T-Minus One Month to Liftoff

Just over 4 weeks to Chicago.

In a little over a month, I'll be covering the streets of one of my fave cities -  one I have not seen in great detail as an adult. I'm looking forward to finding my race day outfit and setting up post-race plans with area friends.

(Peyton, my honoree, likes pink and blue.  If you know me, you know pink is NOT my thing. I begrudgingly own a few items because I otherwise loved the fit, shape, etc. and they came in no other color.  But I love this kid and this is HER race, so I would wear vomit green if that's what she liked.)

Decked out in our gold accouterments

I'm also in the home stretch for fundraising. I had a great time this week at the Gold Gala.  Between local and virtual attendance, we raised another $300 for A Kids' Brain Tumor Cure, which means I also am only $300 from my goal with about 4 weeks left.

Funk Engine Kitty is like....
really? this funk? again?

And, even with all this good stuff going on, I've been having a rough couple weeks physically, which has put me back in a baby funk. I have a persistent infection and am not feeling well on top of fundraising, event planning for me and the club, work, etc, etc, It has been hard for me to have a good, solid long run or a good, mid-distance speed/tempo run lately, partly because of all this.

I was talking about this with a fellow runner and massage therapist earlier this week; for one of my recent marathons (can't remember if it was Huntsville or maybe even Seattle), I had an entire training season without that breakthrough run.

It can be really confidence-shaking - to an inexperienced marathoner because you haven't developed that "I can do this" sense of efficacy, and to an experienced one because you know what to expect and you either want to PR really bad or just feel good.  And right now my mental preparation is sorely lacking that run.

Anyone who's ever done 26.2 miles a few times knows that the golden moment of your training plan is that run.

I'm talking about the one that, upon its conclusion, makes you think to yourself
I got this
OR
Bring it on, BITCHES
OR
I can hand this race its ass
OR
I'm gonna own that 26.2 miles IN THE FACE

I had a few of these toward the beginning (my two double long runs), but for the past month or so, what I have had is:
My bladder hurts
AND
I have to stop to pee AGAIN?
AND
Can you come pick me up at mile 8?
AND
Fuck this, I'm getting off this GD treadmill

I bagged my recent 20 mile bunched run (10 miles one night, 10 in the morning became 3 in the evening and 3 in the morning), and just couldn't get farther than about 8 miles for this week's 15-miler.  Baby fevers, aches, and just a fatigue that makes it hard to lift my feet.

I even took a weekend really easy and did nothing but walk St. Augustine
and paddleboard with the club to give myself a break

It has been hard not to get down on myself about not making many of my long runs or not feeling great on some of the runs I've completed.  I try to tell myself daily that I am doing a great job of getting in as much as I can and that I should feel proud for all I do when I am not feeling great, etc.

But sometimes when it is only your internal dialogue it feels like bullshit you hear that from someone else it really is uplifting.

Yesterday someone in my life who is not effusively complimentary gave me the first real compliment I've ever gotten from him related to this.... he told me he was impressed with all I manage to do with what I have (physically) going on.  It was just one of those days where I felt like absolutely nothing I did was enough.  But the pat on the back gave me the guts I needed to keep going on a night where I felt like crap.

My parting sentiment today is be encouraging.  I know we all have people we dislike, have falling-outs with, or who just straight up do us wrong.  Put all those people aside and take some time to just encourage someone in your life who could use it.  I promise, it will make you forget all the assholes in the world when you see just how much it means to them.  You can tell yourself a million times that you're doing your best, but sometimes a kind word from another really helps you feel like you are.

And with that, I'm off to try to rest up for the week.

When Keepin' it Real Goes Right aka The Snuggle is Real (Uncensored)

I made a promise when I started this blog that I was going to keep it real.

The problem is that for the past few weeks, I haven't been keeping it real with myself . . . at all. 

If you've never seen it, there was a skit on the Dave Chappelle show called When "Keeping it Real" Goes Wrong.   The skit always ended with an exaggerated version of what would happen if we really did say exactly what we were thinking.  Think: getting thrown in federal prison, receiving a violent ass-whooping and then losing your home because you couldn't pay the medical bills, etc.

TL;DR: we aren't free from the consequences of our actions (or statements).

But this is about when keeping it real goes right.

Not this kind of funk.
This is the GOOD kind.

Lately I have caught myself doing exactly what I said I wasn't going to do . . . letting my diseases become who I am.

I sat down several times over the last few weeks to write a blog to correct this. I struggled to feel more happy and positive and content with where I physically am right now.  I searched for perspective.  I tried to come up with my reasons to celebrate every day.  And I was failing a lot of days.  I was letting myself get sucked into a bitter/petty Pity Party.  

I was in a major Funk.  

Lately, I don't feel good most of the time.  I don't sleep most of the time.  Many days are a struggle to get through whatever tasks are ahead of me. (This includes my training.)  But, as anyone who has battled chronic illness most of their life knows, life with chronic illness can be a roller coaster.  

Which really means that being chronically ill is not terribly different than just living life in general.  Life is a roller coaster: sometimes we're up, sometimes we're down, and everyone deals with shit.  (How can I forget this when I myself talk about it ALL THE TIME?)

Today, while going for coffee and bagels, while preparing (despite not sleeping much for the last 3 days straight) for another "bunched run" where I'll run 10-12 miles this afternoon and another 10-12 in the morning, I found myself frustrated that my Fitbit battery was low.  

I realized that my only real problems in life are coffee, sleep, and my Fitbit battery.


Of course, I know these are not really problems.

So then this hit me: my REAL problem (the FUNK, that is) was just as much mental as it was physical.

What I needed was not inspiration, motivation, or laughter. What I needed was a big ol' dose of Get the Fuck Over It.


EVERY athlete, even the healthiest of athletes, will come to the point of their training plan where they start to mentally and/or physically become fatigued.  I especially feel this when I get tired of marathon training: all I do is run, run, run, do yoga and lift weights (with one ride a week thrown in for cross-training). Sometimes I'm just DYING for the days when, if I miss a workout or don't feel so great, I can swap one sport for another sport.

