13.1

Mile 1:  I realized this weekend that my goal of running 13.1 before I turn 40 is not going to happen.  And I lost my schmidt.  I wouldn't say I was inconsolable, but pretty close to it. 

Mile 2:  I find that interesting that one year ago I would have passed out running 2.5 miles and now I run that for a warm up.

Mile 3:  And I also find it funny that not being able to run a half marathon is so devastating to me.  A big part of that is that damn Tamoxifen.  Tami has been a regular guest in our home, and this weekend she moved in with ALL HER BAGGAGE.  It was a tough visit.

Mile 4:  After not running Girlfriends I was really looking forward to the Holiday Half on Dec. 16.  Turns out that is the day before my next health half marathon, the 6 hour surgery I will endure to get my new fake boobs and have all my girly parts removed. 

Mile 5:  Yeah, running 13.1 the day before was probably not going to be a wise choice on my part.  So I sold my bib and cried.  A LOT.

Mile 6:  For me, it isn't about the running.  It isn't about being able to say I ran 13.1.  It's about accomplishing something I set out to do. 

Mile 7:  I hate leaving goals unreached.  I almost never do.  Letting go of a goal is admitting defeat, and that's not something I take lightly.

Mile 8:  So in the midst of all my crazy tamoxifen induced blubbering I had a sort of epiphany.  My kids have school on my birthday.  I don't.  November 9 is my free pass to run that 13.1.  As long as I get it done before 11:05 am, technically I can cross that off my goal sheet.

Mile 9:  So I convinced my BRF Cyndie Pelto into mapping 13.1 for us and running it with me (she was easy to convince) and my other good friend Audrey to watch Cyndie's kids. 

Mile 10:  I'm making us race bibs, Amy's inaugural 40th birthday half marathon bib. 

Mile 11:  I think the kids will string some toilet paper for me across the street and ring some cowbells when we round the corner.

Mile 12:  So while I won't get a medal, and I won't have an official time recorded from an official race, I'm running MY half, with MY BRF on MY 40th birthday and couldn't be more excited.

Mile 13:  I'm putting a lid on my 30's, the best and worst decade of my life by running out all the good, all the bad, all the ugly from 2002-2012, once again leaving it all on the pavement.

Mile .1:  And when I'm done, I'll be 40.  And I can't wait.

Infinity and beyond

All these year's I've sworn off tattoos.  I'm totally chicken shit.  That's the honest to goodness truth.  Part of me doesn't want to "infinitely" leave a mark on my body and part of me is terrified of needles.

Thanks to the summer of 2012 the part of me that was afraid of needles has long since left the building and quite honestly, nothing is a worse "mark" than the pink dots on my sides where my drains came out or the scars in my armpits from the lymph node removal.  So I want a PRETTY scar to remember my strength.

So you know what?  I'm gonna do something I said I'd never do.  I'm going to get a tattoo.  I'm not one of those judge-y non-tattoo people taking a walk on the wild side either.  No, I never think twice about someone's ink.  It just wasn't for me.

But now I've got all KINDS of grand plans for a tattoo, but the problem is, ahem, I don't really know where to go.  I've had a couple recommendations for some good places in Portland, but of course they are booked out for FOR-EV-ER.  Hoping to call in a favor, but gotta find someone who knows someone who knows someone.

In the meantime, the extent of my artistic abilities is drawing really awesome stick figures (just ask my kids!).  I wow them daily with my amazing and detailed figurines.  I'm that awesome.

So conceptually I know what I want, or at least like a child I waffle back and forth between TWO things, neither of which I can appropriately articulate, and I stamp my foot in vein when no one gets me.

I'm toying with an infinity symbol that has the pink ribbon for 3/4 of the design and the rest of the symbol is 7.12.12 which is my mastectomy date.

The other option is a straight up pink ribbon with Survivor in script on one ribbon and the date of my surgery on the other.

For folks who know me, this probably comes as QUITE A SHOCK.  Rest assured it isn't something I take lightly (even if I do jest) and I feel like this is one of those times in my life where it's OK to make an exception to a personal rule.

Hell, I broke the "no drinking in college" rule on Day 3 (please tell me my mother isn't reading this) followed by the "no drinking during the week" rule on about day 10. Several other rules followed, mostly having to do with never missing class, then never missing on a Monday, then never missing on the first day because you're too hungover.....but I digress.

This rule, in my playbook is totally worth breaking.  I just need two things: some divine intervention to give me some artistic gifts and a good connection to a tattoo place that is willing to squeeze in a BC survivor.  Probably in time for her 40th birthday.  Coming up in like 3 1/2 weeks.  And her BFF.  Who wants to get one at the same time.  Anyone?  ANYONE?

