Three-mile run and a Giant turkey sandwich

Bald eagle on the trail.
Hard to see, but (s)he's there!

Three weeks ago, I ran one mile for the first time in an embarrassingly long time. It was short, and it was slow, but it happened. I went for a run. Over the past three weeks, I have run a few more times - still slowly, still not very far.

I first started running in highschool, when I was 15 or 16. I have never been fast, but I do consider myself a Runner. Running has been many things to me over the years: the enabler of my eating disorder in highschool; a way to lose weight and forget about my broken heart in college; proof of the resiliency of my body after cancer; and recently, a faster way to explore the trails and wild areas of my beloved Colorado. Also, and most importantly, it has always been my primary method of decompression. I turn to running in times of stress and distress, and it is perhaps the only thing I still rely on for my own health and happiness, as various other strategies and coping mechanisms have come and gone again.

I have had a number of running-breaks over the years, most notably during that whole cancer thing. But I slowly jogged my way back to health, and even went and limped through a marathon two years after finishing two years of cancer treatment. Somehow, I hobbled through another marathon, a year and a half later. So the last marathon I ran was in April, 2012. I have run a few more trail races since then, of which I am most proud of finishing the 2014 Imogene Pass Run.

In 2014, though, the strangest thing happened - I got a corporate desk job. I launched into a career with one of the biggest companies in Denver, blindly assuming that this is what I really wanted, what I was meant to do! Never mind that I left Boston, DC and Chicago to get away from high-stress, high-pressure companies and the individuals who value work as the end instead of as the means to an end. I have been at this job for almost three years, and I have begun to draw a few correlations between that job and my overall health and happiness. Let's just say that I believe my job has had a direct, negative impact on virtually every aspect of my Health.

But this post is about running. I'll save the story of the sad, stressed and sick Caroline for another day. Today, I ran straight through for 30 minutes. Well, to say I "ran" is incredibly generous. I felt like I was shuffling along a dirt trail, barely more than jogging. And yet, I was surrounded by prairie dogs, prairie hawks and a glorious bald eagle, and there were no other humans on the trail. For the past three weeks, I have had to come to terms with the fact that I am truly and unavoidably starting over. All of my Healths - mental, emotional, physical, etc. - have slowly been destroyed over the past three years. Perhaps not least of all, I have barely run in over a year. Finally, sadly, I have reached my rock bottom. The good news is that I didn't end up in the hospital, but I think I would have, soon.

I am changing my life. I am putting myself first. Among many other things, this means that I am running again. Slowly, and for only a few miles at a time, I am running again. I refuse to give up on myself and the "being-aliveness" that I love so dearly, and I will continue to put one foot in front of the other and remember to stop and take a picture of the nesting bald eagle because how often do you see that on a run??

Stay tuned because I have a whole lot more to share as I head down this particular life-trail. I am so scared, but I am so excited because, finally, I am going to acknowledge and prioritize the one person I can never escape - myself.

This is the most Me I can be.

Sunday afternoon musings - hopped up on chai and sunshine

What have I been doing these past five months? Clearly, I haven't been writing. I was working and hiking and running and backpacking and wedding-ing (my brothers'), and generally doing lots of things that were not writing. I have also been trying to heal. As I alluded to in my last post, my body was in sorry shape, earlier this year. I went to Italy in January, and on my return, everything seemed to spiral out of control for me, health-wise. I started losing weight because I had chronic diarrhea and extreme fatigue. I was falling asleep at my desk at work and Lord knows I couldn't run. By May, I had met with a naturopath and was trying to not eat grains and not eat sugar and slowly get back into exercise and gradually get over my fatigue.

The thing is, my health seems to operate as one of those Whack-a-Mole games. You can only whack one mole at a time, and as soon as you do, there's another mole waiting to be whacked, and another and another and you inevitably miss one or two and then the game is over and you may or may not have hit enough moles to get a few tickets spat out at you that can be redeemed for something Made in China. But I digress. My gut is healing (*Knock Wood!!). It no longer starts bubbling after every single thing I eat. I have gained five or six pounds, so I'm about back to a normal weight. But the moles: my hemoglobin count is falling.

Yesterday, I went for a pretty stout hike, and the mountain nearly broke me. My generation has embraced the notion of collecting experiences versus things, and we share everything cool with everybody who follows us on social media. Don't get me wrong - I do it too. But yesterday, it occurred to me that if I posted the selfie I took after finally making it to the saddle between the mountains, as the sun was setting and the mountains and the plains were both glowing, if I shared that moment with my social media world, it would be wrong. It would be a pretty picture of me almost on top of a mountain seemingly celebrating four miles and 2,500 feet of vert! Totally badass! And yet, that was one of the most brutal hikes I've ever forced myself through. I did it, but only because I would have felt even worse if I had turned back. But for four miles and 2,500 feet, I couldn't breathe; I felt like I could barely move.

