How many times can a person stop and start running again? I've probably taken more extended breaks from running than any other person who runs. Yet, I persist in considering myself a runner. Mostly because when I don't run, especially for an extended period of time, I start losing my marbles. Anxiety kicks in, sleeplessness, an overwhelming urge to eat nothing but cereal and ice cream. It appears that I am one of those people whose moods can be regulated by frequent, consistent exercise. It is fascinating how our bodies respond to exercise. If you don't believe that exercising can make you feel better, take a look at me. I'm not even talking about Working Out, but even just walking around the lake down the block or getting outside to do Anything for some period of time. There must be some physiological reason why our bodies respond so well to being outside or elevating our heart rate a bit. I feel considerably better about myself and life in general when I've spent lots of time outside and enough time of it running around.
It's interesting how we have evolved from hunter-gatherers into mostly sedentary folk. Still, though, when we do elevate our heart rates, a whole slew of chemical reactions happen, not the least of which is the release of endorphins, those happy little chemicals that make Us happy. Or at least feel better for a little while.
So, I went for my 30-minute run today, did some planks, wall sits, 6 pull ups, and I feel better. And I feel like I'm starting this whole game over again. Struggling to breathe through a 3-mile run... It does get easier with time; I've done this enough times to know that. But it's still hard restarting. It's still something I am going to keep doing though, pushing through until it's easier, until I can run 6, 13, 26.2 miles once more. Here we go! And did I mention the 6 pull-ups? I think so. Cheers!
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Showing posts with label running. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
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!
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!
Friday, June 14, 2013
Oh, HAI!!
Dear Blawg,
I haven't forgotten about you. The past four months have just been a whirlwind of crazy and not enough running thrown in to make posting terribly worthwhile. I have thought about things I would write: how my body keeps alternating between healthy and not quite; how every so often I would run and remember how much I loved it but it was still winter and I wasn't mentally or physically ready; how Denver received more snow in March, April and May (?!) than the rest of the winter; how I moved in with my love and got straight As in the classes I took this semester. So far, this year has been all kinds of ridiculous and not at all easy.
But that is all for another post, perhaps, or maybe I'll just keep most of it to myself and my journals. This post is about the fact that within the past 20 minutes, I found myself registering for my Third marathon. This time, it is the Philadelphia Marathon. Come mid-November, I will be in Philadelphia, running with a woman and friend who invited me to do this and who inspires me on a daily basis. I am going to do this race for so many reasons, again, which I will save for another post. For now though, I just want to say that I am terrified and beyond excited and eager to begin training and blogging once more.
Writing is one of the greatest catharses in my life, as is running. It makes all too much sense to me to combine both in one epic quest for enlightenment. Or peace. Or a better finishing time. All of those things! This marathon and training will be unlike either before it: I am working on being So Healthy! So, tune in and stop back because I'll be updating my medical adventures and running adventures and school and goals and maybe some recipes and Everything awesome in my life, along with the struggles that keep us real.
Thanks for hanging around. Here's to believing in ourselves and making lofty goals realities!
Running (a lot) more. Thinking less. Loving it all, so much.
I haven't forgotten about you. The past four months have just been a whirlwind of crazy and not enough running thrown in to make posting terribly worthwhile. I have thought about things I would write: how my body keeps alternating between healthy and not quite; how every so often I would run and remember how much I loved it but it was still winter and I wasn't mentally or physically ready; how Denver received more snow in March, April and May (?!) than the rest of the winter; how I moved in with my love and got straight As in the classes I took this semester. So far, this year has been all kinds of ridiculous and not at all easy.
But that is all for another post, perhaps, or maybe I'll just keep most of it to myself and my journals. This post is about the fact that within the past 20 minutes, I found myself registering for my Third marathon. This time, it is the Philadelphia Marathon. Come mid-November, I will be in Philadelphia, running with a woman and friend who invited me to do this and who inspires me on a daily basis. I am going to do this race for so many reasons, again, which I will save for another post. For now though, I just want to say that I am terrified and beyond excited and eager to begin training and blogging once more.
Writing is one of the greatest catharses in my life, as is running. It makes all too much sense to me to combine both in one epic quest for enlightenment. Or peace. Or a better finishing time. All of those things! This marathon and training will be unlike either before it: I am working on being So Healthy! So, tune in and stop back because I'll be updating my medical adventures and running adventures and school and goals and maybe some recipes and Everything awesome in my life, along with the struggles that keep us real.
