Tag: running after cancer

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c-sections Cole Mothering Parenting Ryan

End Of An Era- A Mama’s Blog Final Blog Post

I entered the blogosphere on January 27, 2007. My eldest son, Ryan, was 3. My “baby” Cole, was 8-months old. Eight years later, they aren’t babies, toddlers, or even children anymore. They are a pre-teen and a “tween”.

Ryan just started 6th grade and middle school. He’s now 11.5 years old- going on 60, as I like to say. He’s so responsible, caring, conscientious, and a wonderful big brother. He loves bikes, sprinting, Legos, football, Boy Scouts, and movies.

Cole just started 4th grade. He is 9. He’s funny, quick minded, and extremely good at math. He can do any impression, and has a lot of voices he likes to talk in. I think he could be the next Adam Sandler, if he wanted to. He loves bikes, lacrosse, Legos, inventing things, figuring out how things work, and movies.

I never planned to stop “Mommy Blogging.” I have truly loved it and I have a wonderful journal of many memories of my boys, these past eight years. Sometimes I’ll come across a post I wrote, read it and I really don’t even remember the event happening, but I blogged it, so I know it did happen. Some of those early years were a haze. But I’m so glad I blogged for the time I did, and have the written record of my boys’ early childhood days.

At times, blogging provided me with a much needed outlet- to share and connect with other women who I didn’t know in “real life” and of course my “real life” friends too, all of us who were trying to figure out this motherhood thing. It provided me a community of support and friends.

As I found my way, I started blogging about other issues that mattered to me as a mother and a woman. One of the most traumatic things I ever experienced was a C-section with the birth of Ryan. Writing my account of my C-section, “The Reality of C-Sections” post, what I had learned from it, sharing with other women, what I wasn’t told or prepared for, and my road to recovery from it, in January 2008 is the number one read blog post on A Mama’s Blog. It still receives over 150 page views a day. Seven years later it still is the post that generates the most views and readers to A Mama’s Blog.

That tells me, C-sections are still a real concern and subject of interest for women. If no one ever reads another post on A Mama’s Blog, the number of women who have read that post, leaves me with a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. The hundreds and hundreds of emails I’ve received from women all over the WORLD, thanking me for sharing that and helping inform about C-Sections, it was one thing that I was able to do here: share and help heal from the trauma countless women experience from C-sections, but do not feel supported to heal from. Myself included. I’m incredibly humbled from all the stories I have heard from you- over the years, on your own traumatic C-sections.

Every time I read an email from a woman telling me my post made her reconsider an “elective C-section,” well, it matters. All the women who tell me they too, pushed and demanded a VBAC for their births after a C-section, after reading my story, has been inspiring. Women are finding their “birth voices” again, and speaking up. We have found that how we give birth DOES matter. To us, to our families, and to our babies. It is one of the legacies I feel evolved from A Mama’s Blog. We as women and mothers have power- and we have a right to have our voices heard. Never just settle for something because a doctor tells you this is how it is, if you feel it isn’t right. Trust your body and your instincts- your body does know how to give birth. And in turn, we give birth to the next generation and pass this along to them, so our sons and daughters are informed on their birth options when the time comes for them, and it will. Sooner than we can imagine.

I have stopped writing about Ryan and Cole now for some time. They are both very private, and I never felt right about “blogging” about them. I think it is one thing to share stories of them with the world, when they are babies, toddlers, and young children. But at some point, not sure exactly when- but it has happened- their stories aren’t mine to tell and share. They belong to my boys. I have a wonderful relationship with them, and I would never want to betray that or have them find out and see some day I was sharing their stories about them, on a blog. It’s more important to me to have that trust with them, than to be a “Mommy Blogger.” So the past few years, I’ve blogged not about them- but issues I found interesting, my health, and my running.

I couldn’t pull the plug on blogging altogether. I couldn’t and didn’t want to say “good-bye” to A Mama’s Blog– my blog. I love writing. I have always been a writer. I found an audience and built a wonderful readership here. Writing saved my sanity when I was going through a divorce and cancer in 2009, and once again, I found a supportive community of many others, who were going through similar issues.

But it never felt like a fit, writing about these different subjects after I stopped blogging about Ryan and Cole. A Mama’s Blog is a parenting blog. It was meant to be about children, babies, birth, being mothers, and how that brought us all together as women. It’s never felt quite right to me, to totally have it go in a different direction from this.

So I have made the decision to let all the posts I wrote from my heart and shared with the world, through A Mama’s Blog, stand on their own, and leave it. As it was meant to be- a blog about a new mother figuring out parenting, and evolving, hoping one day her sons would want to read some it, and see who their mother was, as a person- beyond as they saw me as “Mom.” Going through life’s up’s and down’s, but remembering no matter what- my boys were the best and most important thing that ever happened to me. That is how I want A Mama’s Blog to stand, to be remembered, and come across in Google searches. 🙂

As for Ryan and Cole- one day- they will have this blog that their mother wrote- for them really, from my heart. It was always about Ryan and Cole- no matter what. My goal with writing A Mama’s Blog, is complete now.