Curses...foiled again

To say I'm disappointed would be like saying I kind of have a crush on The Rock.  (I have a BIG ASS crush on The Rock).  To say I'm sad would be like saying it sometimes rains in Portland.  It rains here like 9 months out of the year.  To say I'm angry is like saying Lindsay Lohan's Dad has a slight personality disorder.  Need I say more?

Yesterday afternoon after a lovely little nap with my 6 year old, during which I repeatedly woke up shivering I thought I should check my temperature.  My fever was back.  And it was ringing the bell while the fly girls yell.

I did a very quick search on WebMD (my go to for medical concerns except for that time Mark had meningitis) and discovered a little warning about ladies like myself taking Tamoxifen and getting the flu.  Awesome.  NOT.

Turns out, and I'm so thrilled to find this out NOW, ahem, my immune system is compromised which makes it significantly more likely that I'll develop something awful after having the flu, unless I go in at the first sign of my symptoms and get that tamiflu stuff. (Ironic that the beginning of the drug's name is Tami, just sayin'.)

I decided to go in to Urgent Care and I do have to say I was very happy with my experience.  Normally I hate going in to those kinds of places, but these guys at ZoomCare, really were pretty great.  I had to give the whole background story on my cancer and the drug and the blah blah blah.

So, one flu swab (negative), one blood draw, and a chest X-ray later they are still not sure how to explain my 99.6 degree fever (which was down from the hour before when I took Tylenol).  I left with prescriptions and a caution that I've probably got pneumonia, but they can't really confirm it until they see all the test results.

So I had to ask.  I'm a runner, I had to know.  Could I still run 13.1 miles?  She said, and I quote: "I strongly advise against it.  You will finish on a stretcher."  Always wanting a second opinion, and because she was IMing with her supervising physician I asked her to double check with him.  I could see his response on the screen: NO!!!!!!!  Um, so you're saying there's still a chance I can run?  NOT!

So here I am, Sunday morning, writing about another race I can't run because of this stupid cancer/tamoxifen/crap.  I'm sad, angry and so disappointed.  I was supposed to give cancer the middle finger today by running in under 2 hours and instead, it's sitting there laughing at me like a bully that just knocked all my books on the ground.

If you know me, though, you know that this will just motivate me even more.  Eventually.  Right now I'm finally giving myself permission to be sad about it.  But, in the end, I woke up this morning to a hug and a kiss and a long snuggle from my little boy.  And my sweet girl is reading over my shoulder right now waiting for me to finish so she can play on the computer.

Time with my husband and children is a little gift I was given this morning and one that I cherish deeply.  Seeing my daughter's smile as she came down the stairs is something I would have missed if I had gotten up ass crack early to run.  If I had run that race I might have been hospitalized.  That was made crystal clear. 

So, while I'm sad, I remain thankful that the choice I made was to listen to my body and the reward is this precious time at home today.

Leaving it all on the pavement

It seems like every time I set a goal and I am ready and able to crush it, something gets in my way.  I'm having a poor old me moment, please excuse me for that.  Last summer I was totally going to kill my first sprint tri.

My training had me on target for a 1:45 finish, which is NOT smoking fast for competitive folks, but for me it was almost unbelievable.  Then, that whole booby cancer thing popped up and I wasn't able to compete.  Make no mistake, I'm gunning for a better time on the same sprint tri next summer.  Watch me.

Then I set a goal of a sub 2 hour half marathon tomorrow, October 14, 2012, well before I found out about the cancer thing.  But didn't give up on my training and I was trained, ready and in the best place to be able to achieve that goal, despite being 3 months post bilateral mastectomy.

Running this race in under two has been important to me for several reasons.  One of the big ones is that this is a Komen supported event, and that means everything to me.  I registered long before I knew about the lump.  I registered, at that time, because I wanted my first half marathon to be a Komen event.  And the meaning is even greater now.

Then, I came down with what I can only describe as the worst flu I've had in years.  Thank you husband and children for allowing me to take care of you, only to get it last AND WORSE than anyone else in the family.  This shit sucks.  It's made me tired.  My nose is raw from all the blowing (of the nose!) and my abs are now a six pack from the coughing.

It couldn't come at a more inconvenient time though.  One week and three days before my first half marathon, the one I wanted to sub-2 hour, the one that I was going to sub-2 hour so I could give breast cancer the middle finger and this.  This.  Damn.  Flu.

Honestly I feel like every time I'm set to achieve my goals something gets in the way.  ALWAYS.  Now I know why people wait until race day to register. (unless we fill up beforehand, Cause + Event Portland WILL have race day registration.  Jussayin')

And, quite frankly this has been a tough week for lots of reasons: starting my new job (which I LOVE LOVE LOVE), trying to get well, and then something bad happened to me earlier in the week.  Something very bad.  Something that I can't tell you about just yet.  I will someday, but right now I can't.  It's something that will live in my memory for the rest of my life, that I will never be able to be OK with.