Thanks for hanging around. Here's to believing in ourselves and making lofty goals realities!
Running (a lot) more. Thinking less. Loving it all, so much.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Happy Tuesday, once again!
Breakfast: kale/spinach/tomato/basil and goat cheese omelet, iced mate with honey. Woke up this morning to (finally!) a sprinkling of sparkling snow and the tantalizing prospect of maybe eventually beginning studying for a final exam on Thursday instead of using my day off to escape to the snowy mountains. Ah, to be a busy, working adult/student in Colorado in the winter. Oh well, soon enough there will be lots more snow and many more days to ski. Meanwhile, I need to pass my chem exam.
I also woke up with sore abs. What? you ask. Don't sore abs require some sort of activity to actually work those abs? Well, yes! Since I updated last week, I have run four more times and twice done lift-y things at the gym, including incline sit-ups, hence the sore lower abs. I have decided to try something just slightly different. Instead of running with the intention of gradually increasing my mileage for some long-distance race, I am focusing on a broader goal: strength and a solid base fitness level. I have only been running between 2.5 and 3 miles, which is actually working out pretty well.
Here is a fun update: it has been six weeks since I last received IVIg. (Immune-replacement therapy I'd been receiving since June 2011. The chemo sapped my body's ability to produce its own secondary immune response). I wasn't making my own immunoglobulins, so my doctor out here determined it was in my best interest to receive an infusion of someone else's immunoglobulins every three weeks. Okay, fine, good, I stopped having chronic sinus infections, slept through the night, changed my diet, stopped having debilitating intestinal issues, blah blah. And then, six weeks ago, I transferred my care from the children's hospital I had been going to to the adult hospital across the street. The adult hematologist/oncologist I met with six weeks ago had a different plan for me. He wanted me to NOT receive the immune therapy every three weeks, reasoning that it isn't necessarily that healthy to so frequently receive blood products. Are they really doing all that much for me, anyway? I have this long-term goal to eventually be off all medications and hospital infusions (including IVIg!). So, while acknowledging my trepidation of just letting my immune system slowly get worse concurrently with flu season, I agreed to pause the IVIg and see what happens with the directive to contact my doctor Immediately if I started feeling sick or if any of my old symptoms came back.
Like I said, it has now been six weeks, and honestly, I haven't felt great, but I also haven't fallen deathly ill (or gotten sick at all, actually). I go back in on Thursday for another PET scan, labs and a follow-up with my adult doctor. I am interested to see where my IgG levels are - higher, lower, how much lower... But anyway, the point of all this: with no external help for my immune system and a massive reluctance on my part to rely on any antibiotics, I am focusing heavily on shoring up my body and my immunity naturally and nutritionally. I am going back to school for nutrition to gain some credibility so I can help others do this very thing, but I am still going to start with myself and start now. So, while I would love to train for another marathon, I know that running those distances throughout winter is not the smartest choice for my body. Much more important is to focus on overall health - shorter running distances, strength training, perhaps yoga... Skiing!
And, of course, food. I would really like to add more vegetables to my diet. Comparatively, I already eat pretty well. (see: breakfast!) But there is so much room for improvement, so many things to learn about nutrition and immunity and incorporating it all into a sustainable lifestyle. I still have a sweet tooth; that isn't going away. I love baking and am having a blast learning how to make healthy, gluten-free snacks. (Side story: my roommate last night mentioned he tried a piece of the coffee cake I made the other day. "Is it really gluten free?" "Yup, sure is." "It doesn't even taste like it! It's really good." Sweet. I love when that happens.) I have also found I have trouble fueling myself adequately if I run any longer than half an hour. For some reason, my metabolism has skyrocketed, and the last thing I need is to lose any more weight. As winter sets in here in Denver, other people can go ahead and get sick, but I will not be one of them. I have too many more important things to worry about than viruses and bacteria. Letting go of stress, maintaining a healthy weight, running, eating super well, and listening closely to my body.
We would all be a little bit better off if we ate more kale. As the holidays progress, I just hope you can figure out a way to relax and take care of yourself. Throw some garlic and spinach into your morning omelet! Make an effort to drink more tea and less coffee (less, not none...). I'm going to eliminate sugary beverages to make room for delicious homemade baked goods. Hooray, here's to your health. :)
Running just a little more, breathing deeply.
