Trying to regain fitness with post chemo fatigue

Last year at this time, I was coming off of a string of weeks where I had run 80-100 miles per week in preparation for the Vermont 100. I was doing back to back long runs every week, spending hours and hours running hilly single track trails. I felt like Cheyenne Canon was my second home. I was tired from the training, but feeling fit, strong and happy knowing I had done basically all I could to prepare myself to run 100 miles.  

This coming Monday will mark three weeks since my final chemotherapy treatment. I am still exhausted. These days I am struggling to run up anything that resembles a hill. People keep asking me if I am feeling better yet, and I am. I am no longer nauseous and my muscles and joints are no longer hurting. My friends and husband say that my mind seems sharper ("seems" being the key word). My husband has noted that he no longer finds clumps of my hair everywhere. 

I just cannot seem to shake this overwhelming feeling of being tired in every fiber of my being. The fatigue brought on by chemotherapy does not seem to be relieved by getting more sleep. Furthermore, I have dealt with insomnia since I began treatment, so I haven't felt rested in months. When I finished treatment, I was not sure how long it would take for that feeling to go away. I really thought I would bounce back quickly. What I have found is that I still have to really pace myself and be selective about what I take on. I know my energy will gradually return, but for now I need to limit how much I try to pack into each day.

Over the last nine months, I pared my life down to the essential elements. Taking care of my family was my top priority. Next came basic household chores. A lot of tasks that were not imperative did not get accomplished. I started tackling some of the neglected projects this week. I had to pause over two items. One is the binder of medically related paperwork I have accumulated since January.

This is a giant three ringed binder that I have filled with insurance paperwork, bills, etc. I had no idea the amount of paperwork I would accumulate over a few months period. For many months, it seemed like I got something every single day in the mail, either from a doctor's office or from the insurance company. I started developing a conditioned fear of checking the mail. The amount of paperwork is truly overwhelming and it feels like it will never stop coming. 

On the other hand, I found a folder where I had been collecting these.

These are the cards, notes and letters I have received since I had my surgery. I took some time to read through a few of the cards today. The words remind me of how blessed I have been by love and kindness from people both near and far. I plan to reread each one and keep them always as a reminder of light in a time of darkness. 

I continue on in my so-called running comeback. Last week I overdid things a bit. This week I pulled the reins back in to try to recover. I met Vanessa for an easy run on Monday. I am cheating and using an older picture of us, but this picture just makes me happy. Vanessa is such a fun, interesting, and entertaining lady. I have really enjoyed getting to know her over the last couple of months.

Monday afternoon, I took Peyton to the pool for the first time this summer. I am much more sensitive to heat and sun than I used to be, but it was a beautiful day and I wanted to get out and enjoy it with my little buddy. 

Tuesday morning, I did a short run around my neighborhood by myself. My husband, Peyton and I had planned to meet at Jack Quinn's Tuesday night for the club run. Peyton and I were both feeling exceptionally tired so we walked most of the route, but had fun anyway. Riley is in Texas so we took a selfie to send to her.

On Wednesday, I had the pleasure of running with two other really special ladies, Jenny and Tracey. I would love to describe what we talked about, but it was all completely inappropriate and not fit for polite company. But this is exactly why I love them. I would not bust my butt struggling to keep up with people if they were not fun and great company.

Thursday, Friday and Saturday, my husband and I ran together. We did 9 miles on Thursday morning. We ran 8 on Friday, which was the fourth of July. We had considered running one of two races that were within driving distance that morning, but ultimately decided to pass. We just did a quick run together so we could spend the rest of the day with Peyton at the zoo. As much as I enjoy racing, I need to conserve energy for things that are really important in the grand scheme of things, like taking my daughter to the zoo. It is not that racing is unimportant to me. I plan to toe the line again in the future, but first I need to regain some strength. 

Ssaturday morning, Steve and I ran 12 miles together. On Sunday, I ran ten solo.

So no speed workout this week, and no run longer than 12 miles.  I did put in over 60 miles this week, however. I have been working on improving my hill running. During chemotherapy, the slightest incline made me feel like I was going to have a heart attack. I often ended up walking up most hills. Now I am trying to get my hill running ability back by running small hills. If I have to walk a bit after I reach the top of a hill to catch my breath, that's ok. As the saying goes, you won't get better at running hills by walking them. I will continue to plug away and hopefully soon I will not need any recovery from smaller hills. I do know the proportion of time I have spent running versus walking has been increasing over the last couple of weeks. Despite my fatigue, I am starting to see glimmers of hope and I am beginning to feel more like a runner again. 

Road to Recovery

My last chemotherapy treatment was June 16. This was my first official week of being finished with treatments. I woke up Monday morning and decided to try a simple fartlek style speed workout. I have maintained a base level of running over the past few months but I certainly do not feel fit or in racing shape. 

A common theme for me throughout my treatment was that I had trouble practicing my mantra of "moderation in all things" on the days I felt halfway decent. This continues to be an issue for me. Instead of going out for a couple of miles of speed work, I felt so good and so happy that I ran ten miles at a faster pace than I have become accustomed to running. 

I had to ditch my watch long ago. I knew I was getting slower and stressing myself out by looking at my pace as it fell off over a cliff was mentally destructive. I have no idea what pace I was running on Monday, but I know it was faster than what I have been doing lately. I let perceived exertion be my guide. It felt great to really use my leg muscles and work my lungs. When I finished I felt so happy. The physical and emotional boost of getting in a good workout was tremendous. Still, I probably ran too hard for too long. I spent the next couple of days paying for my over exuberance. 

