Freaking out

When am I not, really?

Last Saturday (so about 10 days ago now) I had a stomach virus that precluded me from doing a long run all weekend. That's okay, I thought. It was a down week anyway.

Then Sunday into Monday I started having back pain. It just felt tight, but I figured that was from sleeping a lot so I could feel better in a bed that could stand to be replaced. (It since has, though it doesn't arrive till Saturday.) Monday I went for an easy run. Back still felt weird. I made a PT appt. Tuesday it hurt, and it's hurt ever since.

Had a kidney infection ruled out.
Had major spinal issues ruled out.

PT and other medical professionals seem to think this is a virus. I've been drinking tons of water to hopefully flush out whatever this is, and taking ibuprofen and it hurts. It hurts differently, but it still hurts.

I've had massage.
I've had acupuncture.

I am beginning to think that motherfucking time is the only way out.

But I don't know.

I don't have time.  I have 8 weeks.

What if I can't run this race?

I'm scared. I'm freaking out. I have meltdowns. I can't concentrate on anything. I can't write. I try to throw myself into work but that can only go so far. Also difficult when sitting hurts.

I have another doctor's appointment today, a sports med doc. Maybe I'll get an x-ray.

I don't know.

I KNOW back pain is like the most common thing in the world. But it doesn't happen to me. I know, I know, that's like peoples' response to everything. But hear me out:

I didn't strain picking up something. I have a strong core (or at least I thought I did). But my back locked up and though it doesn't feel as locked up anymore, I don't know why.

Back in 2008 I had a mysterious quad problem that didn't go away until I took many weeks totally off and also did the master cleanse. I'm hoping to not do either.

This is exactly why I don't like making my goals public. It jinxes me. This happened last year. I have the baggage of last year. I have the fact that I have solicited MORE THAN $4k from people. Yes, that is a charitable donation for melanoma. YES, it's a good cause. But I want these people to have some return on investment, you know? ROI for runners?

I'm freaking out. I really am. I know I'm a head case. I just feel like a horrible, depressed, immense failure right now. Life's loser.

This is what happens when a runner can't run.

Rain, rain go away, and other things I have to say

When I moved to Portland from the east coast, one of the many reasons was because snow didn't fall here often. Because I hate snow. I hate it a lot.


I don't think it's beautiful. I think it's cold. And gross. And annoying. I hate it when it's sunny and there's snow out because it hurts my eyes, even with sunglasses. It impinges on my schedule. Actually, I don't so much keep a schedule as I do a list of things in my head that I will get to when I get to them and I may procrastinate but at least I know what I want to do and when I want to do them. Is that a schedule? I think it's more OCD.)


Yesterday we had snow. It washed away quickly. Now it's raining. And warm. I like it a lot.


But it's pouring. Like buckets of mop water, overturned.


I have to do my long run tomorrow for several reasons, none of which I feel like getting into. It's supposed to be just this rainy tomorrow morning. I fear that I will need to run in Hunter boots.


But I just can't handle doing 10+ miles on a dreadmill. I have friends who have done 20+ miles on one. I think that's insane. Even though when I first started running, I only was on a treadmill, that was no more than 5 miles and even then I had to stop it frequently because of 1) boredom and 2) out-of-shape-itude.


So I guess  I will have to venture out and get soaked. That's all right. I've got this thing to train for.


In other, rare non-running news, I'm also a writer. I have a day job (their work) and a night job (my work). I've written a novel and I'm shopping it out to agents. I've gotten reactions from no reaction to partial requests to full requests. I've gotten some lovely feedback in my rejection letters.


Anyway, I wanted to call out Deborah Camp, who has published more than 40 books--and whose motto is " "Don't wait for your ship to come in - swim for it!"


Even though I kind of hate the pool, she has a point. 


Make it happen. Running, writing, scheduling, whatever.


I don't know that I'd ever have 40 books in me, but I've got several and would love to have that kind of audience.


What are your dreams?

Today.

