There are so many different types of it. A friend of mine has been in an absurd amount of pain this week because her wisdom teeth are giving her too much grief. She is on some heavy duty painkillers that are causing their own difficulties, particularly the side effects. Sadly, there isn't much she can do about it until she has the teeth pulled, in two weeks. Yesterday, I went for a run for the first time in 13 days, and I felt great. I ran 3.5 miles at a moderate pace, and I was amazed that my body could do such a thing after so valiantly battling the Sickness. Yet today when I tried to run, there was the pain; there, the fatigue. And later today, I realized my legs were super sore because I had asked them to pick right up where we left off two weeks ago. My body may be mostly recovered from the cold, but I can't ignore that I was pretty much inactive for a decent period of time. So much for easing back into it.
Physical pain: we feel it, acknowledge it, then do what we can to push past it. We take the Advils and Tylenols and whatever else to reduce the inflammation and the discomfort. We recognize that our bodies are hurting from lack of use, but we stretch it out and walk it off. We run again tomorrow. That stuff is easy. There are other types of pain, less obvious, more sinister for their sneakiness. The pain of loss; the pain of heartbreak. I've been dealing with that pain today. I thought I could run it away, or run away from it, but 20 minutes into my run this morning, the fact that I'm "out of shape," and hardly slept last night caught up with me. My legs were hurting, but that discomfort did nothing to take away the numb tightness in my chest that had nothing to do with my heart rate. What do you do with that pain? Drugs don't do a thing for it, really. Running may abate it for 20 or 40 or 70 minutes, but then it comes slouching back in, snuggling up where that warm fuzzy feeling used to live.
I have heard that Time helps. Eventually, feeling returns and the little pieces of yourself that you'd given away gradually heal over. In high school, I started running as a means of avoiding my personal demons. Those specific demons are long gone. I run now for myself and for my health, and if I can, I run to inspire and do something for others. Right now, it would be so easy and so much more comfortable to crawl in bed and stay there, nursing these stupid emotional wounds, filling the tiny holes in my heart with hot chocolate and refined carbohydrates. But that would be counterproductive and beneficial to nobody, least of all First Descents and the people I have supporting my running endeavors.
The thing about pain is that you can only give in to it so much before you have to take a step back, reassess the situation, and figure out what else you can do. If it's physical pain that you know won't go away for a while, you grin (if you can) and bear it. You still have a life to live. If the pain is much deeper than that and emanates from somewhere dark and private inside you, you still have a life to live. I still have this crazy life to live and a race to run and the more I train, the stronger I become, in general.
Last night, still in shock over the sadness wrench that had just been thrown in my previously extraordinarily happy life, I asked a very good friend what on earth I am supposed to do now. She, in her fantastic, straightforward NorCal way, replied, "No one ever knows what they are doing, and it's a miracle that any of us survive any of this kind of shit at all." Who knows why any of us are still here, with all the small tragedies that happen every single day. I believe everything balances out, and I have to hope that things happen for a reason. Although I still have no idea what I'm doing, really. I know tomorrow I'm going for a run; I know I'll still be writing about running and life and so many other things. I know it's going to be sunny in Denver tomorrow, and I have a lovely little sockeye fillet waiting for me when I get home from work. I know for sure that most every pain comes and goes, and this is no different. It will just take time. Meanwhile, the road is beckoning, calling louder than my bed and self-pity. Although I don't know how right now, I know this, too, shall pass.
Thanks much. Happy weekend, Please!! enjoy it.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Things you should maybe read!
While perhaps only touching the surface of so many young-adult survivorship issues, there was a pretty good column by Ali Ansary in the Huffington Post earlier today discussing the idea of establishing "A New Field of Medicine: Adolescent and Young Adult Medicine." What saddens me is that this is a relatively new way of thinking, but it makes so much sense. We, the AYAs, are neither children nor "old people," and we don't deserve to be treated as such. Cancer survival rates for my demographic haven't dramatically improved since the 70s, but hopefully that will soon be changing. We are growing more vocal as a whole; we are beginning to realize we can demand proper care. And the children who were treated for cancer in the 70s and 80s and survived are now young adults themselves and are finding latent side effects of the crazy chemo and radiation they received. It never really stops, but hopefully, soon, we can reduce the reach of cancer into the lives of young adults. It starts with Awareness!! It continues with you being your own best advocate. And it keeps on going with the support of physicians across the country. Change is unquestionable. This ball has already started rolling, and I cannot wait to see where it goes.
