And... I'm back again

On a grey, unsettled, chilly January day in Denver, I have retreated to an eclectic coffeeshop with the students, the self-employed, the unemployed, the musicians, the artists.  And me, falling somewhere in the middle of it all.  I remain undefined while consuming some of the best tomato/spinach soup I have ever had, all creamy and tomato-y and cheesy without having any actual cheese in it.  I am scalding my tongue and the roof of my mouth, thanks to a nice barista who seems to be chronically undercharging me.  Maybe I already look destitute, in my mismatched pink and navy flannel shirt and fleecy purple plaid scarf and jeans ripped clear across the knee.  I'm pretty sure no one ever has paid only $8.35 for soup, a large almond milk chai, and a giant chocolate chip cookie (Giant).  The price is still boggling my mind.  Don't worry, I tipped my newfound best friend.

As of January 10, I am fully and so weirdly unemployed.  In the middle of November, my boyfriend and I took a week-long trip to Virginia to visit family, and I decided I couldn't come back to Denver and continue working at Starbucks.  I was done; it was time.  The Philadelphia Marathon came and went, and it didn't include me.  I spent September and October fighting a sickness I couldn't shake until finally, a week before the Marathon, I crumbled, called in the antibiotics, and called off this marathon I was supposed to have been training for.  Who knows if there's a correlation, but my training started suffering and my health started failing right around the time I started opening at Starbucks consistently.  Opening, for me, meant falling out of bed around 4 a.m. to bike 3 miles to work by 5 a.m., including a few sub-zero mornings.  School, caffeine, fatigue, constant coughing or sniffling or "coming down with something..." I couldn't do it.  My body paid a wicked price, and I wasn't able to join my friend in her very first, amazing marathon.  My boyfriend and I are still dealing with the after-effects of the prednisone the doctors put me on for a second time this year.

So here I am, sitting in a coffee shop, worrying about health care come February 1, sipping chai, not yet doing anything to find employment.  I have skiied a lot and all over since leaving the Bucks - Copper Mountain, Winter Park, Berthoud Pass, A-Basin, Steamboat Springs, an impromtu, ridiculous weekend trip to Jackson Hole this past weekend.  Needless to say, I'm ripped, now.  (Sort of kidding, but no, not really kidding.)  Skiing is a whole lot different from running, especially the slow, long runs I'm used to.  Skiing is short, intense, and quad-thrashing.  Ski in powder, and it becomes all of those things amplified plus the sensation of floating down the mountain in silence.  There were a few runs I found myself alone in trees, snow sparkles drifting all around while the lower sun illuminated my life, and the lactic acid disappeared, and the heavy powder disappeared, and the wrench in my knee disappeared, and it was just me, floating in a forest of crystals and sun beams.

I have learned and believe that nothing lasts and everything changes.  Life, changes, and you can help it change how you'd like it to; you can adapt to the changes; or you can drift along and watch everything shift and grow and die around you and remain encapsulated in whatever bubble you've created of fear and comfort.  I've been doing the latter for over 4 years, although I started tearing down my bubble and finding my footing when I moved to Denver on a whim and a prayer.  Now, it's time to kickstart my life, to jump in and make my own changes.  To finally embrace everything I am and the person I am growing into.  I am so many things, and while I was a barista for a while, I want to be so much more.  2013 sucked pretty badly in my world.  So, okay, time to make a giant change.  Time to ski and run and sip chai and eat delicious, gluten-y cookies and heal.  It is time to Live.  Here we go!

Some things I will just never learn

Such as self-control when it comes to chocolate, peanut butter cup ice cream.  You'd think by this point in my life, after all the pints of various flavors I have consumed, knowing full well the epic, gastric consequences of eating more than I should, equally aware that I have almost Never stopped before it was too late...  You would think I might tone it back a little, or, better yet, Stop Buying Pints of Ice Cream.  Yeah...  No.