This is not something unique to ME.  I am not special. I am not a precious flower.  I am just a person who physically does a LOT.   People who do a LOT get tired.

One of my favorite expressions for snapping out of those moments when we get too sucked into our own pity parties is the struggle is real.  After seeing my cats all pile on top of the couch one Saturday morning for snuggles, I decided to swap out the "TR" for an "N." 

So, whenever I need a reality check, I tell myself this:

Swap out a few letters . . . see how any expression changes from negative to positive or neutral. Sounds like a silly exercise, but it works.

Every morning, I see a gentlemen practicing tai chi in our neighborhood park.  He walks to the park with purpose and flow and rhythm.  And when he gets there, he tunes out everyone and everything and is completely peaceful in his practice.


For all I know, this dude has all kinds of internal demons.  He may hate himself. His kids may have disowned him. He may be flat broke, or have some life-altering, crippling illness from which tai chi is his only refuge/exercise.  Or he may be just as peaceful and purposeful as his practice suggests.  Only he knows the truth.  

It reminds me that we all have something going on.  Some of us just choose to make it public, or to let it disturb our inner/outer peace.

Lately, I have needed a reminder that this is a choice.

And that, ladies and gentleman, is when keeping it real goes right.

Just Dropped In (to See What Condition My Condition Was In)

I have been (notably?) absent from my blog, and it's been a love/hate sort of thing.  There's so much I've needed/wanted to say, and it's been so hard to find/make the time to say it. But I also genuinely enjoy writing.

A few notable items from the last few months . . .

• Still haven't lost the 15 lbs.  I lost about 6 or 7 of it, though.
• Finally made it under an hour for the 10k
• Olympic-Distance PR came very unexpectedly in July.
• I became the Social Coordinator for the Seminole County Triathletes
• Fall is going to be packed with travel!!! Augusta 70.3 to watch the race, two weddings, the Griswold Family Thanksgiving in NC....and let's not forget a lil' ol' thing called The Chicago Motherf'in Marathon!!!!

On that note, I survived my first long training run of the season - 18 miles in 12 hours.  My long runs are split between two days to allow the fatigue of the mileage without the risk of injury. I love training this way.  And from the results and plan so far, I think this is the first year I have a reasonable chance to go sub-5.  That's so slow for so many, but for me 4:50-anything is the Holy Grail of finish times.  I'll finally be two hours faster than when I started.

Anyway. One of the reasons I began blogging was that whole idea that you get to know yourself better and learn more about your inner workings when you journal.  Sure, blogging took a big chunk of my time.  Sure, some of the people I met were out of their goddamn minds (no apologies).  But mostly, I learned a lot about myself and made friends.

I have been spending some of that time lately doing goal setting and reflection, and that has actually helped me personally more than blogging at this time of my life.  It doesn't allow me to express my love of writing, but where writing sometimes makes me focus or dwell on things too much, goal setting and reflection has let me see what practical knowledge or action items I need to improve on all kinds of things.

Like negative self-talk.  I've mentioned many times that I'm both budget restricted and heavier compared to my fellow athletes.  Being part of the tri club has been amazing for meeting like minded people with whom to work out, but it's also a visual reminder that lots of others have the bodies and bank accounts I don't.  It's also a reminder that my chronic disease will always keep me from pushing as hard as I can.  I've gotten off the bike during power meter sessions and burst into tears when no one was looking because I couldn't do what I knew I was capable of. 

Goal setting and reflection have helped me a lot with my negative self-talk about being inadequate.  Although I do think it's something I'll struggle with for life, I've made a lot of progress. We all have our shit.

Just like battling our inner demons, training is a hugely personal thing.  There are lots of different options and coaches with different philosophies and you have to find the ones that work best for you.   I love my Doctor Jack Daniels running plans.  I loooove that I never run 20 miles in one whack while marathon training. I still cover 20+ miles, just in two days instead of one. My VDot and my stress level about making my workouts have improved. 

The other thing that impacts my stress level? Social events.  I love social events.  What I don't love is how violently ill I get when I stay up past 9.  Even 10 is too late for me sometimes.  I only sleep 3-5 hours a night as it is, so the later I hit the hay, the less and less hours I log. So when someone invites me somewhere that threatens my ability to sleep, I panic.  I never quite know how I'm going to feel some days, so why tempt fate? But then my FOMO kicks in and it's a one way trip to the Land of Cognitive Dissonance.

I often think, "gosh, this blog is kind of like The Chronicles of a Chronically Ill Athlete." But that would be giving the diseases too much power. And while I can't Be my diseases and become all about them, I also can't bring my memory or ability to sleep back, or make my body any more cooperative with my Delusions of Amazing Athleticism.

I wish I could help others understand the quandry of chronic illness. It makes you feel isolated and inadequate all on its own. It can be very stressful not quite knowing what the fuck your body will throw your way some days. You start getting excluded from Things because you say No too much.  People think you're just lazy or that you're forgetting things because you're a bad friend. Worse, they think you're crazy or a bad person.

I have learned something pretty huge this year.  I thought I'd 

learned this already, but apparently I needed a reminder: on most of the worst days, I have a bare minimum I know I can accomplish.  That's usually workout and work (on work days), or a workout and laundry followed by naps (on off days.)  If I can do nothing else, I do at least these things. It keeps me from feeling like nothing got done, and the workout almost always makes me feel better.  

Although some days my issues are my biggest limiter, they're also sometimes my biggest motivator.

So that's pretty much it. That's where I've been for the last few months.

Also, blowing away my fundraising commitment for AKBTC!

Oh, and just enjoying life.  Check out some of the latest events.  It's like my Instagram feed just barfed all over you!

Suck it Up Buttercup!  SCT at this HOT 10k

Right Where I Need to Be: 2 Weeks, 2 Races, and 1/3 of a PR

It's been a busy few weeks here in MAJland.

The 5-year scan came back.  The same group of lymph nodes that always appears? They appeared again. Especially the big calcified one. So, no real chance I'm meeting NED until it's more certain they're not continuing to grow and increase in numbers.