I also woke up with sore abs. What? you ask. Don't sore abs require some sort of activity to actually work those abs? Well, yes! Since I updated last week, I have run four more times and twice done lift-y things at the gym, including incline sit-ups, hence the sore lower abs. I have decided to try something just slightly different. Instead of running with the intention of gradually increasing my mileage for some long-distance race, I am focusing on a broader goal: strength and a solid base fitness level. I have only been running between 2.5 and 3 miles, which is actually working out pretty well.
Here is a fun update: it has been six weeks since I last received IVIg. (Immune-replacement therapy I'd been receiving since June 2011. The chemo sapped my body's ability to produce its own secondary immune response). I wasn't making my own immunoglobulins, so my doctor out here determined it was in my best interest to receive an infusion of someone else's immunoglobulins every three weeks. Okay, fine, good, I stopped having chronic sinus infections, slept through the night, changed my diet, stopped having debilitating intestinal issues, blah blah. And then, six weeks ago, I transferred my care from the children's hospital I had been going to to the adult hospital across the street. The adult hematologist/oncologist I met with six weeks ago had a different plan for me. He wanted me to NOT receive the immune therapy every three weeks, reasoning that it isn't necessarily that healthy to so frequently receive blood products. Are they really doing all that much for me, anyway? I have this long-term goal to eventually be off all medications and hospital infusions (including IVIg!). So, while acknowledging my trepidation of just letting my immune system slowly get worse concurrently with flu season, I agreed to pause the IVIg and see what happens with the directive to contact my doctor Immediately if I started feeling sick or if any of my old symptoms came back.
Like I said, it has now been six weeks, and honestly, I haven't felt great, but I also haven't fallen deathly ill (or gotten sick at all, actually). I go back in on Thursday for another PET scan, labs and a follow-up with my adult doctor. I am interested to see where my IgG levels are - higher, lower, how much lower... But anyway, the point of all this: with no external help for my immune system and a massive reluctance on my part to rely on any antibiotics, I am focusing heavily on shoring up my body and my immunity naturally and nutritionally. I am going back to school for nutrition to gain some credibility so I can help others do this very thing, but I am still going to start with myself and start now. So, while I would love to train for another marathon, I know that running those distances throughout winter is not the smartest choice for my body. Much more important is to focus on overall health - shorter running distances, strength training, perhaps yoga... Skiing!
And, of course, food. I would really like to add more vegetables to my diet. Comparatively, I already eat pretty well. (see: breakfast!) But there is so much room for improvement, so many things to learn about nutrition and immunity and incorporating it all into a sustainable lifestyle. I still have a sweet tooth; that isn't going away. I love baking and am having a blast learning how to make healthy, gluten-free snacks. (Side story: my roommate last night mentioned he tried a piece of the coffee cake I made the other day. "Is it really gluten free?" "Yup, sure is." "It doesn't even taste like it! It's really good." Sweet. I love when that happens.) I have also found I have trouble fueling myself adequately if I run any longer than half an hour. For some reason, my metabolism has skyrocketed, and the last thing I need is to lose any more weight. As winter sets in here in Denver, other people can go ahead and get sick, but I will not be one of them. I have too many more important things to worry about than viruses and bacteria. Letting go of stress, maintaining a healthy weight, running, eating super well, and listening closely to my body.
We would all be a little bit better off if we ate more kale. As the holidays progress, I just hope you can figure out a way to relax and take care of yourself. Throw some garlic and spinach into your morning omelet! Make an effort to drink more tea and less coffee (less, not none...). I'm going to eliminate sugary beverages to make room for delicious homemade baked goods. Hooray, here's to your health. :)
Running just a little more, breathing deeply.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
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?
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?
Friday, December 16, 2011
Oh hello, blog!
Without making excuses for myself, I know I should be updating this more frequently. Life, however, sometimes gets in the way, and the past two weeks have just been jam-packed with running, working, working some more, running a little bit more, and a decent amount of socializing. Hooray! Life. If you find yourself jonesing for that Caroline-fix though, you can always follow me on twitter: @cc_bridges. How's that for a shameless plug?
So I haven't actually been running as much as I would like. Without grossing anyone out too much, I have been having some gnarly intestinal/digestion issues, and they are seriously detracting from my desire to pound out the miles. I am struggling with what to eat that won't give me crazy stomach cramps, especially what to eat before I go for a run. For my mid-week runs, which aren't that long and typically in the morning, I seem to be okay with water and an energy gel right before I head out. The difficulties lie with the long runs, for which I need more energy (calories...). When and what should I eat to be properly fueled without having to run to a bathroom after 40 minutes? This weekend should be an interesting test: I am supposed to run 8 miles, my longest run yet in this training regime. I didn't think I could run six miles straight a few weeks ago, but I somehow did. I don't know if I'll get eight miles straight, but we'll see what happens. I've read a bit about visualization and the idea that if you picture your run and picture yourself killing it, it will go well. So I am trying to visualize eight miles, picturing pushing past that six-mile limit I have so far reached. Again, we'll see how it all ends up.