Instead, I continue to live for the moment and ignore the well-established precedent of post-cream pain.  Anywhoo.  Moving on, we have been having the loveliest spring here in Denver, Colorado.  I mean, winter.  It is winter.  Frigid, howling zephyrs, all long down jackets and sad faces...  But no, I can't even kid.  While the East Coast is in the midst of a massive winter spectacle (2-plus feet of snow in Boston??), I am sitting in my apartment in a tanktop and with the windows thrown open.  Only a few minutes ago, I was sitting out on my balcony in my tanktop while I digested.  Spring.  And yet, due to an most unfortunate bike-related spill in early January, on the one day winter hit Denver, I have not been running outside.  Until today, I haven't even been running inside.  Ugh.  I did, however, start lifting more to at least do something good for my body while I let me knee heal.  So, my biceps are gigantic.  True story.  Today, though, I had had enough and hopped onto the treadmill and busted out One entire mile! And then I went and lifted some more because I didn't want to exacerbate the still-niggling pain in my knee.  But One whole mile!  It was fine, too.  I really just stopped because my knee is stupid.  Since I still bike everywhere every day, my aerobic capacity tends to not decrease too much on extended run-leaves.  Yet another reason to lock up your car and throw away the key!  Fitness!

So I am slowly starting to run again, key word being slowly.  But I miss it like crazy.  I am also beyond excited for the sun's rising earlier and setting later every day.  Soon, soon it will be Actual spring and I will be all healthy and ready to rock those 6-milers and beyond once more.

In other news, I still have no globulins (*shakes head).  But I say, "screw them."  Perhaps I'm not better off without them, but I am managing quite well on my own, thank you very much.  So well, in fact, that I traveled half-way around the world in a little aluminum can surrounded by other people and their germies, then spent ten days in two foreign countries, exploring, eating cheese, eating more cheese, wandering around, taking photos, eating some more cheese...  Then traveled back to Denver in another little aluminum tube surrounded once more by germies and their peoples.  And I did NOT get sick.  At all.  For sure, got an upset stomach from all the cheese, but returned home triumphant and healthy and reluctant.  (Italy was Incredible!  Must go back...)  In fact, it wasn't until two days ago that I began to feel like something was attacking my chest and head.  Pretty sure I picked up whatever it was from this absurd child who was hacking all over the place at a super bowl showing I went to on Sunday.  I almost wrung her little neck.

The moral of This story is that two days later, I am back to normal.  Whatever my normal is, anyway.  My head is still a bit congested, but then, I am always a bit congested.  But...  Could it be...?  Could this focus on so-called "whole foods", the fruits, veggies and kale I've been trying to eat more of, actually be working to keep me healthy?  ("healthy.")  I finally met with an immunologist on Wednesday.  His gospel was that I unequivocally need the IvIG infusions and may forever.  I still have some terrible unresolved intestinal issues, so, I am okay receiving the infusions for now.  Hopefully they'll help my gut!  But perhaps I can avoid the pesky upper respiratory infections and sinus infections and the flu and pneumonia and cytomegalovirus and what have you all on my own, all by following a diet focused on Plants.  Could it really be that easy?

I sure hope so, because that is what I intend to study for the next three or four years.  Anyway, that is where I am at today.  Ran a mile, kicked a cold, time to head out for a cute date with my super cute boyfriend.  (Who is, himself, fighting a bug.  But he'll pull through.  I hope.)  Best of luck to everyone I know and love out east...  Stay safe, stay warm, get all cuddly and cozy this weekend, then go and enjoy the snow.  Don't forget your vitamin D.  Peace, love!

Globulins!! *shakes fist

Sometime in November, after my doctor suggested trying to avoid the immunoglobulin infusions, I realized that if I wanted to stay truly healthy, I would have to reroute my thinking and some of my habits.  My focus became a broader Wellness that included lifting and running shorter distances, and a much more pointed focus on nutrition: more vegetables; a greater variety of vegetables; sleep; water; tea...  Basically a shift to a sustainable lifestyle that would keep me healthy.