Next, last weekend I attacked my 3rd Escape From Fort DeSoto Sprint Tri.  This is a notoriously tough race for me. The run is almost 4 miles (they claim it's 3.4, but it's about 3.8), the field is super tough (some very fit athletes use it as a practice race for St. Anthony's), and halfway through the run you go up the steps of the fort, over the fort, and then a solid mile along the beach, which is only partly packed sand.

All in all, it as a wonderful race. The weather was phenomenal. The water was beautiful. I can say with 100% certainty that I could have not gone any harder on the run. I felt so fantastic during the whole thing that I was absolutely sure I'd PRd or placed in the top 10.  I placed about where I did last time, though, (about mid-field). I had a swim PR and matched my bike PR.

(So that's like . . what . . . a 1/3 a PR?)

The main things that limited me from not performing better were the extra weight I'm getting off, the run being tougher than I remembered, and not feeling good.  I could have gone harder on the bike or the swim, but the run was tough enough, so I'd say I did just right with what I had.

For me to say I wasn't feeling good is saying something, too, since I generally don't feel very good.  I'd had a killer bout with bronchitis the week prior, and the day I started to feel recovered, I did one of those things where I jerked the muscle between my neck and head really hard. (Ever done that? I've heard some people call it a "stinger.")  It turned out to be way more than a stinger, though - the muscle pull activated one of the worst migraines I've had in literally YEARS. Today - about two weeks after the pull - I'm still struggling with my usual migraine-associated vertigo and a good ol' headache.

\

Some photos of the past few weeks' hi-jinks.

Also, this past Thursday I also completed another annual IOA Corporate 5k.  I felt pretty terrible and it rained the whole race.  Despite almost pulling out of the race because I felt certain I would pass out two separate times, I pulled it together through the scary parts and slowed it down enough to finish 3.18 miles in 30:45 (a 9:40 pace.) I took a few extra days off after that race and having to place a rescue call during a 4-miler (made it 2 and change). 

So....no PRs at either race.  At least not by time.

But I think I still set some personal records this week.

I looked back at some old race pictures and thought about some old race days.  Even though I'm 20-30 pounds thinner, I don't look much different.  You'd think that'd be a drastic difference looks-wise, but it's not. For me to run a 9:40 pace during one of the worst days I've had in one of the worst few weeks I've had recently is nothing short of miraculous.  I remember when I'd die to maintain an 11:40 pace when I was feeling GOOD!

It's how I feel that is drastically different.  Yes, I'm still socially awkward (more on that another day), I still don't like my inner thighs, and (at this moment) I'm about 8 pounds heavier than my body's favorite weight (and my closet), but even on the worst of days I outrun me on some of my old best days.

And every time I think oh, I should go half Iron again, I think about how nice it is to have a social life (Epcot Flower and Garden Festival, above), take time off for being sick, and still run a single-digit-per-mile pace in the rain while fighting fainting. And a bunch of mystery lymph nodes.

I am right where I need to be.

And man, does that feel good.

(And so does being $325 to my $1000 goal for AKBTC!)

To Improve is to Change. To Be Perfect is to Change Often.

I have to start this post off by telling you how incredibly frustrated I am.  If you've come here today to find some inspiration and positivity, I can't say that I have the answers for you.  Today is just rough.

I'll get to why soon enough, though.  First, a little Flashback.

Eight years ago, I started running races.  I've been running off and on since 1995, and working out pretty regularly for the most part since 1998 (talk about going way back in The Wayback Machine!)  But, prior to eight years ago, I'd never run a race.

It all started because a friend was doing Ironman and she inspired me to try a 5k. And another friend said, "I'll do that 5k with you."  I loved it. I got sucked in. I decided to do my first tri.  Eight years later, I'd done 6 marathons, 12 or so half marathons, many triathlons of different distances up to 70.3, some bike races, some swimming events, and more running races in the 5k-10k range than I can even remember.

In the midst of this, I felt horrible nearly every single day and, to add insult to injury, many people did not even believe I was sick. I was finally diagnosed with thyroid cancer, heart arrhythmias, asthma, hypoglycemia, and inner ear problems.

But training became my "new normal." It gave me a reason to get out of bed every day.  I like to say it saved my life. 

A few months ago, that terrible roller coaster started again. Thankfully, not all of the problems I once experienced still plague me, but my vertigo, ear problems, headaches, and intolerable fatigue are back, with no idea of where to begin treatment. This week, my MRI results came back normal.  Last week, my hearing/balance tests came back the most normal than they've been in 10 years.  This is great news, except that I am still plagued by these horrible dizzy spells, ringing in my ears, ears not popping, headaches, and horrible fatigue.

Believe me when I tell you, from years of living with undiagnosed thyroid cancer, heart arrhythmias, asthma, hypoglycemia, and inner ear problems, I know the difference between everyone gets tired tired and something's wrong tired.

At first I blamed it on things in my control.  I just need a break.  It's the off season.  I'm not motivated.  And then there have been days I haven't been able to drag myself out of bed.  I can usually rally for some kind of a workout, even at an early hour, even during my worst. And these days, that is just not doable. I'm sluggish. I've lost most of my bike speed. Some of my endurance. I'm at a run plateau. I haven't been to lift weights in about a month.  I've gained a few pounds - not a consequential number, but enough that my clothes don't feel good all the time and I feel pot-bellied. I realized this was something's wrong tired.  And that's when the unhelpful tests started all over again, just like they did 10 years ago. 

I like to think that everything is in my control.  But the truth is, sometimes it's not.  I feel like I'm going to have to start all over again right in the middle of the best training and racing years of my life.  Nationals again any time soon? Out the window.  20+ mph bike averages? Psssh, in another 3 years maybe. Meeting that 25-minute 5k threshold? Ha, ha, HA! I'm trying to do my best, but it just doesn't seem good enough.  I'm lucky to get 2-3 workouts a week; a little swim, a little run, and my weekly 50-60 mile training ride for Tour de Cure.

I haven't even done any real fundraising for TDC this year.

