In nine short weeks, it will be the night before one of the most storied and historic road races in the country, if not the world. The night before a race that covers 26.2 miles of western Massachusetts' rolling hills, passes countless universities, and ultimately ends in one of the most beautiful cities in the country. The Boston Marathon is rapidly approaching, and I have an official charity entry to it.
I am 25 years old; I have been in remission from acute lymphocytic leukemia for five years; I have already completed one marathon. And someone thought it would be a great idea to offer me a highly sought-after charity entry. Someone believed I could train through the winter, log in the necessary miles, and show up in Boston in April physically, mentally and spiritually prepared to conquer this marathon. They also believed my pledge that I could raise funds for this charity, an organization I so strongly support that I committed to doing something I still have no idea if I can do.
So there, then, is the crux of all of this: I have written before that I struggle hugely with self-doubt. That hasn't gone away... In fact, as the marathon approaches, my doubt is only growing. Truth: I am not running nearly enough miles (I don't think). Before today, I had only run Once in the past two and a half weeks, a run truncated by debilitating stomach cramps. For whatever reason, the past three weeks have basically just sucked for my general intestine. I don't know the cause of the issues, but I do know they have really been sidelining me. None of this excuses me, and I am not trying to justify anything, but do know that it takes a Lot to bring me down. I did finally see a GI doctor, and he recommended trying a few things to at least alleviate some of my symptoms. We scheduled a super-fun colonoscopy next week though, so maybe, just maybe, we can get this figured out. It was heartening though to finally meet with a doctor who was concerned about my weight loss and wants me healthy for this marathon. (Yes, I've lost weight because I'm just not holding onto the calories I eat.)
Now that I've gotten all that out, the Good. The good is that even though I didn't run the past two weeks, I haven't lost nearly as much of my fitness as I imagined. Today, I laced up my bright green sneakers, pulled on shorts over my running tights, yanked on my toque, and headed out my door with the intention of covering 6 miles even if I had to run/walk them. And I did! I ran all 6 miles and at my normal pace, no less. So, that's good. I felt great, too. No pain, no muscle fatigue, and relatively easy breathing. Yes, I have not yet gotten in a good long run. Yes, that is Hugely important and I kind of really need to get on that. But yes, I may actually have a pretty solid base mileage, and I am actually in pretty good shape/fitness. I am still fighting all the self-doubt, but I am done with letting it hold me back. And also, I am Healthy (GIssues aside), which is beyond awesome.
On March 1 from 7-10 p.m., at the Bannock Street Garage in downtown Denver, I am hosting a fundraiser for First Descents and this marathon challenge. Finally, the details are coming together for this event, and it is going to be a blast. Stop by if you're in town! My miles are accumulating; my fundraising is coming along; the sun is coming out from the clouds just in time for a stunning sunset over the mountains. We all struggle with something, be it doubt or fear or uncertainty whether we can accomplish what we have set out to do. The key, I think, is to stare down that emotion. Acknowledge its presence, accept what it means in your life, then do whatever it takes to persevere and push past it. Setbacks are an expected part of this life. It is how we approach them and deal with them that matters. So I am going to keep fundraising and keep running as far as I can even when I don't know how any of this is going to turn out.
Thanks for checking in; have a wonderful week!! Running more and more and more....
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
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....
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....
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Writer's block?
Maybe, kind of, sort of, but not really. Really what happened is my computer has been acting completely out of control lately. Basically, it won't stay on. I am not quite sure why any of this is happening, but for the past few weeks, I have been without a computer. Life without a laptop is terribly disconcerting, especially when a significant portion of the reason for your existence is centered around your computer. (Okay, maybe that's a stretch, but I am a photographer and if I have no computer, I have no way of doing anything for or with my images and it is a bad scene.)
Besides being unable to upload my photography, I have not really been able to do much in terms of fundraising for this marathon I am running in nearly 3 Months. I am still nowhere near my goal of $7000, though I have already raised a lot of money and Thank You!! if you have donated. But I am trying to organize a benefit in early March, trying to write letters of solicitation and find organizations willing to donate items for an auction, trying to find a venue to host this entire shindig. All of these things are possible without a computer but they are infinitely more difficult for a person who has grown up with a keyboard at her fingertips. Also, I have basically no idea what I am doing, and for whatever reason, I at least feel like I am accomplishing something when I am Googling things and typing letters and reading about training plans on different running websites.
