Three Tangled Necklaces and The Race Report That Never Was

I realize I've been remiss in reporting on the Baldwin Park race.  I haven't even updated my stats until today.  This is because, from the week of the race right up until this very moment, life has been extremely, somewhat unexpectedly, filled with major changes.

I guess I shouldn't call them unexpected.  I've never been a fan of the saying "hindsight's 20/20."  And we all know that we would have done things differently "if we knew then what we know now."  I can see some use for those dogged cliches now that the past few weeks have carried me forward rapidly and effortlessly to conclusions and decisions I hadn't expected to reach previously, but now seem so simple and obvious.  It is one of those times in my life where seemingly innocuous and unrelated events of previous weeks, years and months come together like puzzle pieces, and,  in one or two moments, expose their purpose and meaning with perfect clarity.  I'm not a Taylor Swift fan, but there's a line in her song The Story of Us that really sums up my past month: I don't know what to say since the twist of fate when it all broke down . . .

The Sunday of the race was absolutely perfect.  It was, in fact, the best race I have ever had.  I hoped to match or beat my Sprint PR of 1:35 and beat my Baldwin Park course record of 1:48.  Instead, I crossed the finish line in 1:25, scorching every Sprint PR I've made on any course, placing #2 Athena overall, and coming in the top 40 on the bike out of 236 men and women (and top 60 on the swim.)  My paces were a sub-2-minute/100 swim, an 18+mph bike, and a 9:35 minute/mile.

Later that day, a series of events set in motion weeks (even months) before came to a conclusion, and I put in my place my decision to move out on my own after spending over 2.5 years with the B.    None of this belongs in a blog about my training and racing, but it affects my training and racing directly.  Because of the move, emotional turmoil, lack of sleep, etc., training has been slowed.  Not stopped - and I am very proud that I haven't stopped altogether - just slowed a bit. My coaching and training strategy has also altered.  I must find more affordable methods of accomplishing those goals now that I'm on my own.

I've been spending a lot of time with friends, and my sleep has been sketchy.  A typically exhausted, 8- to 10-hour sleeper, I've been averaging 5-7 a night. Positive as it is, there are still a lot of life changes, major alterations in my routine.  

Last night was a great example.  I found myself awake past 2 a.m. trying unsuccessfully to disengage three of my favorite necklaces which had been knotted together in my move.  This wouldn't be remarkable unless I mention to you that I'd already spent an entire afternoon cursing, breaking one of them, and pulling apart the other 3 that were originally part of the 6-string fracas.  Finally, exhausted to the point of physical illness, I asked myself why the hell am I spending so much time trying to untangle these last 3 necklaces?  Obviously, they were of some sentimental value, but of way less monetary value than warrants 8 hours of effort.

That was when it hit me that the necklaces symbolized my newfound independence.  Instead of asking my mom, or B - both of whom were excellent de-knotters and problem-solvers - to help me fix this situation, I was determined I was going to fix it myself, no matter what it took.  After all, I am an INDEPENDENT WOMAN now!  I CAN DO THIS ON MY OWN!

In the end, I was unable to get the last 3 chains apart, although I did salvage one of the charms.  I realized that, like many parts of my previous life, there are just some things too broken or messy to fix - and, sometimes, when it gets to the point that the repair attempts are causing you physical or emotional turmoil, it is simply time to accept that you have done your best and move on.

While I'm really missing a few things about my old situation (like my cats and coaches), I feel as if this is one of the best things that's happened in my entire life.  I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a fabulous, adventurous, open, amazing, beautiful world filled with limitless potential.   It is astonishing how, instead of sad and helpless, releasing those beliefs that anything can be fixed or solved can fill you with so much freedom and  hope.

Something else the necklace fiasco made me realize is how much I *do* have.  I mean, I had 6 necklaces before I took the 3 apart.  And, despite the 3 left, I still saved 50% of them.  And that's the way I feel about my move.  I had to give up a lot.  I'm sure I'll have to give up more.  But what's left still feels extremely plentiful.

