last 6 miles (of that marathon) was 1 minute faster than the first 20.  A negative split.  That was how I wanted it.  Partly because that's how I trained, and partly because when I had asked the head coach of my running group that time, Steve Sisson of Rogue, if a negative split marathon was possible and he said.. It's very difficult to do... but possible... it was then that I knew that negative splitting the marathon was what I needed to do.

During my cancer treatment I often tried to parallel treatment to distance/trail training in my mind.  It was something that gave me comfort due to the familiarity and the small feeling of control that it gave me.  Somehow, I could “pace” myself through it.  I also felt that if I couldn't train by running, at least I was going to be tuning and strengthening the important skills of patience and control.

Now, after over a year of this practice and 4 months of being back to running, I’m wondering… “Is it possible that, instead of tuning and strengthening my patience and control, I have used them up or let them go?”  Regarding control…I do know that this cancer treatment required me to “give in to THE METHOD” on more occasions than I was comfortable.  It did indeed require patience to continue for the 16 months I have endured, however, now I’m finding myself impatient and eager. I began to realize this about 6-8 weeks ago when I first started having some good runs.  After my warm up, or even before I was warm, I would find myself beginning to pick up the pace much earlier in the workout than I ever would have before. If I was doing repeats of something, like mile repeats, the 3rd or 4th repeat might be the fastest instead of the more desired last one.  This goes against everything that's always worked for me before in training.  I actually even used to lightly mock people like me who would run this way.  I've known it was happening and I've just let it.  I have NOT controlled myself.  I have given in to the temptation to run out of control.

This Saturday I ran a 25K trail race.  This weekend’s race was yet another lesson for me.  This race was supposed to be a training run for me. 

This was my RACE PLAN: Run the first 5 miles easy and then the last 10.5 miles at race pace and achieving a negative split overall.

Here’s how it went:

Mile 1: Too Fast.  *Fastest mile of My race,  but…. I’ll let that slide… everyone was fast. 

Mile 2: Too fast again.  Try to calm down. Try to follow plan…

Mile 3: Try to Pace….Try to be OK with letting these stupid Bitches pass me up this hill. They will pay later.

Mile 4: Running Balls Out! on the downhills!  Not patient! Not controlled…  But SO FUN!  I killed everyone near me for that next mile or two, that's for sure!  Really, I think that trying to keep up with me for those couple miles must have hurt some folks because I think only 1 guy passed me after that.  I did go on to pass maybe 9-10 people the rest of the race.  This all sounds kinda good, but, I kinda killed myself too.  AND I did not follow my plan...! I didn’t maintain control.

Around mile 6 I took some time to ease up and try to regroup and it helped some. It prevented a full on BONK, but some of the damage had been done. It was not going to be the negative split training run I had planned.

Pace and manage.  I don't know where this came from, but this was my mantra from mile 7-14.

At mile 14 I came up behind a woman who I had raced against, and beat, at the 20 miler that I won back in March 2010.  My Heyday J.  I was tired, but I had to catch and pass this person.  At this point this was a good thing for me. It gave me some focus.  Once I passed her, I was able to see the finish line and one person between me and the finish that looked like she could have been in my age group. There was about .5 miles to go.  I wasn’t sure if I had enough time to catch her, but I knew I would be angry at myself if she was in my category and I did not try.  So, I pretended that I heard my friends cheering for me, and I answered, for myself, a question that I had recently heard asked…Do you have something more to give?  And I passed her within 20 yards of the finish line.

Now that I think about it, it’s likely that this woman was just finishing her first loop of the 50K race that had started 30 minutes before my race….  (In the running world, this is probably pretty pathetic that I was trying to beat a girl in the race of twice the distance I was running. But hey, I didn’t know…and I could not take that chance anyway J). That last mile was my second fastest of my race.

Here I am holding my 2^nd place in age group award. 

 10^th female overall out of 36. 

Despite my disappointment that i did not follow my race plan,  I AM very happy with this.  This place is very similar to something I might have done just before cancer.  As a matter of fact, the last race that was put on by this group (Rogue) that I ran back in May 2010, I got 2^nd in my age group and 8^th female.  I know now that my body just wanted to see what it could do.  It was in a fight with my mind and this time I let it win.  

Cancer Rain Check?

Since I was diagnosed with breast Cancer in August 2010, many things have happened.  Likely very few of which I was aware.  I remember when I was pregnant with Ace I tried to stay connected to the world and my running friends the best I could under the circumstances.  I remember I would go out to the races that I would have potentially been running had I not been pregnant, and cheer.  I have memories of living that year.