On Tuesday, I did a run/walk. I wanted some exercise but I took it easy because I had to. I really had nothing left in the tank after Monday's run. That evening, my family made it's first post cancer appearance at a Jack Quinn's Running Club run. Last summer, we were regulars at JQRC, but after I found out I had to have surgery, we stopped going. I had hoped to go some over the winter and spring, but found that I had absolutely no energy in the evenings during my treatments. It was great to be back this week and it just kind of worked out that JQRC was having a field trip to Boulder Running Company. We ran the route and enjoyed some food and family friendly games afterwards. It was a treat to get to see so many friendly and familiar faces all in one place! 

All of this activity caused me to crash by Wednesday. I met Tracey for a run in the Garden of the Gods and I am pretty sure that she thought she was going to have to call 911 while we were out there. To say I huffed and puffed my way through the Garden is an understatement. Even when I slowed to a hike, I was breathing hard and felt dizzy. A couple of times I had to come to a complete stop to return my breathing to normal. The company was great and the scenery as spectacular as always, but frankly I felt extremely frustrated with myself. I felt embarrassed that I was in such sorry condition and wondered aloud if I will ever be back to normal. 

By Thursday I started to feel a little bit better. I ran about 8 miles with minimal walking and felt more positive about things. On Friday and Saturday, my husband and I ran together and I managed to get through both runs with minimal walking. On Sunday, I woke up feeling good and managed to get in a 16 mile run with my friend Debby.

Throughout my chemotherapy, I have made it a habit to do one run over ten miles each month. Typically, it would be the weekend of my week off from treatment. So, once a month I tried to get in about 16 miles. Sixteen miles is what I consider a middle distance run. For the past several years, I have run "long" year round. I love long runs. I love being out on the trails for hours at a time. I love to run long with company and I also love to be out alone. This year, I knew I couldn't keep up with super long runs, but if I could just get that middle distance run in once/month, it would be so much easier building my long run back up. Going from 16 to 25 or 30 miles seemed manageable. Going from 5 to 30 seemed impossible. Knowing I have done what I can to maintain an endurance base will physically and mentally help me get back on track as time goes on. 

I have a ton of work to do. I am slow. I have had to incorporate walking breaks into many of my runs. I have lost a lot of the muscle I used to carry. But I know I can pull the pieces together. I may not ever be as strong a runner as I used to be, but I hope to some day be able to get back to the ultramarathons that I love. 

I have had  people say I will come back stronger than ever. I have had people say that my story has inspired them in some way. I do not know if I will come back stronger. Frankly, my body has been through a lot. Things have changed physically, and that is a reality I have to live with. If my friends or readers have been inspired in some way by my story, I am thrilled. I hope the inspiration comes from how hard I have continued to work with what is my "new normal". I have never been a particularly fast runner. I have never been running to win. I run because I love running. When it all comes together, running is my bliss. I hope that I have conveyed that it is not necessary to be fast or to win or even place in your age group. What matters is that you keep moving forward, no matter what. Not quitting, in running and in life, is more than half of the battle. You do not have to be the best, but you have to have heart.

I am excited to see what the coming weeks bring. I do not know how much longer it will be before I really notice a difference in how I feel. I realize that he road to recovery will be one of rolling hills. Recovery will not come in a straight progression. I have to learn not to push the pace too hard on the days I feel well because I pay for it afterwards in a way I never have in the past.

No running photos this week. Instead, here is a picture of my daughters and me at the Colorado College campus on the final day of Peyton's camp.

Going "home" and second acts

Last Monday I had treatment number 17. Of course, we had to run first. We have not missed a single pre chemo run. My husband has been with me every single Monday for my treatments. It was a priority for him to be with my for each treatment, and luckily he was able to make it work. He is a pretty awesome guy.

It was my kids' first full week of summer vacation. In theory this should have been a relaxing week of sleeping in, but there really has not been a whole lot of time for goofing off yet. Peyton started camp at Colorado College Monday morning and it seemed like every afternoon brought appointments and other obligations. Nevertheless, I found time for a daily run or run/walk. On Tuesday, I ran with Tracey and Arlo the wonder dog. On Wednesday, I went for a walk with Phil and his brother. After our walk, Peyton, her friend and I enjoyed looking at and learning about Phil's fish pond. I find the pond  and the fish both beautiful and fascinating. I think the girls did also.

On Thursday, I ran with Debby and Steve. We had an unseasonably cool morning that day. Since I have become very heat intolerant from the chemo, the cooler weather was a welcomed relief. The respite was brief and we were back to warmth and sunshine over the next couple of days. Friday and Saturday I ran on the Santa Fe trail, once solo and once with my husband. 

Today, for Father's Day, Steve and I ran the Falcon Trail at the US Air Force Academy. This is a favorite trial of ours. It rolls all of the way through but is not super technical and is very runner friendly. It was beautiful and sunny today but fairly cool and breezy, which made for perfect running conditions. The wetter spring we have enjoyed has brought beautiful wildflowers to the trails. I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to run almost the entire trail today. I never know how I will feel until I get out there.

I have my final treatment tomorrow. Two things have been running prominently through my mind this week. The first is how much I miss my family. I left home a year early for college and I have lived far from my family most of my adult life. When I moved to Colorado 15 years ago, it was truly love at first sight. The mountains called to me. Every time I woke up and looked at Pikes Peak, I felt like the luckiest person in the world. I have never regretted coming to Colorado. I still love my adopted home state deeply and I doubt that we will ever live elsewhere. But right now I miss my family so much that at times my heart aches. Most years, we take a trip back east over the summer. Last year, we planned our trip around the Vermont 100. This year, we planned our trip just because I need to see my family. I no longer take time for granted. We are all aging, and  I have no idea how long we will all have one another. Going to NY just feels like something I need to do and I don't ever want to look back with regret. My family is far too important to me. 

