Maybe to have a good life, a real good life, all we need to do is start to peel back the layers, so that we can become who we really are meant to be...and if we never fall down, and scrape off that first layer...would we ever know there is anything deeper?
I have lived a charmed life...relative to charmed for a modern day family. My parents are still married, but they have scars that only those who have lived through would know. I, as they would describe, somehow ended up "normal." I would guess that their version of normal would mean someone who tells it like it is, doesn't bullshit unless it's necessary to boost someone up who needs it most or to get out of trouble with the law. Normal being someone who loves openly, laughs too loud, and asks a lot of questions, never afraid to teeter between two sides of left and right, because really the correct answer is probably somewhere in the middle anyway. My parents are completely imperfect and perfect. And maybe, if we all get past that first layer...we, somehow, are able to find who we really are...that perfect mix of imperfect and perfect.
Physically, at 40 years old, I have nothing to prove. I was the high school all star...handed a full scholarship to play a sport I never really thought I would play again after high school. I was the "Spirit Queen" as well that senior year....well-liked, good grades, funny...picture perfect, but still missing something, wanting more.
.
And so, in college, I went on to bigger and more exciting adventures. And with some of those most amazing adventures, I had some of the most painful times. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I had a boyfriend who drank too much, whom I couldn't save, though I tried, god I tried so hard. I was also the three time volleyball captain who made the academic honor roll every semester. Picture perfect...minus the eating disorder I thought I was hiding. When I did finally get some help for that, I was finally really the picture perfect person I so sought after...I was in amazing shape, had a great senior year season including some all conference honors and academically, my grades were the best they ever had been. Picture perfect...
But, I still had not found myself yet...I went on to graduate school to become a teacher & earned a scholarship to work as a teaching assistant while in school. I did get a job before I even graduated with my masters...pretty unheard of these days....and was able to easily pick up a full time, well paid with benefits, teaching job at 24 years old...with a part time job as a college volleyball coach. But, I still hadn't filled that perfect mold I was striving for.
I had the perfect wedding...and I really did marry the perfect guy...he has been there for me in good times and bad times, right from the beginning, when we were just babes in college. We have three beautiful girls. We are not the perfect parents, that is for sure, but we try to love them, keep them safe, and build them up to be strong, assertive women someday. I love our life...our ups and downs, we have had a perfectly, imperfect life together...and thank god, because who would have thought we would have to hurdle cancer as well. But, like a good training program, we continue to ride the waves, weather the storm and keep keeping on with a smile of our face...even if some days we've had to fake it until we make it.
Today, it hit me...the most random unplanned moment...I had someone who I see on a regular basis at my job tell me, "you touch people"...she has been following my blog and knows my current story...3 girls, marathons, cancer...and now, in recovery mode from two back to back surgeries. I could have cried...but because I'm that perfectly, perfect strong girl, I held it together.
Sitting here now, I realize, all I have ever wanted to do is make a difference...touch someone in a way that maybe brings them comfort, relief...or allows them to unpeel all those layers they've built over the years so they could become the person they've been searching for...peel back the layers so that they too, could be perfectly imperfect and proud. I thank that friend for pointing that out to me today. And while, I have many, many loved ones, acqaintances, and other friends I could thank as well...today, I will relish in thanking myself for having the courage to be myself...too honest, too strong, too sensitive, too crude in humor, sometimes too inappropriate, and sometimes, too imperfectly perfect that I'm able touch someone...
About Me
- runliftbreathe
- What started as a little experiment in blogging has evolved into my renewed love for writing the raw, gritty truth. Running has always had so many parallels to life's ups and downs. As a new cancer survivor/fighter, running and writing has continued to be there for me in my quest to always move forward, always try to be better than yesterday. Find me: http://www.curetoday.com/community/kate or on facebook: running, cancer, and everything in between or on twitter: runliftbreathe
Monday, July 13, 2015
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Unstuck
The Merry-Go-Round goes around and round...
Pace is the place where inexperienced & experienced runners alike can struggle. The average new runner thinks that the more they run, the faster they get....they don't understand that by doing the same run at the same pace, each and every day will do nothing for their pace. They remain stuck at that pace, and it can be a hard and frustrating place to be until they are willing to learn.
So what happens if you are an experienced runner & coach, & you know all about pace...how to get faster...how to build endurance for different types of runs....and now you face an unfamiliar and new life where you have no control over pace...
I have been stuck in all realms of my daily life since June 10th when I had a lymph node dissection of my pelvis for cancer. I was stuck in that damn hospital looking out at what was probably a $350 day per night view overlooking Boston Harbor....watching the duck boats go by...stuck. Anxious to return home, I was then, stuck in bed/on the couch for two weeks of rest and recovery...which meant I was also stuck in my own head.