I don't remember feeling this blessed for a long time, if ever.

I put those 3 necklaces gently into a box that is now sitting atop my jewelry armoire.  Like the last few years of my life, I am not sure that I will ever fix them, or even attempt to, but I've found a safe place for them where they will not be forgotten.

Life After The C-Bomb

I'm going to try to make this the last time I say it, but MAN, my life and outloook were totally different before I got hit by The C-Bomb. 

I know I harp on it, but sometimes the changes are so drastic I can't ignore them.  I know some of this is because I have stable levels of thyroid hormone, and some of it is because I went through the stress of cancer.  But it's still pretty mindblowing to emerge from years of depression, poor reasoning, and high stress levels and find the world an open, logical, friendly place.

Before The C-Bomb, I actually remembered looking at the B when I was told I needed my thyroid removed, and during a particularly delirious, tearful moment, asking him if there was any way they could just leave it in.

I am aware now how terrifically insane that sounds, but I was overwhelmed at the time.  First of all, I'd been fighting random illnesses for years, with all the terrible stigma attached to being chronically ill, and I was afraid that being a cancer patient, and not having a key part of my immune system, would make that worse.  I was also (as superficial as this sounds) devastated by the weight implications.  Second, I assumed, and many people who'd "been there" confirmed, that being without a thyroid was an immediate Fat Sentence.  

A Fat Sentence is like a Death Sentence, except instead of DYING, you blow up to incredibly huge proportions and are never able to lose weight ever again.

Instead, the opposite happened.  In the next 7 months, I lost 12 pounds.  In the following 5 months, I lost another 10.  It took me a year to lose 22 pounds, but considering that I'd thought I would never lose more a single pound again, that seemed minor.

I've always had GIANT goals.  After The C-Bomb, my thinking split simultaneously: one one hand, I became determined that, because I was now feeling so great, I would take on EVERYTHING I wanted to do; but I also became aware that priorites were needed.

I kept hearing the expression get back to basics when my life was riddled with drama and difficulty.  After my surgery, I finally REALIZED what that meant: when major things are going on in life, major action is needed.  Sometimes the answer is cutting a bunch of crap OUT (not down, but out altogether).  Because I realized: I have had cancer. I need to cut a lot of CRAP out of my life. 

Don't get me wrong:  the attitude that I can and WILL climb all those mountains is still there.  I just don't think they all need to be climbed in the same year.  And some of the mountains don't need to be climbed at all.

A few weeks ago, I took the GRE again, and my score (after several focused weeks of math study) was lower than I liked, despite seeing an enormous improvement over my last test attempt.  Then I came down with another sinus infection and had some time to think about the other areas of my life could be improved by taking that same focused approach and cutting out some more CRAP.

Training, naturally, came to mind.

I thought, I am really doing a lot right now.  And my life is going great, not riddled with any type of drama or difficulty, and I finally feel like ME again.

And I REALLY want to keep it that way.


Before the C-Bomb, I would have said, PERFECT!  I can handle it if I need to pile some more shit on! Let's see just how much I can do!  But now I view this as a chance to maintain the balance I've achieved, to avoid inadvertently bringing on any more drama or difficulty, and to enjoy what I have instead of reaching out and up constantly for MORE, more, MORE.

You probably think this is a no-brainer - and I bet most people plan their own goals and challenges similarly - but my brain just didn't work that way. It wasn't because I didn't see the logic, but 1)I always felt like there was no point in limiting my goals and 2) I always felt like my progress was measured not by how much FASTER I could go, or how much BETTER I could be at what I *WAS* doing but by how much FARTHER I could go or what ELSE I could do.

So I figured, what if I adopted the "get really good at what I'm doing before I move on to something new" attitude?  What if I tone down my race schedule this year and make my "A" and "B" races Olympic distance, with a sprint or two on the way as barometer races? (I already have 3 or 4 in mind.) My thinking is simple: I know what I need to improve on for 70.3 training, and 70.3 will be there next year. But I know I can FINISH an Olympic-distance race without any REAL change to my training schedule - AND improve at the distance - while still leaving me time in case I feel ill, need to study, etc.