I have also been thinking about second acts in life. There are not a lot of people diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at an early stage. Not many of us are eligible for surgery. Those diagnosed after it has spread generally have an extremely poor prognosis. I was one of the fortunate few who could have surgery. When I was first told that I had to have surgery to take out half of my pancreas and my spleen, I did not feel particularly lucky. But now that I am wrapping things up, I know how fortunate I really am. 

As I look toward my last chemotherapy treatment, I am so grateful that I was given a chance for a healthy and happy future. I am well aware that many people with my particular cancer diagnosis are not so fortunate. Cancer patients often think in terms of life before and after diagnosis, because that diagnosis radically changes our lives. I loved my life "before", but now I have a whole new appreciation for life "after". I get to have an after, whereas I am so painfully aware that many people do not. I want to make every day of the "after" count. I am filled with a conflicting jumble of emotions: excitement, joy, anticipation and even fear. What will this second act bring? The possibilities are endless and I am looking forward to figuring out exactly how I will make the most of the time I have been given. 

As for this summer, I had planned to be running the Bighorn 100. That was not to be. I am not sad that I cannot be there. I know runners get disappointed when they get injured and have to miss a planned race. Right now, I just appreciate the fact that I will be here to plan future races. Instead of running 100 miles this summer, I will enjoy time with the kids, my husband, and my extended family. I will try to get back into racing shape as I regain strength and energy. For now, I look forward to finishing chemotherapy tomorrow. 

Endings, beginnings and purpose in life

time to rest and recover this week. Tuesday marked the end of the school year for both kids. Any parent or teacher knows that this is a particularly busy time of year, filled with final exams and then celebrations. My oldest daughter is now a Junior in high school. My younger daughter is finished fifth grade and now moves on to middle school. While I feel joy for my girls when they are about to embark upon an exciting transition, I cannot feel a little bit of sadness right now. After having had a child in elementary school for 11 years, that era of our lives is over. 

 

 

My illness turned my daughters' lives upside down this year. They were both affected in different ways, I think my younger daughter was more impacted by my surgery, hospital stay and recovery. I was definitely not the mother she was used to seeing for quite a while. My older daughter, I believe, struggled more with the long term possibilities. Would her mother ever be the same? Would she lose me? When one family member becomes ill, the whole family is left to struggle with the fallout. 

 

Nevertheless, my daughters went on to have good years at school and they came out of everything with their spirit still intact. I give a lot of the credit to some special teachers in my daughters' lives. I have to acknowledge Peyton's fifth grade team at Explorer. I appreciate the fact that they went the extra mile to keep both normalcy and humor in Peyton's life. Also, they made sure she never missed out on anything that was really important to her. Who knew that dissecting a squid would turn out to be possibly her favorite activity of the year? Also, there is a special teacher who retired the previous year who made time in her busy schedule to have lunch regularly with Peyton and to mentor her interest in the stock market. She did not have to continue to spend time with my daughter, but she did, and for that I will always be thankful.

 

At Rampart, Riley really grappled with some of the superficiality that comes with being a teenager. She found herself thinking about things that few other kids just could comprehend. On the days when Riley just needed an adult to talk to, Mel always made time for her. Words will never be able to convey how much this woman did for my daughter and for our family. I could live a thousand lifetimes and I do not think I could ever repay her for being a mentor and source of support to my daughter throughout this school year.

 

Since I got my cancer diagnosis, I have spent a great deal of time assessing my life. Have I done enough? Do I matter? Has my life been purposeful? If I did not have another day or month or year, would I be satisfied with the person I have become? I know my values have changed over the course of my life. When I was young, I thought money and a high powered career were the most important things. When I eventually got pregnant and gave birth at the age of 28, those values underwent a radical transformation. My priority became my family. I could not imagine anything more important than shaping the little people with which I was now entrusted. I was no longer living for myself but for others who were dependent upon me. When I was younger, I wanted to be an "Important" person. As I got older, I realized what was important really was my relationship to my husband, my children, my parents and my close friends. 

 

I have friends who struggle with depression. At one point in my life, I personally struggled with depression. Frankly, it haunted me until I finally made a conscious decision that I would no longer allow myself to be depressed. This is an over simplification, of course.It was hard work and took a great deal of effort to change my thought patterns. The point is, that I took steps to find meaning in my life and to be grateful for what I had. When I was sitting in chemotherapy the other day, I was scrolling through Facebook reading comments from friends about how horrible their lives were. I looked around me at people on oxygen and people who were  too sick to walk. I saw husbands holding their wives hands as they received treatment. I saw people with upset stomachs and others sleeping awkwardly in their chairs. While I know my fellow patients must be struggling with their own demons, it struck me that in the face of tremendous adversity, all of these people had made a conscious decision to fight for their lives, no matter the personal cost. It's funny how a potentially terminal illness makes you feel thankful for whatever life you have. You realize you would do anything in your power to get one more moment with the people you care about. 

 

Find meaning and purpose in your life, whatever that may feel like to you. It may come from your job or your family. It may come from being a volunteer for an organization you care deeply about. It may come from pursuing a passion or a hobby. If you do not think you have something meaningful in your life, take steps to change that right now. We all need to feel useful and purposeful. It gives us a reason to get up and face every day. 

 

 

Treatment 17 is today. Sixteen down and two more to go.

Perseverance Pays Off.