So that's my PSA for the day. No run this happy hump day... I'm saying it here though: tomorrow, I'm running. Right. Also! In case you haven't seen it, the link to my First Descents Boston Marathon fundraising page is below. I'm also putting it up on the side of this blog, to your right! Look to your right!! Check it out; share it; love you all so much! Enjoy your weeks and many thanks from here. More running; less coughing.
http://www.crowdrise.com/TeamFDBoston2012/fundraiser/CarolineBridges
So that's my PSA for the day. No run this happy hump day... I'm saying it here though: tomorrow, I'm running. Right. Also! In case you haven't seen it, the link to my First Descents Boston Marathon fundraising page is below. I'm also putting it up on the side of this blog, to your right! Look to your right!! Check it out; share it; love you all so much! Enjoy your weeks and many thanks from here. More running; less coughing.
http://www.crowdrise.com/TeamFDBoston2012/fundraiser/CarolineBridges
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
What limits?
Are you a cancer survivor? A trauma survivor? Have you gone through something in your life that has inherently changed who you are and how you view the world? Sadly, I know too many people who can say "Yes" to any of those questions. Yet the thing about (some) traumas, it is possible to come out on the other side and be thankful for the experience. It is possible to survive something that literally breaks you down until you can feel nothing, that strips away your essence and the person you had spent years assembling. It is possible to experience that and somehow, find a way to rebuild yourself. You won't be the same person you were before; I am nowhere near the person I was five years ago. If you are lucky, though, you might actually like this new person better.
When I was back in school and only receiving maintenance therapy, I spent months trying to deny the fact that I had cancer, that I was no longer just like every other student on my college campus. I cracked multiple times in my attempts to act like nothing had ever happened to me. Finally and fortunately, I recognized that I was not taking care of myself and my lifestyle was not sustainable. I started seeing a psychologist who helped me work through some old issues and a lot of new issues brought on by the cancer. A "breakthrough," for me, came in the fall of 2008, right smack in the middle of my first battle with the facetumor. Basically, I had an assignment due for a class that I hadn't finished. Between barely being able to speak, not eating, and all the uncertainty surrounding whatever mass was growing in my sinuses, I was completely out of my league. My academics weren't quite suffering, but I was struggling just to get everything done. The deadline for this paper - I don't even remember what it was about - was growing ever-closer, and I had few ideas and fewer words on paper. There was a constant weight in my stomach and a pressure on my chest as my stress increased because I had to finish this thing! I didn't want to admit to my professor, much less myself, that I was sick and needed time to finish the stupid essay. And yet... I had spent the past few months working with a therapist, listening to her tell me that it is OK to accept that you are sick. It is OK to ask for help. People will understand, and you need to take care of yourself First.
This professor, this stalwart of the communications department, terrified me. Yet I knew I wasn't going to have the essay finished on time. So maybe a few days before the deadline, I visited him during office hours. I walked in and said, "Hey, do you by any chance have a minute?" I proceeded to tell him in as few words as possible that I had been in the hospital pretty much once a week for the past month and a half, and I was actually quite sick and basically, I am so sorry, but I hadn't finished his essay and there was pretty much no way I was going to have it in on time.
Of course. Of course, he was Completely Fine with it. He told me to "take as long as you need; don't worry about it; I hope you feel better soon!" And that was it. I thanked him profusely, probably saying too many times that this is highly unusual for me, and I really appreciate his understanding. I walked into the hall, up the stairs, out the door and promptly started crying. Pretty much hyperventilating. It was not a big deal to anyone but myself, but to me, it was a huge deal. I was taking care of myself first, and others were helping. Long story shortened: I did finish the essay. It wasn't my best work, but I got an A- on it... And I am certainly not asking any questions about that grade. My face tumor melted away; I graduated on time with my friends and a solid GPA. I came out on the other side of cancer-based college stronger for having gone through it and much more willing to take care of myself, to occasionally ask for help.