Now that it has been over a year since I was diagnosed, and a year since treatment was in full swing, my memories of last year are very odd and even distorted.  It is often difficult for me to distinguish memories from the year before as being 2 years ago.  This time last year I was in full blown Chemotherapy with the “Red Devil”.  Unlike the past 5 or so years, my memories of last year do not revolve around running races, or training schedules.  They revolve around phases and stages of treatments, and feelings; both mental and physical.  Phases of weakness, and some nausea, hotflashes, and being cold too.   I remember baldness and certain hats that I wore.    I remember my Mom doing my dishes, and eating lots of Soup that friends would bring over by the gallons. I remember notes that friends wrote me and even certain texts. I remember when I started my blog, and even some of the entries.   I remember very little about work except the little presents or chocolates that my co-worker would leave for me after each treatment and that I wore scarves to keep my neck warm. I remember little about what other people were doing.  I remember nothing about politics or things going on in the world other than anything that had to do with the iphone.  I do however remember the approximate distances that I was calling my “long run” which occurred weekly on Tuesday Mornings before my chemotherapy, with the Team Rogue Group.  I remember people that were in the group at that time.  I remember how people were very nice to me and how some would look at me with a very confused look on their face.   I don’t blame them, of course. Many of them didn’t know why I looked the way I did, and  It’s not every day you see someone at a running group who is ghostly pale, bald, and currently undergoing chemotherapy. 

This past week I was running with one of the women who had been in the group at this time last year.  I’ve known of her for several years.  I’ve seen her around.  She’s much faster than me so we just never really ran together or got to know one another.  Anyway, she ran up behind me and began to run beside me and asked me how my Thanksgiving was.  It was funny to me because I initially had no idea she was talking to me.  I figured she was asking the faster guy to her right.  “Oh, me?”  I said something about how it was good and how happy I was that our kids were good in the car on the 14 hour drive to Alabama, and back. I decided at this point that I would attempt to keep the running up at her pace.  Why not?  It was cool outside… a good running temperature for me.  We began to discuss running, and running marathons, which is an unsurprisingly common topic of discussion on a run such as this.  She asked me what I was training for and I told her about the 50 mile trail run I have scheduled in March. We discussed trail running versus road running.  Neidra, the woman I was talking to, has done some trail running and has considered “going trail” J.  I said something to the effect of… I have very little desire anymore to run road marathons, at this time anyway… except the New York City Marathon.  I mentioned that one bummer about getting Cancer when I did, was that now I may not be able to make it into the New York Marathon.  You see, prior to Cancer, I had qualified for and completed the Boston Marathon.  I had run a 50k trail race and done well in several other trail races.  My next plans were to run a fast ½ marathon in order to qualify myself for guaranteed entry into the NY Marathon (which was the last Marathon I really had the desire to run) with the 3M marathon in January. After that I was going to run the 50 miler in March.  This was to happen in Jan-March 2011.   During cancer treatment (which ended up what happened instead) when I was running, I always had in the back of my mind the 50 mile trail race.  Many days that thought is what kept me going.  When I got back into training again in August/September 2011, I kept my focus on the trail race and decided that this is what I should do because this is what is driving me, AND…I don’t have to worry about running FAST.  Even when I first approached my road coach John Schrup with my 50 mile plan, he said he could support that, based on the same thinking….I would’t have to run fast, or anything. 

Now, I’m mentioning this to Neidra, how I’m a bit disappointed that now I may not ever be able to qualify for New York because they are going to change the qualifying times to be much faster….To be beyond my likely achievable zone.  Her response was…”well, couldn’t you get a Rain Check or something?” I liked that idea very much, and have played it out in my head several times since….

Dear ING NYC Marathon,

I was scheduled to qualify for your marathon in Jan 2011, but got cancer, and did treatment instead.  I feel sure that I would have qualified at that time because I needed to run a 1:44, and I had previously run a 1:48 during a training run, without actually racing.  I hear now that the qualifying times for my age/gender will be changed to 1:30 which is likely beyond my ability.  A friend of mine mentioned that you might be able to give me a rain check for the 1:44 time, so I thought I’d ask. 

Sincerely,

Emily H.

One of the difficult things about this is that there is still actually a very small, untimely, window of opportunity.  I could still qualify if I ran the 1:44 by 1/31/12.  There is a fast half marathon in Austin on 1/29/12.

The problem is, I’ve been running trail 4/5 days per week, and running slow for the most part.  

Grist State Park Alabama

 My primary goal is still the 50 miler and I’m supposed to run 35 miles the day before the mentioned half marathon race and 15 miles the day of the race.  But….could I squeeze this qualifying time in? without getting injured? and without derailing my primary running goal?.... if the rain check idea doesn’t pan out?