I've come a long way since the end of May, but all the sneaky moles that pop up keep reminding me that I am sailing uncharted waters. None of how I feel is normal, and I haven't yet found any sort of precedent for these sicknesses. But it is all I can do to just keep pushing onwards and upwards. Even if I have to take a break to let my heart rate chill out every few minutes; even if I have to remind myself to drink water and stay fueled. I am not ready to turn around or just quit because if I have learned one thing from my years here, the view from up high is Always worth it.

Here's to another five months of living!!

It is a Tuesday

Which means: jazz on the radio, garlic and rosemary sockeye, white sweet potato roasties, and, now, organic hot chocolate.  There is a mini Christmas tree glowing in the fireplace-space of my apartment, nestled beneath a large glass jar stuffed with some more glowey Christmas lights.  You cannot have too many Christmas lights glowing all around.  Standing in the corner, right next to my jam-packed bookshelf, are a pair of lime green and black and orange (?!) crazy, ridiculous powder skis that, every time I look at them, make me think of my crazy, ridiculous boyfriend powder skier. (I look at those skis a lot.)  There is a 1950s-era fully functional record player across the room, hanging out beneath our vintage disco ball.  It's time to bust out the Beach Boys Christmas album! which we do have.

I am blessed.  I am grateful and lucky and beyond amazed every day that I am here, living this life.  A blog I was reading earlier today contained this statement: "Life can change, powerfully, in six years."  She was referring to having been diagnosed with celiac disease six years earlier.  Six years ago, for me, I was diagnosed with cancer.  Life changed, powerfully, in the course of one week.  Six years ago, I had no idea what the next months, weeks of my life would bring.  I knew only that I had to do everything possible to stay alive, to go back to school the next year.

I don't think there is anything in this world that can prepare you for a life-shaking, paradigm-shattering event.  Doesn't matter if it is celiac or cancer or lupus or the birth of a child or whatever.  Other people say things like, "I couldn't do what you've done."  But that isn't true.  If you want it badly enough, you will do whatever it takes to adapt to this new challenge.  Even though I used it once, I really don't like the term "new normal."  Can anyone define for me "old normal?"  Is it normal to sleep 4 or 5 hours a night, depend on caffeine and processed foods to sustain us during the day, use alcohol or substances as a means of relaxation?  Don't tell me that is normal; don't even try.  We are all so individualized.  The glory of our lives is that we have the freedom to choose how we want to approach our days.  We really can choose our attitudes.  There is no science to confirm or deny that my (mostly) positive attitude helped me beat cancer, but I am cancer-free six years later despite still consuming mass quantities of sugar.

It's funny: most high school and college kids have a plan for their lives; they have at least a vague idea of where they'll be in five years' time.  When I was a senior in college, five years ago, I had no remote vision of my future.  I was still entrenched in the reality that I might not live to see the next semester.  Everything has gone in a completely different direction than I would have thought.  I always thought my younger brother would live in Colorado, not me.  I would have said, "Oh wow, that's super cool!  But so unlikely!" if someone had told me by 2013 I'd have completed two marathons, Chicago and Boston.  I'd have climbed in Wyoming and Utah and Colorado, photographed the President and countless bands, friends, mountain bikers.  Worked at Starbucks.  Still worked at Starbucks...  If someone had told me that in five years time, I would decide to go back to school for science.  Like, for real.  Science.  Who does science??

And yet here I am, six years later, doing science.  Doing science because I want to know what happened to my body and how I can fix it nutritionally.  I, too, was diagnosed with celiac, but it popped up as a result of the immunodeficiency caused by chemo.  Chronic inflammation, sinusitis: things that I can control with diet and exercise, things I so badly want to help others understand and control with diet and exercise.  "I couldn't do what you've done..."  What, couldn't eliminate gluten because it was a life or death situation?  Of course you could!  And discover quinoa and quinoa flour and garlic rosemary sockeye and white sweet potatoes!  Life is worth figuring out how to make it work.  It might even end up infinitely better than what you imagined.