Aside from feeling shitty, I work pretty much nonstop, then there's school, family, and terminally ill kitty.  But the goal is to train enough on the days when I feel ok, that I don't lose much by stepping back on the really bad days. I can usually do that. But I don't feel like that's happening.

And I'm just. plain. frustrated.

Not training is becoming my "new normal."

I don't like it.

I am one of those people who abhors excuses.  I like to be able to just stand up, fight it off with attitude, and push through it. But there's a place where you can say you're "pushing through it" (like when you feel really fatigued and sort of woozy but you hit the gym anyway) and when you just need to give yourself a break (when running on the treadmill through a splitting headache might turn into a vertigo attack, or when you decide not to ride 50 miles with a urinary tract infection.)  Training usually makes me feel better, but lately even training isn't helping me much, and unfortunately it means I'm training less.

I was watching the Netflix series House of Cards the other night and one of the characters quoted Winston Churchill.  He said, to improve is to change.  To be perfect is to change often.

But changes are scary.  And sometimes they're really big. And sometimes the biggest, scariest ones aren't the ones that are thrust upon us, but the ones we have to make ourselves.  That's why some people just get stuck in a loop and never take that big step if they don't get forced or pushed to do it.  Being the one responsible for the change is terrifying. So that becomes  I'll exercise tomorrow.  I'll work on my self-esteem tomorrow. 

It appears that I'm at something of a standstill.  Now, like so many years ago, a change needs to be made.

The question is not whether I'm up for it, but where to start.

Chronicles of a Clinically Dizzy Blonde AKA One Bite at a Time

If you believe good things will happen, they will. It doesn't matter if that's because good things actually happen, or you choose to make the things that happen, good.

So I haven't been around much lately.  I've really needed to make the time to write, but I just couldn't find the time, or the heart.

It's been a rough few weeks.

As anyone living with chronic illnesses can tell you, life can be somewhat unpredictable.  You'll be cruising along, feeling blessedly normal and free from sickness or symptom, and then you will be completely derailed for days, weeks, sometimes months.  The best way to get through is to remind yourself that a better day/week/month may be just ahead.

 

I had great plans for 2014.  I dubbed it "The Year of Yes" and decided - at least after grad school is over - I'm going to do really seize the moment and do everything and anything fun and social that I can physically and financially afford.  Even if it's not something I'd normally agree to.
 
I also wanted to try to qualify for Nationals again - and this time GO.  I even put money aside to try to do it. 

Apparently, 2014 did not have the same plan for me.  My ears have bothered me since fall and my physicians were working to confirm my diagnosis of Meniere's Disease so that future treatment approaches can be planned.  But after a 3rd hearing test and a VNG (below), the ENT decided that this time the debilitating tinnitus, imbalance, dizziness, pressure in my ears, and headache must be related to my migraines and not my ears.

So, after bouncing around from walk-in clinic with ear infections and pressure, then to the ENT, I'm back where I started 10 years ago: the neurologist.

It's extremely frustrating.  I could feel great, then BAM! Outta nowhere the dizziness, fullness in my ears, and ringing begins.  They tell me eventually I also could have some hearing loss. My inner ears react poorly to both cold or hot or my head rolling from side to side.  Sometimes it lasts for the better part of months.

Swimming is sometimes very uncomfortable.  I almost cancelled my cruise a few weeks back. I keep chugging along, doing as much as I can.  But I am definitely not anywhere back to actually "training." 

Last year I said the same thing, but I promise I was training more.  No 5ks have been done, and I have NO plans for an "accidental century" (although I did an accidental metric century a few weeks back.)

Life has been generally turbulent for everyone around me.  Mom and Dad have somewhat stabilized but still need some treatments; the little cat is stable but still sometimes throws up everything she eats.  And, unfortunately, we got some sad news a few weeks ago - my big cat, Mister Arnie, is now terminal.  His cancer is spreading all over his body and his only hope is a splenectomy.  He's been my best friend for 8 years, so this has been a very hard few weeks for me.  He may have just a few months left with us, although the surgery could buy him years.  As with my own chronic illness, we just don't know what will happen.

But, as my dad always told me, there's only one way to eat an elephant: one bite at a time.

The unfortunate truth is this: when you decide to make any big decision in life, you roll the dice.  No matter how well-informed and pragmatic you are, the outcome is never 100% certain and some decisions are just very difficult.   Whether you choose to do something as major as adopt a pet, or as small as go for a bike ride in the middle of a bad vertigo/migraine attack, things could go so many different ways. 

Like last year, maybe this won't be a year of focus on bettering myself or making PR's.  Arnie's treatments will take everything I have, so I probably won't be able to celebrate my nomination to a special consortium by attending the meeting in Hawaii in May.  But here's what I have learned from  2013: things CAN be very good AND very bad at the same time.  Whether that means that good things actually happen, or you just choose to make the things that happen good.

All you can do is the best you can with what you have, and take one bite at a time.

And give lots of love to one of the finest little furry gentlemen that's ever lived.

So, that's what I'll be doing.

Results

It's the end of the semester and Summer marks my midway point of my Master's degree, which I am sincerely hoping allows me to transition back into one of those kickass PhD's I applied for about 2 years ago (doesn't seem that long, but it was.)

So I am sitting here knowing that I should be working on something, but trying to remember what.

Hmm, let's see.

Final #1 - done.
Final paper #1 - done.
Final paper #2 - done.

Ok, so I only have final #2 and I've already started working on a piece of it. 

Could it be I actually have a free (and guilt-free) half hour on my hands?!?!

With that in mind, I wanted to take a few moments catching up with some of my fave bloggers like Karen and Bob. Karen has a great race report up about Rev3# Knoxville, and it got me thinking . . .

I used to write half-decent race reports.

Where did they go?

I flipped through the last year's worth of races and I couldn't tell ya.  Half of them aren't even really documented and the other half are "Hey I raced . . . here are the results."  In fact, it looks like I pretty much just skip right to the results for ALL of them lately with some lame excuse like, "I'll tell ya more later."   Then I talk about what I learned from this race.