This means me closing the book on my very successful (for me) blog, that I spent years creating. I remember thinking when I started writing my blog, if I had 50 readers one day, well I would consider myself happy and that would be great. When I checked my stats, one last time today, and I’ve not checked them for a very long time, my mouth fell open when I saw I had 50 readers of course but also had almost TEN THOUSAND times that to date. Over the years almost half a million visitors have read my blog, and they have generated almost one million page views! That wasn’t me- that was you, the readers, who made A Mama’s Blog part of your lives. As a sleep deprived mom, just starting to write about her life as a new mom, that was a dream I never thought I possible, but it filled my heart with a lot of joy today, realizing what the blog has grown to.

A Mama’s Blog opened up opportunities for me I never imagined. I was a blogger for the American Cancer Society for a year in 2010. I was able to help so many people going through thyroid cancer. I got to go to New York for this. I have met so many wonderful mothers and bloggers over the years, some of who have turned into very good friends. I had more opportunities open up to me that I just never had time to take on, but it always touched me that others resonated with what I was blogging and wanted to work with me. I never would have imagined the success I had, writing that first blog post about Ryan and Cole, one January evening in 2007. I have loved every minute of blogging.

Like many aspects of motherhood, we sacrifice our personal preferences at times, for our children. I would love to write about my boys- they are truly amazing- but I don’t come first. They do. They always have and always will. They were my inspiration and reasons for starting A Mama’s Blog, and they are my inspiration and reason for concluding it now. It’s time. It’s the end of an era.

So the time has come for me to write this final post. I can’t really find the words to thank all my readers and subscribers over the years. So many readers write and thank me for writing a post. But, really without my readers, I wouldn’t have had a successful blog. The “thanks” is mutual. There are no words to really express my appreciation and gratitude for my blog readers. There were many times, when I really didn’t know what I was going to do- when I was sick, or in a hard spot. I’d receive an email from a reader, or a comment, and it gave me such hope or inspired me some way.

That is another aspect I love about blogging- it’s not just one sided. I may write, but I learn just as much from reading comments and emails my readers send to me too.

I am leaving A Mama’s Blog as it is. I’m not closing down the site. I have closed all the comments though, and I’m not going to write new content. I will leave all the posts up and I know it will still continue to reach women. Maybe that new mother up at 3AM one night, searching for a topic about her new baby or motherhood, that she’s concerned about, will be guided to A Mama’s Blog. A woman suffering from a post traumatic C-section will come across my posts about C-sections. A scared cancer patient may find something I wrote about it, helpful, and feel not so alone or scared. Or a mother will just read something and realize she isn’t in this by herself- others have been through where she is now, made it through, and she will too. One quote I used a lot in my posts were, “This too, shall pass.” It always does, and we all have incredible resilience as women and mothers- more than we know at times. I always wanted to help women and I feel leaving A Mama’s Blog site up will continue to do that.

I’m going to leave A Mama’s Blog’s Facebook Page up for now, but I’m not going to be active there anymore either. It’s a public site and there are some links to various issues relating to motherhood I’ve found interesting, but it isn’t where my passion is.

Thinking about what to do about A Mama’s Blog over the years, has lead me to a new experience and a new blog. I never wanted to give up blogging, but never felt as passionate about any other subjects like I did mothering, to motivate me to put the energy into starting a new blog.

But, sometimes it’s not the right time for a new venture. When it is- you know it. While A Mama’s Blog is ending, I’m very excited to announce I’m starting a brand new blog. This isn’t about my children, it’s about me. I know it will require starting all over again- from the first reader, but I found an audience for A Mama’s Blog, and I know I will find an audience for my new blog.

The subjects are quite different, and while some of A Mama’s Blog readers may follow my new blog, and of course I would love that, I realize a different subject, different audience. I wanted to let my readers know though; I’m not just completely vanishing. I am a writer and my new blog is the subject that I’m passionate about now and is a subject I can share and write about.

My new blog is Running Free Blog. It is about my transitioning from traditionalist running to minimalist running style, and my journey to finally run a marathon with this running method. It isn’t a “running blog” per say, but I hope it will inspire and motivate my readers to follow their dreams, whether that is running, or looking for a new job. My dream is to run a marathon injury free. If you aren’t a runner, it doesn’t matter- we can achieve whatever we want, if we allow our minds to believe we can. That is part of the journey and the process. I’m going to be writing about that, as much as I am about running.

I’m also going to be providing tips for people who are running the traditional way and sharing what I’m learning about minimalist “barefoot” running too. I’m going to share how you can run low cost as well- you don’t have to spend a lot of money to run. I am going share my love of running and how I inspire and train myself, as a busy single mother, who works full time, and has other things going on in life. It will be my next journey- from the first steps I run minimalist- to the finish line of a marathon- and everything in between.