Life is funny, sometimes. You go through all these little experiences every day, and you have no idea if or how any of them will affect you. The big, life-changing events you can't know in the present tense how they will affect you down the road. That's for self-reflection and retrospection months and years later after you've hit the bottom and slowly, haltingly and painfully allowed yourself to regrow and discover who you are meant to be.
Long post, I know. Basically, I've been sick this past week, and it's lame, but I have worked hard not to overdo it. It is still a relatively new concept for me, that whole "take care of yourself" thing. People will understand, and the marathon is still 152 long days away. Allowing myself to fully heal, to embrace myself and drink as many liquids as possible, will only benefit me in the long run. Only good things can come from acknowledging your temporary limitations and working with them to come out stronger, healthier and ready to go. Thank you for reading and bearing with me. Happy Tuesday, sad toad. Life will necessarily get better, and if it's great, I hope it stays that way long enough for you to enjoy it. Here we go.
When I was back in school and only receiving maintenance therapy, I spent months trying to deny the fact that I had cancer, that I was no longer just like every other student on my college campus. I cracked multiple times in my attempts to act like nothing had ever happened to me. Finally and fortunately, I recognized that I was not taking care of myself and my lifestyle was not sustainable. I started seeing a psychologist who helped me work through some old issues and a lot of new issues brought on by the cancer. A "breakthrough," for me, came in the fall of 2008, right smack in the middle of my first battle with the facetumor. Basically, I had an assignment due for a class that I hadn't finished. Between barely being able to speak, not eating, and all the uncertainty surrounding whatever mass was growing in my sinuses, I was completely out of my league. My academics weren't quite suffering, but I was struggling just to get everything done. The deadline for this paper - I don't even remember what it was about - was growing ever-closer, and I had few ideas and fewer words on paper. There was a constant weight in my stomach and a pressure on my chest as my stress increased because I had to finish this thing! I didn't want to admit to my professor, much less myself, that I was sick and needed time to finish the stupid essay. And yet... I had spent the past few months working with a therapist, listening to her tell me that it is OK to accept that you are sick. It is OK to ask for help. People will understand, and you need to take care of yourself First.
This professor, this stalwart of the communications department, terrified me. Yet I knew I wasn't going to have the essay finished on time. So maybe a few days before the deadline, I visited him during office hours. I walked in and said, "Hey, do you by any chance have a minute?" I proceeded to tell him in as few words as possible that I had been in the hospital pretty much once a week for the past month and a half, and I was actually quite sick and basically, I am so sorry, but I hadn't finished his essay and there was pretty much no way I was going to have it in on time.
Of course. Of course, he was Completely Fine with it. He told me to "take as long as you need; don't worry about it; I hope you feel better soon!" And that was it. I thanked him profusely, probably saying too many times that this is highly unusual for me, and I really appreciate his understanding. I walked into the hall, up the stairs, out the door and promptly started crying. Pretty much hyperventilating. It was not a big deal to anyone but myself, but to me, it was a huge deal. I was taking care of myself first, and others were helping. Long story shortened: I did finish the essay. It wasn't my best work, but I got an A- on it... And I am certainly not asking any questions about that grade. My face tumor melted away; I graduated on time with my friends and a solid GPA. I came out on the other side of cancer-based college stronger for having gone through it and much more willing to take care of myself, to occasionally ask for help.
Life is funny, sometimes. You go through all these little experiences every day, and you have no idea if or how any of them will affect you. The big, life-changing events you can't know in the present tense how they will affect you down the road. That's for self-reflection and retrospection months and years later after you've hit the bottom and slowly, haltingly and painfully allowed yourself to regrow and discover who you are meant to be.
