Category: Cancer

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Cancer Health Running

Extreme Race Training- Part 2

My dad and I started off for Vail Saturday morning.  We got to the trail head for Gore Lake by late morning.  It was already 90+ degrees.  We were going to try to get about a mile away from the lake, spend the night, hike to the lake on Sunday morning, and then head back.  We both are pretty good hikers, so this didn’t seem overly ambitious.  My dad had hiked this before, and had done just fine.  Except it had been in the fall, when it had been much cooler.

The hike started out right away uphill- there was no shade, and there were a ton of rocks.  I could feel the heat from the rocks radiating back on to the trail- and on to us.  It felt like I was in an oven baking.  I’ve never weighed my backpack, but it is probably about 20-25 pounds.  My dad’s is heavier, and it seemed like after that first climb, we were both already tired.  In hindsight that should have been a clue- it was too hot.  Here is a picture of me with some wildflowers- about a mile into the hike.  It was one of the few places along the trail with shade.   

We kept hiking, and it just seemed to get hotter and hotter.  There was no breeze either.  The sun was so intense, and the air was hot, heavy, and humid.  I commented to my dad, it felt like we were in a jungle.  We had already drank our water, and we stopped so we could filter some more from the river.  We took off our backpacks, and my shirt was soaked.  It was like I had just taken it out of the washer. 

We drank some more water, and my dad said it wasn’t too much farther to a meadow where we could stop for the day.  There were not any other places to stop and camp- it was all pretty steep terrain, so we figured we could go until we got to the meadow.   

We hiked another mile- in the heat and sun, and there was no meadow.  I felt exhausted.  It was hard to think, and it was just so hot.  I told my dad the bike ride the day before had seemed easy compared to how I was feeling on this hike.  My dad said he was getting some cramps in his legs, and he couldn’t quite remember how much further it was to the meadow.  I had my dad drink the rest of the water we had until we could get close to the creek again.  My dad got the map out, and it looked like we were really close to where this meadow was supposed to be.  We had hiked 4 miles.  My dad said the cramps in his legs were going away, and now we had to find some more water, so we kept going.

We came out of the bend we were in, and below us was the creek, and what looked like some places where we could stop.  I told my dad I was done- I didn’t care about the meadow- I just wanted to stop for the day, and he agreed.  We hiked another half mile or so down, and stopped at the creek to get some more water.  I started shivering- even though it was still hot and sunny out.  I had just read about heat exhaustion, and remembered some of the symptoms were chills and muscle cramps.

We couldn’t seem to drink enough water, and we were dehydrated.  My dad decided to go scout around and see if there was any place we could camp- we were in a marshy grassy field- the ground was all swampy.  So I stayed with our gear and drank more water.  I was sitting with my shoes and socks off, my lightweight jacket on, shivering, but also very hot. I was also exhausted.  I was fighting not falling asleep.   It was the weirdest feeling.   Here’s a picture I took of the creek:

My dad returned half an hour later, and said he had found a great camping spot.  It was a quarter mile away, in trees-which meant shade.  It was right near the creek too, so we’d have water.  If could have ran, I would have but I suddenly felt beyond exhausted.  My chills had stopped though, and my dad didn’t have any more cramping.  We made it over to the campsite and it was gorgeous!  It overlooked the creek, and there was a small waterfall. 

We put up the tent, and drank some more water.  I told my dad I couldn’t keep my eyes open any more, and was going to lie down.  He said he was feeling better, and he’d get things organized.  I was asleep it seemed the moment I laid down.  I woke up an hour later, and we ate dinner. I was still exhausted and decided to go to bed.  I think it was around 8PM.  I haven’t gone to bed that early since I was a kid.

I woke up around 2AM, and got out of the tent and looked at the stars.  It was clear, cool, and with the sound of the creek right behind me, it was so pretty, calm, and peaceful.  I was feeling better, but knew we both had some heat exhaustion.   

We woke up early, ate breakfast, and started to pack up.  It was actually cool and it felt so nice after the previous day.  I took this picture of my dad:

We started back- right back into the sun which was already hot.  We didn’t make the same mistake twice though.  We stopped every 15 minutes and drank a little bit of water.  We passed a few hikers who had said it had been 104 in Denver the day before and it had reached 95 in Vail.  The sun is so much more intense at the altitude we were at- it was no wonder we had difficulties.