My recovery continues, and I still feel stuck...I feel like that inexperienced runner...stuck in a pace that is not where I want to be, but not quite sure what to do in this new place, how to improve. I am tired of doing everything I am suppose to do in my recovery, only seeing minimal improvement...moving at a snail's pace while the world passes me by.
Worst of all, I feel emotionally stuck ..this world of metastatic melanoma...where there is no cure...no guarantee...only hopes of days, weeks, months, & god willing, years of N.E.D....no evidence of disease. This is a lifetime...so how do I continue moving forward when I have no control over it....I can't do a damn thing...other than to show up to my doctors' appointments, get my mri's & pet scans...get my blood work drawn...for the rest of my life...that is it...this world of cancer...a pace and a place I am not comfortable with.
Like all runners...sometimes you do have to look back and reflect upon how far you've come in order to take a step forward & realize your pace has in fact improved. I remember being that inexperienced distance runner and having some races that were just plain awful. I learned from those difficult times, and eventually had that perfectly paced half marathon that rewarded me with a personal best. Soon after, I was able to draw upon that race to have a near perfect full marathon.
I can also look back on some tough days in this race against cancer... that day I really felt like I might die, of excruciating pain...when I physically couldn't push myself off of the bathroom floor. And, I thought more than once...how much longer do I have, how far has it metastisized. I have, in fact, come far. I'm not stuck on the floor or on the couch..I went for my first walk around the block yesterday...granted, fair to say at this pace, it still was with a slight limp...but it was a step forward.
In running and life, keeping pace emotionally is more difficult than physically. The piece I'm struggling with is keeping my momentum...I need to keep moving forward, while facing this new reality day in and day out...while the rest of the world continues on their hectic merry-go-round ride...I am on the bench watching...trying to be optimistic and moving forward...but afraid of being stuck with no pace...or worse, going backwards...
But perhaps, like that new inexperienced runner...I've been wrong about pace all along...maybe, just maybe...while it goes round and round...maybe I'm right where I should be...maybe the best pace and place depends on me ditching the garmin altogether and enjoying the only run we are all given...taking it all in...enjoying the view off of the merry-go-round.....
Thursday, June 25, 2015
The Sweet Spot: a runner adjusts after multiple surgeries for Metastic Melanoma
The sweet spot in running is what I refer to when you are racing, and you are cruising along at that perfect pace you've been training for & everything feels smooth, easy...so easy, in fact, you have to hold yourself back...you've done the training, it's race day, everything is perfect. You run at your race pace feeling like it is effortless....the sweet spot. Runners pray to the running gods before each race for this moment...it's a beautiful place to exist.
My sweet spot right now cannot be found out on the pavement...it's in my bed probably about minutes before I awaken from sleep. I'm conscious of my body, but I am not yet fully awake. I feel no pain. I don't feel the drain hanging from my leg that makes it near impossible to be comfortable in the night. I don't feel the swelling above my leg where they removed all of my lymph nodes...that during the day feels like I've survived a horrible fire. My legs don't feel heavy, filling with lead with every half limp step I take. For a brief moment before I fully awaken...I feel like myself...my former self before cancer...cruising along, light on my feet, passing people as I go...just smooth and easy.
When I do wake, I am brought back to reality...snapped right out of the sweet spot. It's almost immediate, & it still surprises me each morning when it shakes me right back. I am no longer smooth and easy....even paced...passing people. I can't walk without a limp right now, and that's a significant improvement these past two weeks...me walking, without help.
I've won little victories along the way...driving down to Pic n Pay to pick up a treat from the bakery for my kids....all the while, trying to maintain composure as I limp across the parking lot. I've had people stare at me, either from recognition wondering what the heck happened to me, or complete strangers concerned asking me if I needed any help. "Oh no, I am fine, thank you"...as I limp, hobble back to the bakery, back straight, head up high..as if they are crazy that this is anything but normal.
You know that person in a race, the one who is not running even paced in the sweet spot...the one who is way in the back...in obvious pain, but refuses to walk it off. The volunteers offer up water, ask if he/she needs a medical tent..."No"....he/she usually responds and continues on. He will probably be the last one to finish the race, but he will finish....
My reality as I continue in my recovery is just like that person in the back of the pack in the marathon....barely hanging on...in so much pain, but refuses to quit...refuses the medical tent....is determined to get to that finish. It has not been easy to maintain that kind of perseverance.
It is a roller coaster of a ride daily to hang on to that kind of determination...the will not to quit....
I do still think on a whole, even before my diagnosis, that I have always had an excellent perspective on life...these past two weeks, though, I have gained some new perspective...I've walked in other people's shoes. I spent one night on the bathroom floor vomiting for 14 hours straight. I've had to have two grown adult men help me into my daughter's school for graduation because I was too weak to walk on my own. I most recently fought back tears behind my sunglasses as I tried to walk across a parking lot with my girls on our way to a movie. I've looked in the mirror at my swollen thigh & hip & cried, wondering if anyone could ever look at me and see someone strong and beautiful. I've been to that rock bottom dirt floor, wondering if maybe, if it does come back and it's to the brain.....I would be better off just dying a respectable death in Vermont or Oregon.