Long post, I know. Basically, I've been sick this past week, and it's lame, but I have worked hard not to overdo it. It is still a relatively new concept for me, that whole "take care of yourself" thing. People will understand, and the marathon is still 152 long days away. Allowing myself to fully heal, to embrace myself and drink as many liquids as possible, will only benefit me in the long run. Only good things can come from acknowledging your temporary limitations and working with them to come out stronger, healthier and ready to go. Thank you for reading and bearing with me. Happy Tuesday, sad toad. Life will necessarily get better, and if it's great, I hope it stays that way long enough for you to enjoy it. Here we go.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Sunday Funday
Which, for me, entails sitting in front of a fire with coffee and chocolate (and Emergen-C). Even better, today's SundayFunday is taking place in the middle of a snowstorm in the mountains. I am toasty and so happy with life. A friend and I drove to the mountains last night - he is skiing today, and I am relaxing. But really, there is no better way or place to chill out and try and keep pushing this sickness as far away from me as possible.
I have not run in one week, and apparently (according to Dr. Mom), colds last 7-10 days. Hopefully this is only a small setback and I'll start feeling normal soon. I need to start training hardcorz! Because...... On April 16, I will be running in the 116th Boston Marathon!
It's official: First Descents received a handful of charity spots for the marathon, and I was lucky enough to be given one of the spots. In April of 2006, I was a freshman at Boston University and a sometime runner, though never running much longer than 30 minutes or so. I did not understand what "Marathon Monday" meant to the people of Boston and Massachusetts in general. Yet on that Patriot's Day, when I was walking down Comm Ave and Boylston Street on my way to work, I was swept up in the energy of the crowd, the mass of runners making their way down the avenues I walked every day. My friends and most of the college students in the city were all drinking and cheering on the streets; people had beer pong tables set up in front of their brownstones. Children held out orange slices and were overjoyed when a runner took one. It was a huge party for 26.2 miles through Massachusetts, with everyone turning out to support a bunch of crazy runners. When I ran Chicago, I got some of that energy from the city, but I don't know if anything can come close to Boston.
I certainly wanted to, but I never believed I would ever actually get the chance to run the Boston Marathon. I run, but not quickly - the chances of my qualifying get smaller every year as the times keep getting more difficult. But this! This is an opportunity to take part in one of the most famous marathons in the world and to do it with an organization that has facilitated so much of my acceptance of survivorship.
I am attempting to raise $7000 for First Descents. I have a new Fundraising Page! that, if you feel kind enough to donate, you should use instead of my former FD one. Share the page, share the good news. This is going to be so difficult. Honestly, I am freaking out already even just thinking about the months ahead. 7K is a Lot of money, and 26.2 are a LOT of miles to not only run all at once but to also train for. Yet, something in me is telling me that I can do this. We shall see... I hope you'll follow along with my progress and updates on here and on the Twitters (@cc_bridges). So much excitement ahead.
Thank you so much for your support, and here we go!
Fundraising link:
http://www.crowdrise.com/TeamFDBoston2012/fundraiser/CarolineBridges
I have not run in one week, and apparently (according to Dr. Mom), colds last 7-10 days. Hopefully this is only a small setback and I'll start feeling normal soon. I need to start training hardcorz! Because...... On April 16, I will be running in the 116th Boston Marathon!
It's official: First Descents received a handful of charity spots for the marathon, and I was lucky enough to be given one of the spots. In April of 2006, I was a freshman at Boston University and a sometime runner, though never running much longer than 30 minutes or so. I did not understand what "Marathon Monday" meant to the people of Boston and Massachusetts in general. Yet on that Patriot's Day, when I was walking down Comm Ave and Boylston Street on my way to work, I was swept up in the energy of the crowd, the mass of runners making their way down the avenues I walked every day. My friends and most of the college students in the city were all drinking and cheering on the streets; people had beer pong tables set up in front of their brownstones. Children held out orange slices and were overjoyed when a runner took one. It was a huge party for 26.2 miles through Massachusetts, with everyone turning out to support a bunch of crazy runners. When I ran Chicago, I got some of that energy from the city, but I don't know if anything can come close to Boston.