So while I hope you join me at Running Free Blog, I realize sometimes you can’t take the past with you. It’s a new chapter for me. I look forward to connecting with many of my A Mama’s Blog reader’s at Running Free Blog and Running Free Blog’s Facebook Page. I look forward to all the new connections I will make too, who will hopefully allow me to inspire and motivate them- even just a little bit- to achieve anything they can dream of. I know in turn, you will help continue to inspire me- you always have.

It’s the end of an era for A Mama’s Blog, but what an era it has been! The last thing I have left to say to my readers is THANK YOU! Thank you from my heart, for the last 8 years and 7 months, being my blog’s readers, subscribers, supporters, but most of all- my friends. ♥♥♥

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Now for the final pictures.

These were the first two pictures I ever posted of Ryan and Cole in my first ever blog post. Ages 3 and 8-months. Their first appearance on the blog.

ryan 1

cole 1

This is Cole and Ryan on August 19, 2015 on the first day of school. Ages 9 and 11.5. Their final appearance on the blog.

ryancole

“What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from”~
T.S. Eliot

Categories
Activities Cancer Cole Health Running Ryan

First Half Marathon: 4 Years in the Making- Part 2

Part 2 of my first half marathon attempt, at the Denver Rock & Roll Half and Full Marathon

(Part 1 can be found here)

Four days before the race, I had an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon and physical therapist for my elbow.  The surgeon released me, saying I was two months ahead of recovery schedule and he gave me his “blessing” to run, saying there would be no consequences to my elbow. The physical therapist said I was ahead of schedule as well, and with another month, she was confident we could work out the last of the resistance in my elbow to it being fully extended.

I was so excited- it felt like a giant weight had been lifted, and I now had the confirmation I was going to be OK- I wasn’t going to be limited to one arm, in pain, for the rest of my life. That was it- there was no reason medically I could not run. The next day, Thursday, I did a light workout, just to get the legs moving, and I felt a shin splint pain, when I was done. It was in the same place it had been over the summer.  I rolled it out on the foam roller, and tried not to freak out.  I told myself it still had two full days of rest, and it would be fine.  I took it easy with rest until Sunday- race day. I could barely sleep the night before, but managed to get a few hours in, until my alarm woke me up at 4:30AM.  Today was the day I had been working for, for four years- I would know in a few hours, if I could do this!

I arrived at the race at 6:15AM- an hour before race time.  I had to park a mile away and walked in.  It was about 45 degrees out- much warmer than I had thought it would be.  I had brought my warmer running jacket, because it had lots of pockets to hold all my race stuff, but realized it would be way to warm to wear.  So I was mentally trying to figure out if my running shirt and running capris would hold my 2 GU fuel packets, a packet of sport jelly beans, tissues, and lip balm.  I figured I would just have to make them fit in my two pockets.  The walk was a good warm up and I was happy I had no shin pain whatsoever.

The race site was already buzzing and energetic.  The sun was coming up.  I saw lots of people together, and a lot of solo runners as well- young and old- it was nice to see such a variety of runners. I drank a little water, ate a small bagel, and figured out where the bag check was. I warmed up and stretched for about half an hour. I took one of the GU energy packs.  I had to walk back to the starting corrals, and my friend texted me- he was in a different starting corral than I, but we wished each other well.  I took off the last of my warm clothes, checked my bag, and headed to my starting corral.

By now the sun was up, and the first wave of runners were off.  I was in starting group 9, and I think there were are 16 or 17  starting waves. It was so crowded, I couldn’t make it into the corral, with the crowd on the street, so I just crawled through an opening, and waited. I actually had no nerves- no butterflies.  I was concentrating on not starting too fast.  Much easier said than done.  I started getting some adrenaline as our group started walking towards the starting line.  I was here, really here.  It hit me. I was really, really, about to start off on my 13.1 mile dream.  This wasn’t a 5K, or a fast 3K.  13 miles- it was going to be long- it would probably be painful at some point, but I got tears in my eyes.  I was here for ME.  This was 100% me- no one else. If I could do this- I could do anything.

“5-4-3-2-1!”  I hit the start on my Garmin and ran over the starting line.  My only thought was not to go too fast.  Meanwhile, hundreds of people were blowing by me.  I felt a little wimpy when the 50 and 60-year old runners were passing me, but it quickly passed. I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t running for anyone else- just for me.  I was going to run my race- all 13.1 miles, exactly as I had planned.

I settled into a nice pace for the first mile, despite hundreds of people passing me.  I smiled and was thankful this wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew some of the people were running way too fast. It made me keep looking at my Garmin though, and I was nervous. I was running a consistent 11:30 pace.  That was too fast. I had to slow down.  In training I was running 12 and 13 minute miles.  I wanted to run at least 12 minute miles for several of the first miles.

Miles 1 and 2: The first two miles were easy for me.  I was trying to get on a 12 minute pace but couldn’t.  It felt too slow, and not how I wanted to run this day.  I was feeling very strong, not tired at all.  All the running I have done- whether it was a half mile run, or a 10 mile one, trained me for this.  I knew I could run consistently 11 something miles, and while I wanted to run smart, I certainly didn’t want to feel like I held back.  This was my race- my time- to run exactly how I wanted to.  I made the mental switch at about 2.5 miles. I was going to run by how I felt. I could always slow way down to 12 or 13 minute miles if I needed to.  I stopped looking at my Garmin, and just tuned into my breathing, and pacing.