There is a part of me that feels like I'm going to get another call back from the doctor: "Whoops! Sorry! We switched your results with someone else! Someone luckier!"

I've got to stop thinking like that.

So I ran an easy three miles this morning, just to see if I would hold up.

I held up.

I held up just fine.

Yay.

BENIGN!!!!

Here's the deal:

I have some freckles on an area that we'll call...my Upper Upper Thigh (otherwise known as UUT). I've noticed them over the years and every so often I'll do some contortions with a hand mirror to get a good look at them.

I'll leave it at that.

A few weeks ago, I had a gynecologist appointment and asked her about one of the areas, where it looked a little discolored. She said we could do one of two things:

1. Wait six months and keep an eye on it.
2. Do a "punch biopsy," which is basically like taking a very small melon-baller (we're taking anywhere from 3-6 mm) to the area and send that off to pathology.

What it could have been:
1. Melanoma (even though this is an area that does not see much sun)
2.Nothing.
3. Skin cancer that wasn't melanoma
4. Precancerous changes
5. Other miscellaneous and weird things found on the internet at 1:30 a.m.

Great. I think to myself: I sign up to run Boston benefiting the Melanoma Foundation of New England...and I get melanoma. Not hypochondria, but awful, terrible irony.

If it were melanoma, the area would have to be cut out. Believe me when I tell you that I do not want the area to be cut out. Or  to be cut into. I like my UUT. I've had only compliments about my UUT. It serves me well. It's not something I wanted mutilated or otherwise sliced.

And also: I'm 37. I like my life. I enjoy it. I have so much more to do. There's no way I'm dying without publishing a goddamn book.

So I was freaking the fuck out. My dad had skin cancer diagnosed on his arm when he was younger than I am now. I won't go down the whole family tree of health boredom but suffice it to say this: Cancer is rampant in my family.

If you know me, you know that I was absent the day patience was handed out. (In fact, I must have called in sick that whole week, because I'm also lacking in tolerance, altruism, and good will--but I digress.)

I made the first appointment for a biopsy--ten days away.

Still freaking the fuck out.Going on the internet--even though that was the Worst Thing I Could Do--and looking at pictures, reading stories. Even on my lunch hour at work--it's a good thing I work in the medical field where it's "normal" to have weird-looking items on my desktop, all in the name of research.

 I know it was scary and alarmist and not the advice I'd give anyone, but come on. You're going to do it. It's like not thinking of an elephant.

I spent a lot of time with the mirror in various yoga positions, analyzing.

I told myself to stop. Sometimes I listened.

I told myself it would be fine. Sometimes I listened.

I told myself it wouldn't be fine. Sometimes I listened.

I made magical thinking deals in my head, late at night and first thing in the morning. "If it's not cancer, I'll be nice. I'll be nice to people I don't even like. I promise." (See tolerance, lackthereof.)

At the biopsy on Tuesday, I brought my husband, but left him in the waiting room.

I made jokes. There was bleeding. There was more bleeding. Then I made more jokes. "Cleanup on Aisle 5!"

I was told I'd know by Friday.

I did more magical thinking. My husband said, "It's going to be FINE. I PROMISE." I wanted to believe him. And I also wanted to see what would happen when he was wrong and had to backtrack and then I could add another coin to the bank of Carin's Right Again.

But this morning, I thought to myself: You know what? It will be okay. Say it's cancer. Say it's cut into. It won't be so bad. It's not a large area. My health is good. I eat right. I'm a runner. We'll get it early. I'm healthy, mostly. I have support. I am loved. I have the most amazing people in my life.

I went to unplug my phone from its charger this morning and that's when I saw I had a voicemail from my doctor's office.

BENIGN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What a wonderful, wonderful word.

The best.

It was relief like...I can't even believe it. Like sinking into the softest, best bed after the hardest, worst day.

And I'm more than happy to admit to my husband that he was RIGHT.

And I'm still healing from the biopsy and going to take a couple more days off from running. But that's FINE. I don't CARE.