I have learned that perspective is not just your view on life...perhaps a good perspective is being able to see it through any eyes. Perhaps good perspective is also acknowledging the struggle, the struggle of others.....the uneven, often painful to watch...but gutsy grit and fight that all kinds of people go through all the time, often unknown. Perhaps my sweet spot will change....because of where I have been, and what I have yet to still conquer...perhaps this new set of eyes will not only allow me the strength to persevere, stronger than ever...perhaps it will help me recreate a new sweet spot.
'
My sweet spot right now cannot be found out on the pavement...it's in my bed probably about minutes before I awaken from sleep. I'm conscious of my body, but I am not yet fully awake. I feel no pain. I don't feel the drain hanging from my leg that makes it near impossible to be comfortable in the night. I don't feel the swelling above my leg where they removed all of my lymph nodes...that during the day feels like I've survived a horrible fire. My legs don't feel heavy, filling with lead with every half limp step I take. For a brief moment before I fully awaken...I feel like myself...my former self before cancer...cruising along, light on my feet, passing people as I go...just smooth and easy.
When I do wake, I am brought back to reality...snapped right out of the sweet spot. It's almost immediate, & it still surprises me each morning when it shakes me right back. I am no longer smooth and easy....even paced...passing people. I can't walk without a limp right now, and that's a significant improvement these past two weeks...me walking, without help.
I've won little victories along the way...driving down to Pic n Pay to pick up a treat from the bakery for my kids....all the while, trying to maintain composure as I limp across the parking lot. I've had people stare at me, either from recognition wondering what the heck happened to me, or complete strangers concerned asking me if I needed any help. "Oh no, I am fine, thank you"...as I limp, hobble back to the bakery, back straight, head up high..as if they are crazy that this is anything but normal.
You know that person in a race, the one who is not running even paced in the sweet spot...the one who is way in the back...in obvious pain, but refuses to walk it off. The volunteers offer up water, ask if he/she needs a medical tent..."No"....he/she usually responds and continues on. He will probably be the last one to finish the race, but he will finish....
My reality as I continue in my recovery is just like that person in the back of the pack in the marathon....barely hanging on...in so much pain, but refuses to quit...refuses the medical tent....is determined to get to that finish. It has not been easy to maintain that kind of perseverance.
It is a roller coaster of a ride daily to hang on to that kind of determination...the will not to quit....
I do still think on a whole, even before my diagnosis, that I have always had an excellent perspective on life...these past two weeks, though, I have gained some new perspective...I've walked in other people's shoes. I spent one night on the bathroom floor vomiting for 14 hours straight. I've had to have two grown adult men help me into my daughter's school for graduation because I was too weak to walk on my own. I most recently fought back tears behind my sunglasses as I tried to walk across a parking lot with my girls on our way to a movie. I've looked in the mirror at my swollen thigh & hip & cried, wondering if anyone could ever look at me and see someone strong and beautiful. I've been to that rock bottom dirt floor, wondering if maybe, if it does come back and it's to the brain.....I would be better off just dying a respectable death in Vermont or Oregon.
I have learned that perspective is not just your view on life...perhaps a good perspective is being able to see it through any eyes. Perhaps good perspective is also acknowledging the struggle, the struggle of others.....the uneven, often painful to watch...but gutsy grit and fight that all kinds of people go through all the time, often unknown. Perhaps my sweet spot will change....because of where I have been, and what I have yet to still conquer...perhaps this new set of eyes will not only allow me the strength to persevere, stronger than ever...perhaps it will help me recreate a new sweet spot.
'
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Perspective, perception and the marathon....
Funny how getting diagnosed with a very real and very scary disease can evoke all kinds of words being tossed around...all with good intent of course, but being the one sorting through all this...the diagnosis and the good intents, you really start to overanalyze every little detail...right down to use of language and words. This diagnosis of Metastic Melanoma (no, this is NOT a f*&%ing journey, adventure, or bump in the road)...this is cancer...and ironically, as I deal with cancer daily, it reminds me of running a marathon.
For one thing, yes, I do believe that attitude is everything...but let's make something very clear...I did not need to be diagnosed with cancer to have a good perspective on life. For the record, the definition of perspective is "a point of view used to look at things or attitude towards things." Anyone who has ever ran or been any kind of competitive athlete with any kind of success...has good perspective when it comes to their sport (running, team sports, etc). I have ran only two marathons...the first one to qualify for Boston, the second, running Boston. It's fair to say I have a great attitude towards the ups and downs of my running and the ups and downs of life. I never would have made it through the training to begin with if I didn't have a good perspective to begin with.
