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.

Putting the miles between myself and I

I am a survivor.  I am a force to be reckoned with.  I have been broken in so many different places and every one of them has healed stronger than before.  I understand what it means to be truly happy, and I will do whatever it takes to share that understanding with others.  I also understand that those moments of happiness are the exception rather than the rule and must be held onto as gifts distributed sparingly.  I am a runner.  I have spent the past five years not running away but running towards a future full of promise.  I have run so many miles towards this life I now live.

Five years ago today, I was ushered into a cab by two incredulous doctors at the Boston University health center with the directive to go straight to the ER.  They had never before come across a student with such low blood counts.  "What do you mean, you 'walked here'?"  Apparently, I should have passed out weeks earlier.  Thus began my relationship with medical professionals wherein they do a poor job covering their shock at the crazy, awesome anomaly that is my body and my dogged persistence at living.  The second such exchange came a few hours later when an hematologist examined me and exclaimed, "Even your tongue is pale!"  Who knew.  Two days later, on December 8, a wizened and certainly well-meaning older oncologist asked me if I would rather wait for my mother before he told me what was wrong with me.  Thus began my continued frustration with medical professionals and their (mostly) unwittingly treating me like a child.  Anyway, he told me I had leukemia.  So much, then, for life.

Except that absolutely not: I was going to take this cancer thing and deal with it using whatever means necessary.  I had to get back to school; I had so many things to do.  As cliche as it really is, giving up was never an option.  That was five years ago.  Technically, I have been cancer-free for most of those five years.  The chemo worked quickly and thoroughly on my leukemia, though there have been latent side-effects and residual issues as a result of the powerful drugs.  So, still dealing with that nonsense.  At this point though, it is just one more thing; my weekly and monthly doctor's visits are just something I have to do on Tuesdays.  Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind if I am honest and looking straight at it, I am still sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting to hear that this time it actually is cancerous.  But there is absolutely no point in thinking or living that way.  That thought-box is locked and under a pile of essays I wrote in college about Thomas Hardy.  Not something I frequently examine.  (Though I do love Hardy.)

I went for a run today, my first since last Wednesday.  (It's been snowing and super-cold in Denver and I haven't quite psyched myself up to run in those conditions.  Yet.)  But today I ran, and I ran six awesome miles.  It was 15 degrees when I headed out my door, and Denver being the strange weather-freak it is, I was over-heated in about 20 minutes.  Seriously, wearing a Nike cold-gear shirt and a fleece sweater, I was so warm.  I had to take off my gloves.  Anyway, the point of All of this, including my extended build-up, is that I cannot believe the path my life has taken since its abrupt detour five years ago.  I am a barista in Denver, training for a marathon, living with a craigslist-found roommate who has turned out to be a really awesome person and a pretty positive influence in my life here.  I smile Every Time I see the mountains.  Yesterday, walking to work at sunrise, they were snow-capped and glowing salmon-colored.  They remind me that there are things in this world larger and stronger than myself.  I am literally surrounded by mountains in my life and while they are imposing, they are beautiful.  You have to appreciate the beauty while respecting their power.

I ran six miles today like it was nothing.  Myself five years ago couldn't have done that.  Myself five years ago was a naive, young and totally uncertain version of this person I have grown into.  It has taken me So Long to get to this point, and not just chronologically speaking.  The doctors and nurses whose names I'll never remember; the liters of blood drawn and infused; the emotional blocks to healing I had to find a way around and over and through.  The friends who believed in me when I really didn't have any confidence in my own ability to succeed.  Finally, I have reached a point where I feel truly healthy.  Finally, I have reached a place where I am giddy every time I look around, whether in my apartment, in the city or in the mountains.  This life is not without its challenges; cancer is still a large part of my life, but it is so different, so much better.

I have come so far and yet this is all only just beginning.  I cannot wait to see what the new year brings.  In a sense, I am five years old and the whole wide world is open and full of wonder.  Have you ever watched a five year-old?  Their expressions are suffused with excitement and awe at Everything.  Why can't we be like that now?  Why can't we be 25 or 45 or 75 and wondering at the beauty of the world every single day?  I'm pretty sure we can.  So on this, the anniversary of my cancer diagnosis and the day I've run six miles and hung out with amazing people and baked a squash and listened to great jazz, I can only entreat you to look around and smile at what you see.  Five years later, and I can do nothing but smile at where I am and everything I have survived.

Thanks for bearing with me yet again.  Cheers and happy Tuesday...

