Well, my workouts for this weekend didn't go exactly as planned. I had a long (well, at least for this time in the season long) bike and run planned, but neither of them got done. I was too obsessed with Jonathan's fever on Saturday to do any running, and on Sunday I spent most of my biking time with a canoe.
Why the canoe? Well, I sure wish I had pictures for this. I'll have to get some soon because I'm sure Marcia and I created quite a scene walking down the middle of the road with a canoe on our shoulders. We are training for an off-road tri in June -- 16 miles of canoeing, 26 miles of mountain biking, and 7 miles of trail running. This was part of my "taking a year off from IM" plan. I'm not longer taking that year off, but I'm still going to do the races that I want to do and try to make my training fit me, instead of the other way around.
So, Marcia and I loaded up the 78 pound canoe on our shoulders and walked the 3 blocks to the Mississippi River -- as we walked we talked about how we are the luckiest girls in the world. We live 2 miles apart, but both of us live 3 blocks from one of the biggest rivers in the world. The River plays a huge role in my bike and run route planning.
We got the canoe in the river and paddled up river first -- there was a strong wind and a current and since my last canoe experience was 17 years ago we were a little worried. Marcia has been canoeing alot in recent years, but she has never had to steer before. We did AWESOME! I was so proud of us. After about 75 minutes of canoeing it was time to go home, but I think both of us feel really good about our abilities to do this race. It will be really hard, but we are strong women and we can do it! Plus, it was a blast just having the time with my friend. We are both so busy that it is rare that we get to spend uninterupted time together. And it was a blast! I'm so fortunate to have a friend like her.
Friends are one of the greatest benefits of my tri training. But more about that later.
Monday, April 30, 2007
I'll Always be a Cancer Mom
The fear is so bright, it is blinding. Some days it is so strong that I can taste it, like a meal I'd never want to eat again. And so it hit this weekend. We were enjoying a day in Minneapolis. Jonathan had a fishing tournament with the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society in the morning and we had an afternoon of festivities planned for the rest of the day. After enjoying a picnic in the park, we decided to visit one of our favorite Middle Eastern grocery stores. Jonathan was complaining that he was thirsty -- but hey -- who wasn't? It was 80 degrees and we'd all had a bit too much sun. I told him we'd stop for drinks after visiting the store. While we were in the store, he lost it. He started crying hysterially, saying that his legs hurt, his head hurt, his eyes hurt, and that he was certain that his cancer was back. That was all I needed to hear -- Cancer Mom was back.
We got him some water and drove to the nearest Walgreens for a thermometer. His fever was 104, so I went back into the store for some children's motrin. They day was done -- and we drove home from the cities, quietly talking between us what it would be like if his cancer had really returned. I didn't sleep much that night.
The next morning Jonathan was up before all of us -- ready to go. No fever, no signs of illness. And he's still fine today.
So what was this all about? Probably a virus, maybe a reaction to being in the sun all morning, who knows? But, I've come to the conclusion that I will never be able to react to Jonathan's illnesses with the carefree attitude that I had five years ago.
And I guess that his illness has played a huge role in the person that I am today. I believe that I care more about people, that I try to make the most of the opportunities that we are given. Life is so fragile and we never know when it will end.
Yes, I'll always be a cancer mom. But I'll also be so much more than that. This will not define me, but instead will play a vital role in shaping the person that I am becoming.
We got him some water and drove to the nearest Walgreens for a thermometer. His fever was 104, so I went back into the store for some children's motrin. They day was done -- and we drove home from the cities, quietly talking between us what it would be like if his cancer had really returned. I didn't sleep much that night.
The next morning Jonathan was up before all of us -- ready to go. No fever, no signs of illness. And he's still fine today.
So what was this all about? Probably a virus, maybe a reaction to being in the sun all morning, who knows? But, I've come to the conclusion that I will never be able to react to Jonathan's illnesses with the carefree attitude that I had five years ago.
And I guess that his illness has played a huge role in the person that I am today. I believe that I care more about people, that I try to make the most of the opportunities that we are given. Life is so fragile and we never know when it will end.