4 hour 20 minute trail run in the rain completed last weekend.

15 mile trail race/training run this weekend.

Post Cancer Blues? Not Really.

Many marathon runners experience a phenomenon that many runners like to call post marathon depression  I prefer to call it post marathon blues due to the fact that I feel it is somewhat less serious than depression, as in the case of the “baby blues” or post partum blues.   

The focus that is required to train for and to run, a marathon requires much time and attention to detail regarding things such as schedule, nutrition, progress and recovery.  It becomes part of who you are.  In many ways, your purpose.  When a particular training season and/or race are over, it is time to take time away.  The time away often feels good at first but soon the urge to return to the lifestyle, the sense of purpose, and often the friends one has made, becomes overwhelming.

I know I've paralleled marathon and trail running training with cancer treatment on several occasions. 

Tonight I found myself sitting here thinking... “I should write a blog.... But, I really don't have much to report on... all I've really got to mention is my running.” I realized I haven't posted in 2 weeks. It’s almost as if I’ve unconsciously taken time away.  Time off.  I began to realize that this moment in time is very similar for me to the period of time one experiences between a big event such as a marathon or having a baby, and life as it becomes after that event. .  "After completing the marathon, runners move from the ‘unknown' to the 'known’, ‘Can I do this?’ to ‘I've done it.’”. (McCallister).  What’s funny is that I do not feel sad or blue in general.  Frankly I’m probably as happy as I’ve ever been.  I’m happy to be alive and I’m feeling stronger every day.  I’m bumping my focus on cancer treatment with my focus on running.  My purpose to make it through cancer treatment has been replaced with my purpose to live a fulfilling life, and have a happy family.  The only thing that brings on a sort of sad feeling, or feeling of disconnect is regarding the lack of blogging.   The blog has been a large part of my mental focus and has been integral to much of my support system for a year now.  It's kind of like a friend that I have made this season.    It's a purpose that I've grown attached to.

Maybe people won’t mind following my progress to the 50 miler in March.

I'm very near “I've done it”.  Two Herceptin left. One just before Thanksgiving, one just before Christmas, then the real New Year.

18 mile long run planned this weekend.  Should be around 43 for the week.  4/5 days trail.

iBlog

While my mind is currently "iClouded" with random information,  I will make this attempt at a direct blog, for once.  We'll see how that goes.

This week has been a great one, really.  I've spent most of my week literally,  "in character" in my mind.  That character being my recently bedazzled alter ego, "POW" Howell. 

"POW" Howell is a female boxing superhero, of sorts.  When created, she was intially,  "Fightin' Cancer, Bitch!"  She quickly realized that that fight was going very well and so decided to take on "Laziness",  as well.

"Are you Lazy?  I'm gonna POW you!"  She would say.

This character was apparently being found lazy at some point.

This one was found doing NO wrong and ultimately knocked "POW" plum out with her super beauty.

The parts of the week that I spent in my usual character also went very well.



 I'm feeling better each week.  Running is getting easier.  Hmm. I wonder why?

I'm up to 16.5 mile long run on the trail,  and last week was my highest weekly mileage, since cancer, at 41 miles.  Mostly trail.  

I went to the GAP today, and it barely phased me.  I stayed in my own world (iPhone).   They didn't even test my blood levels, so i couldn't even perseverate on that.  I basically ate my salad and left.  Two more Herceptin Treatments.  I'll be done before Christmas.

The only thing that kind of left me a bit unsettled this week was the lack of feedback on the Sharkboy blog.  I'm probably digging a hole here, but I want to leave readers with 2 possible morals to that story:

Never make light of another person's tragedy. (The obvious one).

and.....

Disability and Despair can be FUNNY.  Particularly, if they are your own. (Apparently). 

Curse of the Sharkboy

In the summer of 2011, on Thursday, July 7th, a boy Nicholas Vossler, was attacked by a shark off  the coast of Texas, at Matagorda Island just outside of Port O’Connor. While It’s apparent that many folks in Texas have heard the story about the boy getting attacked by a shark (I myself have overheard conversations on the topic on 2 separate occasions),  most folks haven’t heard the stories surrounding this attack or the ensuing curse.

The first little known fact is that just days before he was attacked by this shark, Nicholas Vossler had witnessed a fatal plane crash in the bay while he was out for a fishing trip with his family.

http://m.victoriaadvocate.com/news/2011/jul/03/bc_poc_plane_crash_070411_144768/

"First at the scene, they tried to help, but were unsuccessful in finding anyone from the crash."
"Watching the plane accident was hard on my son, trying to get over what he had seen, and then this (shark attack) happened," he (his father) said.