And the hardest part of all of this has been the fact that I haven't had my usual outlet of physical activity to make peace with everything in my head and in my heart.  And I've been worrying about this half marathon, all my big talk about getting in under 2 hours and the pressure I've placed on myself.  I've got an easy out now, I've been sick.  How could I possibly be able to achieve that goal when I've been so sick?

Today at lunch I had my pity party with my family.  I sighed oh so discontentedly and verbally gave in to my fears and said I wasn't going to run a sub 2 hour half.  My husband, my sweet and wonderful husband said to me "Of course you can.  You're not going to let cancer and a cold and everything else get in your way.  You never do, why start now?"

I hugged him.  Then I started to cry (damn you tamoxifen!) and then my glasses fell off.  I asked him if he really thought I could do it and he didn't hesitate when he said yes.  I so needed to hear that.  More than anything in the world.  And I told him that very thing.

So here's my mindset:  tomorrow I'm going to run the hell out of that half marathon.  I'm going to give it everything I have, and then some.  I'm leaving it all on that pavement.  Forget you cancer, forget you cold, forget you awful incident that shall not be named, forget you all the doubt all the fear all the uncertainty.  Forget everything, except for the road ahead, good music in my ears and an amazing group of the best Girlfriends a girl could ever have the privilege of running with.

And if I run a sub 2 hour half I'll be thrilled.  And if I don't, I'll be so very proud of the accomplishment, and ever-motivated to get under 2 the next time around.  Holiday Half anyone?  :)

The Mother of All Races

As previously noted, I'm heavily involved in the Cause + Event Portland Race here on November 11.  It's a 5K Walk/5K and 10K run and I couldn't be more proud of the work we've done so far, the money we've raised and hopefully that we've raised awareness of many nonprofits in our community to the greater Portland area.

Way back when, in January, when I said "Hey!  I think I'd like to start a nonprofit and host a race here in Portland to raise money for a bunch of charities, of the runner's choosing" I wish I could have had some kind of flash to what it would be like these past few months. 

I'm not saying that I wouldn't do this, no, I would do it ALL OVER AGAIN, and I WILL do it all, all over again.  And again.  And again.  And again.

Especially since my diagnosis last summer and subsequent treatments I definitely feel an even deeper pull to do something to give back.  I want to do something that teaches my children that there's something else out there, something bigger than what, and who we are.

I want them to know that the greatest gift they can ever give is the gift of giving to others, whether it's financially or volunteering, or helping or supporting.  I also feel an enormous sense of responsibility to make sure that I do everything I can to make this race a success.

And to be honest, I feel a great need to leave a lasting legacy.  Something that my children can be proud of and say "My mom did that!".  I want my legacy to be that of someone who took a dream and made it a reality and that reality did countless good things for countless good people and organizations.

Once, when I was first working in the business world, I filled out this "guess who" form, to see if everyone could guess who answered the questions during the office holiday party.  One of the questions was "if you could do anything you wanted to do, what would you do?" 

I remember clearly, at age 27, the answer to that question was to be a wealthy philanthropist.  Between you, me and the fencepost, I never really thought I would be wealthy, and honestly I figured the only way I could give would be to have limitless income.

But guess what?  I'm not wealthy, and I never will be, and that's perfectly OK.  What I am excited about is being able to do what I wanted to do almost 13 years ago.  Granted, I'm not getting paid for this gig, not in money.  I feel the riches though, that come with knowing that I can help make a difference.

I have a full time job (well two if you count motherhood) and I'm doing my best to juggle my job, the kids, being a wife and not letting my toilets get so dirty they look like they might walk away.  Total chaos.  TOTAL.  COMPLETE.  CHAOS.

Then throw running/training for a half marathon (which came to an abrupt halt as I came down with what I can only describe as the plague) and it's a recipe for disaster.  And yet.....I just keep my eye on the prize: helping.

So while some folks may not understand why or how I do any of this on top of everything else, I'll go back to that whole running thing and again tell you it brings me bliss.  I make mental to-do lists on the road, I have conversations with potential sponsors (and I always convince them to join in!) and I dream about what race day will be like and it makes me smile. 

And sometimes, quite honestly, I think about nothing at all. Those are the best runs, when I just run and all I notice are the leaves crunching, or the crispness in the air, or the house that looks like it was freshly painted as I don't remember it being that color the last time I came by, or the garage sale happening (I see the sign but decide to avoid that road altogether!) or a myriad of other "nothings" that make my run fly by.

But back to the race, the Mother of All Races.  Cause + Event Portland is my mother of all races.  It's not one that I'm running, well I'm RUNNING it, but with a walkie talkie! 

It's a race that has been meticulously planned by me, and a slew of other mother runners, and planning it has been just a like we, as mothers, can be to our children:  hard to figure out, emotional at times, so very giving, and just when you need it the most, making you smile and remembering why you do what you do.