The last mile of the hike back was killer.  We had finished our water, and we were up too steep to get to the creek.  The first half mile was all up hill.  There was no shade at all, the sun was blazing, and it was all rocks to our side- holding and reflecting the heat back on us.  That last mile seemed like 10.  My shirt was dripping with sweat and the heat was so thick and heavy.  For a few minutes, I really wondered if I could keep going.  It was physically the hardest thing I have ever done, to keep putting my feet in front of each other to keep moving. 

I looked at my Garmin, which said we had about half a mile to go, and then the Garmin died.  I don’t really remember what happened next, except, we finally were off the trail, and made it back to the car!  I don’t think I have ever been so happy a backpacking trip was over.

My dad looked as exhausted as I felt.  We stopped and got some food, water, and some chocolate milk before driving back to Denver.  When we got back, we were both feeling much better, but still drained.  It took me until Tuesday night to really feel better. 

It was kind of nerve wracking how fast the heat exhaustion happened.  My dad and I are both pretty cautious hikers- we don’t take a lot of chances, but we clearly shouldn’t have hiked that far with it being so hot out.  I’m just glad we were near water most of the time and were able to recover quickly.  My dad said it best- the next time it is 90+ degrees in the mountains he’s not going hiking- he’s going to the pool. 

The last few days I have thought about my race, and the workouts I’ve done.  I won’t know until tonight if the heat exhaustion will factor into my running, but I don’t think it will.  If anything, I believe it has given me more confidence and a mental edge.

I was preparing for this race as being very difficult, but after this past week, it doesn’t seem like it will be as challenging.  I’ve trained extremely hard for this race.  I was talking to one of my friends this week about the race and training and he asked me why I push myself so hard.  During the bike ride up the hills, and on that God-awful hot hike, I kept thinking one thing: last year at this time, I was so sick some days I could not get out of bed.  I told my friend it is hard, but it is also a gift. I push myself because I can. 

Tonight I’m pushing myself with running.  Some people have told me I’m crazy (in a good way) for running a sprinting race in July in the heat!   🙂  But it reminds me I can.  When I line up at the start line, when I hit the half way mark, and when I cross the finish line, in my first competitve race, it’s because I can. 

Categories
Cancer Choose You Health Running

Resting & Choosing You

Last Saturday, June 12th, was the one year anniversary of my thyroid cancer and neck dissection surgery.  A few months ago, I had a goal- a definite way I wanted to “mark” this day.  I was going to run in a tough half marathon in the mountains of Estes Park, Colorado.  Although I have run a half marathon distance before (13.1 miles) it would have been my first half marathon race.  I thought if I could run a mountain terrain half marathon at an elevation of 7,000+ feet, it would be an excellent foundation to build on for a full marathon. 

I would have had to put in some major training, and if you read my last post, it was obvious it wasn’t going to happen.  I thought a lot about the two races I’ve missed now, because of the time I needed to rest and regroup-physically and mentally.  It is hard missing out on a goal you really want to achieve, when your body won’t let you. 

Thinking back on my surgery from last year, it is amazing to me how much my body has been through, and really-that I can even push it to the limits I do.  I still have shoulder pain from the nerves they had to move in my neck, to get to my lymph nodes.  I’ve recently been told I need to have physical therapy on my shoulder because the muscles are so shortened and out of place.  I hardly notice the pain anymore, and this arm feels just as strong to me as my other arm, which was not affected by the surgery. In just a year-365 days-my body has made a remarkable recovery. 

But I have realized over the last month, I can’t expect my body to recover from a major surgery, heal from cancer, process radioactive iodine, function with almost 100 less lymph nodes, kill off microscopic cancer cells, adjust to thyroid hormones, be a mom, daughter, sister, friend, employee, deal with enormous amounts of stress through a divorce and losing a parent, and push physically as hard as it ever has, and not expect to ever be tired and need a break. 

I missed two goals I really wanted to accomplish, but I have also gained something I never would have otherwise.  Perspective.  My body last month was telling me it needed to rest.  I am glad I listened, because I think it will make me a better and stronger runner overall. 