Last time I wrote, I was a few days away from my chem final and my quarterly PET scan.  I ended up with an A in my class and a clear scan.  Hooray!  I also found out that after six weeks, my immunoglobulin levels had fallen to nearly undetectable levels.  Boo!  Most doctors are funny in that they don't believe something until they have tested and proved or disproved it themselves.  Not one doctor over the past three years has believed my Ig levels could be as low as they are until they test them themselves and are appropriately shocked that, Yes, I am still here.  Without those globulins.  Needless to say, a few days later, I received an IgG infusion, which did help with how I was feeling.

As a brand new year gets underway, I have been reflecting on this last year and what I want from 2013.  2012 went by lightning-fast, and I am still trying to process everything that happened.  Between learning the ins and outs of a new relationship, innumerable hospital visits, figuring out how to change my diet and lifestyle following a celiac diagnosis, marathons, hikes, travel adventures, Burning Man, going back to school, and a sense of incredulity that This is really my life?!  Every month, almost every week, brought me some new reason to wake up with a smile on my face.  I truly believe that it doesn't matter much what happens in your life.  It is most important how you approach the challenges and appreciate the good moments. 

Disclaimer: I used to be a raging pessimist and cynic.  I had very low self-confidence and little appreciation for everything I am capable of accomplishing.  Having cancer did little for my confidence.  It doesn't help a 20-year old to lose her hair, her strength, to see her weight fluctuate an incredible amount.  Yet, everything that has come my way since 2006 has only made me so much stronger.  The immune issue and now the celiac issue both tried to once more take away my physical strength and confidence.  I chose to laugh (after a little crying and self-pity) and start baking delicious cookies and muffins full of nutrients and non-gluteny grains that could only help my body.  My poor body has gone through so much these past six years, and thankfully my attitude and perspective have changed almost as much.

So on New Year's Eve, I sat at home with a gluten free pizza, a movie, and time to reflect on what I want from this next year.  I wrote down a whole bunch of things, some fantastic, most definitely within my reach.  Not resolutions, but a loose map of where and how I want to find myself this time next year.  I fell asleep shortly after midnight, mostly satisfied.  I woke up a few hours later for work and realized that everything I had written down is wonderful, good ideas, nice to set goals, but I really only want one thing: I want myself and my friends and family to stay healthy this year.  School, work, travel, running, all of it will fall into place if I can make it happen, but it will all only matter if I am healthy.  If I have the energy to do everything, the strength to carry my bike all over the place, to study and work and dance around my living room and love as much as I am able, then it will be a Great year.

The best part is, to an extent, this is all within my control.  I've been reading a lot about immunity and self-care through nutrition.  I'm not sure how well it all applies to someone with a super compromised immune system (globulins! *still shaking fist), but it certainly won't hurt anything.  So to bring this (probably unnecessarily) long post to a close: Wellness.  I haven't run in about 3 weeks due to finals and then family in town and then I crashed on my bike and my knee has been out of commission.  I haven't gone grocery shopping recently and my supply of vegetables is basically nil.  While delicious, cereal for breakfast And dinner does nothing for my immunity.  I am hitting up the store shortly, and while my knee is still busted, I'm stretching and doing push-ups and planks and dreaming about the day I can start running again.  Even if I will once more be starting at ground zero.  This is my life and my body and my health.  I've come too far to throw in the towel now, so why not make the effort to truly take care of myself?  Like I said, if I can do that successfully, everything else will happen as it should.