Mile 3: I hit the 5K mark, 3.10 miles, at 35 minutes. It felt perfect.  I had 10 miles to go, and I wasn’t tired at all.  I noticed I started passing people that had blown by me in the first few miles.

Miles 4 and 5: I just ran. There were some hills, no big deal.  My treadmill hills had been longer than these. The crowds cheering on the streets were awesome. I saw lots of signs, smiling and waving people. One man had a little baby strapped to his chest, holding a sign that said, “Becky, you are my hero.” It was so sweet- it just made me smile.

I slowed down a lot going through the water stations- I didn’t want to spill water on me, and I figured slowing down that extra little bit during the stations, might help me in the end. I actually had to use the restroom quick, but every time I passed one, there were such long lines. I didn’t want to stop, get out of sync, so I just pushed it out of my mind, and kept running.

Mile 6: I hit the 10K mark, 6.2 miles, at 1:10, and I had seen I just had a 10:58 mile, and I was feeling fine. I actually teared up at the 10K mark, because this was the longest distance in a race I had ever ran.  Lots of 5K’s,a 5 mile race, a 9K, but I have actually never ran a 10K race distance before.  I was starting to feel a little tired half way into this mile. I had planned to refuel with a GU energy, and did so at the half way mark. I started to feel a little pain in my shin, but I told myself to push past it- it was temporary, and I didn’t notice it anymore for the entire race.

Mile 7: I was starting to get tired, but I think at the end of it some of the energy pack kicked in. I had taken some of the sport jelly beans, as well. I had been taking water and Gatorade at the stations, so I figured I was doing all I could to make sure my body had enough energy and was hydrated. But, I was really having to pee- the lines were just still too long, and I was running so well, I didn’t want to stop- even for 5 minutes, and risk not being able to get back in sync.

Mile 8: I felt good. This was what I had run just 6 days earlier and still felt like I had a lot more I could do.  It was only 5 more miles. I was loving this run- I didn’t want to think too much ahead, but I was starting to think this was shaping up to be one of the most enjoyable runs I have ever had.

Mile 9: My “slow” start started to pay off.  I was passing a lot of people. I was still running to how I was feeling, but felt like I was slowing down.  Plus it was about a half mile stretch of consistently uphill. I looked at my Garmin and it didn’t look like it was running correctly.  I pushed stop and start on it, quickly, and then realized it was running.  But I had gotten the lap time off. But I was running 11/12 mile pace.  At the end of mile 9, I just felt my body take over.  I felt like I had just started running, and ran faster. There was no pain- my elbow didn’t even hurt. I was starting to run more assertively.  Everything was in sync.

Mile 10: I arrived at mile 10 at 1:56.  It hit me I only had a 5K left to do- 3.10 miles, and I knew I could run that!  I started to tear up, but made myself stop. I was running the strongest I had yet, and I didn’t want tears to mess it up.  I realized no matter what- I was going to finish, and I was on pace to finish far faster than I had ever let myself think I could.  I was running in the high 10 low 11 minute miles, and it was getting towards the end.  I reminded myself not to push it too much.  I wanted to finish strong.

Mile 11: Someone threw a very long (or so it seemed) hill in there. It was tough.  It slowed me down.  But, I noticed I was the person doing the passing.  Not one person passed me uphill.  I wasn’t competing against anyone else, but it made me feel strong, and I realized I AM strong.  I finished the hill a little tired, but not beaten or worn out, and felt 100% in control- this was my race, I was having the perfect run, and it wasn’t over yet.

Mile 12: I started running faster, and I was smiling.  This is what I had worked 4 years for.  I heard people cheering. I heard people say, “look at her running so fast, how is she doing that?” I think they were talking about me, because everyone I was running by was pretty much walking, or running very slowly. I was picking up the pace! I was confident I had run smart.  I may not have had months to train, but I know how I run, and in this mile, I was running with my heart and my spirit.  I had this, and I wasn’t going to be walking to the finish line.  Hell no! I was going to dig deep and bring everything I had to the last mile.

Mile 13: I told myself to just go, and enjoy- this was it! The last mile, was the single most, empowering, exciting and great thing I have ever done just for myself!  All my obstacles, all my health issues, all my difficulties in life, all my fears, all my doubts- for this small sliver of time, had disappeared.  I was this close to doing the impossible for me. From lying in a hospital bed with my neck sliced open with an organ gone from, having cancer in my cells, to taking radioactive drugs to kill cancer, to having parts of my body burned off to prevent cancer, from losing my mom, to being cancer free to having been in a cast on my arm just weeks before, from losing one of the most important relationships to me weeks before, to knowing I’m not perfect, but I don’t give up. When most people would quit- I don’t. I am strong when I am meant to be weak.

