Think Beautiful Thoughts

Our diversions are metaphors for our lives. For me, it’s running and gardening. So, when I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML) three months ago, naturally, I leaned into one of those activities to cope. Gardening was out when I was admitted directly into the hospital for induction following the diagnosis. I saw nothing green for 30 days, including food. Running it was. My marathon training had taught me I could make my brain do anything. My blood may be failing me; my mind was not about to. I knew three strategies that worked for me in running, maybe they would work here too.

Find a Mantra

I needed to find a new one. My running one was you chose to do this; get on with it. That one didn’t seem workable in this case. I found one in my stack of get well cards and not the ones about this being a “journey” or a “plan.” It was on a card from a friend whose whose granddaughter was also going through chemo. She wrote these words, “Eat well. Rest well. Think beautiful thoughts.” What a wonderful mantra for running and recovery.

Run without a Watch

It’s easy to get caught up in the numbers these days. When they’re up, it’s like a burst of endorphins. I’m invincible. When they’re down, it’s like a muscle pull. I’m vulnerable. Some of my most enjoyable runs were when I ran simply to run. I didn’t judge myself by minutes, miles, or days in a row. The critic voice popped up in recovery too. The markers were ever moving and difficult to hit. I reminded myself not to judge success; however small, by a CBC number. Numbers didn’t define me; not in running, not in recovery.

Weather the Course

I’ve never run and experienced a marathon the same way twice; there’s the weather. Some were humid. Some were rainy. Some were perfect. Then, there’s what my body did. Some with blisters. Some with chafing. Some with bladder issues. In all those situations, I just kept telling myself to keep moving; either the conditions would change or I would finish. Believe me, no day is ever the same in this process either. One day, I feel like I can run several miles. The next day my tech says your numbers are in the “terlit.” Keep moving, I tell myself; there’s someone with Vaseline on a stick ahead; metaphorically speaking, of course.

Eva Marie and Me

I’m that neighbor. The one just now putting away my Christmas decorations. I usually start the taking down process around Epiphany. Unlike the Wise Men, I don’t find the Baby Jesus. I find that Christmas was over three weeks ago and a brand new year has started.

I’m also a hoarder. I was folding away all those gift bags to use again next year. I discovered one I had forgotten about from a friend. This friend always gives me unusual gifts.  I imagine her moving through a store until she finds something she can weave a good story around. I had already knocked out the Bailey’s Irish Cream that was in the bag at a tailgate a few weeks earlier.

Something else was left in the bag. An Eva Marie action figure. I can’t remember the story my friend had told about the WWE doll, but Eva Marie would go beside the Mr. Potato Head and Underdog bobble heads from Christmases past. I adjusted the figure's movable joints to sit on my shelf. She looked exactly like something out that children’s book, Elf on a Shelf; the story that describes how Santa's "scout elves" hide in people's homes to watch over events and report back to Santa who’s naughty and nice. 

Without knowing it, my friend had given me an accountability partner that would stay up year around. My little action figure reminds me to move every day. Do something whether it's running, strength training, or getting up and away from my work desk. Just move. I may never rock the abs, tatts, or bikini, but Eva Marie reminds me I can be an action figure every day.Underdog just makes me smile.

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It's New Year's But It Feels Like July 1

The upside of cracking open a new notebook each month is there really is no difference from one month to the next. I have the same experience on January 1 as I do July 1. It's like Anne Lamott tweeted earlier this morning, “Another word for New Year's Day is "Thursday." 

My notebooks are a variation on a practice I read about in Natalie Goldberg’s Writing down the Bones. I buy a different notebook each month and fill it up with my thoughts and observations. I also note my runs and tape my race bibs in there; so far, I’m planning for January to hold my Rogue 10K bib, February to hold my Austin Half Marathon bib, and a fall month to hold my tenth marathon bib. Today was supposed to have my Commitment Day 5K bib pinned in, but the outdoor portion was cancelled due to weather; always a good idea to keep Central Texas drivers off the road in a wintry mix.

Last night, I started reading through my notebooks from 2014. I usually pour a glass of red wine and settle in for a few hours. I made it through April. I didn’t want to read any further. Not because it was such a horrible year, although it did include my dad passing away from complications due to Alzheimer’s, but that I was tired of looking back. Most of what I worried and wrote about didn’t happen and if it did, it didn’t happen like I thought it would. A lot of my problems had solutions I never imagined. Wonderful solutions. I was ready to fill new blank notebooks and put 2014 to bed.

If I have a resolution, it’s a continuing one, to consistently keep the commitments I make to myself. I leafed through a 2014 calendar that I unpinned from my wall today. I crossed a line through the date squares and recorded the miles I ran or a strength or cross training sessions I completed in them. Some months and weeks were better than others were. I’m sure if I looked back at my notebooks those squares would correlate to entries that bragged about weight loss and productive workdays. Commitment in one area usually dominoes into other areas. So, I kept my promise to run today despite the weather and eat a bowl of black-eyed peas and greens. It's Thursday and I still have thirty days to go in my Grumpy Cat notebook.

What Do I Do Now?

The first week following a marathon is typical for me. I’m sore and I can’t walk down a flight of stairs without uttering a banshee-like sound. I wait patiently for the race photos hoping there’s at least one I want to purchase. Then, the next Saturday or Sunday after the marathon rolls around. I start remembering … this time last week I was at 16 miles. Wait a minute, this was where my long runs were tucked into my schedule. These were the ones that were a part of my weekends for the past twenty-five weeks. Wow, that’s a lot of time that I blocked off; because, you know, I'm slow. Now, what do I do? I can’t remember all the things I told myself I could be doing instead of that week’s long runs. Suddenly, my closets don’t seem all that in need of cleaning

My mama cat is happy I’m not training long anymore. She’s curled up in my lap. We’re outside. There’s a nice breeze so that the leaves are falling. This is as close as it gets to fall here. We’re watching a hummingbird at my feeder that’s gone about as far south as it wants to. My plan is to work back up to a base so that I don’t have to start from scratch again. Although it goes by quickly, twenty-five weeks is still twenty-five weeks. 