And finally, a challenge!  I challenge you to figure out what is best for yourself this new year.  Is it eating more leafy greens?  Making time for breakfast?  Doing yoga or giving yourself at least five minutes every day to sit, clear your brain, and think about Nothing, just let go for a few minutes?  Figure out something sustainable that will ultimately make your life a little better, grow your confidence a little more, keep you healthier.  Let's do it together!  I think resolutions are stupid, hyped expectations that generally lead to guilt-induced bingeing.  Make a long-term plan, plot out a change that can only improve yours and others' lives.  I, again, am shooting for a plant-based diet with the occasional bacon strip thrown in.  Less (no...?) refined sugar, more sleep, moderated and consistent exercise.  Climbing mountains!  Live this life, full of love and gratitude - share it with others.  Thank you, 2012, for everything you brought me.  Here's to 2013 and a whole new slew of adventures, challenges and growth!  Cheers!

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!

No good place to begin

Too frequently, I forget that I am not actually in this alone.  I forget that others have shared these experiences, these emotions.  People I know are, right now, fighting the same fight I am struggling with.  They are winning gracefully and embracing the new lives they have been gifted.  Less than three years ago, at a climbing camp hosted by First Descents in Jackson, Wyoming, I met a group of young adult cancer survivors.  I was utterly overwhelmed by the experience and by the other survivors themselves.  They all seemed so well-adjusted to this survivorship thing; they all seemed like they had their lives back on track and were living every day happily and purposefully.  And a few of them were regular and fairly serious runners.  I was none of those things at the time, and I didn't understand how one could possibly reach that point.

I learned over the course of the week that my initial conceptions were not exactly right...  We were all struggling with adjusting to being young-adult cancer survivors; not one of us quite knew what that even meant.  There was still so much pain and resentment, still so many questions that none of us could answer.  One woman, in particular, impressed me as someone I would like to strive to emulate.  Again, over the course of these past few years, I have learned she is just as fragile as I am; her own cancer struggle was ruthless.  Yet I still look up to her and am inspired by her wisdom and ability to verbalize pretty much exactly how I am feeling.  She blogged the other day, and while her story is completely different from mine, her words hit home, hard:
"Recovery seemed to go on forever, in a kind of horrific slow motion.  Time stopped.  During treatment, there are at least markers and milestones to let you know you are moving toward something.  Once it ended, it often felt as if the limbo would never end.  Life in the immediate aftermath of cancer is suspended animation."

For me, it has been five years since my diagnosis and treatment, and all of those years I have spent suspended.  Cancer took something from me that I have only recently been able to define.  I used to have this deep, burning energy, this drive I could never really explain but innately knew as part of me.  Those who have known me since cancer would probably say I am driven and full of energy, but I am talking about something a little deeper.  This energy was almost a cosmic pull from the future, something hooked and taking me as fast as possible into an incredible and limitless future.  I was going to be a singer! a journalist! I was going to travel the world, taking photos of sick children in Africa, making a difference!  I lived my whole childhood and teenage years believing that everywhere I was going was taking me somewhere new, that everything would lead to something else, unknown and wonderful.  So many years ahead, so much potential.

And then, when I was 20, I got sick.  All of those feelings and beliefs and unconscious understandings were stripped away and I was left bare of everything but a day-to-day struggle to live, to remember to wake up and inhale.  I lost my drive.  I lost my belief in a limitless and spectacular future.  And then when the cancer was finally gone, I think that drive was replaced by fear.  I graduated from college but had no idea how to plan a future because I didn't truly believe I still had one.  I spent a lot of time asking God and the Universe in general, "Where am I supposed to go from here?  What am I supposed to do with this experience; surely there is a reason for my still being here...?"

I know a few people now who would say that First Descents marked a shift in their view of themselves as survivors, changed their lives.  FD certainly changed my life, but I think my epic turning point started just about a year ago.  Just about a year ago, something sparked in me, very quietly.  Whatever that spark was, it brought me to Colorado.  I still had no direction, but I was going to live directionless on my own.  One year ago, I began treatment for immunogammaglobulinemia (basically no secondary immune systems.  Chemo was too effective).  Gradually, my quality of life increased to levels I hadn't experienced since I was 18.  I literally hadn't felt healthy in over five years.  And then I kept kind of getting sick, and it turns out I have celiac disease.  And it turns out my bones are osteoporitic.  And I have high cholesterol.  And I ran the Boston Marathon this past year.