I certainly wanted to, but I never believed I would ever actually get the chance to run the Boston Marathon. I run, but not quickly - the chances of my qualifying get smaller every year as the times keep getting more difficult. But this! This is an opportunity to take part in one of the most famous marathons in the world and to do it with an organization that has facilitated so much of my acceptance of survivorship.
I am attempting to raise $7000 for First Descents. I have a new Fundraising Page! that, if you feel kind enough to donate, you should use instead of my former FD one. Share the page, share the good news. This is going to be so difficult. Honestly, I am freaking out already even just thinking about the months ahead. 7K is a Lot of money, and 26.2 are a LOT of miles to not only run all at once but to also train for. Yet, something in me is telling me that I can do this. We shall see... I hope you'll follow along with my progress and updates on here and on the Twitters (@cc_bridges). So much excitement ahead.
Thank you so much for your support, and here we go!
Fundraising link:
http://www.crowdrise.com/TeamFDBoston2012/fundraiser/CarolineBridges
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
The Cold
Both the external and the internal cold... The first means I wore a toque; the second that I didn't run today. I did, however, brave both colds and go for a walk... It was 9 a.m., 30 degrees and crisp despite a warming sun. The highest of the mountains to the west were covered in snow and stood out in stark relief against the brightest blue sky. I tried to run, really, I did, but after literally two minutes, I felt like my chest was going to explode and the coughing was not far behind. I suppose it is okay though. I would rather allow my body to heal than push myself too hard and not be able to get over this thing quickly. Which is actually a rather novel way of thinking for me. Historically, I have been known to ignore any and all warning signs my body issues, which has led to excessive fatigue, stress, and even cancer. (I couldn't have stopped the cancer, necessarily, but we probably could have caught it a lot earlier.)
Last year while training for Chicago, I went for a moderately long run, 90 minutes I think, and I bonked Hard after maybe only 30. Turns out I really hadn't been consuming enough calories for pretty much the first half of my training. Or, if I was eating enough, they weren't the right kinds of foods. My body finally just stopped and basically said, "I have no energy. I cannot run nine miles, much less three. Eat better!!" So, I started eating more protein and more whole grains, and my energy levels changed dramatically, as did my ability to run the longer distances. Anyway, the moral of this is that I don't feel great right now. It's the beginning of my training; I haven't started running serious distances yet. I am allowing myself the time to mellow, to drink tea and eat oranges and turkey chili and sleep 10 hours per night. Soon enough, I'll be out pounding that pavement and putting the miles behind me. Take care of yourself and you'll be amazed at what you can, in turn, ask of your body.
Last year while training for Chicago, I went for a moderately long run, 90 minutes I think, and I bonked Hard after maybe only 30. Turns out I really hadn't been consuming enough calories for pretty much the first half of my training. Or, if I was eating enough, they weren't the right kinds of foods. My body finally just stopped and basically said, "I have no energy. I cannot run nine miles, much less three. Eat better!!" So, I started eating more protein and more whole grains, and my energy levels changed dramatically, as did my ability to run the longer distances. Anyway, the moral of this is that I don't feel great right now. It's the beginning of my training; I haven't started running serious distances yet. I am allowing myself the time to mellow, to drink tea and eat oranges and turkey chili and sleep 10 hours per night. Soon enough, I'll be out pounding that pavement and putting the miles behind me. Take care of yourself and you'll be amazed at what you can, in turn, ask of your body.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Woah, life updates are in order
Sitting in a coffee shop, sipping chai and munching on a chocolate chip cookie, I am neither running nor cross-training at the moment. In fact, my body decided it would be a great idea to go and find a cold and hold on to it for a few days, so I am taking it as easy as possible to expedite the recovery process. Because, I have embarked on yet another crazy adventure....
In FIVE MONTHS!!, I am going to run a marathon. Run, finish, and rock a marathon. I began training last week, which, for me, means getting in the mindset of running more regularly and running with a purpose. No excuses, no injuries, no turning back now. I am doing this for First Descents, a non-profit based here in Denver. Their mission, as taken directly from the website: "First Descents offers young adult cancer fighters and survivors (ages 18 to 39) a free week-long outdoor adventure experience designed to enable them to climb, paddle and surf beyond their diagnosis, defy their cancer, reclaim their lives and connect with others doing the same." A succinct way of saying, basically, we do awesome things for awesome people. FD changes lives and perspectives and gives YA survivors the opportunity to push themselves past boundaries they didn't even know they'd established.