My week off from chemo should theoretically be full of fun and games. This week turned out to be stressful. We had a car die and we needed to replace it quickly. My insurance company decided to deny another expensive claim. So instead of focusing on enjoying a week off, stresses over finances took a front seat in my mind.

Nevertheless, I was able to get out and enjoy the weather this week. On Monday, during my run, I was fortunate enough to be on the AIr Force Academy grounds while the thunderbirds were practicing. 

On Tuesday, I thought I would attempt my once per month longer than ten mile run. I managed to finish 16 miles, but there was definitely some walking involved. On Wednesday, I met my friend Phil for a walk. Phil has been injured as of late and is required to take a few weeks off from running. Phil took me on a tour of his neighborhood. We saw some great horned owls, which was a real treat. The lighting of this picture is not great, but if you look closely, you can see an adult and an owlet.

During the month after my surgery, when I could not run, I had several runner friends come and walk with me. I felt so fortunate that people would take the time to come and walk my thirty minute mile pace. Runners can be quite obsessive about their training schedules. We often don't want to slow down and just walk. I love to run like no other, but I have found that I really see so much more when I go for a walk. More importantly, it made me happy to keep an injured friend company. That was infinitely more important than getting in a training run. 

On Thursday, I ran with my husband before he went in to work. On Friday, I ran by myself and actually felt ok. That does not happen very often these days. When I feel "ok", it is a pleasant surprise. While I was running, I was thinking about how nearly every run since September has been hard. Some days, it is just no fun at all. I want to quit. I want to throw in the towel. But, I know I will just keep plugging along, doing what I can depending on the day. Some days will be really hard and others less so. 

People may think I am crazy for continuing to run every day even when there is little joy in it. I know that if I keep doing it now, when I finish chemo and get all of the toxic chemicals out of my body, I will come back strong because I will not be starting from scratch. I still have a base. I cannot wait to make the transition from feeling weak, slow, and generally unwell to feeling strong and falling in love with running all over again. Anyone can keep going when they feel good or are having a good time. What I hope will pay off for me over the long haul is that I have continued to stay active through many months where it was difficult. This does not mean I push myself hard every day. Some days I run slowly and some I run/walk.

Perseverance matters. My younger daughter started karate lessons a while back. She enjoyed it at first, but then went through a period where she found it boring. The pace was not fast enough and learning the basics did not seem "fun". She wanted to quit and we argued about it. Ultimately, she chose to stick through the time she found it boring, and she is now working towards her green belt. She loves going to class and sparring. She never would have discovered how much she loves to spar if she had not stuck it out through the period where she felt boredom. She tells me routinely how she is so glad she stayed with karate.

Sticking with things when they are not fun or when they become boring teaches us that we have to work hard to reap rewards. Success in life will not come if we give up on something just because it is physically or mentally challenging. That is why even though I have slowed down considerably, I keep going. That is why, even though I have days where I break down in tears because running now feels so hard, I continue to get back out there day after day. 

Friday was a good day, and then Saturday was not. I had to walk almost the entire way I had planned to run. I was tired. The chemotherapy makes me much more sensitive to heat. I was suffering in the sun. I was frustrated. I wanted to cry. Instead, I walked when I had to and ran when I could. In a few minutes, I will be out there trying again.

Tomorrow I start my sixth and final cycle of three chemotherapy treatments. I am not sure how long it will be until I feel like myself, but I will keep going until I get there.

Time marches on, and some fabulous friends who have become runners

I have completed cycle #5, treatment number 15 of chemotherapy. I am really happy about that. My official end of treatment date is June 16, 2014. I have three treatments left following an off week this week. 

I continue to run, or run/walk. On Monday, Steve and I ran before treatment. We have taken a picture every week except once when we were running behind schedule and we forgot. I used to be one of those women who hid from the camera, but now I want pictures. I want to preserve the memories both for myself and for my family. I hope my female friends are paying attention when I tell them to take pictures of themselves or have others take them. Years from now, your family won't care if you had on make up or nice clothing. They will appreciate that you left them with proof of your existence. You don't have to be perfect. Just show who you really are. Some day, your kids will be thankful you did.

We took a pathetic and ridiculous selfie at chemo to send to our teenaged daughter. I kept it because it makes me smile.

I had minimal nausea this week, which was wonderful. I ran or ran/walked every day again this week. Most of the week, however, I was experiencing widespread muscle and joint pain. On Thursday, I was hurting so badly that I only left the house when It was really necessary. Somehow we made it through the week. I am looking forward to not having chemo this week, although a part of me wishes I could just knock out the final treatments NOW and be done with it.

This was graduation week for schools in our district. The weekend was filled with parties, all of which were a lot of fun. I cannot help but feel a bit of melancholy as I look at my own kids. When they were little, I had moments where I thought they were going to be little and dependent forever. Now, time is moving way too quickly. My older daughter is finishing up her sophomore year and I know her graduation will be here before we know it. Somewhere along the way, my teenaged daughter because more than just a daughter to me. She also became my friend. I know parents are not "supposed" to be friends with their kids. I think that transition comes along at different points in every parent-child relationship. For ours, I believe it really came about this year. My daughter has always had a good head on her shoulders, but this year has changed us all dramatically. We appreciate each other more. I enjoy her company because she is introspective, intelligent, and thoughtful. I know when the day comes, I will celebrate her graduation and be excited and happy for her. But I am dreading the day she leaves home. For now, I will hang on to the chance I get every morning and every night to say, "I love you". I will hold close the conversations we have when driving somewhere together, or over breakfast. When she was five, she used to tell me that she and her future husband would live with me forever. I know that time has passed, but I hope she always stays close to me. 