If you haven’t heard the story of the shark attack,  here is a link to the first story found in the Victoria Advocate  from July 8, 2011.

  http://m.victoriaadvocate.com/news/2011/jul/08/kb_shark_attack_070911_145251/

Here are some  highlights from a second article that I read a few days after the attack also from the Victoria Advocate online...

On Thursday, 12-year-old Nicholas Vossler was enjoying a day at Sunday Beach on Matagorda Island with his family when a bull shark attacked and bit his foot.
Luckily, (yes luckily :))  his long time friend, Mark Constien, of Fort Worth, was nearby and grabbed Nicholas. "He saw what was going on and pulled him away from the shark," said Vossler (the boy’s father). Vossler then saw his son's foot, bone exposed and skin hanging from his foot.
"All I could do was take the flap of skin and place it back in place," he said.
Mark Constien and his son Kevin Constien carried Nicholas as Vossler placed pressure on his foot to stop the bleeding. Once they reached The Fishing Center...(this is an error…it should read…Once they reached the bay side of the island…I know , because I was there), the father (it was really the Mother) yelled out asking for the fastest boat available.
Capt. David White, of Victoria, saw them carrying Nicholas and helped transport the boy to Port O'Connor from the beach. Port O'Connor EMS volunteers and Calhoun County EMS then responded to the scene."

The second little known fact, and what the newspapers, and therefore most folks don’t know, is that my family was there, and it was NOT our boat that had helped transport the boy, despite being the boat NEAREST the family of the boy. 

Here’s our side of the story.  Or...where the "Curse of the Sharkboy"  begins....

On Thursday, July 7th, 2011, the Howell family consisting of:  Richie Howell - father, and Rock and Roll Genius (and ironically the most stable of the bunch),  Ace Howell - 3 year old boy wild child, Adaline Howell - 7 year old girl angel child with cerebral palsy and dependent for all mobility,  Emily Howell - 41 year old mother, currently battling breast cancer and managing active radiation burns, and Jenn S. - Adaline’s caregiver and Howell friend, who’s mother had recently fought and beat breast cancer, and who’s daughter was experiencing medical conditions of her own…. head out with a late start (very difficult to get this family to mobilize, to say the least)  to enjoy an afternoon at Sunday Beach, Matagorda Island. 

We pull up to the bay side of the Island at Sunday Beach to park the boat with Richie holding Adaline in his lap so that she can drive the boat, as is customary.  Upon arrival, there were only 3, maybe 4 boats there, which was unusual considering the recent holiday, but, then again, it was only Thursday.  We park the boat.  Richie hands Adaline off to me in order to secure the anchor on the beach. We then just sit in place for a few moments, as we often do in order to contemplate what must happen for us to mobilize this crew further. We contemplate whether to stay on the bay side or to make the hike over to the ocean side of the island.  We are just sitting there when a woman comes up to us frantically asking if we have any vinegar for jellyfish stings.  We say "no, we don’t".  The scene seemed a bit odd to me, but who am I to talk.  The Howell clan plays and swims on the bay side for a while and then we decide to go ahead and make the less than 1/2 mile trek over the sand, over to the ocean side.  Ace hiking with one broken flip flop, me with my radiation burn, Adaline in rear tow in the stroller behind Richie, and Jenn there to take care of all of us while carrying her own stressors from home, and beach necessities. We make it to the ocean.  We swim in the big waves (only meters away from where the boy will be attacked moments later) and we have a very nice time.  There are very few people on the ocean side, as well.  We decide to make the trek back over to the boat.
We get back on the boat and change the children’s clothes, diapers, etcetera….and sit... and rest…pausing before our next move, as is customary.

As we are sitting and pausing in the very same manner that we had been prior to making the hike to the ocean side, the very same lady who had come from the boat parked just on our right, only hours earlier asking for the vinegar, is now, running toward us yelling….I need a fast boat!  I need a fast boat! My son has been bit!  My son has been BIT!!  I, being much more well versed in chronic conditions than emergency situations, was slightly underimpressed by the scene the woman was making.  I could not see any boy with any injuries.  She did not yell what he had been bitten by.  I’m thinking to myself, I need more information. I'm thinking it’s probably a jellyfish again, and I am hesitant to get myself into any kind of motion.   But where is this boy who’s been bitten?  We continue to just sit in place... contemplating, as we do.  AND THEN….we kind of giggled and began to make light of the situation.  I have to say it was not Richie, though.  He got up and went out to stand at the bow of the boat to see if he could be of any assistance.  As he did, however, the woman who was running and screaming for the fastest boat, slowed down as she came up to our boat. Then, when she saw our crew more clearly she just sped back up, and ran right past us to the next boat over.   I couldn't help it, this was just so funny to me.  It was like, even if we did have a nice boat, and a good solid motor…it was OBVIOUS that WE were NOT the FAST BOAT that this mother was looking for.   Finally, we saw the boy being carried over the sand toward us by 2 men and we could see blood on his leg.  We had to admit that it looked more like a SHARK bite than a jellyfish sting.  Even then, we continued making a bit of fun of how the woman passed us right up.  I think she, as a mother, could just sense that we were not your support team for emergency situations.  We started laughing about how maybe they should call us later if the boy can’t walk, or if any any other chronic physical or emotional conditions develop, and then we could possibly help rehab him back to normal gait, or something.  We joked about how, if they had chosen to come onto our boat, we would have had to explain that it might take us a little longer because our disabled child has to drive the boat, and really only her left arm works, so the boat vears to the right a lot, etc.