I haven't even told you about how I'm almost back to my normal size, and how I lose weight at the rate of 2 pounds per year compared to most people's a few pounds a month (that is not an exaggeration; last year at this time my low was exactly 2 pounds more than I am now). Thanks to my no-thyroid.  I could tell you how I need a new wardrobe but that ain't cheap, and how happy I am to get back to my normal size again, but instead I just say, "thanks to the thyroid meds, I'm still losing weight."  No backstory. Just results.

At first I wondered why this was.  I used to love sharing my sorrows and triumphs.  What I did wrong, what I did right, how the weather was, what my friends said.  But lately it just to take more creative energy and time than I have.

And then I also realized that I've spent the better part of last year waiting on results - from my dad's tests for his heart, from my cat's tests for his tumor, for my mom's chemo schedule, and for the latest round of tests I am going through to find out if my cancer is back.

Next up for me is an upper endoscopy, which won't even be scheduled for another month or so, so an ENT doc can look around inside my neck and confirm what's going on. The CT scan and ultrasound say the tissue is recurrent cancer, but my bloodwork says it is not.  So the endoscopy results will confirm which one of those is right. 

Results, damn it.

Here's the funny thing.  With all of this chaos going on in my life - both what I share here and what I don't - you would think I would be kind of down in the dumps.  You would think I would be slogging through a mire of misery.  You would think I would be sad, angry, and frustrated. 

And I have those reactions.  I have VERY strong reactions.  (Ask anyone who's ever lived with me - I get SUPER emotional when I first find out about something upsetting!!)  And I doubt myself.  A LOT.  (Ask anyone who's ever gotten one of my two-paragraph philosophical text messages.)  But every second after that  is filled by amazing people and places and experiences, and it doesn't take long for me to remember how lucky I am - blessed, some would say.

No, I don't have a perfect husband, I don't make a bazillion dollars, I'm not the hottest chick on the block, I'm not some award-winning PhD - I am just enjoying my life and the people in it.  No matter what happens, I pretty much fast forward to the fact that I am so happy to have the right people in my life, to have a job I enjoy that pays the bills (even if I can't go out and afford my new wardrobe), to be overall healthy and enjoying everything around me, and learning every single solitary day. 

No, lately, I skip right to the results.

For once, I don't think that's such a bad thing.

I'm Still Standin'

Once I never could hope to win
You starting down the road leaving me again
The threats you made were meant to cut me down
And if our love was just a circus, you'd be a clown by now

Don't you know, I'm still standin', better than I ever did
Lookin' like a true survivor
Feelin' like a little kid
No, I'm still standin', after all this time
Pickin' up the pieces of my life without you on my mind
I'm still standin'
Yeah, yeah, yeah

-Elton John, I'm Still Standin'

I've had an unexpected week off training.  That horrible head cold I had hit me really hard, and then the stress of this week knocked my on my ass.  I'm finally getting back on the bike tomorrow; I didn't see any reason to push myself back into illness with a race next week. 

The good news is, I got a lot more time to do my homework.  That 5-8 hours a week I train most average weeks doesn't seem that much, but I guess it is when it comes to time I needed to get ahead.

Most people who know me consider me disgustingly positive.  I'm the kind of person who, just moments after being dealt some really shitty news, will turn to the guy next to me and say, you know, the good thing about this is . . . .  (It's almost had me slapped a few times.)

That being said, I also consider myself a realist.  And a realist knows that not every year is going to be a year for personal records, improvements, promotions, new romances, general luckiness, etc.

Still, 2012 spoiled me so much, and my overall recovery from surgery and radioiodine was so good, that the first 4 months of 2013 have thrown me for a loop.  For one thing, my training just hasn't gone the way I wanted overall, partly because of where I live now (holy CRAP is it hard to get regular bike rides in during the weekdays in an urban area) and partly because of how I've been feeling.  For another, as much as you familiarize yourself with the stats (35% of thyroid cancers recur; the survival rate of best-case-scenario stomach cancer patients is 50%), it is hard to wrap your arms around the idea that you or your family might be part of that 35% or that 50%.

To me, the most frustrating part of dealing with a serious illness is not fear, or worry, or depression, or sometimes even the illness itself, but the constant waiting for answers.  It has taken me the last three silent months to get from my first set of diagnostic tests to this most recent, apparently confirmatory round.  It seems simple: if the cancer is back, then I get surgery and/or radioactive iodine - but it might be another 3 months before we even know that.  Depending on what oncology decides, I may go for biopsies, PET scans, radioactive iodine scans, and more, before we even get to the surgery and/or radiation.  And then I have to find out which one it is; and if it's both, I will spend most if not all of my vacation and sick time on the surgery and isolation.

You spend a lot of time waiting for things to settle down so you can resume your normal routine, or waiting to get to the next step, which inevitably comes with multi-stage hurdles, hoping you'll have a final answer soon and just return to normal.  I can't tell you how many times Mom's chemo port has been re-scheduled or they've changed their minds about how many lymph nodes were involved.  Arnie's mast cell tumor had been removed twice, and we still don't know if his current medicine will keep it gone or I'll need to give him kitty chemo.

The truth is, with cancer, you never really have answers.
The truth is, in life, you never really have answers.

So the benefit of cancer is that you learn to accept a certain uncertainty.  You learn to stop expecting everything to be explained.  You learn to stop waiting for the next lull.  You learn, in some ways, to just let go.

Next post, we return you to your regularly scheduled triathlon blogging - I have to return to the training before I have some training to blog about. In the meantime, I'm still standing.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

When You Get to the End of Your Rope - aka I'd Rather Be Lucky Than Good

When You Get to the End of Your Rope, Tie a Knot and Hang On.

 

This quote is attributed to Abe Lincoln, but who knows if that's who really said it.  A lot of things are attributed to the wrong person out here on the internets.  I know, because I've been the subject of a few such misattributions. (Is that a word?)