It's like a light bulb went off in my head.  EUREKA! - I FINALLY *get* it. I can be just as successful  (or more) being better at something I've already done as I can at trying something new.  And establishing a solid base of racing and self-efficacy is exactly what I need right now.

By chosing a goal I know I can already acheive, I am assured of a minimum level of success. I'll probably even lose weight training now - which I never did before. Even better, I can continue training, then racing, while I accomplish all my other career and academic goals . . . . without suffering a stress-induced brain aneurysm.


I cannot even BEGIN to describe how EXCITED I am.




Also on the topic of Life After The C-Bomb . . . I've been working really hard lately to try to make sure that I'm communicating from the perspective of an individual, not just a chronically ill individual.  Obviously, my health issues affect my life, and I blog about them in part so members of my support groups can connect to them, and in part because it helps me get things off my chest.  (In retrospect, I've probably shared TOO much information.  If people don't KNOW you're "the sick person," they can't treat you like "the sick person.")

When dealing with the changes in my training schedule or life schedule, I realized that I'm no different than anyone else.  Regardless of your health situation. . . . life just happens.  The bills are due.  The kids get sick.  The dog breaks a leg.  Work changes.  Friends come and go.  Spring, summer, winter and fall - they all come for every single one of us.  My challenges aren't all that different than anyone else's.  So, from now on, I'm going to try to look at my changes and adjustments as a natural consequence of being a busy person . . . not as a natural consequence of being a sick person.

It's funny, but even though I still battle my vertigo, Life After The C-Bomb feels a lot less . . . well . . . sick.

Today is the first day of the rest of my training plan

Honestly, I was shocked at this week's plan (and its extremely low volume), but when the coaches agreed with it, I rolled with it.

I'm already glad.

This morning's workout was originally scheduled as a brick, but poor Ruby hasn't been out on the road in a week, so I didn't realize her tires were desperately in need of air.  The extra couple minutes it took for me to fill them cut out my run time - which is fine, because I already have two mini-bricks later this week.

This is what this early plan is all about.  Building up my efficacy and ability slowly.  So there's no need to get all crazy-like the first day of my workout back.

The weather was brisk - about 48 degrees - so I threw on a compression tee and tights under my jersey.  And, in a bold move, I opted NOT to wear my cycling shorts over my tights.  (I do this sometimes on short rides to develop what I call SST - Skinny Seat Tolerance.) 

After that, there isn't much to report . . . averaged about 15.2 mph, didn't get stuck at many stoplights, and except for the holyfuckmyfingersarefreezing sensation caused by forgetting my gloves, it was an ab-so-lute-ly perfect little ride.

 

Later on in the evening I had a delicious piece of venison and some fresh spinach, and as a special treat I made tiny potatoes.  I think I've expressed my general apathy about carbs in general, but I've made a serious effort lately to eat veggies instead of starches.  I have to say, the overall experience of eating only veggies is more satisfying than including a traditional "carb." 



They taste about 1000 times
better than they look!

Since I'm helping the B work on his eating as well, and since he frequently looks for some type of dessert after dinner, I made whole-wheat, bittersweet-chocolate-chunk cookies.  You'd never know they were also low fat and lower sugar.  Even this non-carb, non-sweet fan gave them 2 thumbs up. 

Tomorrow I think I'm supposed to meet with the math tutor for more GRE-approved goodness.  I've been hitting the vocabulary SUPA HARD (in fact, if I weren't so tired, I'd be using some of my fascinating new words to write this blog.)

Tomorrow is another day.

Don't Let the Bastards Get You Down

Sniff sniff . . . as empty as the day I moved in

The moving project is officially finished! There are still a few boxes in our garage, but the storage unit is packed, my old place is empty, and by Monday I will officially be a non-homeowner again . . . and 100% shacked up with the B.