Oh, running. Of course, there has been running. At least, there had been running up until about this past Saturday, when I started getting that obnoxious scratch right at the back of my throat, surely you know the one: you swallow, and your throat burns and itches a bit; it becomes more difficult to consume solid foods because there seems to be a little swelling happening at the base of your tongue. And it can all only mean one thing: despite all my best efforts, prayers, and vitamin C consumption, I have fallen prey to the dreaded winter cold. I know exactly what happened, too. I stayed out too late on New Year's Eve, worked too many hours the following week, started running farther distances (8 miles!), and I walk or bike everywhere regardless of the time or weather because I don't have a car. On top of all this business, the reality is that my immune system is depleted, and there is nothing I can do about it. So, while maybe not inevitable, the chances of my catching a stupid bug are pretty high. The good news is that I am babying myself, drinking absurd quantities of water, and I had my three-weekly infusion of immunotherapy yesterday, so that should hopefully help.
I was supposed to have run 10 miles this past weekend. I did not. I actually ran 2 miles yesterday before stopping, doubled over in pain because had I thought it would be a good idea to eat not-exactly-lean chicken thighs and some avocado as a pre-run snack. It was not. Fats: not good to eat before a run. Fact: your gut will hate you. Today it is snowing all over the place in Denver. It will be a nice walk to work, but no run today, either. Hopefully tomorrow I can get my stuff together and make it happen. Otherwise, it will be back in the 50s this weekend, and I still have to get my 10 miles in.
So, life. This life we live is full of obstacles and setbacks and too often things don't go exactly how we would like them to. But we are still here, still living and breathing (and coughing?) and running and getting through each day as best as we can. Which, really, I suppose is all we can ask of ourselves. So, best of luck to you today. Like I said, it is a winter wonderland in Denver today, and I am in love with life even though it is so frustrating all of the time. 10 miles will happen eventually.
Less thinking, more running....
Besides being unable to upload my photography, I have not really been able to do much in terms of fundraising for this marathon I am running in nearly 3 Months. I am still nowhere near my goal of $7000, though I have already raised a lot of money and Thank You!! if you have donated. But I am trying to organize a benefit in early March, trying to write letters of solicitation and find organizations willing to donate items for an auction, trying to find a venue to host this entire shindig. All of these things are possible without a computer but they are infinitely more difficult for a person who has grown up with a keyboard at her fingertips. Also, I have basically no idea what I am doing, and for whatever reason, I at least feel like I am accomplishing something when I am Googling things and typing letters and reading about training plans on different running websites.
Oh, running. Of course, there has been running. At least, there had been running up until about this past Saturday, when I started getting that obnoxious scratch right at the back of my throat, surely you know the one: you swallow, and your throat burns and itches a bit; it becomes more difficult to consume solid foods because there seems to be a little swelling happening at the base of your tongue. And it can all only mean one thing: despite all my best efforts, prayers, and vitamin C consumption, I have fallen prey to the dreaded winter cold. I know exactly what happened, too. I stayed out too late on New Year's Eve, worked too many hours the following week, started running farther distances (8 miles!), and I walk or bike everywhere regardless of the time or weather because I don't have a car. On top of all this business, the reality is that my immune system is depleted, and there is nothing I can do about it. So, while maybe not inevitable, the chances of my catching a stupid bug are pretty high. The good news is that I am babying myself, drinking absurd quantities of water, and I had my three-weekly infusion of immunotherapy yesterday, so that should hopefully help.
I was supposed to have run 10 miles this past weekend. I did not. I actually ran 2 miles yesterday before stopping, doubled over in pain because had I thought it would be a good idea to eat not-exactly-lean chicken thighs and some avocado as a pre-run snack. It was not. Fats: not good to eat before a run. Fact: your gut will hate you. Today it is snowing all over the place in Denver. It will be a nice walk to work, but no run today, either. Hopefully tomorrow I can get my stuff together and make it happen. Otherwise, it will be back in the 50s this weekend, and I still have to get my 10 miles in.