I have to mention some special runners this week. A while back, my friend Susan lost 50 pounds. She and another friend, Kathy, decided to start a "couch to 5k" program. Susan lives on the west coast and Kathy on the east coast. Throughout their weeks of training, we all exchanged emails. I looked forward to hearing about their progress and I tried to help provide some guidance when problems arose. I am so proud to report that both of these terrific and tenacious women completed their respective programs. This past weekend, Susan ran her first official 5k race, wearing the "team Tonia" pancreatic cancer awareness shirt that is currently traveling around the country for runners to wear during races. Ironically, Tim, who created and wore the shirt at the Boston marathon, just happened to be running the marathon that accompanied Susan's 5k. They were able to meet and snap a picture together after Tim finished his race. 

My friend, Lynn, was one of my closest friends growing up in upstate NY. We lost touch for many years, and found each other through the magic of the Internet. Lynn lives on the west coast these days. She has had her own serious battles with health issues. We have talked many times about how discouraging life can become when you do not feel well long term. Lynn joined a running group in her area and has now completed several races up to and including the half marathon distance. This weekend she ran her first trail race. She was successful, and had a great time despite falling and scraping up her shoulder and chin pretty badly. I am proud of her because she has faced significant challenges and obstacles, and yet she still maintains a positive attitude. Now, she sees herself as a real runner and that is pretty darned cool!

I am proud of these three ladies. They have all overcome challenges of their own. This has not been an easy journey for any of them, but they have made a commitment to their own physical and emotional well being through sticking to an exercise/running program. Their determination shows that it is never too late in life to become a runner. I am glad to know that our communications via Facebook, email and/or phone calls has helped them tough it out over the last few months. Once again, the supportive nature of runners and the running community makes me proud. I love how my running friends, some of whom have never met, are able to cheer each other on and celebrate one another's success. 

Now onward to the last few days of school and my last few weeks of chemotherapy. 

Milestones

This is a weekend of milestones. Today, Sunday may 18th marks six months since I had surgery. On that date, my surgeon removed half of my pancreas, my spleen and a bunch of lymph nodes.

 

This photo was taken November 22 while I was still in the hospital. 

 

 

Here is how my stomach looks six months later. 

 

I am pretty pleased with how it has turned out so far. I am not nor have I ever been ashamed of my scar. It will always serve as a reminder of how far I have come through this process. 

 

Tomorrow will be my 15th chemo session. I then will take a week off and have one cycle left. Four treatments over the next five Mondays. June 16th is set to be my last day of chemo. These last four treatments will not be fun, but I can see the finish line off in the distance.

 

The cumulative effects of treatment seem to be catching up to me. I feel more tired and nauseous than I did early on. I had treatment on Monday of this past week. It had snowed Sunday night and into Monday. My husband and I did our traditional pre chemo run, but because our school district was on a two hour delay, we had to cut it to 9 miles instead of 10. Colorado in May:

 

 

 

 

Tuesday morning, I went for a run after a meeting. I was tired and it was walk/run. I went by myself, which allowed me to just go at my own easy pace and not worry about holding other people back. I thought maybe this would be an easier week physically because I did not feel too badly on Tuesday. 

 

On Wednesday, however, my body decided to fight back a bit. I had met Tracey and her dog Arlo for a run. It's a good thing Tracey is not squeamish because part way through our run, I started dry heaving. Every mile or so, I would have to stop, try to throw up, and then we would continue on our way. Puking while running is not the norm for me. Even during the Vermont 100, I never got sick. I always thought I had an iron stomach but apparently I do not right now. Hopefully that will change after June!

 

I continued to get sick Wednesday afternoon and evening. I went to bed hoping to start fresh on Thursday, but I woke up at 2 am with muscles aches. I never got back to sleep again that night. Thursday morning, I ran with my husband and my friend Debby. I was in a fog the whole time and when we finished, a lot of the run seemed hazy. 

 

On Friday, I met up with Vanessa and her husband Andy for an 8 mile run. I have run with Vanessa before but this was my first time meeting Andy. I really enjoy meeting runner couples, and I appreciate that they included me on their running date. 

 

Yesterday Stephen and I went for a walk/run around the Garden of the Gods. I had planned about an 8 mile run, but I just bonked and ended up hiking quite a bit. It was a beautiful morning, though, and if you are going to be slow, it might as well be in a spectacular location.

 

Through all of the week's ups and downs, life has gone on. I had to rush my dog to the veterinarian on Tuesday. She is ok but gave me another scare.

 

On Friday, my youngest went off for a weekend of camping with the Girl Scouts. My oldest went to a formal with her boyfriend. 

 

I am signed up for a walk/run to raise money for pancreatic cancer (Pancreatic action network purple stride). This takes place the weekend after I finish chemo. A high school friend, named Kerry, teaches second grade in Texas. On Saturday, I got a donation along with this sweet letter. It says, in part, "We decided to donate our money this week to you, instead of buying snacks at school. It's not much but we hope it helps." Don't ever doubt the heart of the upcoming generation. There are so many kind and compassionate young people out there. 

 

 

Today, my husband and I will run. Tomorrow I will complete cycle 5. Just like in any long race, marking off milestones, is important mentally. It helps me to focus on how far I have come and how much closer I am to finishing. If you think about running 100 miles in one big chunk, that seems really overwhelming. If you break it down, aid station to aid station, that helps make it seem more manageable. When I started this process back in September with various tests, and then surgery and them chemotherapy, it seems like a ridiculously long process. I have been marking off time by counting down treatments and cycles, and that has made a huge difference in my outlook. What once seemed so far away is now coming close. Only a few more miles to go, and I will be done.