The emotions I’m experiencing are a subject for another day’s discussion.   This means a lot of things for me, from loss of independence to financial stability.  And stability in general is something I've really struggled with the past few years, so I embrace any semblance of it!  But it is, nonetheless, a HUGE life change.

Anyway, during our first Date Night in weeks, we were discussing my 2011 race plans. He told me he liked the DetermiNation experience so much he’d like to do it again next year.  Then he suggested: what if you make it your goal to do a RACE in every state, not just a MARATHON? Then you don’t have the pressure of doing multiple marathons AND triathlons every year unless it works out for you.

Huh!  Maybe I keep him around for a reason.

So I re-tooled my 2011 and 2012 race schedule, now aiming at Augusta 70.3, which is in September. This replaces the second marathon of the year, as well Florida 70.3 in May. Next year, I will do Florida 70.3 in May and a fall Marathon for the American Cancer Society as my “A” races. (I’ll update my page LATER.)

. . . which leaves me with the rest of this week to recover from the sinus infection and then 28 weeks to train.

I’m pretty excited about that.

Except for this feeling of guilt for not doing anything right now that’s dogging me. Someone should have warned me to pack my bags for this guilt trip.

Thar she does/doesn't blow

I tried to run on Monday, but (beware, this is gross,) I coughed so hard I peed myself and then was unable to breathe between the asthma and sinusitis. I set up the trainer in the living room, but have been too exhausted to ride after work. And every day during the week has been dedicated to moving and closing. But, aside from Monday’s failed attempt, I haven’t “officially” worked out in almost 2 weeks (the last time I did, I came down with the sinus infection.) The panic that I may lose fitness, along with the feeling of being a worthless sloth, is becoming unbearable.

So, I guess I’m packing my (cycling) bags tomorrow and seeing how I feel on a ROAD trip.

Speaking of feeling guilty, Lent began yesterday. As far as religion goes, I'm on what I call the "Cafeteria Plan," borrowing elements of Lutheranism (Protestantism in general) and mixing it in with Catholicism, Taoism, Buddhism – even a little Islam. But, for some reason, I revert back to my militant German-Lutheran roots and give up something for Lent almost every year.

The idea of making a personal sacrifice to demonstrate support for one’s beliefs is not foreign to marathoners and triathletes. Many of us give up all kinds of treats to train and race: wine, chocolate, French fries, sex, time with friends and loved ones, and more. I always appreciated the symbolism of Lent because I am already so familiar with the concept.

But what the hell would I ditch?  I already gave up my one teaspoon of sugar in my coffee, what little processed food I did eat, and a ton of carbs. I can (sadly) say this: it’s been so long since I regularly had a glass of wine that last night, after I poured myself a glass of malbec, it was so unsatisfying that I swapped it almost instantly for jasmine tea.

I sho’ did.

But there’s another part of me that thinks the exercise is pointless. I mean, seriously? Give something up to demonstrate my faith? That insinuates that I am in need of abandoning my indulgence and gluttony. That I’m a Dirty Sinner in need of reform.

And I’m already kinda on a guilt trip, what with the whole not-working-out-the-past-week thing.

So maybe I’ll give up guilt trips for Lent.

I thought very seriously about giving up Facebook. As you know, I’m already on something of a hiatus from the social networking world. (Keep in mind: for someone who once updated her status semi-hourly, visiting once or twice a week is a hiatus.) In fact, I even made a bet with one of my friends that I could stay off Facebook for the next two weeks, so what’s an extra week or three?  After all, it's been bothering me lately anyway.

And, as one of my old bosses used to say, don't let the bastards get you down, MAJ.

No better way to do that than to avoid the bastards altogether.

Against All Odds Redux

It takes a team of doctors to keep up with me.

Yeah, that’s right.  I’m so infinitely badass that I require my own dedicated support team.

I guess at some point last year, I decided that each additional bit of adversity I faced was just one more opportunity to excel.