My first experience with FD was at a rock climbing camp in Jackson, Wyoming. Climbing and rappelling from cliffs in the Tetons, my world expanded far beyond the limits I had unintentionally set for myself as a young adult survivor. I met other young survivors who believed in me even when I didn't have much faith left in myself. From there, my entire perspective changed. Two years later, and I am living in Denver, CO. I never imagined I'd be living here, and honestly, five years ago when I was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia, I don't know if I fully believed I'd still be alive today. Yet here we are: I've rock climbed in Wyoming, Colorado and Utah, all with FD; I packed up my life and moved to a brand new city with only a handful of contacts; I finished the Chicago Marathon; I ran an 18-mile road race in Canada! Shoot, who does that? Actually, I know a lot of people who have done similar things, and most of them I know through FD. An FD camp gives survivors confidence; it instills in them the belief that they can do anything. Camp also establishes a network of friends who are there to bolster that belief whenever it starts to lag. A friend I met through camp in Utah was actually waiting for me at mile 25 of the Chicago Marathon, and she gave me a cinnamon roll when I stumbled across the finish line. It was amazing (both her support and the cinnamon roll).
I want to give back to this group, want to do whatever I possibly can to help other survivors have the same experiences I've had. So, the opportunity has arisen for me to fundraise for FD with the goal of ultimately running (and rocking!) a marathon this coming April. I'm not exactly sure which one yet, but I'll be sure to update as soon as I know which one. I haven't been posting regularly on this thing, but all that is about to change. Writing about my running gives me a little bit more accountability. So, follow along as I train through a Denver winter! Please, please, if you can donate to my cause, do! If you're unable to donate monetarily right now, I'd love some positive vibes. Tell your friends about my quest! Tell your friends about FD! And definitely check out some cool events I'm planning for the near future. Thank you so much, and I'll see you at the finish line. Keep on plugging away!
My FD Fundraising Page:
http://teamfd.firstdescents.org/2011/fd/Fridges2011/thefridge/
In FIVE MONTHS!!, I am going to run a marathon. Run, finish, and rock a marathon. I began training last week, which, for me, means getting in the mindset of running more regularly and running with a purpose. No excuses, no injuries, no turning back now. I am doing this for First Descents, a non-profit based here in Denver. Their mission, as taken directly from the website: "First Descents offers young adult cancer fighters and survivors (ages 18 to 39) a free week-long outdoor adventure experience designed to enable them to climb, paddle and surf beyond their diagnosis, defy their cancer, reclaim their lives and connect with others doing the same." A succinct way of saying, basically, we do awesome things for awesome people. FD changes lives and perspectives and gives YA survivors the opportunity to push themselves past boundaries they didn't even know they'd established.
My first experience with FD was at a rock climbing camp in Jackson, Wyoming. Climbing and rappelling from cliffs in the Tetons, my world expanded far beyond the limits I had unintentionally set for myself as a young adult survivor. I met other young survivors who believed in me even when I didn't have much faith left in myself. From there, my entire perspective changed. Two years later, and I am living in Denver, CO. I never imagined I'd be living here, and honestly, five years ago when I was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia, I don't know if I fully believed I'd still be alive today. Yet here we are: I've rock climbed in Wyoming, Colorado and Utah, all with FD; I packed up my life and moved to a brand new city with only a handful of contacts; I finished the Chicago Marathon; I ran an 18-mile road race in Canada! Shoot, who does that? Actually, I know a lot of people who have done similar things, and most of them I know through FD. An FD camp gives survivors confidence; it instills in them the belief that they can do anything. Camp also establishes a network of friends who are there to bolster that belief whenever it starts to lag. A friend I met through camp in Utah was actually waiting for me at mile 25 of the Chicago Marathon, and she gave me a cinnamon roll when I stumbled across the finish line. It was amazing (both her support and the cinnamon roll).