For this last mile, I had extra to give, and I knew it would be the fastest I ran, in the final mile of a half marathon. It all came together- as much as my mind, body, and spirit, had been distraught in the months before, they were strong all working together, as one. All the interval training I have ever done, all the sprints, all the running came to the surface, and I had no more thoughts. I just ran. I was free.  I held nothing back.  I ran that last mile (it helped it was downhill!) like I was running for the gold in the Olympics, because for me it was- it was my gold medal to my dream.

Mile 13.1: I saw the finish line. I saw myself passing person after person, I heard the crowd just cheering, and I knew I had done it.  I crossed the finish line, and in that moment my dream for “someday” wasn’t a dream anymore. It was reality.  It was today, in that moment.  Nothing held back, no regrets. I had just run the race of my life. I had ran 100% from my heart, and I could never ask for anything more. I got my dream- I got my moment of something wonderful!

I remembered to hit stop on my Garmin, and saw I had just run the last third of the mile at an 8:51 pace.  My final time was 2:29.  I had been hoping for 2:45, and the time was just the icing on the cake.  My final mile had been my fastest: 10:21. My Garmin said I ran 13.31 miles, but official race says 13.10, but our times were the same.

I got wrapped in a heat blanket, drank some chocolate milk, given a smoothie, and just let it soak in.  More thoughts and feelings hit me- I cried a little.  This- the race- this is what it is all about. Falling down and getting back up, over, and over, and over, no matter how many times.  If you want to finish, you have to start.  Giving your best, after life hands you its worst.  I have failed at many things in life, I have gotten very sick in life, I have made huge mistakes in life, I have regrets, I wish I could have done many things differently, but all these things- just like all the miles added up to get me to the finish line, these mistakes, imperfections, these less than ideal situations in life, make me who I am.  Without these, I doubt I ever would have run one mile, let alone 13.1.

Life takes its toll, but running teaches me, despite my imperfections, my mind, body, and spirit do work together.  It teaches me my failures and fears will NEVER be stronger than my determination and spirit. And in that last mile it taught me, if you are lucky, follow your dreams, sometimes your fears and failures will intersect with your dreams and successes and make it all worthwhile- more than you can possibly imagine!

Thank you to all my friends, family, and everyone who has supported, and believed in me and my running over the years. I can’t possibly thank everyone individually, but I need to mention some specific people, who if not for them, I would never have been able to achieve my health and my running dreams.

To my sons, Ryan and Cole: Thank You!!  You guys are my biggest fans, and my biggest helpers.  I love you both with all my heart.  If you were not so awesome and flexible to work Mom’s running in with your play schedules, I would have never had enough time to devote to running. You guys helped Mom run her half marathon!!

To Mara, Jeff, Vanessa, Kat, and my dad:  My family, I know you are always there when I need you, and thank you for always believing in me.

To Amy: I could tell you I was running to the moon, and you’d support me.  From cancer help, to running encouragement- thank you for being a true friend, in every sense of the word.  To Aaron: Thank you for talking me into it.  To Sarah: Thank you for pushing me into it, and To Debra: Thank you for helping me when I had cancer, and for your always positive attitude!

To all the cancer patients who write me every day:  I know how lonely, discouraging, and frightening cancer is.  Don’t give up, and continue to fight. When you are able, pursue your dreams. It isn’t easy, but it is worth it.  Envision your dreams on your hard days.  Take it one day at a time, and you will get there.  Focus on what you do have- not what this disease takes- and draw your strength from your loved ones and friends who are fighting along with you.

To John:  Thank you for providing your support to me, and to my dream. You’ve been there from the beginning, starting with the first run I ever took. Your advice over the years has helped me become the best runner I can, and your encouragement has assisted me in following my dream- more than you know.

Mile Splits

1-11:24  2-11:10  3-11:38  4-11:03  5-11:31  6-10:58  7-11:30  8-11:41  9-12:18  10-11:19  11-10:56  12-11:07  13- 10:21  .31-2:45

Finishing Time: 2:29

Average Pace: 11:15

marathon

13.1 Miles! I’m an official half marathoner, with my medal! 10/20/13

Categories
Activities Cancer Mothering Running

First Half Marathon: 4 Years in the Making- Part 1

On Sunday October 20, 2013 in Denver, I attempted a dream I have had for four years- to run a half marathon.  No one ever (well hardly ever anyone),  just gets up one day, shows up at the start, and decides to run a half marathon without a story.  This is mine.

I started running 4 years ago, in September 2009- just weeks after I finished my thyroid cancer treatments. The surgery I had to have, the recovery, the radioactive iodine, and the fact I had no thyroid hormone for 3 months, left me feeling like an invalid, and there were many days I could not get out of bed.  I remember one morning, after having moved in with my dad and step-mom, temporarily because I was unable to care for myself and my young boys round the clock, my dad and step-mom were at work.  I was sitting on the porch swing, watching the boys play in the yard.  I saw it was 10AM, and knew I had better start making them lunch.  I had to stop midway, walking up their 6 stairs to the kitchen, and it took me 2.5 HOURS to walk about 10 steps from the porch, up the stairs, to the kitchen, and make 2 sandwiches.