 

The reason you haven't heard much from me in the past few months is that I have spent all my energy tying a knot in my rope and holding the f*&k on. I honestly have not even been training a lot. Which is shocking, because I just scored a 5k PR, another completed 5k, and a another "accidental" century - got dumped by the group and spent the latter half mostly in my aerobars, alone - good practice, right?
 

My love affair with 2012 was no secret.

Now, 2013, on the other hand . . . I just had a feeling that 2013 would not be the year of PR's and joyous achievements that 2012 was. No, I was going to need a lot more luck to get me through Lucky 13.

But then, I've always said I'd rather be lucky than good.
 

My mom, as you may know, is a diabetic (it's why I am pre-diabetic; damn genetics).  She has been on Metformin, a common diabetes medication, for years.  Many doctors and patients know that Metformin can cause an upset stomach or indigestion. So my mom didn't realize that her indigestion had grown extremely severe.  In fact, she didn't have indigestion at all - she had a gallstone and what was called a "bleeding ulcer" in the old days. I went to visit her when she got out of the hospital.

 

That same week, I went for my quarterly checkups feeling exhausted and they found a mass in my lymph nodes. The endo told me it was probably just leftover thyroid tissue, but he ordered another test, and I moved on.

 

I had just enough time to catch my breath, and we found out that mom's ulcer was cause by the bacteria that causes stomach cancer.  This is such an aggressive and difficult disease to treat, and my parents are the most important people in my lives. I felt like my entire life was crashing down around my ears.

 

I had just enough time to catch my breath, and we found out that there was a spot on my mom's lung and she would need a lung biopsy.

 

I had just about caught my breath again, when I found out that my dad has coronary, peripheral AND carotid artery diseases. Tests revealed severe artery blockages and the evidence of a recent heart attack, and by the time I'd caught ANOTHER breath and booked a plane flight back, he'd had a second heart attack.

 

At this point I wasn't even ready to breathe.  Work has been hectic and I have taken on some additional responsibilities.  I am in the middle of a large and very confusing project with my classmates. And I was about to start midterm exams when all this hit. Mom's biopsy looked good, so getting an earlier flight back home on the way back seemed like an omen of better things to come. 

 

And then I got a call from my vet's office that my oldest cat has a type of tumor called a mast cell tumor, which is a form of feline and canine cancer (his royal fatness, above).

 

I spent several months just trying to re-establish my routine, and then, when that started to happen, I came down with a two-week cold which halted training and I got the results from my CT scan back.  The news was not very good.  Both the ultrasound and the CT showed evidence of more lymph node metastasis and a likely surgery, maybe even surgery plus more radioiodine, in my near future - at the very least, a painful biopsy.

 

I was at the end of my rope.

 

Mental list went something like:

1. Curl up in a ball and cry Maybe for a day or two.
2. Throw things I like my stuff too much and don't want to be in jail for throwing someone else's.
3. Drink heavily Too hard to keep working and do this, and I hate the way it feels.
4. Drop out of class  This too shall pass, and I'll be pissed I didn't finish a semester when it does.
5. Spend a lot of money Ha, ha, ha - and afford my medical care HOW?
6. Give up Are you shitting me?  After all these years of hard work to start getting back on my feet again?

So, I did the only thing I knew how to do . . . I tied a knot and hung on. 

 

And here you find me.

 

Alive.

Still employed and earning A's.

Not drunk - or hungover.

Certainly not curled up in a ball.

No stuff has been broken - mine or anyone else's.

I haven't gone to jail, spent too much money, or been anywhere close.

 

Life moved on - because I told it to.

 

And, despite all the overwhelmingness going on around me, I committed not only to my guaranteed entry for the New York Marathon this year, but also to fundraising again for the American Cancer Society.  Because the fundraising funds the research, and the research funds the treatments, and just about everyone from mom to me to my kitty needs that right now. (follow me here http://main.acsevents.org/goto/maj)

 

Yes, I will keep training through surgery.

Yes, I will keep training if I have to have more radiation.

Yes, I will keep training while I travel to my parents' (I have been doing this already).

 

Because THAT ^ is what happened when I got through all this the first time.

 

So, this may not be a PR year.

This may just be an "I finished" year.

An "I was lucky not to lose anything year."

 

And I'll take it.

 

After all,  I'd rather be lucky than good.

Attitude Adjustments and Easter Hoppiness

One of my various jobs exposes me to people during some of their toughest times.  In my experience, the most common reaction to hardship is surrender. When life gets tough, most people give up and run when they could make the choice to dig in and fight.  I'm no stranger

to hardship, but I usually don't run away.

However, I've had plenty of struggles with my attitude. 

Like Wednesday.

The new blood pressure medication I'm trying is a diuretic (it always amuses me that doctors have you try on new medications like you're trying on shoes).  So, now that I've been on it about two weeks .  .  . it dehydrated me. 

I'm not going to make excuses for myself.  Yeah, I'm on medicine.  Yeah, I'm tired.  Yeah, it was rough; it made me really sick, and it hurt.  I ended up needing a rescue, and I was queasy for hours afterwards.  And, I was slower than I have been in months. If someone hadn't come back for me I don't know what I would have done. I wouldn't have quit, but I may have ridden home at 10mph.

Now here's the part I'm not proud of, and the point of telling you this: I let it really upset me. 

But, what I failed to make a few people understand was this: it wasn't the slowness that upset me. If I rode at 15mph for 30 miles but felt AWESOME I wouldn't have cared.  If I rode for 50 miles at 22mph but felt HORRIBLE I would have hated it.  I do a good job of gutting it out through tough workouts and pushing through pain, so the low speed was just an indication of how tough it really was.

More than that, it was because I have been on the "let's-try-this-drug" roller coaster before.  It  It was like being instantly transported back to the bad ol' days.  And I've worked WAY too hard to leave those behind.

So I cried. 

Like a little bitch.

Even though my brain said

HTFU ALREADY

and

THERE'S NO CRYING IN CYCLING

I cried anyway. 

Part of it is because I've felt SO good for SO long now that I forgot what it was like to feel bad.  I foolishly attributed my newfound strength and confidence to my fitness level - when, in reality, an equal amount of it can be attributed to hard work and luck that none of my medical issues flared up.