Since that day, I have learned my lesson.  I am very sorry Sharkboy. Please forgive me.  I should not have made light of your situation.  You will be glad to know….although I’m sure that you already do… the very next day, on our way back from that very same beach…our boat stalled out 3 times.  We just barely made it back to the dock.    Mother's intuition? or Curse of the Sharkboy?!?

It Happened!

On Thursday, October 13.  Merely, one day after I wrote the Dreaming in Touchscreen Blog.  I posted that blog almost 2 weeks after I wrote it due to LIVING :) so much and being so excited about what i'm about to tell you.

Two things actually happened that day.

Firstly, in the evening after work, I ran 2 x 10 minute intervals  on a beautiful section of trail that I'd not seen before, and I actually felt good. Not like TFS, not just O.K.  Good. (Breathe) What a relief.

Secondly, later that night, I had a running dream.  Not the kind where you are running away from something and you can't run fast enough.  Not the struggling to move forward kind.  The kind where I'm running free and I feel good.

My first running friend,
Cindy, who now won't run
on the road unless it is to get
to the trail.

My latest convert...Jack

I woke up on the morning of October 14 thinking exactly this...It Happened!

That week I ran 29 trail miles plus 8 road.  The following week I ran 28 trail miles and 10 on the road with no trouble with my long run now up to 14 miles on the trail.  








One week after my dream, I found myself actually living my dream as I was flying down those rocky, technical, hills in the dark with my old running/training friend of 18 months ago, David J.

David, who is a self-proclaimed transformed person (in part due to trail running) and, physically, a  changed man visible to all, has, in the past 18 months completed the Rocky Raccoon 50 mile trail race, a Grand Canyon Rim2Rim2Rim run of 48 miles, several other 30K races in the Texas summer heat, and is scheduled to run the Cactus Rose 50 miler on October 30th! Go David!
(You too, JoAnna, and Jeanette, and Kuss for your 50 milers and to Lyndsay and Tonya and Justin for your 100 milers! )

I felt honored and excited to be running, and almost keeping up, with him again (even though he was taking it easy due to his taper). :) Thanks, David.

Footlong Or, Dreaming in Touchscreen

Thank You Charlie Hodge.  Looking forward to your next podcast gave me the strength that was required to make it through the 10 minutes of harp playing that I had to endure (during chemotherapy mind you) in order to download your podcast “footlong”.  Very ironically, it took the exact same amount of time to download this podcast as it took to receive my 10 minute “free” (fairly exchanged? for the price of 14 months of chemotherapy) foot massage that I believe was given as a consolation to being subject to the mandatory harp music….again.  Someone please remind me to buy the more well fitted ear buds next time.  I can still hear the harp.
Do you think it is wrong that I got irritated with the harpist that she not only played her harp, when it was clear that all us cancer survivors had pretty much anything else to do, she also had the audacity to Tune her harp on site at the Cancer center.   Isn’t it enough that she must steal precious moments with the actual harp playing, but to TUNE the thing as well.  Come On!