When all my treatment and recovery were finished, and I finally started to get the Synthroid (synthetic thyroid hormone) that my body had been deprived of for 3 months, despite the doctors telling me I may never feel “normal” again, I started to feel instantly better.  I was grateful I didn’t feel like I was 120-years old anymore, I was starting to get energy back.  I had always wanted to run in a race, and the 5K Race for the Cure was in a few weeks.  I decided to try running in this, and even if I couldn’t run the entire way, I knew I could walk it, but it would be a victory, just to be able to be there, and move.  Something I had taken for granted until I had cancer.

Most my readers know the story- I was able to finish the 5K race, running, and I was hooked.  I have kept running since then- at times more intensely and seriously.  In July 2010 I entered my first competitive race, for a 3K, and came in second for my age group.  The next year at the same Race for the Cure, I took 12 minutes off  my 5K time from just a year ago- from 36 min. to 24 minutes- those were definitely highlights and goals of my running, but it was not my dream.

Ever since those first steps I took running, I thought of those who couldn’t run, & appreciated how lucky I was.  I dreamed- “someday” if I trained hard enough, worked hard enough, ran fast enough, was healthy enough- “someday” I would try to run a half marathon. In my mind, that would be the ultimate achievement from where I had started to where I would end up.  My physical condition when I started running- to be able to even sign up for a half marathon- might as well have been climbing Mount Everest.  It was really a dream I never thought I would be able to accomplish, but could hope for, if all the other conditions in my life were ideal.

In those 4 years, I’ve signed up for a few half marathons, but always had circumstances arise, where I was not able to train properly for them.  One half marathon was weeks after my mom passed away, and I was just not in an emotional place to be able to do it.  I’ve gotten busy- kids, work, school, relationship, family, friends, my health and in 2011 I had yet another cancer scare.  Over the years, I have never stopped running, but somewhere along the way, I let my dream slip to the background.  Perhaps because deep down, I never really believed I could do it.  Why do something and fail?  The half marathon hasn’t been my focus in a long time, but it was always in the back of my mind- a little part of me never let it completely slip away.

In May, a friend said he was going to try to run his first marathon in October, and encouraged me to give it a shot as well. I decided it was time to make this my goal again, and get serious about it. I signed up, with new found enthusiasm.  Weeks later, I developed a nasty side shin splint that left me unable to run.  By the beginning of August, despite having rested and not having ran for weeks, it was still there.  It was time to decide- I had to train if I was going to run this, but I decided to shelf my dream yet again- rather than risk developing a more serious injury by stressing my shins.

Just days after this, in the beginning of August, I had a bad bicycle crash, and broke and dislocated my elbow. I had to have surgery, and was unable to bend my elbow, or use my arm for weeks.  It was devastating to me. It left me very immobile and in a lot of ways it left me unable to perform very basic functions- from personal grooming to taking basic care of my kids, like I want to.  It was a very painful injury. I’ve never had chronic pain, but I did for weeks with this injury.   I felt helpless, alone, and very much like I did when I was sick with cancer.  When you live by yourself, you don’t realize all the things- until you can’t- you must do for yourself and your children. When suddenly, I could not do these things, it left me feeling very vulnerable, and weak.  When I saw my children step up and help me with things I should have been doing for them as their parent, it made me feel like I could not even be their mother properly. It was everything I could do, to just go to work for the day.  I had nothing left when I got home. Combined with the chronic pain, unable to live my life like I wanted, and unable to exercise or move without constant pain, – this was very demoralizing and depressing. It really was my worse fears realized.  My independence, my ability to care for my children, and my mobility were gone and I was scared.  I felt like I was living in a blanket of heavy fog, only seeing the fog- in front of me.  I could not have known how much this was affecting me at the time, but all of these things contributed to very difficult months, on every level- physically, emotionally, and mentally.

As I started physical therapy, I started to work really hard on the exercises the physical therapists were giving me. They assured me if I did these every day, my elbow would start to get better.  They were right, and within a week, finally some of the pain subsided, and I started to feel more optimistic I would be able to use my arm again. I felt like I was finally coming out of the fog a bit.  I started going to my gym and just riding the stationary bike for 3-5 miles. I could protect my elbow, and not have a lot of pain while doing this.  When the physical therapist told me to start working on holding my arm down, I figured running would be good.  I started running a half a mile, three quarters of a mile, a mile, etc. My arm felt good when I ran, and I felt my spirits rising as well when I ran.  Soon I was up to running 5 miles a week.

A lot of these runs were at night on a treadmill, but I was happy I could at least run again.  As I ran those mindless miles on the treadmill, the half marathon I had signed up for, which was weeks away now, kept creeping back in my mind. Could I do it? The doubts crept in.  Did I dare try? What happened if I tried and failed? No way was I even near the level of being able to run a half marathon, and I still had a broken elbow I was recovering from…was I crazy?