Last Thursday, I finally had a run where I had a consistent pace again, some distance, and I wasn’t tired.  I had a bit of knee pain still, which I am convinced, is tied into running somehow.  It only started hurting a little over a month ago, when I was running.  I noticed the knee pain, before I tuned into how my body was feeling.  I hiked two weekends ago almost 10 miles on a tough trail, carrying 20+ pounds of equipment, and I had no knee pain whatsoever over the course of two days.  It might sound silly, but on that hiking trip, I decided when my knee didn’t hurt when I ran, the time would be right to come back to race training.  

On Monday I ran.  I wanted to run fast.  I wanted to run a shorter distance and see how it went.  I ran at a fast pace so I had to work, but I did not go “all out.”  I ran on grass, which is harder to run on.  I felt good.  I ended up with one of my fastest times ever for the distance in a training run.   There was only a tingle of knee pain.    

And so, I am beginning again.  I am going to gradually and consistently push forward.  I have a new short-term goal I will write about next week. 

I’ve learned a lot in the last year, but over the last month I have learned one of the most important lessons:  Sometimes by not doing anything, listening to your body, and just being, is the best way to choose you.

(Cross posted at Choose You Blog– a new campaign by The American Cancer Society to help encourage and support women to put their health first in the fight against cancer.)

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Cancer Family & Friends Health losing a parent Mothering

Cancer Surgery- One Year Later

One year ago today, I underwent a thyroidectomy (complete removal of the thyroid) surgery, and a neck dissection to remove almost all of the lymph nodes in my neck, because I had cancer.  (You can read more about the surgery here, After Thyroid Cancer Surgery. I have posted some other pictures at the end of this post, I thought may be helpful to others who are facing a similar surgery.)

A lot has happened during the past year.  At the time it was my biggest challenge.  Cancer is a big deal.  Even thyroid cancer, which most every doctor will say is the “best” cancer to have is a major, life changing event.  I haven’t talked to one thyroid cancer survivor yet, who hasn’t experienced some type of problem, or issue with their recovery.  For me, it was a mistake the endocrinologist’s office made, and I ended up without any thyroid replacement hormone (usually synthroid) for three months.  I developed severe hypothyroidism.  There were some days, I could not physically get out of bed, and I felt like I was 100 years old.  I had extreme pain from the surgery still, and I was confused, exhausted, and I could barely function. A year later, the left side of my neck is numb, and I still have shoulder pain. 

I receive e-mail’s weekly from other thyroid cancer survivors who are on synthroid, but the dosage is wrong, and they are experiencing hypothyroidism.  It paralyzes your life, and for me, the surgery ended up being the “easy” part.  When any organ is removed from your body, and a drug has take over the function, there are going to be complications.  Fortunately for me, when I finally was able to take synthroid, after radioactive iodine (RAI), my dosage was correct the first time.  I felt better hours after I took it.  One year later, I still have not had to have an adjustment in the dosage.  My doctors tell me this is extremely rare.  However, I still feel like I lost three months of my life.  Time with my boys, I will never get back. 

Four months after my surgery, I started running.  I was going to run in one 5K race- the Race for the Cure for breast cancer.  I enjoyed it, and it gave me a new appreciation for my health and fitness.  I think it is very important to become active as soon as you can.  It helped me get out of a “cancer patient” mode, and on to the next stage, which is a new life- cancer free.  Running made me strong again, physically and mentally.  I could not have known at the time, how strong I was going to have to be, in the very near future.

At the time I was diagnosed with cancer, I had been separated from my husband for three months, and in the process of divorce.  It was not an easy divorce to say the least.  There was a small “break” if you can call it that, while I was recovering, but after the RAI treatment, the divorce continued, adding an enormous amount of stress to my life.  I had a friend tell me after cancer, getting divorced would seem like a vacation, but this sadly, was not the case.  There wasn’t anything I could do, except plow through it until it was over.  The divorce was finalized last month, at the end of May.  Divorce was far harder emotionally than cancer had been.  

But the hardest thing- harder than cancer or divorce- was the unexpected death of my mother in February of this year.  It is the most devastating thing to lose a parent.  My mom came out last July (she lived out of state), a few weeks after my cancer surgery, to help me recover.  At this point,  I had hypothyroidism, and she took care of me, and Ryan and Cole during my parenting time.  It was one of the last times we had together.  I saw her for a few days at Christmas, and then I watched her die.   