Treatment #13 knocked me down, but people pulled me back up.

Monday morning, my husband and I did what has become our standard pre chemo ten mile run. It was warm and sunny and beautiful. After facing months of treatments, chemo Mondays now seem to cause stress for both my husband and me. Since each week brings something different, the whole experience keeps me slightly off balance. I know Steve now worries going into Monday about how I will feel for the rest of the week. At the start of our run, I had butterflies in my stomach. I wanted to go home and crawl back into bed and hide out under the covers. By the end of our run, my stomach had settled down and I had regained that calm that I get from running.

Treatment went fine but nausea hit me shortly afterwards. Monday night I missed yet another landsharks meet. Tuesday brought some of the most intense nausea I have felt thus far. I felt like I was going to throw up all Tuesday afternoon and evening, and in fact, did get sick a few times that afternoon. I do not know if it is the fact that I am recovering from last weekends race at the Greenland 25k or if it is just the cumulative effects of chemo over months or both, but I felt so very tired all week. 

This week has been marked by probably as much hiking and walking as running. I enjoy hiking, but I see myself as a runner not a hiker. Feeling like I am not capable of running on certain days makes me frustrated and honestly even sad. But I physically just had to slow down this week. Slowing down a bit gave me the gift of spending time with both a long time friend and with a new friend who I enjoyed getting to know better. Slowing down allowed me to visit new trails I have never been to and truly appreciate the scenery. I also got to enjoy the beauty of one of my favorite trails more fully because I was not staring at the ground the whole time the way I typically do when I am running something technical.

I had two days this week where I felt like I was actually able to run my planned mileage. One of those runs I had arranged to meet a friend. For another, I had planned to run alone and happened to meet up with one of my regular running partners in the trailhead parking lot. Right now I am really enjoying company on my runs. Somehow through this whole process, I have continued to meet and make new friends and deepen existing relationships through time spent out on the trails together.  It is remarkable to me. Some people get overwhelmed and frightened by an illness and yet there are so many people in the running community who have embraced me during this really difficult period in my life. 

As a runner, I know I have been told after a race in which I ran well, "You are amazing!" While I appreciate the compliment, of course, I never quite understand the wording. More accurately, maybe running a specific time or distance is what we find "amazing". No one is "amazing" just because they run fast or far. That being said, I think that there are a whole lot of "amazing" people who also happen to run. Theses people are amazing not because of their running, but because of their kind, caring, compassionate nature. There is a big collective heart among many of the runners I have had the pleasure of meeting. That I continue to derive my emotional support from other runners, even on days when I can no longer run, is what I find amazing.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. I am not one for pomp and circumstance, but right now every day has taken on a new significance. Illness brings an intensity to every day circumstances. Every moment becomes important because you no longer have the luxury of believing you have an unlimited number of those moments left. I still do not want a fuss made over me. I often tell my family that I do not want presents. I do not want flowers or jewelry. I have always been a person who treasures simplicity and the gift of time. Yesterday I went for a run with my husband in the snowstorm. I told him that there weren't too many men who would have been willing to run and walk when I needed to walk these days, especially in driving wind and snow. Despite my circumstances, I know how "lucky" I am. Our family spent the rest of the day snuggled inside of our house. My teenage daughter baked. My husband grilled salmon in the snow because that is what I had requested. We watched a movie together and then had cake.

Riley gave me this present.

It was a jar with phrases she had taken from things I have written. On some of the slips of paper she had written snippets of my own writing and in some she added her own thoughts. As parents we try to give our kids the wisdom that comes with age and life experience. We do not always know if our kids are listening or absorbing what we say. Knowing my daughter has been reading, listening and hopefully tailoring my advice to her own life circumstances means more than anything to me. We want to know we are making an impact on our kids, even if it appears that they are not listening to us. I appreciate my daughter being willing to listen and hear me, as I hope she feels that I have listened and really heard her over the years.

On a run this week, I asked a friend how he and his wife had gotten through a particularly difficult chapter of their lives. He said, "It is really simple. We just loved each other so much". This simple but powerful thought has stuck with me all week. That is exactly how my family will get through our current obstacle: by just continuing to love each other so much. Tough circumstances can either tear families apart or bring them together. I know that in our home, and in our lives, there is more than enough love to carry us through this time. I want my daughters to always remember how much I have loved them and to lean on that knowledge to get through whatever life throws their way. No matter what happens in the future, no matter where life takes us, my love will always be with them.

Week off chemo and the Greenland Trail 25k

I have been extremely tired and breathless during my runs lately. In fact, over last weekend, I had been in such sorry condition that I said to my husband, "I wonder if I will EVER feel like I used to feel. What if this is all I've got going forward?" My friends are all getting in better shape as they train for upcoming race, and right now I am always the slowest one in the group. While I understand what is going on with my body, I would be lying if I said it never bothered or concerned me. 

I was off from chemotherapy this week. On Monday, I met a girlfriend of mine for some "trail therapy". We ran ten miles together. We have a very therapeutic talk along the way and I felt the best I had on a run in at least a few weeks. When I got home, I was feeling practically giddy about how I did not feel completely miserable on my run. I thought, "Wow, that run did not completely suck for me! Maybe I will sign up for the Greenland 25k this weekend!"

I ran the Greenland 50k one time several years ago. I finished as fourth female overall that year in 4:50 and change. I normally prefer to go with the longest distance available at any given race. Since I have not run anything longer than 16 miles since prior to my surgery in November. I knew the 50k would be out of the question. But I thought, "I can finish the 25k." I signed my husband and myself up for the 25k. I had trouble falling asleep that night because I was so excited about the prospect of getting out to run a race.