And the other good news: My ferritin is at 49, which is the highest it has been in a while. So that's the bad news: If I have a bad run I can't blame my iron levels.

Yes, I am relieved. But I am really hoping I don't come across as smug. Please.

I have family who've had cancer. I have friends who've had it. Some of them have survived and have gone on to beat the fuck out of things, to slay cancer like Buffy. And some of them haven't gone on.

I always thought I was aware and supportive of people who were going through cancer. It took a scare like this for me to realize that I wasn't. I had NO FUCKING CLUE. For every ocean of relief I float on, there is someone else who got heartbreaking news.

What can I do? How can I help? What happens after I finish fundraising?

I don't know.

There is a lot  more I can do, or that I should be doing. I was lucky. Very, very fucking lucky. There may be a day when I'm not so lucky. I don't know what I can do in the meantime.

Last year I started writing down, at the end of each day, an "awesome thing of the day" that happened.  Some of those things were more awesome than others just in the way that some days are more awesome than others. Some days it was an awesome, dramatic event--requalifying for Boston. Some days I scrounged. "Good sushi roll that didn't fall apart."

I'm doing the awesome thing of the day this year, too.But maybe now I need to add something to it--because I feel almost...guilty in my relief? How can I make even more out of each day and make others aware of that, too?

I don't know. Ideas?

Why I'm not the best blogger.

Or: Why I suck at it.

When things are going well, I don't have a lot to write about. It's kind of like why phone conversations and visits with my parents are kept short. They freak out about things and make them into this histrionic drama nightmare and then all about them...and that's another story and a half...so I don't tell them anything, really. Everything is great. I stick to the good stuff, the cats, the weather. It's kind of sad but it saves me a lot of time and energy.

But that makes a boring writer, right? It makes a boring blog. At least for me, who will be the only person who is reading this.

And the truth is, things have been going reasonably well with my running. Two weeks ago I finally had my First Full Week of Running since  my appendectomy. My mileage still isn't up where it is and I'm not speedy but at least I had that. My body felt pretty good too, running-wise. I hadn't had any tweaks or twinges.

But I'm in this paradox, now. I can't write when things are good because there's nothing to say, and when things are bad, well...I'm not sure I want to post them on the internet.

I had a very nice "holiday" season.

I didn't run yesterday. Unplanned day off.

That may have been a mistake; running is my mood stabilizer, among other things, and I'm pretty down right now. I've had some other concerns that I'm not ready to blog about, and I'll only share them if they're good. At least for now. A blog about my training for Boston should be just that. Right?

I need to do more hills. I am woefully out of hill shape. I keep comparing myself to where I was last year. But this is probably a mistake. No, it definitely is. It was a year ago. And I fucked up my hamstring with 6 weeks to go last year. I don't want to compare to last year. The fact is that all I want to do is run this race and to run it like I've prepared for it. The past few marathons I've run To Be Faster. I'm having a hard time rearranging my expectations to be:

1. Don't get hurt before.
2. Don't get hurt before mile 26.2. Or after, really.
3. Train hard enough so that you don't fuck it all up, but not too hard that you...fuck it all up.

But who can help it?

Later. I'm not sure when, but...later.

A-ha!

I found out why some seemingly random people are donating to my cause.

A friend of mine, who works at -- let's just say a big athletic behemoth -- was "giving" away passes to a certain big behemoth employee store. She had a set amount and said people could have one--as long as they donated to my cause.

Glass half-empty wonders: "Is this like the teacher bribing the kids to give me a valentine?"

Glass half-full thinks: "I'm so glad my friend is using her massive intelligence for good."

Anyway, it was very cool and garnered me some bucks, so everyone is happy.

Today's other a-ha! moment: I went to my physical therapist (PT) who is a whole cauldron of awesome. I have this issue where my right hip gets rotated and it affects my leg. I was feeling a little off-balance and he confirmed that I was a *lot* off-balance and he did a lot of reshaping me back into place. My glutes and back thank him for it. It was the kind of realignment where I sometimes feel like I should ask for a cigarette afterwards.