I've come a long way, but I deal with the same demons. In this case, it's a combination of giving myself a break and being realistic.  The two are related; we all have bad days, but I can't always expect myself to have the same performance as those who don't have medical issues.  And, regardless of what anyone battles, not every workout can be perfect. Logically, I know this; emotionally, I have some work to do.

Coach Julia gave me a Come to Jesus speech, which I needed. In it, she asked me this: what if your Wednesday was not a setback but something put in your path to set you up for the next big breakthrough?

We all need an attitude adjustment from time to time . . . Wednesday was mine.

I always celebrate Easter with a workout. So, this morning I drove an hour each way to Clermont, to ride some of the highest hills in Florida (paradox, huh?) I churned out only a 15 mile per hour average (despite careening down some of these suckers at 40mph) (yes,40), but I was way happier with that than with any of my 17-20mph averages.  Why? Because I coasted - not rode, not climbed, not struggled, coasted - over some of my most difficult inclines - hills that I once nearly had to walk a bike UP - and I tackled not just the steepest grade I ever tackled (5 years ago), but 3 of them, back to back.

I have no problem turning obstacles into opportunities; where I still need work is the little stumble in between. My goal is to someday take a bad day, bad news, feeling ill, etc. and progress straight to the opportunity without needing to stop in the middle and be a whiny-ass crybaby about it.

Someday starts NOW.

The 60-Day Diet Challenge AKA "Eat Like a Diabetic" update

First: I am up to $130 on a goal of $500 for the American Diabetes Association! Woot!  http://main.diabetes.org/goto/megganann

NEXT: I promised to post about little changes I'm making as I try to "eat like a diabetic" this next two months.  The first thing to note is that I've been aware of sugar for a long time, since mom was diagnosed when I was in my teens.  I don't eat much of it.  I don't even use much agave or honey.  I use a little pure maple syrup to flavor my oatmeal sometimes because it's less refined.  But I don't do sugar.

However, as I learned when mom was diagnosed, sugar is EVERYWHERE.  We went grocery shopping with  new awareness after she found out, scanning everything from the obvious (sugar itself) to the slightly obvious (fruit juice) to the not-so-obvious (cans on the bean aisle) for that dirty 5-letter s-word.  (Did you know that it is almost IMPOSSIBLE to get canned tomatoes or kidney beans without added sugar?  I mean, all we wanted to do was make chili.   Seriously.  Who even WANTS sugar in their chili???)

The next, and most important thing, to note: I HATE artificial sweeteners.  Aspartame, saccharin, sucralose, stevia, Equal, Sweet'n'Low, Fat'n'Sassy - WHATEVER.  They all taste bitter.  Don't like 'em.

HATE.

hatesomuch.

But, since I already succeeded in so many ways, I figured I'd take it a step further.  Just so you know, I had a nice vegetarian meal this week (one of the ADA guidelines is lowering saturated fat, and swapping out a meat meal is a good way to do it), managed to leave a lot of my rice behind the day I could only get the white variety, (they didn't have brown), and succeeded in getting the B to work with my customary dinner plan of two veggies plus protein instead of 1 veggie, 1 protein and 1 carb most of the week.  So, I decided I'd try my iced coffee yesterday with Splenda.

Guess what?

I still hate it.

And, by the end of the night, my stomach rebelled.  I went for my 4-mile run and made it 2 miles thanks to horrible stomach cramps.  I spent the night and much of today eating bland soups and sandwiches.  (I also dislike sandwiches - I only eat them when I'm sick or they're really amazing.)  I didn't even ride this morning.

My tummy still hurts.

I know it could have been something else.  And, as a researcher, I know that you must hold all other things constant in order to assume your research results indicate any kind of relationship between two variables, but I can tell you the one - and only - thing I did different yesterday at any point of the day was use Splenda.

Whatever it was, what I learned here is the same thing my mom learned when first diagnosed: when you learn you're diabetic, you have a few choices regarding sugar.  You can reduce it (depending on the severity of your diabetes), you can drop it, or you can fake it.  The very few times I legitimately use sugar - baking once per month, an iced coffee - I would rather eat no sugar at all than fake it.

So there's my report on how my 60-day challenge is going.  How about yours?  E-mail me or comment and let me know.

The other side of the IronMAJ

And so I press on in my agnostic pilgrimage
Knowing I can swim deeper than the grim reaper
And ready for whatever sea creatures may abound
When the water swallows me and not the other way around . . .  .
Buck65

I wouldn't call myself agnostic, but the lyrics to this Buck65 song largely describe my attitude toward this part of my life.  It's all about how I got "here" from "there" and being ready for whatever mysteries await.

So.

The IronMAJ (and MAJ myself) is really like a coin.  All the bloggy world ever really sees is one side:  the training side.  Every now and then, I like to show the "everything else" side.  I'm not sure if this is "NOW" or  "THEN" but there're a lot to talk about that are not specifically related to racing or training.  I have alluded to "news" outside training, so today seems like a good day to break it down.

The nerves in my inner ear are excessively sensitive
 and my Eustachian tubes constantly feel "full,"
which cause ringing and fullness in my ears
daly and, less  frequently, severe dizziness that
causes nausea and falls. They think it might be
Meniere's disease.

As I've mentioned, I have several issues that cause me to get extremely dizzy (lots of fun while swimming) and sometimes fall (lots of fun while walking).  Some of the symptoms bother me every day, and some don't bother me for months.  It's hard to tell how to treat the "spells," because they could come from 1 of 4 separate conditions. I have migraine and vertigo medicine if I need it, but sleep is usually the best remedy.

So, I spent a lot of this weekend sleeping.

When I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking.