Tuesday morning, I got up and went out for a 6-7 mile run. I was tired. I was back to feeling breathless. The wind was sucking the enthusiasm out of me. I probably ran around half of what I set out to do that day and walked the rest. Doubts started to creep in. What the hell was I thinking signing up for a race? Suddenly 25k seemed like a very long way to go. I had no idea what would happen on Saturday. I assumed I would walk some of the one longest uphill on the course when I signed up just because of my breathlessness. I did not want to end up walking the entire course, though. There is nothing wrong with walking, of course, but I just do not have the patience to walk 15.5 miles. 

On Wednesday, I ran with two of my friends. We set out for an "easy" run and yet I found myself behind and working much too hard. When I got home, I started looking up times from last year's 25k to see what the slowest finish times were so I could plan race day accordingly. I was really honestly wondering if I was going to be walking most or all of the race. 

On Thursday, I met up with a friend who was tapering for a marathon in California. We had planned a short run and I still felt tired and slow but otherwise alright. On Friday I squeezed in a short run around my neighborhood prior to my oncology appointment. My mind was on overdrive due to having one kid out of school, one kid with an injury and a sick dog. I thought, "WHY did I sign up for a race? Why did I add additional stress and pressure to my life right now?" 

All week long I had been telling Steve that he did not have to run with me. He could go out hard and see what he was capable of and I would not be upset. Steve said he wanted to run with me. While I love running with my husband, I was worried about holding him back too much or about pushing myself too hard to keep up with him.

I had no idea what would happen during the race. Would I run the whole thing? Would I walk every uphill? Would I really suffer and end up walking most of it? What ended up happening was that I ran the entire first loop and then walked for maybe a minute total on the second loop. I actually felt dizzy at times on the course. I was out of breath on the uphills. I was not able to recover from the uphills like I normally would. But, in part because of the extra days off from chemo, and in part because I love competition, I found a way to start pushing myself. I have been running but not "training" during my treatment. I have done no speed workouts. I have done no hill repeats. My running now had lots of walking mixed in. And yet, during the race. I kept looking forward thinking, "I know it hurts but run to that tree and then if you need to walk, you can". I found that I could keep running beyond each spot I had selected, and then onto the next one, and then the next.

 As we went out on the second loop, I started to focus on my competition, "If I keep going, I can pass that person in front of me."  The race was first with just myself, and then finally it became with the other runners. I knew I was not going to be one of the very top females, but I knew I was going to end up in a much better place than I thought I would initially. According to the unofficial race results, my husband and I finished in 2:28:56. I was 8th out of 55 in my age group in 42 out of 183 female runners. While this was a slower pace than I had run in the 50k, I am thrilled with my finish time and my place. I worked my butt off on Saturday. I pushed myself very hard, and ran as hard as I could have on that day. Running well when I have trained hard is very gratifying. Running as hard as I did four months into chemotherapy and less than six months after having internal organs cut out, makes me happy and proud of myself. I did not win. I did not place in my age group, but a I absolutely worked as hard as I could out on the course. While someone who does not know may look at my placing and time on Saturday and think nothing of it, I take pride in how I did because I know the circumstances leading up to the race.

Here is a post race photo of my husband and me. He said he would start and finish with me, and that is what he did. 

This week, I want my daughters to remember that in life it is always important to give your best, no matter what that might mean on any given day. What that best effort translates into is going to vary depending on your life circumstances. Sometimes your best will be "the best" and other people will congratulate you and acknowledge your achievements. Other times, your best efforts may not seem that impressive to other people. But, if you have given 100% of yourself, and you know you have worked as hard as you possibly could, you should never be disappointed in yourself. Not disappointing yourself is far more important than any accolades you may receive from other people. 

Being "strong".

People talk about being "strong". I hear, "you are so strong" a lot. I know it is meant as both a complement and a way of encouraging me to remain "strong" (whatever that means). It is not that I do not appreciate people believing in me. I need people in my life who have my back. We all do. However, it all makes me feel a little uncomfortable. I wonder, if I express fear or sadness, will I no longer be "strong"? I wonder how our society made it shameful to express a full range of emotions? When did it become a sign of weakness to say, "I am afraid", or "I hurt" or even, "I am sorry"? I get the sense that only people who never express fear or grief or distress are the ones somehow deemed as worthy of admiration. But how can we be strong without experiencing weakness? We cannot. I want my daughters to always remember that just as we cannot really experience joy without knowing sadness, we cannot become "strong" human beings without facing things that make us feel fearful or anxious.

 

It is important to experience those uncomfortable feelings but not wallow in them. Find what makes you feel stronger and hold it close to heart. I gain a lot of my strength and support from the people I love. During long races, I make a practice of thinking about people in my life. I know as I ran my 100 mile race last summer, I made a conscious decision to think of each person in my life who has been supportive and loving. Every time I had a tough moment, I turned my thoughts to specific people who I knew were with me in my heart along the way. I know some people channel anger, but I find it is more effective for me to channel love.

These last few months, I have been very open about this whole process. Sometimes I question why I have shared my story, because honestly sometimes it is difficult to expose myself publicly. A few things that happened this week reaffirmed my decision to "go public". 

Last weekend, a woman approached me on one of the local trails. She is someone I have met in passing but seen many times. She stopped and asked if it was me, and then told me she had read my blog. She, too, had cancer last year and within a couple of minutes we were showing each other our surgical scars and talking about our experiences. She said she cried when she read my blog, because she understood the feelings I was experiencing. That ten minute conversation of connection, mutual support and understanding was so powerful. It felt so wonderful to have my own feelings validated. If she had not read my words, we would have probably continued to smile and wave each time we saw each other. We probably would never have had a reason to stop and make that powerful connection.