When I first started blogging, I titled my story "Against All Odds" because I was struggling with an insurmountable list of health issues in addition to the daily injury prevention challenges faced by all endurance athletes and a slew of personal problems.  Later, I answered a fellow blogger's question explaining the various health challenges I faced.  Little did I know that I would only continue to add more issues to the list: asthma and allergies, and of course cancer, "the icing on a very shitty cake."

Today I went to the ENT to get the update on my inner ear issues . . .  and it looks like the cause of all my inner ear problems is most likely an incurable disease called Meniere's.  I'm just learning about it, but I will begin something called vestibular therapy and then possibly be put on additional medications.  

The toughest part, though, is that my vertigo and hearing loss will follow me for the rest of my life, are completely unpredictable, and are usually progressive - meaning they'll most likely get worse and require more drastic treatments as I age. And I will definitely be making some dietary modifications (I'll write more later about the 4th discipline).

Yeah - it is a bit frustrating to think that I have to go through more tests and treatments after years of being free from them, and yeah - I could let it bother me or depress me or anger me.

But you know what?

I got this.

I know what I need to do, what I need to eat, and how much I need to sleep.  That's all I need to know.

I'm not going to stop training.

I'm not going to stop working my jobs.

I'm still applying to my PhD program.

I'm also not going to let this get me down.

Au contraire - I'm going to use it as yet another reason to succeed against the odds.

People who get bothered or angry or depressed by every bit of drama with which they're faced aren't the ones who conquer insurmountable obstacles.  People who are infinitely badass, on the other hand, are.

Another Odd Thing That Both Cancer and Training Have Taught Me

I’ve written about this before, but when I first got really sick, I wasn’t prepared for peoples’ reactions.  I expected, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.  How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?” But this was the exception, not the rule.  People around you don’t always understand (and aren’t always supportive of) someone chronically ill.  I can’t even count how many times people stopped talking to me, or when they did, would say things like “Just shake it off.  When *I* have a cold, I just take some medicine and keep partying like a rock star.” 

One of my observations, which still stands, was that you can’t really blame people for reacting like this.  It’s not anyone’s responsibility to be sympathetic or their job to make me feel better.  I’m sure they also don’t know what to say.  And, in the end, everyone has to make decisions about the people they keep close, and most of us make those decisions based on how people make us feel.  Being around a sick person probably doesn’t make you feel your best. 

Now that I’ve come through some of the difficulties of my illness and am more or less on the other side, I realize how valuable that observation was.  The people who did take the time and make the effort to be supportive, even though it WASN’T their job, even though they DIDN’T know what to say, are still my strongest allies.  And they’re also some of the most positive people around me.

I used to be sad when friendships changed or came to an end.  Now something that both training AND cancer have helped me realized is that cycles are vital in our lives.  If we had the same workout or the same treatments, all the time, no matter the condition of our bodies, we wouldn’t get results.  They both have to be tailored to the obstacles we are hoping to overcome and goals we’d like to achieve.  Well, the same goes with the people in our lives; some are around for many cycles and some are around just for specific moments.

I’m going through a few of the most outstanding months of my life.  I’m not going to lie to you and tell you there haven’t been rocky patches, because life is not without those, no matter how amazing it is (especially when you’re battling health problems and trying to work several jobs).  But, overall, I end each day feeling somewhat accomplished and focused and happy.   And positive.

I’m thankful for the people who have remained positive with me, but I’m also thankful for those who have come and gone.

2011 is going to be an amazing year. I can just feel it.

I did something crazy

Did you miss me?

Were you gone?

No, but I did something crazy last week.

Crazy, you say?

Uh-oh  . . . Tea's grabbing the blankie right about now.

I took a week off.

You did what?

I took a week off.

CRAZY, RIGHT?!?!?!

As many years as I've been racing, I know I still don't know it all.  That's where having the help of D3 Multisport has been awesome.  They've been the msot flexible, helpful, and affordable coaches I've ever worked with.  And I still get the coaching advice I need so I'm not OD'ing or undertraining.