One of the side effects of cancer treatment that I struggle with is that I have trouble sleeping due to having Hotflashes…Many Hotflashes….upwards of 10-15 a night that wake me up.  These require covers OFF and Fan ON in order to recover.   These Hotflashes are caused by the Tamoxifen which has put me back into Menopause.  This extremely interrupted sleep makes feeling rested at the end of a night difficult.  It also makes having complete dreams rare.  I have, however, found that I’ve now begun dreaming in “Touch Screen”. When I wake up at night I note that I’ve been moving things around in my dreams, as if on my iPhone touch screen. Very possibly all of you have been experiencing this for years, since the explosion of the internet, but I did not have a computer easily available to me for internet access for several years. Then, suddenly I got cancer.  With cancer came the desire to move forward on the technology front, and the courage to face my husband with a $100 per month phone bill. This has changed my life.  I am more complete. Thank you Cancer.
I remember when I was in High School, taking French, I would at times go out with my friend Allison W.  (Hey Allison, it would be great to hear from you.  Unfortunately I’m not on Facebook, and the one time I tried to contact you by email, it didn’t work) and we would speak French for the better part of a night out.  It was fun.  I would also find myself dreaming in French.  During one period in my life when I was dating Ruben (Hey Ruben! So glad things are going so well for you and your family) whose family often spoke Spanish, I was learning Spanish, and began dreaming in Spanish.   Severely broken Spanish, mind you, but some of it must have sunken in because years later when I was traveling in Mexico, where no one spoke English, Richie was surprised at how well I communicated in Spanish despite never having taken a Spanish class. I remember my Dad used to tell me that when you began to dream in a language, it meant that you were really learning it or integrating it.  I suppose I do believe that.  It seems pretty apparent, now with this touch screen dreaming.   At this point I might argue that it might also be because you “believe” that you are learning it.   Funny though, when I was in Vietnam and Thailand, I don’t ever remember dreaming in Vietnamese or Thai. There, I remember dreaming about having actual conversations with people in English.  I remember missing the sound of the English Language. I remember years after Thailand, when Richie was racing and spending hours and hours on his bike, he would wake me up at night CYCLING!  Yes, he would be pedaling, as if in a final sprint.
I remember also that when I was a child I would have flying dreams. There is nothing better than a flying dream.  My father used to tell me that only special people had flying dreams.  My father was quite a dreamer in many ways.  Anyway, that’s why I thought it so appropriate when we threw his ashes out of that airplane.  I think he loved that.  I haven’t had flying dreams in years.

 I have however, had some running dreams, like Richie’s Cycling dreams, that are pretty similar to flying dreams.  I was having those back when I was training for the Austin Marathon, and again when I was thick into trail running.  It has been a while since I’ve had those and I feel that I'll be truly  "back", in terms of training, when they return.

Hmm, I wonder where this comes from??

Please click below.  It's working now :).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxnSZg6exUI

On the Lighter Side

I had just warned my friend Heather (who recently ordered her first prosthetic breast) not to laugh the first time anyone decides to grab it out of her shirt and run, when I misplaced my best one.  I have three.  One silicon, and two foam.  The silicon one is VERY realistic.  If I hadn’t been so open about all I’ve been through, one might not even know it was fake.  (d'ough!)  Anyway, I made the mistake myself.  The first time Ace, my 3 year old, grabbed it and ran with it, I couldn’t help but laugh.  You have to admit, that’s kind of funny…  A two foot tall boy, running as fast as he can, with a giant breast in his hands.  I quickly realized, however, that I had made a mistake, and explained to him that this was not funny.  That he should not grab that, or run with it.  (I guess it’s not as bad as running with scissors, but….) Anyway, I thought I had made my point clear, and he had pretty much stopped doing it.  Then, the other day, the silicon one went missing.  Richie said…”Did you ask your son where it was?  No, I hadn’t, and I thought that was a really good idea, so I asked him if he knew where it was.  He assured me that he had no idea.  I thought I must have just misplaced it again, like the time I found it out in the yard near my car.  (It had fallen out of my bag the night before after the boat party.) The next day, I had set the “back up” foam one on the counter as I usually do after my long day at work, and then I happened to look up as the boy was running away with it.  Needless to say, I followed him to his secret stash of breasts.  I remember when I was around his age I used to hide money in my room so I’d find it later.  I’m still very excited when I find money.  At this point, I cannot image the long term affect this is going to have on my son.

I’m up to 11 mile long runs on the trail, and I’ll start trail "training" this week. I’m pretty convinced that the Herceptin is causing me to lose 3-4 days per week of good running per 3 week period due to not feeling well.  The problem days seem to vary somewhere between day 3-day 10.   14 ish weeks until the end of Herceptin.  22 weeks ‘til Nueces.