But my legs felt strong from the stationary bike riding, the running I had been able to do, and in the 2 months my elbow had been broken, my shin splint was gone, (there always is a silver lining). One night as these doubts were running through my mind, I decided to turn them off.  I turned the incline up higher on the treadmill, to simulate hills instead.  If I was considering this, I had better train 10 times harder than the race course, in the days I had left.

Ten days before the marathon, I told a client of mine from work, who is also very exercise oriented, I was thinking about actually running the half marathon.  She didn’t hesitate- she didn’t tell me all the reasons why I couldn’t or shouldn’t do this- she just told me I could do it.  And hearing that she thought I could- gave me the push I needed.  When I started telling friends and family I was going to run- no one told me I couldn’t or shouldn’t- and I realized all the resistance and fears were mine, and mine alone.  I saw and experienced people believing in me, and that in turn helped me believe in myself.

I worked out on the treadmill at night when the boys were with their dad, my half marathon 10-day training plan.  I ran the treadmill at a 3 to 4% incline at 12-13 minute miles.  I knew this was harder than the course, but I had to train hard.  I knew I had to pace myself during the race, or I would never be able to go 13 miles.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough time left before the race to even try to run 13 miles, without risking the strength and endurance I had built up. But one thing I have learned from running is you are always stronger than you think you are. You can always do more, if you let your mind believe it.

Six days before the race, I put my training to the test and ran 8 miles.  I ran the first half very slowly and conservatively, and finished the second half, running up hills, at a faster pace.  I felt like I could have kept running, and felt very optimistic, I had another 5 miles in me for race day.  It didn’t matter how fast I went- only that I finished.  I felt ready.  I remembered how far I had come from those days as a cancer patient- unable to get out of bed.  I remembered everyone who couldn’t run, and was grateful that I could. I wasn’t afraid anymore. Even though I wasn’t the healthiest I could be. Even though I didn’t have the ideal training. Even though I wouldn’t be able to run as fast as I had wanted.  Even though the previous month had been devastating emotionally.  But I wasn’t going to use these excuses to put my dream on hold again.

Life life, running is seldom perfect. If you never take that first step forward, nothing will ever happen.  Finish or not- I was going to give this everything I had, and if I didn’t finish, at least I tried. Even I couldn’t run the entire 13 miles, or cross the finish line, I would have at the very least, given my dream a chance.

(I want to write this in detail, so will be breaking the post up.  Part 2 coming next!)

Categories
Cancer Family & Friends Health Running

Reflections in Running

This is the first post I’ve had about running in a while.  I have been running- not just as much as I would like to.

There are a lot of reasons why- from having time with my kids, work schedule, having my house on the market, recovering from injuries, and surgery, managing my health, eliminating stress, the weather, to not enough hours in the day. It is hard when there is that thing you really like to do, but it seems like everything else has to come before it.

This is where I have been for several months.  I have felt fortunate if I could fit a short run in, over my lunch time, a few times a week. The past few weeks, I have really started to notice I have been missing the longer runs, and pushing myself.  I feel like I haven’t been doing any runs that are challenging- like I’ve hit a plateau.

A few weekends ago, I decided I was going to get back on track, and while camping with my family, I decided to go on a run.  This was at 8,900 feet. It was the middle of the afternoon and it was hot.  I didn’t know how far I would even be able to run, since I’ve not been able to keep up my distance runs.  I decided to just go- and see where I ended up.

I ran along the forest road, and there was a creek I followed for a while.  There were hills.  There was an occasional car that would drive by, but other than that, I only heard my breathing, the sound of my shoes hitting the rocks, and the water from the creek.

Every time I finished one hill, there would be another.  It wasn’t quite the trail I had been hoping for, but I pushed on.  The first mile seemed to take forever.  When I had finished it, 11 minutes had passed.  Considering how many hills there were, I didn’t think that was too bad.  I decided to see if I could run another mile.  The trail flattened out, or at least the hills weren’t as steep for most of the second mile.  As I finished the second mile, I was getting tired, but wanted to go another half mile, so at the end I would have ran 5 miles.

As I turned the bend, with a third of a mile to go, there was the steepest hill yet!  It struck me how much running and life go hand in hand out there, on the hot, isolated trail.  Just when you think you are done with the steep hills, another one can pop up- seemingly out of nowhere, to throw you the most difficult obstacle yet.  I knew if I had seen that hill before I decided to continue, I would have turned back. I considered turning back, but that spark and determination I find so often when I run, kicked in.

I started up the hill, and half way up, it didn’t seem that hard.  Another life lesson- sometimes things seem harder than they really are, until you just start to work on them.  Before I knew it, I was running down the hill, and had hit my 2.5 mile mark.  I turned around, and ran right back up the hill, which my Garmin told me was a 13% incline.  The hill didn’t seem as hard, and I was rewarded with a lot downhill time on the run back.

I was in mile four, when I caught up with the creek again. It sounded louder- almost like it was cheering.  Or it was me hearing that, because I was really cheering myself on.

I hadn’t run this far or at this level in almost a year, but yet I was out on one of the hardest runs I’ve ever done, and I was minutes away from finishing.   As I finished the run, I was reminded why I had missed longer runs so much.