Perception, however, is another word...often used interchangeably with perspective. Perception is the interpretation one gives through his awareness or a process of being aware through the senses. The perception of marathons from the average person is pretty fair...I will tell you that marathons and marathon training is not easy. It is hard, it hurts, and many, many times you will want to quit. Every sense you have will be taxed...and then, there are the emotional ones...you'll have good runs, horrible runs, and all other kinds in between. Physically, you'll be sick to your stomach, be ravenously hungry, cramp so bad you're not sure you can walk...let alone run...that is your body perceiving what is real stress on it. It is aware of how taxing marathon training and marathons are.
As I sort through this diagnosis...and yet another surgery next week where they will do what's called a pelvic dissection of my lymph nodes...my perception of my body has changed....my body is stressed physically....and emotionally, I don't know when I will run again...there's a chance I may not be able to safely run ever again....and that brings the kind of emotional pain only a runner would understand.
This is reality...this is not me having a bad perspective on my diagnois...this is my perception of what could happen based on what the surgeons have told me regarding recovery, complications and the after. My perception has already told me that this is going to suck...I already am still healing...still in pain from one of my 3 inch incisions...some days it hurts to sit, stand, walk & just be. My perception is that frankly, cancer does suck...and anyone who has been through it or loved someone who has been through it or is going through it and has an inkling of what they are physically going through...they have an accurate perception on this disease, and they will tell you, yes, it does suck....and that's without getting into the whole emotional side of what cancer does to you.
But like a marathon, with a cancer diagnosis, you gain new and different perspectives through each mile...each one can evoke a different emotion...some moments I want to cry...cry because I physically am in pain and have no control over it. Other moments I want to cry because like the oncologists commented at my last visit, "so basically, other than this...this cancer...you can run circles around everyone"....a compliment yes, but all I can think is right now, yes, but what about after my surgery...when I'm told I cannot do anything with my lower body while I recover....and what if, what if, what if...
When I come to the good miles, and there are some good miles...I think f&*k the doctors, the surgeons....all of them...they don't know me. Don't tell me statistics...don't tell me what I can and cannot do...you don't know me....I have a great perspective on life...I always have. I don't need cancer to give me good perpective...I just need me...becuase I am a fighter, and I don't do what everybody else is doing...I run to the beat of my own run...
Because of cancer, my perception of the world may have changed...it is a cruel reminder that people, real people go through horrible, horrible things all the time...someone, somewhere is fighting a battle of their own...in pain physically and emotionally.... That line...of where the world is good and where real people are going through real battles...it's so fine...you just never know when you might end up on the other side.
Before and after the diagnosis, my perspective, has remained unchanged. I am not always strong...I cry like the best of them...but I believe that overall, in most moments, I have an excellent attitude, good times and bad. My job on this earth is to set an example for three little ladies...my goal for them is that they will always have a good perspective on life, through the good times and bad...through tears and laughter...through all the miles of the marathon...
For one thing, yes, I do believe that attitude is everything...but let's make something very clear...I did not need to be diagnosed with cancer to have a good perspective on life. For the record, the definition of perspective is "a point of view used to look at things or attitude towards things." Anyone who has ever ran or been any kind of competitive athlete with any kind of success...has good perspective when it comes to their sport (running, team sports, etc). I have ran only two marathons...the first one to qualify for Boston, the second, running Boston. It's fair to say I have a great attitude towards the ups and downs of my running and the ups and downs of life. I never would have made it through the training to begin with if I didn't have a good perspective to begin with.
Perception, however, is another word...often used interchangeably with perspective. Perception is the interpretation one gives through his awareness or a process of being aware through the senses. The perception of marathons from the average person is pretty fair...I will tell you that marathons and marathon training is not easy. It is hard, it hurts, and many, many times you will want to quit. Every sense you have will be taxed...and then, there are the emotional ones...you'll have good runs, horrible runs, and all other kinds in between. Physically, you'll be sick to your stomach, be ravenously hungry, cramp so bad you're not sure you can walk...let alone run...that is your body perceiving what is real stress on it. It is aware of how taxing marathon training and marathons are.
As I sort through this diagnosis...and yet another surgery next week where they will do what's called a pelvic dissection of my lymph nodes...my perception of my body has changed....my body is stressed physically....and emotionally, I don't know when I will run again...there's a chance I may not be able to safely run ever again....and that brings the kind of emotional pain only a runner would understand.
This is reality...this is not me having a bad perspective on my diagnois...this is my perception of what could happen based on what the surgeons have told me regarding recovery, complications and the after. My perception has already told me that this is going to suck...I already am still healing...still in pain from one of my 3 inch incisions...some days it hurts to sit, stand, walk & just be. My perception is that frankly, cancer does suck...and anyone who has been through it or loved someone who has been through it or is going through it and has an inkling of what they are physically going through...they have an accurate perception on this disease, and they will tell you, yes, it does suck....and that's without getting into the whole emotional side of what cancer does to you.