Whoops...

Guess I'll just skip April altogether and call it a day then.  Here's the takeaway from the past five (plus) weeks: somehow and against all expectations, I ran and actually Finished the Around the Bay Road Race in Hamilton, Ontario, on March 27.  It was a blistering 18 degrees at the start, but it was also completely sunny.  Surrounded by nearly 7000 other runners, I barely felt the cold once I got moving.  All told, I finished very near the end of the pack, but considering I (really) hadn't adequately trained, I did a lot better than I could have hoped.  So, hooray!  18 miles, done and done.

Unfortunately, the following week, I developed an epic cold and have only run once since March 27th, a measly 2.5 miles.  Even that was a struggle.  One of the things I realized is that I can be sick and work, or I can be sick and run, but I cannot be sick and do both things.  Income trumped cardio.

Raging sinus infection or no, life goes on, and I find myself, five weeks following my crazy Canadian race, living in Denver, Colorado.  Wait, what??  Yes, yes, I moved to Denver.  Four Days Ago.  No car, which means I have been walking all over the place these past few days trying to find groceries, toilet paper, a lamp for my bedroom (still looking for that last one...).  Two things are worth noting for context's sake: One is that I walked Everywhere when I went to school in Boston.  I was a walking machine because it was easy and necessary to walk around Boston.  The second thing is that once I moved back to Chicago following my graduation, I no longer had to walk, much less walk miles and miles at a time.  Sure, I ran lots, but walking is definitely different.  Living in the suburbs with nowhere to walk to, I became complacent and comfortable driving my parents' car if I needed to get somewhere.  Four days ago, all of that changed.  I was once more thrown into a situation where I don't have a car, and there are limited means of getting myself around.  Some weird leg muscles are currently crazy sore, but walking it is!

Now, this blog is sort of supposedly about running.  I haven't run much lately, hence the lack of writing about my running.  What was I supposed to say, "Yep, another day where I couldn't really breathe, just sat around feeling guilty and eating."?  No, because that's lame.  Also, while the sinus infection was my main deterrent, I think I was also kind of burnt out after all the pressure I had been putting on myself about the 30K and not training enough for it.  I just needed to chill out and not feel like I had to go outside in the rain/snow/greyness and train for some race.

But now I live in Denver...  Now I live within sight of the Rocky Mountains and right beside one of the major trail systems that runs through and around the city.  Now there is actual sunshine - already, my schnoz is sunburned.  Now I am Finally on antibiotics and I can actually breathe through my nose again; my sinuses aren't out of control painful!  It is very exciting.  So today, after spending the past three days just walking around, today I laced up my sneakers (sort of new Nikes that I don't really like) and headed to the Cherry Creek Trail directly behind my apartment.  I jacked up the volume on my ipod and took off.  And I ran for a whole entire 15 minutes (gee whiz.) before doubling over gasping for air and desperately needing a walk break.  All told, I ran about 3 miles, with a few intermittent walks.

My God, am I out of shape.  Actually, it's more my lungs that are weak, I think.  Between being sick and now living 5,280 miles about sea level, I was struggling for sure.  It is too late for me to turn back now, and actually, I am already registered for another race, the Colorado Relay.  Terrifying, I know, but hey, why not.  Anyway, I have over three months to train for it, so I should be good...  I hope.

There's only one way to find out, I suppose.  I ran today; I am going to run tomorrow.  I will probably be walking much more as the weeks progress, and I am fairly sure that my mountain bike (!!) is on its way as well.  Ugh, there is so much to look forward to out here.  Life is pretty damn exciting right now, even if I am also scared out of my mind that I am going to run out of money and not be able to pay my rent and my bills and then I guess I'll end up one of the friendly homeless people scattered throughout downtown Denver.  But not tomorrow, anyway.

This life of mine is all about having crazy and absurdly amazing goals (the Colorado Relay!?) while still living day to day and not letting my anxiety overwhelm me.  I am not sure I had ever really thought about moving to Denver before maybe three months ago, but here I am, alive and breathing and starting to run again.  Who knows what this life will bring?  I pray that the bad will occasionally be tempered by some good, and I pray I will be able to conquer the bad that occurs anyway.  Running helps.  Friends help a lot.  Looking at the Rocky Mountains is pretty awesome as well.  And one day (soon, I hope), I will be running with friends up and through those mountains.  Crazy stuff, but hey, it's life, and it is all mine.

Running more.  At altitude!