Twins

Twins

One thing I’ve enjoyed over the years about my job as a Physical Therapist has been getting to hear stories about people’s lives. This story recently really touched me.   The patient that I was working with was an 80 year old woman.  She was telling me about her life and that she had had 6 children.  She mentioned that she had only been pregnant 5 times, though, because the first pregnancy was twins, a boy and a girl.  She went on to say that the twins were dead now.  I did ask what had happened.  (Being that they were twins, one almost automatically begins to expect that they died from the same thing.)   My patient began with her daughter’s death.  She said…”My daughter had the breast cancer.  She had the mastectomy and the treatments, and she was doing very well for 2 or 3 years, but then it came back and got her.”  This story, as you can imagine, hit very close to home and really had me a bit freaked out for some time.  I did go on to inquire about her son.  She said…”He was killed in a car accident”.    I found myself putting myself in the shoes of each of these twins.  I felt what i thought would be their fear.  It was similar, yet different.  I found myself trying to figure out which twin I would have rather been.  Which death I would have chosen for myself?   I’ve since, come to no answer.  Honestly, neither is a pleasant thought.  The best I could do was come up with some pros and cons to each.  The major pro for the female twin was that she had had some warning of her potential fatality.  She possibly had a few years of knowing that life is short, and she may have taken that opportunity to live her life to the fullest. She also, later, had some time to say her goodbyes to family and friends and to let them know how much she loved them.  Potential cons being that she likely lived with some serious sadness and fear, as she knew that it would all eventually be coming to an end.  The male twin, on the contrary, may not have had the knowledge of his own mortality. He did not have the chance to say his goodbyes, yet was spared the sadness of seeing his own life fade.  He very possibly, however, had learned important lessons of living life through his twin’s experience.

I don’t really know why I spent so much time trying to decide which would be better or worse.   I do not usually sit around thinking about how I'd like to go.  I’m fighting to live, here.  I guess that my final thought is that any of us could find ourselves in the exact same shoes as either twin.  I even know of one person who recently had shoes of each.  A sister-in-law of one of my good friends had recently won her battle against breast cancer, and then was killed in an automobile accident.  

“The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases.”           Carl Jung

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life.  A man (woman) who lives fully is prepared to die any time.”    Mark Twain.

Here’s to living life to each life’s fullest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD1O2K6B30U

Nueces: I'm very excited.

progress

In spite of the fact that the food menu is limited, and they microwave, or steam, eggs, (for consumption) (if you know me, you know that I'm an egg snob, but you also must know that...) I LOVE the fact that the coffee shop that I frequent every Tuesday after my Rogue group run, does great foam on their Cappuccino, and is named progress.  I love how the big green sign is displayed right there, on the top of the edifice. Nothing fancy.  Just simple, regular, circular type letters...progress. 

I've mentioned before that my goal is Relentless Forward Progress.   At this point, I feel that I'm still working up to that.  I haven't quite achieved the Relentless part, and much of the time I'm still checking that I am indeed still moving forward.  However, there is Progress being made.   In the midst of all of this past week's RattleDown!  (this is my new call out for snakes on the trail....like...on your left....or, bike up :)) and my F****** Herceptin Treatment last Wednesday, I forgot to actually give an update. No, it was not the harpists fault this time.  I was simply in a grumpy mood, despite having a delightful trail run that morning.   

Areas of Progress over the past 10 days have included, but possibly not been limited to:

1. I had an actual conversation with my oncologist.  We, of course,  did not agree . I asked if i could have some EPO or some extra blood, or something to take care of this low RBC count once in for all, and all he said was...."don't even mention that here".....followed by, "Lance did the Tour with a RBC count of 10".  Really?  I need to look that up.  I find that hard to believe.  Anyway,  I thought it was odd that he mentioned Lance...I had not brought him up.  I just wanted the EPO. He told me my problem was not critical.  I did throw it out there that it could potentially become critical at mile 40 of the 50 mile race i had planned, and then he attempted, successfully, to sidetrack me with something about serum IRON.  I fell for it.  They tested my Iron Saturation or something, and it turns out it's fine, so I DO NOT get the special Iron treatment i was hoping for.  My problem is just not bad enough.  My RBCs did go up slightly this round, but i've been taking iron now for 3 weeks, and eating about 2x as much Red meat as i used to.  I think this part might have actually caused a slight setback due to the fact that this red meat plan convinced my mind on one or two occasions, to eat chicken fried steak, because it would be good for me.   

2.  I faced my 3rd motivation test and passed, pretty much with flying colors.  I'll be brief.
The first test, i already mentioned.  It was when my alarm did not go off and i still made it out to run 8 miles alone.  Second test: Run on Treadmill 5 miles when i DID NOT feel like it after a long day at work. Third Test: Run 11 miles on trail ALL BY MYSELF on tired legs, partly in the dark, and alongside multiple snakes, the day after i had chosen to ride my bike for 3.5 hours of hills.

3. I actually reached out to the medical profession for assistance with my severely tight chest/arm problem....and it's helping.   I've attended two sessions of Active Release Technique treatments and it pretty much hurts like HELL, but it is helping.  I'm also getting treatment for the shin splints that I've been avoiding for about 4 years as well, and it is helping with that too :).