Monday was Boston marathon day. I had several friends running, volunteering and spectating. One of my dear friends was there. He had come to visit me in the hospital after my surgery. We walked the halls together at a snail's pace. Tim has run lots of marathons and two 100s. His visit meant so much to me. Tim decided he wanted to wear a shirt in my honor as he ran Boston this year. 

While he was there, Tim told other athletes about pancreatic cancer and got them to sign his shirt. Now, he is sending the shirt around the country to other runner friends of mine so that they can wear the shirt at a race and sign it. I appreciate the love and support from my friends, but what I really love about this is that it shows that special sense of community and friendship among runners. What I hope is that my friends around the country who do not even know one another will develop new friendships and cheer each other on because of Tim's kind and giving heart.

A childhood  friend of mine reached out this week. She is one of the first friends I ever made in life. Now she is a professor at a university in the northeast. She knows cancer all too well, after losing someone very beloved to her. She is also a runner, and her husband was running Boston on Monday. I had no idea she was reading my writing, but she contacted me this week and said that when she needed a lift, she read my words. She told me that she used me as an example in her public health class when she was discussing people who find motivation to do difficult things. Working off of the #Bostonstrong theme, she and her class sent me this picture:

She reads my words for an emotional lift, and this week I re read her email and looked at this picture many times. Thank you, my friend. 

I wore my Boston marathon shirt and jacket to chemo this past Monday. My jacket was the starting point for a conversation with another patient. This gentleman also has pancreatic cancer. Our conversation had a profound impact on me. I have thought of him every single day since meeting him. We exchanged emails, and then phone numbers. I hope he knows whether he feels strong or weak, I am here.

Finally, this past week, I ran and sometimes I walked. I ran with Tracey, and Debby, and Phil, and Vanessa, and Tim and my husband. I appreciate all of them for encouraging me to stay strong, but for allowing me to express my weaknesses. I appreciate them for allowing me to be human. Now I have a week off. I need it.

Riding out the storms of life

As we do every week, my husband and I went for a ten mile pre chemo run on Monday. It had snowed over night and was cold to start, but the snow was truly beautiful. I snapped this picture of Pikes Peak from the car on the way to the trailhead.

I had treatment number 11 after our run. I tried to nap that afternoon but sleep was elusive. 

I had a couple of difficult days this week. I am feeling really tired and run down. I had some muscle aches and pains that were keeping me awake at night and causing some discomfort during the day. Steve also got sick this week. He never gets sick. I know he was feeling poorly and I was worried about picking up his illness because he had a nasty cough. I missed one of my daugter's activities this week because I just did not feel up to attending. It bothered me that I felt unwell, and I felt badly about missing out on an important day in my child's life.

I know I am making progress towards my treatment end date. It is a whole lot closer than it was in January. It still seems far enough away and the prospect of having a couple more months of feeling not like myself is emotionally draining. I want to feel like myself NOW. I am growing impatient.

Wednesday morning, I was feeling so frustrated that I decided I needed to go somewhere beautiful. I only had about 90 minutes, so I chose the Garden of the Gods. I was alone, so the only person I had to keep up with was myself. I could run, walk, hike and just enjoy the beautiful surroundings. Looking at the rock formations and Pikes Peak always leaves me feeling amazed at the spontaneous beauty of our surroundings. I can never leave the Garden in a bad mood.

On Saturday, I met up with three other running friends. We had planned all week on meeting on Saturday. Since I had not been feeling great, we waited until Friday evening to finalize our plans. We decided to start off in Stratton Open Space and then run through some of the trails in Cheyenne Canon. All last year, while I was preparing for races. I felt like those trails were my home away from home. I love Cheyenne canon. It is my favorite place to run in Colorado Springs. Leading up to my races last year, I did a weekly all day run there. I cannot remember the date of my last run there, but it was likely in September of 2013. 

Saturday morning, Tracey, Meghan, John and I met up at did a 14 mile loop. In my pre surgery and pre chemo days, I would have run every step of the way. Right now I just cannot do it. There was enough hiking the uphills to make me feel a little discouraged. I had warned the group ahead of time that I would likely be doing some significant hiking. But still, it bothered me. I used to be able to run the  all of the trails we had run and more. Somewhere on the Columbine trail, I looked up and out. The scenery is so spectacular. I thought about how much I just loved it there, and how happy I was to be back, no matter how slow. I felt the sting of tears coming to my eyes, but they were tears of happiness and gratitude. I was suddenly not feeling sorry myself or frustrated anymore. Now I was just feeling so thankful to be back where I loved to be, no matter the circumstances. 

I love these ladies. They are tough, smart and funny and a pleasure to be around.

This week, I want my daughters to remember as they grow up that they will be tested in life. There will be circumstances that will be incredibly difficult to deal with. They will want to run away or hide under the covers some days. I want them to learn how to find peace of mind in the storm. That peace will never come from a pill or a bottle. People use substances to temporarily mask pain. In the short term, that may make you feel better or forget your troubles, but over the long term substances will never solve your problems. In fact, those things may significantly add to your pain. Find what brings peace to your heart and mind. I find it by exploring the beauty of nature. That is what calms my mind. You may find it in yoga or meditation or cycling or dancing or knitting or sewing. I encourage you to find out what it is that soothes your soul and practice it regularly. In the eye of the storm, that ability to bring yourself to a place of internal contentment will help you ride out the rough waters.