But like a marathon, with a cancer diagnosis, you gain new and different perspectives through each mile...each one can evoke a different emotion...some moments I want to cry...cry because I physically am in pain and have no control over it. Other moments I want to cry because like the oncologists commented at my last visit, "so basically, other than this...this cancer...you can run circles around everyone"....a compliment yes, but all I can think is right now, yes, but what about after my surgery...when I'm told I cannot do anything with my lower body while I recover....and what if, what if, what if...
When I come to the good miles, and there are some good miles...I think f&*k the doctors, the surgeons....all of them...they don't know me. Don't tell me statistics...don't tell me what I can and cannot do...you don't know me....I have a great perspective on life...I always have. I don't need cancer to give me good perpective...I just need me...becuase I am a fighter, and I don't do what everybody else is doing...I run to the beat of my own run...
Because of cancer, my perception of the world may have changed...it is a cruel reminder that people, real people go through horrible, horrible things all the time...someone, somewhere is fighting a battle of their own...in pain physically and emotionally.... That line...of where the world is good and where real people are going through real battles...it's so fine...you just never know when you might end up on the other side.
Before and after the diagnosis, my perspective, has remained unchanged. I am not always strong...I cry like the best of them...but I believe that overall, in most moments, I have an excellent attitude, good times and bad. My job on this earth is to set an example for three little ladies...my goal for them is that they will always have a good perspective on life, through the good times and bad...through tears and laughter...through all the miles of the marathon...
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Running towards Cancer
Three Mondays ago, I was running the Boston Marathon. Two Mondays ago, I got the call that my biopsy was positive. This past Monday, I got up, ran, brought kids to school, went to work...etc, etc...except this past Monday I knew I had cancer.
Life continued to go on, as did I as I plowed through my normalcies of the day...all the while waiting for the end of the week...when I would go to the hospital to have my pet scans...checking to see if the cancer had spread to my vital organs.
I've always ran from things...when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer...I ran. When I dated a guy with a drinking problem...I ran. When I couldn't look in the mirror without seeing imperfection...I ran.
I ran yesterday when I couldn't stay in control of my emotions...that pendulum you swing on when you've been told it's positive...going back and forth from fear for my kids to brave, I'm going to kick this cancer's ass...to just plain annoyance because I don't have time for this.
I can't run away from this one. I have to face it head on...I will continue to run because that's what I do...but I won't run away from my feelings of being scared, frustrated, & annoyed.
I also won't run away from the world and pretend like this isn't happening. It is...and I will run to as many people as I can and maybe my embracing and running towards the truth will help them save someone they love or themselves.
Today is Thursday night....I found out just a bit ago that my pet scans look clear. I do know I still have some hurdles to run towards face on...a surgery or two...and those results will dictate the path of treatment. I won't be able to run for a little bit after these surgeries...but I will still be running, hurdling each step as I come to it.
Life continued to go on, as did I as I plowed through my normalcies of the day...all the while waiting for the end of the week...when I would go to the hospital to have my pet scans...checking to see if the cancer had spread to my vital organs.
I've always ran from things...when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer...I ran. When I dated a guy with a drinking problem...I ran. When I couldn't look in the mirror without seeing imperfection...I ran.
I ran yesterday when I couldn't stay in control of my emotions...that pendulum you swing on when you've been told it's positive...going back and forth from fear for my kids to brave, I'm going to kick this cancer's ass...to just plain annoyance because I don't have time for this.
I can't run away from this one. I have to face it head on...I will continue to run because that's what I do...but I won't run away from my feelings of being scared, frustrated, & annoyed.
I also won't run away from the world and pretend like this isn't happening. It is...and I will run to as many people as I can and maybe my embracing and running towards the truth will help them save someone they love or themselves.
Today is Thursday night....I found out just a bit ago that my pet scans look clear. I do know I still have some hurdles to run towards face on...a surgery or two...and those results will dictate the path of treatment. I won't be able to run for a little bit after these surgeries...but I will still be running, hurdling each step as I come to it.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Boston: A Story of Compassion
To steal a line from my upmost favorite movie of all times..."Love, actually is, all around"...This has never been truer for me than at the Boston Marathon...
As a spectator in the past, I was aware of the energy and excitment...as a runner, I experienced the love & compassion...there are good, good people...you just have to stop and look around...love is really all around....
Of all the stories I could tell of my first experience at the Boston Marathon as a runner...the most powerful and most emotional one happened well after I had crossed the finish line.
The weather was a high 30's, low 40's...I had been poured on in my coral while I was waiting to start...the rain continued along the route from Hopkinton to Boston. I rung my shirt out at each water stop...by the time we hit the city...the winds had really set in.