My PT could put Humpty Dumpty back together. He's done so much for me that I even gave him a cameo in the novel I'm trying to sell.

Off to plot more of Book Two.

Delighted

Not by my running, which is anything but delightful lately (I shirked today, due to timing and weather--seriously, where has this slacker runner come from?), but by other people.

Today I had some donations, out of, seemingly, nowhere, from many disparate places in my life:

- A woman in my book group
- Two people in my running club who I've known for years
- Someone in my running club who I've not met face to face (yet)
- An old friend from back east that I've known since 1996 but haven't seen in about six years

People surprise me in the most awesome ways sometimes.

Monday I ran 4 miles. It felt longer. I didn't get to run until lunchtime (working from home that day) because of the freezing fog that has plagued Portland in the morning. Today I didn't get to run; I kind of woke up too late and by the time I realized I could run it was too late. So I did some core exercises in the basement.

I'm pretty slackery this training cycle. I hope this improves soon. I feel like I've fallen off the focus wagon. I've been aboard it for years, though. I like it better on the wagon. Things move smoother. You get into a rhythm, you know? And I'm kinda meh on it.

I'd like to say I'm going extra easy because I just want to run the damn race and don't expect anything out of it. But I need to put in the training so the race doesn't suck. Because that would suck, too.

It's a hard balance for me, sometimes.

Anyway, I wanted to post more on the coolness of people, and how it surprises me in the most delightful way. I know I know cool people, and I *shouldn't* be surprised, but...well, it just makes me smile. There is so much good in the world. There really, really is.

Really?

The last time I blogged was the 22nd? I am worst blogger ever. That's why I don't usually have a blog. I digress.

Partly it's because I don't like to post long things when things aren't going well. Much in that I don't like to deal with people when things aren't going well. A natural introvert. unless I have good news or something interesting to share, I tend to withdraw. Groups exhaust me. Having to be "on" exhausts me. I tend toward depression. When I run on a regular basis I can keep that tendency at bay.

Last week I had a good stretch. I ran 10 miles on Thanksgiving morning. Not pretty. But done. I did a (humbling!) 6-mile trail run at Silver Falls last Saturday (we will get to that in a moment). Then I took Sunday off. Then Monday I had the best run I had in ages. It was only 4 miles, but mentally I was there. I didn't feel like I needed to stop every 200 feet, like I had been in the weeks preceding that (okay, so I had an emergency appendectomy that took more out of me -- ha -- than I realized. but really, no excuses!).

But then when I finished that run, my leg hurt. Truth be told, my leg hurt before I did that run, too. It hurt in a different area than it normally hurts, when it hurts.

That scared the shit out of me.

The last thing I need is a stress fracture. With trying to raise all this money and 1) not being able to do that and 2) not being able to run on the basis that I am raising money from people who EXPECT to see me run? The hell?

That, there, is the worst case scenario.

So I went to the pool to do water running Tuesday and Wednesday. 30 minutes Tuesday. 50 minutes Wednesday. Thursday I took off totally. Well, I did some core work in the basement. Lifted a little upper body weights.  Friday I took off, but I usually take off Fridays.

Saturdays I do my long run. I'm playing it safe, so today I only ran 5 miles.

Well, 5.5.

Leg feels better. I have a massage scheduled later, which will be good. Remember the days when massage was a luxury, and not a necessity?

I'm blaming the lower leg pain on running in trail shoes that I probably should not have been running in, and the terrain being not what I normally run, and the streak of running I was doing while still recovering.

Let this be my whine of the day: I'm tired of recovering. I miss not being at the top of my game. And quite honestly, I don't want to even be at the top of my game for this marathon. I just want to be trained reasonably well and get to the start and the finish lines with everything intact and no bodily fluids where they shouldn't be. I'm tired of feeling like a shitty runner.

Okay. I don't really have much to complain about. I'm whining.