I want to give back to this group, want to do whatever I possibly can to help other survivors have the same experiences I've had. So, the opportunity has arisen for me to fundraise for FD with the goal of ultimately running (and rocking!) a marathon this coming April. I'm not exactly sure which one yet, but I'll be sure to update as soon as I know which one. I haven't been posting regularly on this thing, but all that is about to change. Writing about my running gives me a little bit more accountability. So, follow along as I train through a Denver winter! Please, please, if you can donate to my cause, do! If you're unable to donate monetarily right now, I'd love some positive vibes. Tell your friends about my quest! Tell your friends about FD! And definitely check out some cool events I'm planning for the near future. Thank you so much, and I'll see you at the finish line. Keep on plugging away!
My FD Fundraising Page:
http://teamfd.firstdescents.org/2011/fd/Fridges2011/thefridge/
Friday, July 22, 2011
Rocky Mountain runner's high
Oh, hello July. Hello, 12 weeks into my new life in Denver. I think things here are finally starting to take. Amazingly, the immunoglobulin infusions are working! I have received three infusions so far, and my intestinal issues are entirely resolved. No more dehydration and malabsorption concerns, no more debilitating cramps all the time. It is amazing. My sinus infections are getting better, and although I still have a lot of gunk in my sinuses, I can breathe (almost) easily, and the headaches are gone.
All of this means, of course, that I have been running more. I also only have a bike here, so I have been biking and walking everywhere. Most Coloradans consider Denver to be pretty flat, and it is, but compared to Chicago, Denver has some pretty epic hills scattered about. I still struggle every time I have to climb the hill that I now live on, huffing and puffing on my mountain bike. The upside of this is that I am the slimmest I've been in maybe 8 years, and I'm in great shape.
The first two months I was living here, I was having a pretty difficult time adjusting to living on my own. I didn't question my decision to move, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do with myself. My living situation was not ideal for enjoying the city; my work situation was nowhere near what I wanted; and I was eating terribly so I had very little energy. I was also sick for those entire 8 weeks, so very little running and a whole lot of coughing. My poor roommate must have been so upset he ended up with the sick girl.
July 1, I moved out of my old, temporary apartment and into this beautiful, sunny and huge place right in downtown. My new roommate is fantastic for a number of different reasons, and while I still have the same, lame job, my life has gotten significantly better. I just feel more comfortable with where I am, although I am also still working out what on earth I'm supposed to be doing.
So I met this guy two nights ago, and he's awesome. Without sharing details, I basically put on my stupid-face and now I'm pretty certain I won't be hearing from him, ever. I spent yesterday in a foul mood because I had convinced myself that my actions had driven away this smart, funny, outdoor-oriented man. I went to work, and my apologies if I served you a latte yesterday; my head wasn't in the game. Then, this morning, the strangest thing happened. I went for a run, running a bit faster and a little farther than my prior runs. I zoned out, focused on trying to breathe and keeping my upper body loose. After the run, while enjoying a chai and endorphin rush, I realized that, whatever. So what if this guy never calls me back. It's his loss, and honestly, this is Denver. There are smart mountain bikers Every Where. Yes, I'm still a little angry at myself for my actions, but I walked back to my apartment (post-run) with my iced chai and a huge grin on my face because I am living and surviving on my own in Denver. I can run a speedy little 5K and feel great. Yeah, my job still sucks, but I am meeting some seriously cool people, and there is just too much awesome all around to spend any time worrying about a social setback.
I had dinner with a friend in Boulder the other night, and I told her that even if I am completely dissatisfied with my current work situation, and I'm struggling with the whole "go be social" thing, I find happiness in so many of the little things throughout my day. Frozen yogurt after climbing with people I've just met. A sparklingly clear day that shows off the snow still capping the highest of the mountains in the distance. A house I passed on my run that seriously looked like a tree house. Iced chai and a blueberry oat muffin after a run that three months ago, I couldn't finish.