When you finally cross the finish line of a marathon....and stop...that's when everything starts...your body temperature drops, your hip flexors start firing...if you haven't had any cramping yet...you will, somewhere...the nauseau sets in...you need liquid, salt, anthing to try to get the body back in balance...and as you are going through this...you are desparately searching for your person...your family...the people who will help carry you to the car so to speak or sometimes quite literally...
I stood out at that family meeting area for B (as in Beland) for over 30 minutes...the wind was whipping my post finish blanket around...two separate people stopped to try and help me, and call my people...noone answered their phone. A man even wrapped me in his coat until his person finished...I assured him I was okay & gave him his coat for his wife...& proceeded to try and find our 2nd back up meeting area. The only minor problem was that now I was violently shaking & began to feel a little disorientated...all I could see was tall, massive sky scrapers...and strangers everywhere...I made it over to the wall of one of the buildings to hover against from the wind with tears streaming down my face...
Another woman must have noticed me & asked me if I was okay...all I could mutter was Boston Common (that's where our 2nd meeting place was)....I remember the officer coming over & I insisted that no I didn't need a wheelchair or medical help...that I just needed someone to point me which direction to go...
The officer was on security duty of the family area...He cursed that he wished he had his cruiser otherwise he'd drive me over right then and there. Instead, he did what he could and he guided me away from the area, we crossed some traffic and he pointed straight away to the Common...there 3 people stood outside their hotel and I remember them talking with the cop & then, taking over.
I don't remember their names...two of them were a couple from DC...the man was suppose to run the marathon but was sidelined because of a vein thrombosis...they joked and made light of this, something about 6 feet under...the 3rd person was their friend from Vermont....
They wrapped me in coats, & wrapped their arms on both sides of me...walking me along the city blocks to the common. They called my husband...got me into a parking kiosk/shelter...one rubbed my quads the other was rubbing my hands and fingers...while the 3rd, told jokes & kept trying to make me drink water.
I know tears continued to flow down my face...but they are tears of gratitude...here when I couldn't find my family to help me...three complete strangers became that...they recognized I was in trouble, they came to my need...all I could do was thank them when my husband finally came to the spot they had directed him to over the phone....they gave me huge hugs and kisses on the cheek & told me congratulations...and then, they were gone.
I can't even remember their names....and I'm not sure I would recognize them if I saw them....but that moment, they were my family...
Boston is such a special event...there are so many acts of love, kindness and compassion along the way...every person is there with one intent...to support someone...I'll never forget that feeling...that feeling that there is so, so much good in the world...so much love...all it takes is one samll act of kindness.
I will never forget my Boston family...they reminded me that love actually is all around...and all it takes is one simple act of compassion...
As a spectator in the past, I was aware of the energy and excitment...as a runner, I experienced the love & compassion...there are good, good people...you just have to stop and look around...love is really all around....
Of all the stories I could tell of my first experience at the Boston Marathon as a runner...the most powerful and most emotional one happened well after I had crossed the finish line.
The weather was a high 30's, low 40's...I had been poured on in my coral while I was waiting to start...the rain continued along the route from Hopkinton to Boston. I rung my shirt out at each water stop...by the time we hit the city...the winds had really set in.
When you finally cross the finish line of a marathon....and stop...that's when everything starts...your body temperature drops, your hip flexors start firing...if you haven't had any cramping yet...you will, somewhere...the nauseau sets in...you need liquid, salt, anthing to try to get the body back in balance...and as you are going through this...you are desparately searching for your person...your family...the people who will help carry you to the car so to speak or sometimes quite literally...
I stood out at that family meeting area for B (as in Beland) for over 30 minutes...the wind was whipping my post finish blanket around...two separate people stopped to try and help me, and call my people...noone answered their phone. A man even wrapped me in his coat until his person finished...I assured him I was okay & gave him his coat for his wife...& proceeded to try and find our 2nd back up meeting area. The only minor problem was that now I was violently shaking & began to feel a little disorientated...all I could see was tall, massive sky scrapers...and strangers everywhere...I made it over to the wall of one of the buildings to hover against from the wind with tears streaming down my face...
Another woman must have noticed me & asked me if I was okay...all I could mutter was Boston Common (that's where our 2nd meeting place was)....I remember the officer coming over & I insisted that no I didn't need a wheelchair or medical help...that I just needed someone to point me which direction to go...
The officer was on security duty of the family area...He cursed that he wished he had his cruiser otherwise he'd drive me over right then and there. Instead, he did what he could and he guided me away from the area, we crossed some traffic and he pointed straight away to the Common...there 3 people stood outside their hotel and I remember them talking with the cop & then, taking over.