This past year...  I made friends; I learned that I can actually support myself.  I changed my diet, and I feel Incredible.  And recently, within the past six months, the most important things have happened: I developed this crazy relationship with someone I actually want to have a future with.  Really?  Is that what it comes down to, this whole "love" thing?  My heart is growing in directions I honestly didn't think were possible for me.  But it is so much more!  All of these things, the immune issues, the celiac, finishing the Boston Marathon, hiking up a mountain at 14,000 ft in the air, and now this blowing open of my heart and soul for another person - this year, I realized pretty much two days ago, has reignited my drive.  This deep and growling fire in my chest was a feeling I thought was gone.  I thought the antidepressants were stamping it out or cancer had killed it for good.  But unimaginably, there it is.  Finally, painfully, almost reluctantly, I am looking to the future once more, allowing myself to be pulled into it once more.  I am still terrified of the unknown, the lingering threat of sickness, whether mine or someone else's, the fear of losing everything I've built up (again).

It does seem, though, that the most important thing a person can possibly do is define and face their greatest fears.  It isn't easy, and when you're living in suspended animation, sometimes it is actually impossible to pull yourself from that state.  Sometimes it takes a sea change of events to wash away our restraints: a beautiful, incredible, seemingly impossible baby (for my friend) and a family bursting with more love than seems possible but it is because of everything they have overcome.  For me, it took allowing myself to fully entrust myself to another person, to being diagnosed with celiac, to finishing the Boston Marathon though totally untrained and consuming no gluten and to pretty much fully recovering in about three days...  That stoked this ambition to go back to school for nutrition (?!).  So I am going back to school for food science and human nutrition!  It is going to be at least four or five years before I'll be finished with everything, and then everything Really gets exciting.  But look: a plan.  A long-term, long-distance, future-based plan.  A plan based around healing myself and hopefully, ultimately, helping others heal (and walk and run and eat lots of kale).

And fear, still, but fear tempered by love.  I don't know what will happen at any point down this line, but I know what I dream about; I certainly know what I am hoping for.  And so, like my friend, I have to end with this, because it is a universal something we all seek: Hope.  There is hope for a future and whatever it holds and whatever it throws at us.  I know this is supposed to be a blog about running, but humor me this post about running headlong, finally, again, into whatever is coming my way.  Running through the snow and the rain and the 95 degree days and the perfect, breezy spring mornings and running next to someone who won't leave me behind and loving it all just for the sake of being alive and moving and breathing and Oh My God, it's gorgeous outside today!  There is so much, and life is still hard too often, but it is all so worth it.  It really is nice to have Me back.  I feel so fully complete now, now with a purpose, with some ambition, with this love guiding me forward.

Thank you for reading, if you've made it this far.  Promise, more running and nutrition-related posts to come, just had to get all this out.  Love you, love me, love life.  It's all good.  Now go live a little!  And happy summer...

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?

Miss me....??

A most ridiculous thing happened today: my shorts nearly slid off in the supermarket.  It sounds absurd, I know, but as I was walking out with my shopping bags and orange juice, these size-2 Gap shorts kept inching their way down my bum, and any amount of wiggling I tried could not halt their descent.  I stopped and tucked my sweater into my shorts (oh, Colorado weather...) and was good to go for the 6-block walk home.

I share this anecdote not to highlight the reality that I need either new shorts or a new belt or both, nor am I trying to illustrate how I don't have much padding around my hips/butt.  No, I'm sharing this because my new reality is that I don't weigh much, and it is actually quite frustrating.  My weight has become a very visible representation of a larger, darker issue: I am not gaining weight, and I am not absorbing nutrients properly.  The adventures of a newly-diagnosed Celiac athlete!  Trying to eat healthily but also adequately fuel my body.  It's harder than it looks, folks.