For December, I’ll be content to complete the Runner’s World Run Streak, have fun with the RunChat Hunt, and smile and roll over in bed when rain starts to fall on a Sunday morning. I don’t have to beat the heat or humidity yet.

Philadelphia Marathon - November 23, 2014

Two things I knew about Philly fans were gleaned from being a Dallas Cowboys fan. I knew they booed Santa Claus and they cheered once when Cowboys wide receiver, Michael Irvin, lay motionless on the field at Veteran’s Stadium. It’s understandable that I took the 20 advertised cheer zones at the Philadelphia Marathon on Sunday, November 23, 2014 with a grain of salt. What would they be like and would they still be there when this back of packer arrived?

Rookie Mistake

The day started chilly, 40 degrees, and early at 5:30 a.m. They told us to show up then because security would be tight. It wasn’t. I realized because of the position of my blue corral, I could’ve showed up fifteen minutes before the race start and walked right in. One more hour of sleep would've been welcome. The start was calm and controlled which was an odd thing given the number of participants, 23,000. Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter tried to high five as many of the runners as he could at the starting line. He was still there thirty minutes later when my corral ran past.

A Taste of History

As a history geek, the first seven miles where complete bliss. We ran past the National Constitution Center, Christ Church, Independence Hall, and the Liberty Bell and on the streets where Ben Franklin and John Adams had walked centuries earlier. The crowds were awesome along Chestnut Street. One older lady took a drag on a cigarette and said, "I smoke, you run."  We crossed over the Schuykill River and wound our way through University City, the heart of West Philadelphia and home to The University of Pennsylvania and Drexel University.The crazily-dressed 80's dance team got us over the hills between miles 8 and 10 before heading back towards the Philadelphia Art Museum.  It was there that I had to make a decision. Go left and continue on for 13 miles or turn right and finish with a medal, just not a marathon one. I promised to check myself and see how I felt when I got there. However, this entire trip was about making a left turn. I veered left.

More Cowbell

The second half of the Philly Marathon was an out and back route along the Schuykill River. It was beautiful; however, as a back of the packer, this is the part where the crowds tend to be few and far between. It's all about you and finishing; yet, cheering crowds were still populated along the course. Smiling volunteers in yellow shirts were at turn-around points and bridges. The young man dancing and blasting out "Shake It Off" gave us all an energy boost. The folks in Manayuk, a Native American word meaning "where we go to drink", cheered while enjoying brunch and mimosas. I grabbed the last Yuengling beer a Mile 19. The "Black Girls Run" support group seemed to be at every mile with their cowbells. They were as loud at the waning miles as they were at the start and brought such positive spirit to everyone. The folks with orange slices were an especially wonderful blessing. 

Despite a nagging back muscle spasm at 22 miles, I ran past the Rocky statue and followed a young mother in whose autistic son finished the last few yards with her. Mayor Nutter was still there smiling and high-fiving each finisher. I was one of them!

I still have warm thoughts about Philadelphia. They definitely lived up to their moniker, "the city of Brotherly Love" and make me want to plan for marathon number ten next fall. I will, however, be cheering against their Eagles tomorrow versus the Cowboys and saying a prayer for Tony Romo.

Long Run to Philly - 16 Miles

So the taper begins. It wasn't a perfect training process. Work and travel consistently intruded on the training so that I was only able to build to 16 miles for my longest run. I'm tempted to squeeze one more long run in before the Philadelphia Marathon in three weeks. A little voice inside me says, it is what it is. I'll run what I can and walk the rest; whatever it takes to finish. I've been relatively consistent in the training and kept this commitment to myself even through the Central Texas heat. I figure cooler temps will tell my body I've got a few more miles left in me. I pushed myself out the door when I didn't feel like it. I've run in some great places-Alexandria, DC, Corpus Christi, Rockport, Milwaukee, and New Orleans. I've run some great races-Freedom 5000, Run for the Water and completed the Runner's World #runstreak in the summer. Trust the process, if not the long runs.

Run for the Water Ten Miler - October 26, 2014

I try to participate in races that either have an interesting course or support a compelling story. When they do both, signing up is a no-brainer. The Run for the Water (RTW) 10-miler on Sunday, October 26, 2014 was one of those races.

RTW is the second largest fully charity-produced road race in ATX. Registration benefited the Gazelle Foundation, a local non-profit that funds and builds clean water projects in Burundi, Africa. The foundation was inspired by Gilbert Tuhabonye, a Burundi survivor of the Hutu/Tutsi civil upheaval of the 1980’s and 90’s. Gilbert always greets the runners as they finish. His smile alone is worth the effort; however, the tech shirt and #Finish 3st socks were an added bonus.

The race start was a clear, calm 62 degrees with 85% humidity. I used this run to gauge my fitness for the Philadelphia Marathon next month. It’s a challenging course cresting at six miles before a gentle downhill finish. The reward for reaching that highest point is a panoramic view of the Colorado River bending around the hills of Austin. It’s difficult not to stop and snap a picture. This year, I didn’t. I was having too good of a run. I tried to thank every police officer I passed and express gratitude at each water stop; the race, after all, was all about water.

I finished in respectable shape and within my time goal. My quads were a little tight the next day, but it was from a good and true effort. RTW was one of those races that make me feel like a better runner – inside and out.