What defines a "runner?" Is it your speed, the distance you can run, your body fat percentage? Or is it something more fundamental than that, a less quantifiable knowledge or belief in this certain activity? Possibly it is different for everyone and so not fairly definable. I have always sort of considered myself a runner, even when I was sick or in the ensuing years when I wasn't running regularly. It seems to be a key factor in my happiness, in my general acceptance of the daily trials that naturally arise in our lives. Yesterday, I went in to work having slept over nine hours and eaten a healthy, satisfying breakfast. Yet, something was noticeably off, and one of my coworkers asked if I was okay. I thought about it and realized that, actually, I felt like a slug, sort of merely pushing through the air, going through the motions. I wasn't fully present. And I realized that it was most likely because I hadn't run earlier in the morning. My body hadn't been jump-started into life with a run in sub-freezing temperatures, greeted by the sunrise. My endorphins remained dormant and my energy levels just weren't what they normally are.
Even this morning, I struggled to push myself out the door knowing how warm my apartment was. I actually cut my run short by about half a mile because I had reached my coffee shop and was pretty cold. But I still chugged out those four miles in 20-degrees and unlimited early-morning sunshine, and I feel so different this morning, so much more alert and functional. So, I guess that's what makes me a runner: on the days I don't run, I just don't feel like myself. In fact, I feel terrible. I may not be the most hardcore (just look at my diet...), but my heart is fully in it. If you define yourself as a runner, why and how? I'd like to know!
Thanks so much for stopping by, and happy weekend to all! Thinking less, running more...
So I haven't actually been running as much as I would like. Without grossing anyone out too much, I have been having some gnarly intestinal/digestion issues, and they are seriously detracting from my desire to pound out the miles. I am struggling with what to eat that won't give me crazy stomach cramps, especially what to eat before I go for a run. For my mid-week runs, which aren't that long and typically in the morning, I seem to be okay with water and an energy gel right before I head out. The difficulties lie with the long runs, for which I need more energy (calories...). When and what should I eat to be properly fueled without having to run to a bathroom after 40 minutes? This weekend should be an interesting test: I am supposed to run 8 miles, my longest run yet in this training regime. I didn't think I could run six miles straight a few weeks ago, but I somehow did. I don't know if I'll get eight miles straight, but we'll see what happens. I've read a bit about visualization and the idea that if you picture your run and picture yourself killing it, it will go well. So I am trying to visualize eight miles, picturing pushing past that six-mile limit I have so far reached. Again, we'll see how it all ends up.
What defines a "runner?" Is it your speed, the distance you can run, your body fat percentage? Or is it something more fundamental than that, a less quantifiable knowledge or belief in this certain activity? Possibly it is different for everyone and so not fairly definable. I have always sort of considered myself a runner, even when I was sick or in the ensuing years when I wasn't running regularly. It seems to be a key factor in my happiness, in my general acceptance of the daily trials that naturally arise in our lives. Yesterday, I went in to work having slept over nine hours and eaten a healthy, satisfying breakfast. Yet, something was noticeably off, and one of my coworkers asked if I was okay. I thought about it and realized that, actually, I felt like a slug, sort of merely pushing through the air, going through the motions. I wasn't fully present. And I realized that it was most likely because I hadn't run earlier in the morning. My body hadn't been jump-started into life with a run in sub-freezing temperatures, greeted by the sunrise. My endorphins remained dormant and my energy levels just weren't what they normally are.
Even this morning, I struggled to push myself out the door knowing how warm my apartment was. I actually cut my run short by about half a mile because I had reached my coffee shop and was pretty cold. But I still chugged out those four miles in 20-degrees and unlimited early-morning sunshine, and I feel so different this morning, so much more alert and functional. So, I guess that's what makes me a runner: on the days I don't run, I just don't feel like myself. In fact, I feel terrible. I may not be the most hardcore (just look at my diet...), but my heart is fully in it. If you define yourself as a runner, why and how? I'd like to know!
Thanks so much for stopping by, and happy weekend to all! Thinking less, running more...
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
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...
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...
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