The IronMAJ is only one of the milestones I've been training for this year.  I'm also collecting my materials to apply to PhD programs.  It's going to cost me a small fortune and the rest of the year, but I've been occupied with planning for the past year as I have been involved in anywhere from 1-2 teaching assistantships and a few research assistantships every semester.   In the past few weeks, though, that activity level has escalated as I prepare for the approaching application deadlines.  I've narrowed down my choices to 5 of the top programs in my field.  I've agreed to be on the PR committee for my professional conference.  I'm working on my first "real" research proposal.  Outside of training, my days have been a blur of meetings with key players in my field, searches of possible references for my proposal.  Finally, I'm auditing a class I already took to brush up on my skills, and I'm studying to take the GRE again.

I almost feel like my body threw me for a spin to force me to spend a day doing nothing.

Of course, once I get in (fingers crossed) to a program, the hard work really begins.  Everything about my life, from my schedule to my salary and possibly even my city of residence, will change for the next 5 years.  Much of what I have done has prepared me for these changes, but it will still be a shock.

While I admit it does get overwhelming from time to time, this is the closest thing I've ever done to what I really want to do.  Most of my adult life I have wanted to earn my PhD so I can teach and do research.  The idea that I be able to do this for my job, is both foreign and welcome, as is the idea that finally doing it may actually provide a much-needed break in workload (as being a PhD student is only 1.5 full-time jobs, not 3).
Once the IronMAJ is done, there's a lot of work on the other side of the coin before 70.3 and crit training begin.  But I'm ready for whatever sea creatures may abound when the water swallows me and not the other way around.

OW

My ass hurts.  And I ate cheese fries tonight.

CHEESE FRIES!  WTF was I thinking?  I haven't eaten anything like that in . . .  well . . . years!  Since I've been sick I have been having the weirdest junk cravings: pizza, chocolate, and cheese fries.  This from the girl who eats completely plain, unsweetened, old-fashioned oatmeal and fruit smoothies with absolutely no sugar added for breakfast and all protein-and-veggie dinners.

Speaking of food . . . . sitting to eat hurts.  (Sitting to do anything hurts.)

Technically, it's more the area between my lady parts and my inner thigh that hurts.  I feel like I lost a battle with a very low-blowing enemy.  Or I fell off the very steep cliff on the side of Mount Assmore.  

I can't believe I rode 140 miles last week like this.  (Well, it wasn't nearly that bad then, but still.)
SO I went off to the store for some Butt Paste and some pain-relief triple antibiotic so I'm prepared to combat this bastard if/when it strikes again.

That's all my lazy, sore (and hopefully not fat) ass has for today.

On Pollyannas, Sore Asses, Illnesses, and IronMAJ

It was the Best of Times; it was the Worst of Times.

OK, Dickens references are admittedly played-out. Let's just say it's been a Good News/Bad News kinda week.

Good News: I rounded out the highest-volume training week of my life last week with 12+ miles of running, 5500 yards of swimming, and 140 miles of cycling - and, best of all, because I'd been increasing volume gradually, eating enough protein, recovering and sleeping, and cutting back on booze and caffeine (almost completely), I ended the week without mishap.

Or so I thought.

Bad News: Sunday night through Tuesday morning my temperature skyrocketed and my body ached. TMFI alert: the area where two lumpy bruises had sprouted (presumably saddle sores, because they seemed merely ingrown hairs a few weeks ago) was now red and swollen all over like a baboon's bottom. On Monday, the doctor declared them infected saddle sores and I laid home two days with antibiotics trying to break the fever.

Wednesday rolled around, and Good News: the swollen area was "softer" and the fever was gone. Bad News: now there was a new, sore, red, swollen spot on the front of my left thigh near my hip and a weird rash on my right arm that the doc hasn't even seen. She put me on a different antibiotic, told me she didn't have to drain it (good news), but then scrunched up her face (bad news), explained that this is progressing very "strangely," added something about cellulitis, shook her head and sent me for bloodwork.

Bad News: I forgot my insurance card. Good(?) News: they have it on file because I'm there getting blood drawn so often.

So here I sit, on my new antibiotic, contemplating one of my prescription painkillers, preparing for another Epsom salts soak, and it is impossible not to think something I have promised not to think as much, or blog about anymore: What next?, Why me?, and, When will it stop?   I mean, I can't get just a few bumps that go away with new shorts, time off, and antibiotic ointment.  No, I have to be the one who gets the weird shit that keeps me home from work, bottomless, for days - and may derail IronMAJ altogether. 

Plain and simple, I am tired.  I am tired of being the sick person, tired of going on and off prescriptions, tired of getting stuck with needles, tired of feeling sick. (And this is just the physical stuff. Forget financial, emotional, professional.)   So part of me asks, Meggan, why do you even try at all? It would be so much easier to simply throw in the towel.  After all, things MAY not get better. There's an equal chance they may actually get worse.  

I know what you're probably thinking right now. You're thinking, that's not a very good attitude, or don't act like a victim, or (most commonly) you need to think positive thoughts.

But being positive is much more than just being a Pollyanna, going around blowing sunshine up everyone's ass all the time about if you think it, it will happen (don't get me wrong, I believe that, too).  Being positive is knowing that the best may happen, but that the worst also might.  It's understanding that it's not how we deal with the best of times that shows our strength, it's how we handle the worst.

No, things might not get better.  But that's exactly why you can't give up.  You can't give up, because then it wins. And if it wins - it being the universe, luck, the illness, whatever - then instead of a 50% chance things won't improve - there is no chance.

So what do you do? 

You ask why me, what next, when will it stop, and why don't I just give up?

And then you fight even harder.

So, what's the best that could happen?  A week or so off the bike and possibly out of the water (no way in hell am I wearing a swimsuit bottom around that poor sore lump right now!)  And the worst that could happen?  I have to give up the century and possibly the 5k swim.  But even that doesn't mean I can't run (reasonably, once the infection clears a bit).  I've already completed most of the swim and most of the cycling portion of the IronMAJ.  I've already gone almost 100 miles.  I have almost swam almost 3.  I've already gone farther than I've ever gone in my life.

And there is still a Rock'n'Roll Marathon in Savannah in November.  (As I love to say . . . that 26.2 miles ain't gonna run itself.)

Things may get better.

They may get worse.

Either way, I'm going to come out swinging.

Rock'n'Roll.