Life is hard as hell. People will break your heart; situations will seemingly conspire against you for interminable periods of time. But time keeps moving forward. A good friend of mine is going through a really tough time right now, and I don't know if I helped at all or not, but I told him last night that my mantra for the past two years was that for better or worse, things will change. Whatever situation you currently find yourself in, it will eventually change. It's how I survived living at home with my parents for two years after college. I told myself: this is temporary. And it was. Here I am, living in Denver, trying to figure out survival as an adult as opposed to survival after cancer. Every day brings something amazing with it. You just have to look for the details and learn to appreciate them. As for you, guy who I doubt will become one of the people in my life, you seriously are very cool. But you are so not worth my stressing over.
Anyway. Ruminations resulting from my post-run clarity. Thanks for your indulging them (me). Running more, thinking less, loving life so much.
All of this means, of course, that I have been running more. I also only have a bike here, so I have been biking and walking everywhere. Most Coloradans consider Denver to be pretty flat, and it is, but compared to Chicago, Denver has some pretty epic hills scattered about. I still struggle every time I have to climb the hill that I now live on, huffing and puffing on my mountain bike. The upside of this is that I am the slimmest I've been in maybe 8 years, and I'm in great shape.
The first two months I was living here, I was having a pretty difficult time adjusting to living on my own. I didn't question my decision to move, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do with myself. My living situation was not ideal for enjoying the city; my work situation was nowhere near what I wanted; and I was eating terribly so I had very little energy. I was also sick for those entire 8 weeks, so very little running and a whole lot of coughing. My poor roommate must have been so upset he ended up with the sick girl.
July 1, I moved out of my old, temporary apartment and into this beautiful, sunny and huge place right in downtown. My new roommate is fantastic for a number of different reasons, and while I still have the same, lame job, my life has gotten significantly better. I just feel more comfortable with where I am, although I am also still working out what on earth I'm supposed to be doing.
So I met this guy two nights ago, and he's awesome. Without sharing details, I basically put on my stupid-face and now I'm pretty certain I won't be hearing from him, ever. I spent yesterday in a foul mood because I had convinced myself that my actions had driven away this smart, funny, outdoor-oriented man. I went to work, and my apologies if I served you a latte yesterday; my head wasn't in the game. Then, this morning, the strangest thing happened. I went for a run, running a bit faster and a little farther than my prior runs. I zoned out, focused on trying to breathe and keeping my upper body loose. After the run, while enjoying a chai and endorphin rush, I realized that, whatever. So what if this guy never calls me back. It's his loss, and honestly, this is Denver. There are smart mountain bikers Every Where. Yes, I'm still a little angry at myself for my actions, but I walked back to my apartment (post-run) with my iced chai and a huge grin on my face because I am living and surviving on my own in Denver. I can run a speedy little 5K and feel great. Yeah, my job still sucks, but I am meeting some seriously cool people, and there is just too much awesome all around to spend any time worrying about a social setback.
I had dinner with a friend in Boulder the other night, and I told her that even if I am completely dissatisfied with my current work situation, and I'm struggling with the whole "go be social" thing, I find happiness in so many of the little things throughout my day. Frozen yogurt after climbing with people I've just met. A sparklingly clear day that shows off the snow still capping the highest of the mountains in the distance. A house I passed on my run that seriously looked like a tree house. Iced chai and a blueberry oat muffin after a run that three months ago, I couldn't finish.
Life is hard as hell. People will break your heart; situations will seemingly conspire against you for interminable periods of time. But time keeps moving forward. A good friend of mine is going through a really tough time right now, and I don't know if I helped at all or not, but I told him last night that my mantra for the past two years was that for better or worse, things will change. Whatever situation you currently find yourself in, it will eventually change. It's how I survived living at home with my parents for two years after college. I told myself: this is temporary. And it was. Here I am, living in Denver, trying to figure out survival as an adult as opposed to survival after cancer. Every day brings something amazing with it. You just have to look for the details and learn to appreciate them. As for you, guy who I doubt will become one of the people in my life, you seriously are very cool. But you are so not worth my stressing over.
Anyway. Ruminations resulting from my post-run clarity. Thanks for your indulging them (me). Running more, thinking less, loving life so much.
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