Running mirrors life.  There are ups, downs, successes, failures, pain, elation, unexpected twists, turns, hills, and obstacles.  As you run and mange these, you gain a new perspective. With every hill you run up, and then run down, you are reminded of what lies within- strength, determination, hope, and accomplishment.

I wasn’t focusing on the time, but I was hoping with all things considered, I would finish in an hour.  I finished the run in 55 minutes.  My last mile was the fastest one- at 10:24.

I went and sat in the cold creek with my kids, who had been playing in the water with their grandpa and cousin.   As I watched them play, and felt the cold water rush over my legs, I felt another feeling I often gain with running- peace.

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I’ve signed up for my first race in almost a year on Labor Day. It is 5 miles.  While I have run a 9K race before, (5.5 miles), the 5 mile distance will be a bit more challenging for me this time since I haven’t had a lot of training time to build up my mileage.  Before the mountain trail run, my goal was to finish in 50 minutes or so.  I am pretty confident I can finish around this time, and I do like to race, to see how fast I can run.

I am happy to be back racing, and am going to focus more on the run itself- the sights, the sounds, my breathing, and the fact that after all of it- I’m strong, healthy, and still running.

Categories
Cancer Health Running

Running to Defeat Cancer- A Year Later

A year ago, after recovering from thyroid cancer, I decided I wanted to support others who were fighting cancer.  I signed up for the Komen Denver Race for the Cure, supporting breast cancer.  I had never run in a race before, and didn’t particularly like running.  But I felt very thankful for the fast recovery I had from my own cancer, and figured it was the least I could do.  

My doctors told me it could be a year recovery before I’d even start to feel “back to normal” again.  My doctors warned me it was a very gradual upswing, and not to expect to feel better for a long time.  If you have followed my cancer journey on my blog, or know me in real life, you know that this was not the case for me.  As soon as I was on Synthroid, I felt the difference in hours.  To date, I still have not had to have one medication adjustment, which is almost unheard of.  My surgeon, who warned me of how hard the recovery was, and who has been treating thyroid cancer patients for 17 years, including his own wife, told me he had never seen someone recover as fast, with zero complications, like I have.  He told me I was a bit of a medical miracle. 

When I wrote my blog post last year, deciding I was going to run in the Race for the Cure, I was thankful I was doing so well.  A year later and a year wiser, I am more thankful and grateful than I can express.  I have no idea why I recovered so well. I am still in contact with a few people who had thyroid cancer surgeries the same time I did, and are still trying to get their thyroid replacement medication right, so they can start to feel back normal again. 

Running in this race last year was very healing for me.  I didn’t feel like I was a sick cancer patient, but I felt strong.  I felt like I was on the right path for recovery. I had no idea at the time if my recovery was going to “last” or if I would experience the problems and complications my doctors had warned me about.  It had been less than two months since I completed radioactive iodine therapy and had started on Synthroid.  But I was so optimistic I was able to train for this race and run in it. I had a lot of support and encouragement and I still remember while running it- for the first time, in a long time- I felt alive, well, and healthy.

I was hoping to finish the race in under 40 minutes, and finished in 36:25.  The race is self timed, and there are no official results.  But crossing that finish line was monumental for me.  I wasn’t sick with cancer anymore- I was a cancer survivor.  And that day, I became a runner.

I was hooked. I loved it.  I loved every second I was running the race. I loved the adrenaline, I loved the strategy, I loved I was smiling through the race, I loved pushing myself, I loved trying to pass the person ahead of me, and then trying to keep someone from passing me.  I loved the fact that I could actually do something as physically challenging as running.  I loved the fact that I was proving that cancer wasn’t going to define my life.  When it was over, I loved the fact that I had accomplished something just weeks ago, had seemed impossible. 

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I know now what I loved most about that race.  I moved from surviving cancer, to healing from cancer. Two very different mind sets.  I never looked back at being a cancer survivor- I started focusing on healing from cancer, and being the strongest person I could be- mentally and physically. So the Komen Dennver Race for the Cure means the world to me.  It put me on the path to heal from cancer.  It helps breast cancer patients who have to fight a much harder fight, for much longer than I ever did. 

I am running in the 5K again this year on October 3rd in Denver.  I am well trained for this race, and plan on going for my personal (unofficial) fastest 5K time.  I can’t think of a better 5K race where I would like to achieve a personal best.  But just to be there again- strong, healthy, able to run, and cancer free is a gift.  It’s a precious gift not everyone gets, and one that I am aware of every time I run.  So I am going to give it my all, and run it the strongest I can.  For myself and for all the cancer patients and survivors who can’t.

Last year I entered this race as a cancer survivor and ran.  This year I am entering this race as a runner, who happens to be a cancer survivor.  This is the spirit of the Komen Race for the Cure. I encourage all my readers to make a donation to the Race for the Cure, or better yet- sign up to walk or run in your local race.  You can find a list of races here. 

If you would like to make a donation in my name, to help raise money for breast cancer, you can click here.  Thank you!  🙂