Her friends all came to visit her, and they told me how utterly worried and scared my mom had been over my cancer.  My mom had never let on to me she felt that way.  She had always been so strong- always telling me I was going to beat cancer, and I was a very healthy person.  Her friends also told me how distressed she had been over my divorce-over the tactics that were being used, and the high stress I was under.  Again, she never let me know she was feeling like this.  She gave me strength and encouragement to keep going.  She told me all the stress the divorce was bringing to me was like cancer itself.  I could let it consume me, or I could fight, and beat the stress- knowing there would be a bright future when it was all over. 

I had seven days with my mom, while she died.  A day and a half later after I had returned home from her death, I had to jump right back in to divorce mode, and meet with a child family investigator (CFI) and a forensic psychologist for interviews and psychological testing.  These interviews and tests would result in parenting recommendations for the judge in the divorce case to consider.  This was in March, and cancer seemed like it happened a million years ago.

Now it is a year later from that day.  A year ago, I thought having cancer was one of the worst things that could happen to me.  Over the last year, I have learned-harshly-there are worst things than cancer. 

I remember thinking if I could get through this cancer, I could get through anything.  In a way I was right.  It turns out, cancer was the “easiest” of the three things I faced during the past year. 

I would not have gotten through any of this without my family and friends.  I hope I tell you enough how much I appreciate and love you all.  You are the ones who got me through this past year.  From the moment I checked into the hospital a year ago, to just the last few days- thank you for being there for me when I needed you.

For anyone who is reading this, who has just found out they have cancer, is going to have to have cancer surgery, or is recovering from thyroid cancer, there will be good days and bad days.  Don’t let the bad days devestate you.  Cancer changes a lot about your life, but you also have an opportunity to really see a lot of love and support around you.  It teaches you to let go of the small stuff, and to just enjoy the days you are given. 

Some of these days will be dark.  Some of these days you are going to have to fight with every ounce of strength you have just to get to the next hour.  Some of these days you will have to let other people help you, because you won’t be able to do it all.  Some of these days, you will have to let things go, and be okay with just being.  Some of these days you will question if it is even really worth it.  When you realize, without a doubt, yes it is- then the clouds start to fade away.  Instead of feeling weak, you feel strong.  Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you feel grateful you are alive.  Instead of feeling guilty, you feel content.  Then you will know in your soul you have beaten cancer, and it is far from the end- it is your new beginning.

 

One day after surgery, recovering in intensive care, 6-13-2009

My scar, seven days after surgery, 6-19-2009

My scar, one year after surgery, 6-12-2010

6-12-2010

Categories
Cancer Choose You Health Running

Motivation

(Cross posted at Choose You Blog– a new campaign by The American Cancer Society to help encourage and support women to put their health first in the fight against cancer.  I will be blogging with Choose You about my fitness goal- running in a marathon this year.  This is my second blog post with Choose You. If you missed the first one, you can read it here.)

The last few weeks, I have lost some motivation.  Ironically it started right around the time I made the commitment to Choose You, and subsequently announced I was going to run in a marathon this year.

Prior to Choose You, I didn’t announce my goals, or “put them out there” to everyone.  I’d tell a few friends what I was hoping I could do.  I’d sign up for a race, and write about it on my blog.  I guess you can say the pressure is on, and I have a fear now- what if I can’t do this? 

Another factor coming in to play is the conclusion of my divorce.  It had been going on for a year and a half, and any divorce that takes that long is complicated, and usually not very easy.  At the end of the court trial last Wednesday, it was finalized, and I felt completely drained. I missed posting my blog post here last Thursday, because I had no energy after the trial to write anything.  I think the conscious and unconscious stress that has been present for the last year and half has caught up to me. 

Health-wise, my latest blood work shows I am extremely deficient in Vitamin D.  The dose of radioactive iodine I had last August has depleted my Vitamin D levels.  My doctor said this alone could account for my fatigue.  She prescribed a second round of prescription Vitamin D, in hopes that will raise my levels back to the normal range. 

All of this compiled has resulted in very little motivation or desire to run.  The other day at the gym, I ran a third of a mile, and felt like I had run ten miles. (It is painful to write that!)  I was tired, winded, and wanted to just stop, go home, and go to bed.  I forced– and I mean forced -myself to keep going, and I ended up running 6.5 miles at a 9:10 pace, but my heart and my head were not in it. 