In the meantime, so much for running and blogging about it.  I haven't been running almost as much as I haven't been writing.  I have been running a little bit, but not enough and with no motivation behind it.  I think I need something to work towards.  I'm not one of those people who can just Run.  I need to train, even if it's half-hearted.  I need a reason to haul out of bed when it's dark and cold when I would much prefer to sleep a little longer.  So, if anyone wants to suggest a spring/early summer race, OR, if someone wants to train with me, please let me know!

There are so many beautiful things in this world, in my life.  Again, so much to be grateful for.  I am normal (hah) and lose sight of that perspective sometimes, but I also always come right back to it.  It's been six years, and I am still kicking, and kicking it in Colorado, no less!  I have my very own pair of gnarly skis!  I have a plan and a vision for my future.  It's an incredible one, too.  I have No Idea how any of it will work out, but it is there, at least.  It is something to work towards while still living every day and appreciating everything I have.  We are all so lucky to be here.  I only ask that you consider everything you're blessed with, realize that nothing is permanent and it is all we can do to appreciate what we have right now.  Thank you for tuning in, hopefully I'll be back sooner.  There has been a lot on my mind lately; maybe I'll share some more of it.

Trying to run more; thinking less about the small stuff.  Love!

So many wonderful things

Raspberry sorbetto after a sunset photo-walk after a wild rice/pork tenderloin/coconut-curry sweet potato goulash repast after a nap.  Atmospheric distortion: dark violets to light greys with each successive mountain range as the sun sets behind them all.  Realizing that confidence is beautiful.  Realizing, too, that the person I used to be before the Boston Marathon, before celiac, before Colorado and certainly before cancer, is not the woman I have become and not particularly someone I want to emulate.  Realizing the neighborhood in which I live is extremely lively and interesting when you're strolling around it on foot in the evening.  (There's a Buddhist temple/house/bookstore three blocks away?!) Finishing that pint of delicious raspberry sorbetto and you know what? I don't even feel bad about it because it is gluten and dairy free and I ran yesterday...  Oh yeah, and running.

Yesterday after work, I flopped onto my bed with every intention of closing my eyes and napping for a bit before I began the adventure of cooking my dinner.  My brain, though, didn't shut down.  Instead, it reminded me that I hadn't really run in about 2 weeks, hadn't moderately exercised in a few days.  Also, I just wasn't that tired.  So I popped up, put on my shorts and wicking t-shirt, laced up my sneaks, and headed into the wind.  3.6 miles later and that was it.  Run and done.  For a while last night, I couldn't stop thinking about how soon I became winded (after, like, 5 minutes) and how the run really didn't feel that easy.  Then I realized that I have this ridiculous double standard for myself.  I had just run for 35 minutes straight, two days after nearly passing out from exhaustion at work.  So many people don't run, period.  My roommate reminded me that of course it wasn't particularly easy; I've only run twice since the marathon a month ago.  You don't just stay in shape because you want to be in shape; you have to make an effort.

Every day I have to remind myself to make an effort.  Whether concerning running, what I'm eating, how I approach my job and coworkers, or how I approach the day in general.  Maintaining a positive attitude can be difficult, especially when it seems like everyone else is in a bad mood or no one will ever want to hire me for a "real" job.  I have to remind myself that there are So Many Wonderful Things! and that I am incredible and indestructible in a way that has nothing to do with twenty-something obliviousness.  It isn't that I can do stupid things and suffer no consequences; it is that I have survived so much that I know I can conquer any fear or challenge.  I know too many wonderful people who doubt themselves or who don't give themselves nearly enough credit as human beings.  Of course, there is a line between confident and cocky, but why are too many people afraid to believe in their own strength and beauty?  It has taken me years and a whole lot of self-doubt (that I still struggle with) to reach this point, but seriously, we are all so amazing, so capable of grabbing life by the horns and making it our own.

I really can't emphasize enough that there are so many wonderful things in our worlds, so many small or huge or seemingly insignificant things that can only bring you joy if you make an effort to see them.  Walking underneath a giant flowering tree that smells Amazing!  Knowing that somewhere out there, maybe close by, possibly not close enough, there is another person who loves you and believes in you even when you doubt yourself.  Think about it: you have that person somewhere.  At the very least, you have yourself, and often you can be your own greatest source of support in tough times.

If you don't run, you won't improve your endurance and lung capacity.  If you don't take a moment to breathe and love yourself, you might come to the end of your day questioning what exactly you accomplished, and was it worth it?  I didn't accomplish anything measurable or necessarily lasting today, but I told someone I love them, and I sat for a stunning sunset, and I reminded myself, Again, that my life can be so stupid hard sometimes, but it is all worth it.  Even the pint of sorbetto.  That was definitely worth it.  So.  How was Your day?