I don't remember their names...two of them were a couple from DC...the man was suppose to run the marathon but was sidelined because of a vein thrombosis...they joked and made light of this, something about 6 feet under...the 3rd person was their friend from Vermont....
They wrapped me in coats, & wrapped their arms on both sides of me...walking me along the city blocks to the common. They called my husband...got me into a parking kiosk/shelter...one rubbed my quads the other was rubbing my hands and fingers...while the 3rd, told jokes & kept trying to make me drink water.
I know tears continued to flow down my face...but they are tears of gratitude...here when I couldn't find my family to help me...three complete strangers became that...they recognized I was in trouble, they came to my need...all I could do was thank them when my husband finally came to the spot they had directed him to over the phone....they gave me huge hugs and kisses on the cheek & told me congratulations...and then, they were gone.
I can't even remember their names....and I'm not sure I would recognize them if I saw them....but that moment, they were my family...
Boston is such a special event...there are so many acts of love, kindness and compassion along the way...every person is there with one intent...to support someone...I'll never forget that feeling...that feeling that there is so, so much good in the world...so much love...all it takes is one samll act of kindness.
I will never forget my Boston family...they reminded me that love actually is all around...and all it takes is one simple act of compassion...
Saturday, March 28, 2015
To My 3 Daughters,
I know my training sometimes takes a toll on you that I don't always realize. I am sometimes tired, and I get distracted when you're telling me what you did at school...or the amazing book you just started from the library...for that I am truly, deeply sorry...sorry for not always being as attentive as you need me to be at that moment...x the three of you.
I am so sorry I forgot to remind your grandparents about your history project presentation. I forgot to pack two snacks because in 4th grade you have snack 2x. And my littlest, yes, I keep falling asleep when you are practicing your amazing 1st grade reading skills.
What you may not realize, that someday I hope you will see...all my training, all my running...every time I set out to conquer something new...I do it for you. Well, it is for me first...but 2nd most important...Iam trying to teach you in the only way I know how...so that you learn all the things I wish I had known. There are so many things I want you to know, so many skills for you to learn, so that you can be the strong, independent & world changing women I think you will be someday.
So here's my list of what I hope for you some day...and how I got to be the person I am today...someone who sometimes is distracted, or limping down the stairs....or signing up for a race I have no time or business training for with my only 80 percent well body...believe it or not, I do it all for you....
1. Don't ever, ever take "you can't" as the final answer when it comes to your abilities. I started a running career based on "you are just not built for long distance running." Use that to fuel you when you are about to give up...on a run, on the field, in the classroom...wherever...nobody can tell you, you can't, except you...and if you choose to give up, it's your choice. But, remember this...you have my stubborn persistance...so it will sit better with you to try and fail than to give up.
2. It's okay to put yourself first sometimes...you will need to learn this an adult and especially when you are managing your own family some day. I know you wouldn't believe this now but some day, you will realize I probably should have put myself first more often. Training for Boston right now, is so hard. With all your ski racing, basketball, and now LAX starting up...the one time I do put myself ahead of you all is when it is bedtime...when I've crawled into bed at 9pm and fallen asleep immediately. Can you even imagine what it's like training for a marathon while trying to fuel your own kids' dreams of Olympic Ski Team? I do get cranky when you need to be in bed...because I am exhausted. When you take care of yourself first, you are able to help many more people around you. Remember this. And whether you become an Olympic skier, an artist, or a politician...sleep is the cure for everything.
3. You are beautiful....I am still running a lot & running hard trying to figure this one out. I hope for you that you realize that just because you don't fit into the "norm" doesn't mean you aren't perfectly beautiful. I've wasted a whole half of my life fighting this one...you are going to be very tall. You are likely going to have beautiful strong shoulders. I know you will have very long, very strong legs....you are beautiful. Just the way you are. You will not be of normal height or build. You won't blend in. And you probably won't be a 120lb supermodel (thank God!!!) If I had taken up running earlier in my life...it might have saved me a lot of heartache and health problems. I run now because it is the one time I do feel beautiful and can embrace my strength and be at ease with it....even when I am not completely well...inside or out. I hope you will always feel beautiful for who you are no matter what you are doing....because you are perfect exactly the way you are.
4. You have no limits...Bdawg, right now you want to be an Olympic ski racer, archeologist, and have your own business (that ski sled for race day equipment should be patented! Like now before college!)....you can do it all. All it takes is hard work. And maybe you my middle...will surprise us all...you with your little technical brain...trying to create websites and playing chess and out skiing the whole family....the world is at your finger tips, you can, you absolutely can. And my big baby...my little Gronk...always smiling, easy...you could be a world famous artist while "out playing" your whole family at any sport..I just know with your organic and clean eating habits..once you find your sport, you will out play and out muscle us all...all while keeping us entertained with your comic ways.