It is now nearly three weeks since I ran and Finished (!) the Boston Marathon.  The race was beyond incredible.  So many thousands of runners, all of whom had worked so hard to get to Hopkinton.  Standing around in the athlete's village prior to the start of the race, sipping Gatorade and coffee and water, I could not believe I was there.  With everything that happened these past few months and years, I never imagined I would be wearing a bib number for the Boston Marathon.  Five years after I was sitting in a hospital bed in Chicago wishing I was in Boston drinking with my college friends, I was about to take off running in the race as an official entrant.  I wrote a little bit about this on here, but I had not properly trained for this marathon.  Between being sick and dealing with my GI issues and then having to overhaul my entire diet and way of thinking about food, I just had not put in the miles necessary.  The longest long run I did was about 10 miles, and that was in February.  Which isn't to say I wasn't fit: I bike every day; I still do live at altitude; I was running a little bit.  I had also spent the month before the marathon focusing on nutrition and putting on weight so that no matter what, at least I'd have a little bit of fat or Something to give me energy over the course of the race.

My attitude was basically, "Hell, I have an entry to this crazy marathon.  This may never happen again.  No, I haven't trained well; no, I have no idea what is going to happen; yes, there is a good possibility I won't be able to finish for whatever reason.  So what.  I'm going.  I'm starting.  I will enjoy the experience, whatever that means."  And so I did

A few weeks earlier, I had seen Scott Jurek speak at the REI here in Denver.  He was really interesting, and I wish I could have picked his brain more, but one part of his presentation stuck with me.  He talked about how he managed to win the Western States 100, 7 years in a row, and how such a thing is even possible.  Essentially, his takeaway point was 1: you have to want it, and 2: you have to Really want it.  I wanted this race.  I wanted to be there, and I wanted like crazy to finish.  I hadn't beaten cancer and the face tumor and no B-cells and the face tumor redux and celiac disease only to drop out halfway.  So I took off running when it was finally my turn to cross the start line, and I kept that sentiment with me the entire time.  And even though I ran/walked the thing after about 10 miles in, never once did it occur to me to stop.  Notably, never once did my GI give me any trouble, either.  I crossed the finish line in Copley Square and promptly started sobbing because of every single thing I had overcome to get there.  Because I had just finished the Boston Marathon; because I had once again proven to myself that I am stronger than I give myself credit for.

We all are stronger than we allow.  Our bodies are incredible, and I know so many people who just laugh when the odds keep stacking against them.  Really, if I can run a marathon without adequate training and actually Beat the time of my first marathon (that I did train for...), if I can feel completely back to normal two days after the race, biking to work and getting on with life, if I can get through every single day with a lowered immune system and an allergy to gluten, what can't I do?

Sometimes I don't understand why I am still here, what I am supposed to be doing with this ridiculous life I've been given.  Life can be so hard, and it seems like it would be easy to give up too often.  I don't know what to eat; I have to take supplements and medicines because no matter how much kale I eat, my folic acid levels are just too low.  Etc., etc., etc.  None of this is important.  What matters is that I am still here; I can still run and bike and do one whole pull-up.  There are all these wonderful things and even though I am struggling with celiac and my weight and energy levels, life is So Good!  I guess I'll just keep working on it, eating steak and Greek yogurt and maybe just suck it up and go buy new shorts.  Thanks for checking in; that's what's been on my mind lately.  Hopefully I'll write more frequently about how this whole celiac/nutrition/running/biking/hiking mountains thing goes.  I've given myself a three-week break from running, but I miss it so it's time to start running more, eating more, thinking less about the negative, focusing on the awesome.  So much awesome...