The other nice thing about having professional help is that, when someone says to me, I don't know why you're doing that workout or what is UP with your workout schedule, anyway? I can know that I'm making good decisions because I'm backed by people who know what they're talkin' bout.

It's BEEN COLD!  I mean COLD!  I had to dress for 20- to 30-degree weather just about every day in the past TWO WEEKS!  YEESH!!!!
I'm waiting on bloodwork results again.  6 weeks later, still not feeling the improvement from my synthroid increase - kinda feeling hypo again.  This has affected my training, but I am still able to (for the most part) put in  about 30 miles a week.

I am also pleased to announce that the phenomenal Terra Mia has agreed to host a dinner where they donate part of the proceeds from a shift at their Longwood location to my American Cancer Society fundraiser!

DETAILS TO FOLLOW!!!

Until then, working on the Resolution List.  Still topping it with It's Never To Late To Be The Person You've Always Wanted To Be and Be More Grateful.

Wow! Check This Out!

Here are stats on the total training spent over the last few months.  Look at these increases - October isn't even through and I've torched September's run and swim distances.

August (bike, run, swim)
66.23 Mi - 5h 01m 05s

9.43 Mi - 2h 13m 37s
2700.00 Yd - 1h 17m 15s

September
217.54 Mi - 16h 16m 01s
18.80 Mi - 6h 26m 16s
3700.00 Yd - 2h 40m 34s

October
109.90 Mi - 9h 20m
23.67 Mi - 6h 07m 41s
5150.00 Yd - 3h 19m 12s

No wonder I'm improving.  Big shout-out to the coaches on Beginner Triathlete for their hard work.

That's all I got tonight.

This Year, I'm Taking Uncle Bill to Mardi Gras

I was about 6.  The giant ferris wheel at the Bay Beach Sanctuary in Green Bay, Wisconsin loomed before me.

Now, this next part you will NEVER believe.

I was petrified.

I have attempted 3 marathons, over a dozen triathlons and dozens more road races.  I was a public speaking ace in college.  I ride motorcycles. I work three jobs.  I am the last person anyone would expect to be terrified of a ferris wheel.

But I was.

That is, until Uncle Bill got involved.  Uncle Bill convinced me that getting on thay ferris wheel was EXACTLY what I needed to do. And I wasn't buying it, especially as we rounded that first seemingly endless drop and my stomach fell somewhere down around my toes.

And then the unthinkable happened.

WE STOPPED AT THE TOP.

Convinced I was facing certain death, I clutched Uncle Bill's hand with an iron grip. Then, as the steel terror machine creaked into inevitable motion, he giggled and looked at me, and I will never forget what he said. 

In the voice of a toddler watching fireworks for the first time, Uncle Bill pointed at the breathtaking view and cooed, "Ooooh! AAAAAHHHH!"

I burst into laughter. I haven't met a ferris wheel or roller coaster I didn't love since that day.

My mom's older brother, one of many uncles, was a kid trapped in an adult body. No one had a bad time around Uncle Bill. Everything made him smile.

Which is the extraordinary part. You see, Uncle Bill fought many battles in his life. Korea. Alcoholism.  Fatherhood. The economy.

Lung cancer was the only one he didn't beat.

I am forever in debt to this man. It is because of him that I see tasks which are daunting and even terrifying as challenges, and, more importantly, opportunities to HAVE FUN.

And so, it seems only fitting that I undertake a fundraising effort in his honor as I, also a cancer survivor, embark upon a journey to complete my 3rd marathon. For I would never be here without him.  And I cannot think of anyone who would have more fun in New Orleans with me. Because, although he may not, his spirit of fun, fearlessness and enthusiasm for life live on.

I will be raising funds and awareness for the American Cancer Society at the Mardi Gras Marathon in New Orleans, Louisiana, on February 13, 2011.

I hope you'll join me and Uncle Bill in any way you can.

Love,

MAJ