So, life. This life we live is full of obstacles and setbacks and too often things don't go exactly how we would like them to. But we are still here, still living and breathing (and coughing?) and running and getting through each day as best as we can. Which, really, I suppose is all we can ask of ourselves. So, best of luck to you today. Like I said, it is a winter wonderland in Denver today, and I am in love with life even though it is so frustrating all of the time. 10 miles will happen eventually.
Less thinking, more running....
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...
Thursday, November 24, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
"You look like a runner."
Hubba, wha?? Yet so said my nurse this morning as she was setting up the IV in my left arm-crook, prepping me for the maintenance drugs I receive once a month to keep the cancer-beasties at bay. She had asked me if I was an athlete, and when I replied, "Yes, I run," she nodded knowingly and told me I look like a runner. I am taking this as a tremendous compliment, especially the 'athlete' part. I live in Denver. There are Real athletes out here. I don't consider it fair to count myself among their ranks. Yes, I am a tiny bit more than a recreational runner, but I am certainly no "athlete." Apparently, though, I look the part, and I am starting to feel the part.
Yesterday, with only a small amount of trepidation, I went for a run in the morning. I ran all four of the miles that my training plan called for. That makes twice in three days I've run over four miles, the first time I've done that since August. After August's Colorado Relay, I burned out pretty hard. I was dealing with the facetumor and a tremendous amount of stress at work and a vague but persistent Sickness. Running regularly was not high on my to-do list, although I still biked everywhere and walked quite a lot. I managed to maintain something of a level of fitness so that when I finally started feeling Amazing about a month ago, that whole running thing wasn't such an epic battle to begin again.
So I look like a runner for the first time maybe ever. Surely that's a good first step on the road to being a marathoner, rocking Boston in less than five months. As long as you Look the part, right? But in truth, I can't believe how strong I feel. I've said this before and I will probably say it many more times, but it never ceases to amaze me the things we can do, particularly in terms of physical feats. I was sick for so long - for five long years, I have struggled with feeling unwell. Now, here I am, almost exactly five years after my diagnosis with acute leukemia, training for a marathon, biking everywhere, eating so healthily, and feeling like I can take over the world. And apparently, looking like a runner. Five years. But that's a post for another day (probably Thursday, actually).
I really hope everyone is having a Spectacular week. Do you have your turkey thawed out yet? Did you find something to look forward to today? Tomorrow? I'm looking forward to a concert I'll be photographing tomorrow night. Keep on keeping on, and happy Thanksgivings a wee bit early. Peace.
Yesterday, with only a small amount of trepidation, I went for a run in the morning. I ran all four of the miles that my training plan called for. That makes twice in three days I've run over four miles, the first time I've done that since August. After August's Colorado Relay, I burned out pretty hard. I was dealing with the facetumor and a tremendous amount of stress at work and a vague but persistent Sickness. Running regularly was not high on my to-do list, although I still biked everywhere and walked quite a lot. I managed to maintain something of a level of fitness so that when I finally started feeling Amazing about a month ago, that whole running thing wasn't such an epic battle to begin again.
So I look like a runner for the first time maybe ever. Surely that's a good first step on the road to being a marathoner, rocking Boston in less than five months. As long as you Look the part, right? But in truth, I can't believe how strong I feel. I've said this before and I will probably say it many more times, but it never ceases to amaze me the things we can do, particularly in terms of physical feats. I was sick for so long - for five long years, I have struggled with feeling unwell. Now, here I am, almost exactly five years after my diagnosis with acute leukemia, training for a marathon, biking everywhere, eating so healthily, and feeling like I can take over the world. And apparently, looking like a runner. Five years. But that's a post for another day (probably Thursday, actually).
I really hope everyone is having a Spectacular week. Do you have your turkey thawed out yet? Did you find something to look forward to today? Tomorrow? I'm looking forward to a concert I'll be photographing tomorrow night. Keep on keeping on, and happy Thanksgivings a wee bit early. Peace.
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