5. Be proud to be yourself...I will never run as fast as one of dear friends. That's okay. I may never run another marathon after Boston...and that's okay. I am a squeaker...I qualified by the skin of my teeth...but I did it. I won't be breaking any PR's on April 20th...but I will hold my head high because I got the golden ticket to start & no matter how long it takes me, I will be proud to finish. And I will be thinking of you girls the whole time...because on many of those lonely 18, 19, 20 mile training runs...I thought of you...and how proud I am for the girls you are becoming. I am so proud of all three of you...for being you, just the way you are.
I love you all so very much. I will see you after the finish...and I will try to give all three of you my utmost attention and not fall asleep when I get home after the race.
Love,
Mom
I know my training sometimes takes a toll on you that I don't always realize. I am sometimes tired, and I get distracted when you're telling me what you did at school...or the amazing book you just started from the library...for that I am truly, deeply sorry...sorry for not always being as attentive as you need me to be at that moment...x the three of you.
I am so sorry I forgot to remind your grandparents about your history project presentation. I forgot to pack two snacks because in 4th grade you have snack 2x. And my littlest, yes, I keep falling asleep when you are practicing your amazing 1st grade reading skills.
What you may not realize, that someday I hope you will see...all my training, all my running...every time I set out to conquer something new...I do it for you. Well, it is for me first...but 2nd most important...Iam trying to teach you in the only way I know how...so that you learn all the things I wish I had known. There are so many things I want you to know, so many skills for you to learn, so that you can be the strong, independent & world changing women I think you will be someday.
So here's my list of what I hope for you some day...and how I got to be the person I am today...someone who sometimes is distracted, or limping down the stairs....or signing up for a race I have no time or business training for with my only 80 percent well body...believe it or not, I do it all for you....
1. Don't ever, ever take "you can't" as the final answer when it comes to your abilities. I started a running career based on "you are just not built for long distance running." Use that to fuel you when you are about to give up...on a run, on the field, in the classroom...wherever...nobody can tell you, you can't, except you...and if you choose to give up, it's your choice. But, remember this...you have my stubborn persistance...so it will sit better with you to try and fail than to give up.
2. It's okay to put yourself first sometimes...you will need to learn this an adult and especially when you are managing your own family some day. I know you wouldn't believe this now but some day, you will realize I probably should have put myself first more often. Training for Boston right now, is so hard. With all your ski racing, basketball, and now LAX starting up...the one time I do put myself ahead of you all is when it is bedtime...when I've crawled into bed at 9pm and fallen asleep immediately. Can you even imagine what it's like training for a marathon while trying to fuel your own kids' dreams of Olympic Ski Team? I do get cranky when you need to be in bed...because I am exhausted. When you take care of yourself first, you are able to help many more people around you. Remember this. And whether you become an Olympic skier, an artist, or a politician...sleep is the cure for everything.
3. You are beautiful....I am still running a lot & running hard trying to figure this one out. I hope for you that you realize that just because you don't fit into the "norm" doesn't mean you aren't perfectly beautiful. I've wasted a whole half of my life fighting this one...you are going to be very tall. You are likely going to have beautiful strong shoulders. I know you will have very long, very strong legs....you are beautiful. Just the way you are. You will not be of normal height or build. You won't blend in. And you probably won't be a 120lb supermodel (thank God!!!) If I had taken up running earlier in my life...it might have saved me a lot of heartache and health problems. I run now because it is the one time I do feel beautiful and can embrace my strength and be at ease with it....even when I am not completely well...inside or out. I hope you will always feel beautiful for who you are no matter what you are doing....because you are perfect exactly the way you are.
4. You have no limits...Bdawg, right now you want to be an Olympic ski racer, archeologist, and have your own business (that ski sled for race day equipment should be patented! Like now before college!)....you can do it all. All it takes is hard work. And maybe you my middle...will surprise us all...you with your little technical brain...trying to create websites and playing chess and out skiing the whole family....the world is at your finger tips, you can, you absolutely can. And my big baby...my little Gronk...always smiling, easy...you could be a world famous artist while "out playing" your whole family at any sport..I just know with your organic and clean eating habits..once you find your sport, you will out play and out muscle us all...all while keeping us entertained with your comic ways.
5. Be proud to be yourself...I will never run as fast as one of dear friends. That's okay. I may never run another marathon after Boston...and that's okay. I am a squeaker...I qualified by the skin of my teeth...but I did it. I won't be breaking any PR's on April 20th...but I will hold my head high because I got the golden ticket to start & no matter how long it takes me, I will be proud to finish. And I will be thinking of you girls the whole time...because on many of those lonely 18, 19, 20 mile training runs...I thought of you...and how proud I am for the girls you are becoming. I am so proud of all three of you...for being you, just the way you are.
I love you all so very much. I will see you after the finish...and I will try to give all three of you my utmost attention and not fall asleep when I get home after the race.
Love,
Mom
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