Cigarettes and chocolate milk

No, no; that's not quite right.  More like, herbal tea and clementines.  And yet, I wish I could sit here throwing down Horizon organic chocolate milk and puffing away on American Spirits (tempering vice with virtue).  For the past four days, I have been on a "vacation," which, for me, entails taking a week to myself back home in Chicago.  No plans, just totally vegging out.  Shoot; I had Chipotle today for the first time in a Long Time.  I have not had a straight week without working in nearly two years.  My life has been what it has been, and I will say nothing one way or the other, but I have gotten pretty tired.  Tired of working at a job that I enjoy but don't love and cannot see myself remaining in for much longer.  The past two years have brought their share of ups and downs, neither necessarily trumping the other, but life is still exhausting when you don't stop, when you do not take a minute to slow everything down and let yourself breathe deeply into yourself.

We get so wrapped up in the day-to-day difficulties of existence and pushing ourselves toward some generally unknown goal or future that we forget to take care of ourselves in the present tense.  We forget that we are alive Right Now, and that matters so much more than whatever life we may be living in the Future.  Right now, my life is full of so many wonderful, terrifying and stressful things, and I just don't quite have the energy to fully appreciate and acknowledge each of them.  I am struggling with this running, struggling to stay motivated, struggling beyond belief to start amassing those so-called "long runs."  I fear, too, that my fundraising has stagnated and I will end up disappointing the organization that took a huge risk with me.  Blah blah blah, job un-fulfillment, nagging food issues, blah blah.  Here, please let me take this opportunity to verbalize every mundane and stupid gripe I have with the world.

No, no; that is definitely not right either.  I am falling in love; I am filled with hope for my future.  I cannot wait to get back to Denver because being here has reminded me just why I was so eager to leave in the first place.  The Midwest is beautiful: there is beauty in the barren trees and fields and snow-covered tracts of land hinting that spring is not really so far off if you can just hold out a little bit longer...  Appreciate the rare, fiery sunset in January in Chicago.  I needed this break so badly, even if I feel guilty for the amount I have Not run.  It was nice to be able to sit in my old Starbucks, say hi to some of the regular customers, reflect on how different I feel today.  But I am certainly not a suburban girl, and I have made a home for myself in Denver.  Denver, a city I moved to on little more than a whim, has taken hold of me and has no plans to let go any time soon.  Maybe four months ago, I was looking out a window at a snow-capped mountain, and I had this overwhelming sensation of Rightness.  That everything I had gone through and experienced, all of my choices and mistakes and unconscious decisions had led me right to this exact place and life was exactly how it should be.

I still have glimpses of that sensation every once in a while, but they have been rare this winter.  Not that I have forgotten, but I, like most people, have gotten away from truly appreciating my present and where I am right now.  My winter has so far been emotionally draining and physically tough, and I have no idea if I can do all of this, and I have even less of an idea of where my life is taking me.  My life has changed and I have grown so much over the past year; it is unbelievable.  Last year, living in Chicago, I was just trying to survive.  Now, I am surrounded by mountains and so much love and so many possibilities...  We can plan as much as we want or need to, but really, life is going to happen how it does and we just have to appreciate what we are given and where it takes us.

And love.  We have to love so much, appreciate everything and everyone that comes into our lives.  Better or worse, we are stronger people for the experiences we have, for the way we are touched and touch others' lives.  So sure, it would be much easier to give in to cravings for cigarettes and chocolate milk and self-destruction, but it is so much Better to stop and look around and acknowledge that life is crazy and wonderful and why not just let it wash over us and appreciate all that we have been given.

Thinking less.  Trying to run more, but also not really worrying about it....

Turkey...

Bacon!  Surprisingly or not, turkey bacon just isn't as good as regular bacon.  Oh well; I have both in my fridge.  Things could be worse.  November 24 and I am sitting on my veranda in a tank top.  Listening to classical music and eating barbecue chicken pizza, I can't help but marvel at where I am and how I got here.  Most importantly, I am alive.  This time of year, late November/early December, is typically a strange and introspective time for me.  Five years ago at this time, I was pretty much dying, and then two weeks later I was diagnosed with cancer.  I was a sophomore in college, and I was so deluded.  Depressed and sick, I honestly thought I was living the good life because I was working 40 hours a week and going to school.  Independent!  It still bothers me a little when I consider just how naive I was.