Let's go back to that trail run last Saturday. It was a beautiful day. Lots of fun people, many of whom I hadn't seen in ages. I've mentioned on my running club's message board that I am running Boston to raise money for melanoma prevention. Before the run started, my friend Mark wrote me a check, and it was really unexpected and appreciated. I tucked it in my jacket and thanked him.

After the run, we got to talking and he told me this story: a friend of his went to the doctor for something that he thought was a wart on his face. Doctor took one look at it and said, "I want you back here tomorrow." His friend had big patches on his face and neck removed--and still died of melanoma. He wasn't yet 30.

You never know what stories people have to tell...and when and how you'll hear them.

I'll really try and be a better blogger, by the way.

Pool Cues

So today it was lashing rain. While I've never been one to back away from dramatic weather to go for a run, even if I had gone out, it would have been a short run and the amount of rain and leaves and puddles would have made it not worth it for the few miles I would have done. Plus (and this is probably TMI, men, skip ahead) I had two weeks of PMS that finally ended today. Sometimes when I have PMS it just kills my running. I have to stop like, every mile because of rolling cramps and exhaustion. It's AWFUL.

So I went to the pool.

I'm a lousy swimmer.

I can swim to like, not die, but that's pretty much it. I've never been a big fan of putting my face in the water to do the crawlstroke (or is it called freestyle now? nothing to me feels free about it). My breathing gets all wonky. I can't really dive. I feel like I'm too old to take lessons to make me a better swimmer. Maybe I'll get there some day. After all, I come from a long line of swimmers. It's yet another thing I don't understand about my family.

Where was I?

Oh yes. The pool.

So when I go to the pool, I water run.

I'm sure people at the pool probably think I can't swim. Upon arriving (in my bikini from Target, by the way; I still haven't gotten around to getting A Real Swimsuit), I walk over to the flotation belts. I pick out a small and cinch it around my waist. I then walk into the shallow end and bounce out to the deep end, where, for anywhere from 30-60 minutes, I "run" in the deep end of the pool. Or, as Rita, my 76-year old friend who I met at the pool, calls it, "Pedaling in the pool."

And when a 76-year-old woman calls out your pool form, the thought "Maybe I should be a better swimmer" crosses your mind.

Sometimes I mix it up. I do running-type lunges. Or sort of an elliptical/cross-country ski move. I also do intervals: One minute really hard, 15 sec of rest, then another minute really hard. Repeat 5-10 times. This helps the time go by faster. It's something.

Don't laugh. This past March I blew out my hamstring. It's why I missed Boston 2011 (which STILL burns me!). I took to the pool. I pedaled my ass off in the pool. I gradually got back to running, but still used the pool. In July I qualified for Boston.

Days when I'm sore or whatever, I go to the pool. And, sad to say, it helps. I'm sad to say it because I want to be running exclusively, but I can't seem to be able to. I have long, lovely stretches of consistency that are occasionally blown by a Big Deal (e.g., appendicitis).

Obviously my body likes the pool (see: genes), but my brain likes the run.

There are some strange people at the pool. There are strange people at any fitness facility, though. And I'm probably one of the strange people. In fact, I'm sure of it ("that woman in her 30s  who comes in with the bikini who can't swim, right?").

There are the two men who lean on the ledge in the deep end and talk shit about politics for an hour. They don't actually swim. They just talk. It's like Meet the Press: Waterbound.

There is the man, with the pointy beard, who prances in the shallow end with what looks like a harmonica.

There is the TERRIFYING water aerobics teacher, who is a presence and doesn't need to be miked. The few times I've been in there and the class overlaps with my time in the pool is frightening. One time I messed up the schedule and walked in to "USE YOUR NOODLES, LADIES!"

3 x Monday

The past three Mondays, I have rolled my ankle on my runs. What is up with me? But things happen in threes, right? Though each time it's gotten progressively not as bad. So either I'm rolling it less, recovering better, or burying myself further and further in denial.

Also, the wind was everywhere.