I was going to try an ambitious mountain half marathon in June, but I have no desire right now to put in the hard training I would have to do to run it the way I planned to.  I have been riding my bike more lately than running, and am really enjoying that.  I have been building up my distance and speeds, and I’m not worrying about setting any hard or fast goals.  Right now, bike riding doesn’t feel like work, and running does.  Fortunately, cycling is good cross training.    

I have still been running on average 10 miles a week, and I am going to try to keep that up.  I hope over the next few weeks, I will decompress from everything, and my motivation will return.  I have worked really hard to get to where I am, and I don’t want to just let it slide away.    

Last week I was running on the treadmill at the gym, and having a really hard time just completing a 5K distance (3.1 miles).  I had run 2 miles and saw I was on pace to finish at over 30 minutes.  I haven’t run a 5K distance in over 30 minutes in months.  For the first time in a while, I felt that drive and motivation kick in.  I turned up the pace to run almost two minutes faster for the last 1.1 miles.  It was hard, but I did it and finished in 28 minutes. 

When I was getting off the treadmill a man came over to me and told me “very nice run-especially at the end.”  He said he used to run, but didn’t anymore.  He said he was going to ask me if I run in races, but after seeing me run at the end, he wanted to ask me now how many races I have won.  It was a very nice remark from a stranger, who knew nothing of the funk I’ve been in, didn’t know that was one of my slowest runs, and I’ve been struggling.   But I knew.  And the part that he said was very nice was the end- when I was running like I know I can, when I’m motivated.   

I am not sure what I really need to do, to get my running motivation back.  I hope I can figure it out soon though, because I have a marathon to train for. 

If you have any ideas, comments, or suggestions, I’d love to hear them.

Categories
Cancer Cole Family & Friends Health Mothering Parenting Ryan

Blogging and Divorce

If you have been a reader of my blog for awhile, or know me, you know that I have been in the midst of a divorce for a year and a half.  Last week after a trial, it was final. 

I’ve debated over the last year and a half, on how much I should blog about the divorce, and what was going on with it.  I felt like some of what I was experiencing could help others in similar situations.  But because of the nature of it, I decided the less I wrote about it, the better. 

One thing that surprised me somewhat, but probably shouldn’t have, was during the court trial, my ex-husband’s attorney threw out quotes from my blog, and mentioned some of the things regarding my health, and running that I have written, in order to portray me negatively in the manner she needed to.

As I sat there listening to her use my announcement that I was cancer free, and the information I have shared about running, to make her case, it was unsettling.  I wrote those things, and shared them to help other people, and to let other cancer patients know there is hope and life after having cancer.  Perhaps I was too naive- I didn’t think what I wrote would be turned and twisted around by an attorney, who was trying to show I don’t work full-time for my own selfish reasons. 

I know the reasons I haven’t gone to work full-time since my cancer recovery, and they have nothing to do blogging and running.  They have everything to do with my boys, and my being available for them-especially while their parents were getting divorced.  That might not make me the most successful person in my profession, or have me earning the most money I possibly can, but it has provided my children a sense of stability and normalcy through the divorce. 

I know I made the right decision for Ryan and Cole.  I will never look back at the last year and a half, and regret I didn’t have a full-time job.  I will remember I was there for my kids so their routine was not drastically changed.  I will remember I was there on Ryan’s first day of kindergarten.  I’ll remember standing at the bus stop with Ryan each morning and being there every afternoon when he got off the bus, until he gained the confidence himself. I will remember his smile when I volunteered in his classroom.  I will remember helping Ryan with his homework when he came home, having a snack with him and Cole, and talking about our day.  I will remember on the two days off a week I had, the one-on-one time Cole and I shared.  I will remember drawing, coloring, and baking with him.  I will remember playing farm, village, and fireman.  I will remember reading books to him, and going to the park.  I will remember talking to the boys about divorce, and the feelings they were having.  I will remember I was available for them during this incredibly difficult process. 

It turned out to be the right decision for me not to blog any specifics about the divorce.  My advice to any other parents who are wondering if they should blog about their divorce- don’t.  Written words are so easily twisted and taken out of context. Be there for your kids, and do what you need to do for them.  When it is all over, what is really important- and all that matters anyway, is you were there.