Yes, I'll always be a cancer mom. But I'll also be so much more than that. This will not define me, but instead will play a vital role in shaping the person that I am becoming.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Who Am I?
Well, not such an easy question to answer. People are incredibly complex and trying to sum up exactly who we are is never an easy task. I recently wrote an article for a coaching group that I train with which should give some insight on the reasons that I train. Here it is: ___________________
2-20-02. Anyone who has heard much about Lance Armstrong knows his obsession with a date. If we are honest, most of us have one or several. Those days or times in our lives that somehow, often times unbeknownst to us, actually shape our futures. These dates may be vivid, standing as towers in our minds, beckoning us to remember. Or they may be glimpses of a memory that we don’t hardly understand. For me, mine is of the previous quality and has had a distinct and lasting impression on the course of my life.
Five years ago I would have collapsed with laughter if you told me that someday soon I would love to do triathlons. At that time I didn’t own a bike, couldn’t swim, and hated running. Clearly I would win the non-athlete award among all my friends. During college I was the bookworm who preferred to read great literature and hold never-ending discussions on philosophical issues long into the night. My perfect GPA was marred only by the fact that I was required to take PE classes. Me, an athlete? NEVER!
And then my world turned upside down. On February 20, 2002 my 5-year-old son was diagnosed with leukemia. Everything I had ever thought true in my life was challenged during the following months. I read everything I could about cancer – treatment, survival rates, heartbreaking stories about children who didn’t make it, medical journals – you name it, I read it. During that time I read about some moms who were doing marathons in honor or memory of their children through a group called Team in Training (TNT). To be honest, my initial thought was that they were nuts. Didn’t they have enough to worry about with their child being sick? But over time I began to be intrigued by these stories. These women had a passion about them that I lacked. And they had turned the very ugly side of side of cancer into personal growth and change for themselves and their families.
So, very timidly, I signed up for a marathon with TNT. The very next day I laced up my shoes for my first ever run. I got halfway down the block and thought, “this really sucks” and walked home. I was on the phone with TNT within minutes ready to withdraw from the program. My coordinator suggested that rather than quitting I should try a triathlon. The running portion was shorter, she explained, and plus I could always walk it if I wanted to.
I guess she was very persuasive as somehow I ended up at a kick-off meeting for something called an Olympic distance triathlon. I still didn’t own a bike, I still hated running, and I really didn’t know how to swim. But I went to the training meetings. I learned to do enough breaststroke to some how make it 1.5 K. I bought a bike and pounded out a ton of anger on the county roads around my house. And I resigned myself to walk/run the 10K.
To my great surprise, a part of me that had been hidden since that horrible year in sixth grade when I didn’t make a basket the entire year of intramural basketball came out. I found the athlete inside of myself. I found that running could actually be pleasurable. And that swimming, when done correctly, is actually somewhat relaxing. And of course that the bike has powers that modern psychiatric medicine can only dream about for dealing with emotions.
And so I look back upon the last 5 years with a sense of awe and wonder, instead of anger and fear. We were lucky – my son is now a thriving 10-year-old who participated in his first triathlon last year.
2-20-02. Anyone who has heard much about Lance Armstrong knows his obsession with a date. If we are honest, most of us have one or several. Those days or times in our lives that somehow, often times unbeknownst to us, actually shape our futures. These dates may be vivid, standing as towers in our minds, beckoning us to remember. Or they may be glimpses of a memory that we don’t hardly understand. For me, mine is of the previous quality and has had a distinct and lasting impression on the course of my life.
Five years ago I would have collapsed with laughter if you told me that someday soon I would love to do triathlons. At that time I didn’t own a bike, couldn’t swim, and hated running. Clearly I would win the non-athlete award among all my friends. During college I was the bookworm who preferred to read great literature and hold never-ending discussions on philosophical issues long into the night. My perfect GPA was marred only by the fact that I was required to take PE classes. Me, an athlete? NEVER!