4. I've had a bit of time to think about my surgical/reconstruction options and have actually had one conversation with my husband about it.  Zero decisions made, but at least not backward motion. 

5.  I had fun with my family at a county fair despite the heat outside. 

Ferris Wheel

6. And IT RAINED here last weekend!! it was beautiful!

Teenage Fanclub

Do you know what Teenage Fanclub and Trail Running have in Common?

They’re slow and awesome, and they'll rock you to the core.

This week's runs have given new meaning to the terms...

Solo Trail Run…

Group Trail Run….

"I'll take this chance to tell my friends what I'm thinkin' of....on second thought, I'll think some more and tell you lady luck."

Teenage Fanclub   (December)

Reconstruction

“I'm a woman with 1  D cup. My shirts won't even stay in place without my heavy rubber prosthetic breast.  I wanted to do the bilateral mastectomy from the beginning, but the doc wouldn't do it until reconstruction. I really dislike being lopsided. The prosthesis is a hassle. Also, sometimes I see, or feel my mastectomy side and it makes me sad, especially next to the breast that is still there that should eventually be removed.  Sometimes I think I'll be ok with 2 mastectomies without reconstruction, and other times I do want something built in (smaller though)to fill a swimsuit.”

This above comment is something that I wrote in response to a blog that I follow.  Some Girls Prefer Carnations.

In her recent post, the author Heather was discussing breast reconstruction after mastectomy.   Since writing the comment, I’ve had some more time to think about all of this.  I Love how Heather is very confident and sure in her decision not to have reconstruction.  I WISH I could feel the same way.  The full story  is that, I DO NOT WANT to have another surgery.  I’ve had 2 C-Sections, and a Right Mastectomy.  The Mastectomy, which the doctor stated might take 4-6 weeks to recover from (without radiation), is,  even now, 6 months after the surgery date, still causing me problems.  I am , as a matter of fact,  this very day,  seeking medical attention for the severe tightness in my pectoralis major and minor that is compressing a nerve and causing some tingling in my hand.   I am afraid of the next surgery.  Even when I consider the least invasive of options which is just having the mastectomy on the left without any reconstruction, I am afraid of the risks and the lingering tightness that I am currently experiencing.  You may be asking…Why even have the mastectomy on the right?  Well, the doctors recommend it due to the fact that I’ve had breast cancer (which was an aggressive form) and  I’m only 41 years old.   I actually agree with this medical recommendation.  I am considered high risk, I do not want to go through breast cancer treatment again.   Also, now that I’m super lopsided, AND I DO NOT LIKE IT, the idea of leveling things out sounds great to me.  When this all of this treatment started,  reconstruction sounded like the obvious decision.  Badda Bing….Chemo, surgery, reconstruction, back to normal life with “right-sized” breasts J.  Just another small RIF.  (Reduction in Force for those of  you who have not yet been directly affected by the economy).   Now, after living with  post-surgical tightness and discomfort, and understanding that there will not really be feeling in the area(s), it seems less obvious.  However, as I mentioned above, I don’t like dealing with the prosthesis, and I’ve mentioned a time or two….I DO NOT LIKE being LOPSIDED.  It is not simply a matter of how it looks (although it does make me turn for a second look whenever I pass a mirror)  it is how it feels.   I like the Carnation’s author and readers’ opinions that everything in the world does not have to be “matchy, matchy”, and that there is “beauty in asymmetry”.  I hear all that, and would agree, but,  it just doesn’t feel right to me.  Also, while I really have never wanted the larger cup size that I have/had, I have become accustomed to having something there.  I have enjoyed filling out a bathing suit or a low cut shirt.  With that said, other than the severe tightness, the lopsidedness, and the extreme reminder of what I’ve been through,  the mastectomy site itself does not really bother me.  It does not feel bad not to have something there.  I even kind of like it in some ways.  As I’ve mentioned, I do look like a faster runner on that side.      

Had I not been typing the above entry from my ephone, I would likely have mentioned all of this.

In the light of this discussion, I’ve decided to name this phase of my life just that.  Reconstruction. This is the time period in which I’ll be working to re-build my physical and mental strength in order to run a 50 mile run, and to be able to make a sound decision regarding my future with surgery.

On that note, Reconstruction is well under way.  Here is an example of a very good sign:  Yesterday, when my alarm failed to go off at 4:45 am for my Tuesday morning 5:30 a.m. group run, and I woke up at 6:08 a.m. I was very upset.  I was able to gather myself and still make it out the door, drive downtown, and start running my solo 8 mile road run by 6:31 a.m.  I completed the run without a walking break despite lack of conversation, high temperatures and large hills J.

P.S. We'll miss you Bastrop.