People grow and change over the course of five years; it is normal.  I just can't believe how much my life has changed since I was 20.  Honestly, how much my life has changed over the past year.  It is the strangest thing, too: I have a public record of my feelings and thoughts each year for the past five years.  I kept a cancer-blog pretty much from my date of diagnosis until earlier this year, and my posts from around Thanksgiving are eerie to reread.  Last year, my writings reflect a serious discontent with my life.  I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing; I was still so lost and so uncertain about everything.  Yet, somehow I powered through that depression and even more strangely, somehow I ended up in Denver, Colorado.  One year ago, I had no idea I would be here right now, sitting outside wearing a tank top on Thanksgiving, watching people come home from a day skiing or snowboarding in the mountains.  Literally: A lady just walked into my apartment building carrying her snowboard and a six pack of Fat Tire.  I love Colorado.

True gratitude: this moment, right now.  I am beyond thankful for this, for where my life has magically delivered me.  Certainly, everything is still difficult; I'm still not working in a job I want to be, and it would be nice to be with my family today.  But there are glimpses!  Last night, I photographed my first concert in Denver for HeyReverb, the Denver Post's music website.  I wasn't paid for it, but shoot, I am published and on the contributor's list for a Denver Post affiliate!  My heart was a bit broken a week ago, but even since then, I can feel it healing, and I am grateful for what will one day be a solid friendship.  Grateful to my family who, even if they didn't quite believe I'd be able to make it out here on my own working as a barista, have never stopped supporting me.  I have lived here nearly seven months, and I am not going anywhere.  Five years after my cancer diagnosis, I can say honestly and with no delusions that I am Healthy, capital "H."  The cancer nonsense still isn't over; in fact, it's going to be a part of my life for a few more years than I expected (thanks, FaceTumor!).  But it is no longer holding me back health-wise.  I actually did Two pull-ups yesterday in addition to some halfhearted intervals.  Thankfully, today is a rest day.

A strange thought occurred to me the other night as I was lying in bed, contemplating my next steps and whether or not anyone will ever actually want to date me...  I realized that this is life: this is what it feels like to grow up and have experiences that normal people have, unrelated to cancer and fast-forwarded maturity.  Having a cold and then it going completely away after a week; dating someone then it not working out; struggling to figure out how to pay all my bills without completely giving up delicious cheese.  I hope I never grow up, but I am starting to feel more "adult," and I am okay with that.  I have entered into the second half of my twenties, and I am pretty sure they are going to be a lot better than the first half.  I am grateful and amazed to be alive to see and experience everything that comes my way.  I am probably still pretty naive.  There are a lot of things I know nothing about and many different types of pain I have yet to work through.  But just because I look young (am young...) doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about life, and it certainly doesn't mean I don't have a different perspective and my own survival techniques.  I am grateful for that perspective.  I am grateful for what the past five years have brought me, where they have led me to, where my life continues to go.  In particular, the people who have come into my life and brought me more joy than I could have imagined.  Friends are the best thing.  Laughing, smiling, enjoying This Moment, Right Now.  Thank you all for spending some time reading this, if you have.  Thank you for humoring my ramblings.  I hope you are enjoying your Thanksgiving, or finding something to enjoy about your Thanksgiving, even if it's only that tomorrow, it will be finished.  Thank you, thank you thank you!!  Fill your hearts with gratitude for what you've been given today.  Mine is practically bursting with everything I've been given, filled with the knowledge that life is difficult and will always be in some way or another, but I am Alive to greet it all and continue to grow and most of all, continue to love.

Love from me, today.