And then my world turned upside down. On February 20, 2002 my 5-year-old son was diagnosed with leukemia. Everything I had ever thought true in my life was challenged during the following months. I read everything I could about cancer – treatment, survival rates, heartbreaking stories about children who didn’t make it, medical journals – you name it, I read it. During that time I read about some moms who were doing marathons in honor or memory of their children through a group called Team in Training (TNT). To be honest, my initial thought was that they were nuts. Didn’t they have enough to worry about with their child being sick? But over time I began to be intrigued by these stories. These women had a passion about them that I lacked. And they had turned the very ugly side of side of cancer into personal growth and change for themselves and their families.
So, very timidly, I signed up for a marathon with TNT. The very next day I laced up my shoes for my first ever run. I got halfway down the block and thought, “this really sucks” and walked home. I was on the phone with TNT within minutes ready to withdraw from the program. My coordinator suggested that rather than quitting I should try a triathlon. The running portion was shorter, she explained, and plus I could always walk it if I wanted to.
I guess she was very persuasive as somehow I ended up at a kick-off meeting for something called an Olympic distance triathlon. I still didn’t own a bike, I still hated running, and I really didn’t know how to swim. But I went to the training meetings. I learned to do enough breaststroke to some how make it 1.5 K. I bought a bike and pounded out a ton of anger on the county roads around my house. And I resigned myself to walk/run the 10K.
To my great surprise, a part of me that had been hidden since that horrible year in sixth grade when I didn’t make a basket the entire year of intramural basketball came out. I found the athlete inside of myself. I found that running could actually be pleasurable. And that swimming, when done correctly, is actually somewhat relaxing. And of course that the bike has powers that modern psychiatric medicine can only dream about for dealing with emotions.
And so I look back upon the last 5 years with a sense of awe and wonder, instead of anger and fear. We were lucky – my son is now a thriving 10-year-old who participated in his first triathlon last year.
And I have to say that I was also fortunate that in the trials of life I was able to find a sport that would give me the power to do things in all areas of my life that I never dreamed possible.
Cancer still royally sucks, but I find that this year I can actually say thank you to 2-20-2002.
Irondream Come True!
Well, I'm still grinning from ear to ear four days after learning that I won a lottery slot into IM Hawaii. I never dreamed that this would happen and, needless to say, I am so very excited.
It is now time to ramp up my training. I've been recovering from a lengthy bout of what I call the plague. I was so sick this year I didn't think I would ever recover. I can finally talk now without feeling like my throat is going to close up, so I guess I am on the mend. One of the good things about this illness is that I finally got my thyroid level really checked and as suspected it is low. I've been on meds for two weeks now and I'm starting to realize what I've been missing. I'm fairly confident that I've forgotten what it feels like to NOT be tired.
Student teaching ends tomorrow, and my classes at the Technical College will finish in two weeks. I'm really ready for this semester to be over. I've enjoyed the time with my students, but I've also tried to do too much this semester and it has taken its toll on my body. I'm awfully close to burn out, so it will be nice to have some time to myself for a bit. Oh yeah -- I guess that will all go towards IM training, but at least I can classify that as "me" time.
I have a short 30 minute run planned for this evening. I'll have to squeeze it in between my classes finishing at 5:30 and a meeting at 6:30. Dinner in the car and wet hair at the meeting again. Ah, the life of an Ironman. I wouldn't have it any other way.
It is now time to ramp up my training. I've been recovering from a lengthy bout of what I call the plague. I was so sick this year I didn't think I would ever recover. I can finally talk now without feeling like my throat is going to close up, so I guess I am on the mend. One of the good things about this illness is that I finally got my thyroid level really checked and as suspected it is low. I've been on meds for two weeks now and I'm starting to realize what I've been missing. I'm fairly confident that I've forgotten what it feels like to NOT be tired.
Student teaching ends tomorrow, and my classes at the Technical College will finish in two weeks. I'm really ready for this semester to be over. I've enjoyed the time with my students, but I've also tried to do too much this semester and it has taken its toll on my body. I'm awfully close to burn out, so it will be nice to have some time to myself for a bit. Oh yeah -- I guess that will all go towards IM training, but at least I can classify that as "me" time.
I have a short 30 minute run planned for this evening. I'll have to squeeze it in between my classes finishing at 5:30 and a meeting at 6:30. Dinner in the car and wet hair at the meeting again. Ah, the life of an Ironman. I wouldn't have it any other way.
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