I'm waiting for the day when a 5-mile run isn't going to feel like a longer one. When an 8-mile run is just a usual run and not something with a lot of effort. I think I'm still recovering from the appendectomy and being out for close to a month, and a few other issues that I'm having a hard time getting past.

Hopefully time will make things smoother. It has to, right? I'm too young for this getting older shit.

I am also preparing a big fundraising blitz. I'm multi-tasking like it's my job. As I type this, I'm preparing a big email via Facebook to spam my friends about donating, listening to a conference call with my charity, typing this blog, and giving attention to Bean, who is sitting on my lap, purring. I feel weird about getting in touch with people who I haven't in years, but...hey, there you go. I did this in 2005 when I fundraised for my first marathon with Team in Training, and I raised $3,800.

So I know I can do this. I just need to remember how. And fuck shyness.

Right?

Here's my fundraising link again.

I was thinking that tomorrow was going to be a pool day, but I'm going to wake up in the morning and then decide. If I don't go to the pool I'll do a shortish but hilly run.

One last thing: I see weird things on my runs sometimes. On my route home, someone had dumped a big pile of black beans on a slope in front of a house. There's your hill of beans.

Forecast: Wind EVERYWHERE

I do a 4-mile loop on some easy days. Actually, it's more of a lollypop than a loop, so mile 4 is mile 1 in the opposite direction.

The headwind was EVERYWHERE. 

How does that HAPPEN?

My fundraising is at 8%. Slow and steady.

This weekend has been...kind of humbling, at best. Saturday, I did my long run: 8 miles. Today's recovery run: 4 miles. 

I remember when 8 miles was an easy run. Yesterday's 8-miler felt more like an 18 miler. I stopped a lot. Out of breath. Tired. I couldn't blame the wind. 

It's so hard when you're used to performing at a certain level and your body betrays you.

This is nothing new.

I should be grateful that I can be out there at all, I know. And running, for me, continues to be a roller coaster. What I will say is this: I am enjoying the ride indeed.

Fundraising Link

I'll put this elsewhere on the blog, and frequently, but donate here.

First Post

I've tried various blogs before and they've never stuck. This one has a better chance, because it's somewhat temporary. It will serve a function, and then it will end. So yes, my first post is about my last post.

Why I'm writing this blog: In 2010, I qualified to run Boston 2011. You can read about that here. I trained my ass off, and tore my hamstring with six weeks to go until Boston. I couldn't run. I thought I could defer, but I was wrong. In July 2011, I re-qualified for Boston. Want to read about that race? It's here.

But even though I qualified, I didn't get under enough to make it into Boston 2012. I blame the heat, but it's a moot point.

I deserved a second chance to run Boston. A Boston mulligan, if you will.

I was fortunate enough to snag a charity spot for the 2012 Running for Cover Team, benefitting the Melanoma Foundation of New England. I'm pretty excited about this. I have a family history of melanoma, so it's a cause I am close to.

I'm also pretty nervous about this.

My first marathon (I've run five), I ran to benefit Team in Training. I had never run more than five miles before that. I had never fundraised before that. I accomplished both my running and financial goals.

But there's a part of me that worries I won't meet the financial target (I have to raise $4,000). Or that something else with my body will go wrong before next April, 2012. I actually kind of hate talking about my marathon training because I always feel like I'm going to jinx it.

I will be training very conservatively for this. I kind of don't care about my time. I don't expect to PR, and I'm not sure I even want to (though who kicks a PR out of bed, right?). I don't want to embarrass myself, though.

Though I've run five marathons and two qualifiers, I've also had setbacks. Many setbacks. Probably more setbacks than races.

Three weeks ago, I had an emergency appendectomy. That went fine, but it was several weeks off running. Then one of my first days back, I twisted my ankle pretty hard. I've done it once more since.

See why I'm superstitious?

In this blog I'll talk about my experience training and fundraising. That's about it. If you're my friend, I'm on Facebook. If you want the abbreviated version, I'm on Twitter. And once I get my fundraising page set up, I'll post that, too.