Poweraide and Leaves

Years of looking at Grass, first as a young groundskeeper, later as a Greenskeeper I developed an ability to see many shades of green. Shades of green spoke of, “Too Hot, Thirsty, Hungry or Sick”. It amazed me at times how others (especially those under my supervision) could not see what was so obvious to me.

This time of year, as spring blooms fade, trees renew themselves bearing new growth. New life presents itself uniquely revealing shades of greens, yellows, reds and bronze. If you just happen to be at the right place, with the right light, it will be as impressive as any fall scene. Unlike fall, the time to observe lasts only a couple weeks as trees move to conform to a “Uniform Green Blanket”.

I couldn't help but think of the parallels between this and human beings. We are born and remain individuals yet much of our growth is achieved when we realize we are part of a larger community.

I have a better understanding of this now.

On a lighter note: (Thank God)

As I reached for a Gatorade at Sheetz, a force pulled my hand back, a voice whispered “No Mike, Power-aide”. My eyes gazed for the aforementioned refreshment but none was to be found. “Oh Hell” I thought, “ I hope Snapple works”.

Thanks Craig ! Congrats with the promotion, your power to persuade shows you deserved it.

Mike "O"

Terrapin Mountain

Considering everything, the race I ran Saturday, may be the best race I will ever run.

Though it seems a long time since the reversal surgery, it's actually been eleven weeks today. Surgery to remove the port was little more than two weeks ago.

Heading to the race I knew distance would not be an issue, I had a few training runs runs of thirteen miles or more under my belt but training and racing are two different animals. Even so, I thought I could better my time from last year because of course knowledge and a lighter frame. My plan was simple enough, move up the mountain with much less walking and “Gut Out” the rest.

Summit,  That A Way

At the start, I was determined to try to arrive on the trail somewhere towards the front third of the pack avoiding the inevitable “Congo Line” of walkers trying to spare their legs. Since the 50K and Half Marathon runners all start together there is more walking exhibited then if we were all running the half. I arrived on the trail almost exactly where I thought I should be, yet even then, I had to wind my way through more runners then I would have liked.

The first aid station, four miles in, came easily. Not needing any water I quickly grabbed some potato chips and flew out of there with pieces of chips dropping from my mouth. Leaving the aid station the next three quarters of a mile or so are so steep all you can do is laugh and walk as fast as you can. Climbing higher, the light rain which had been present turned into mist as we headed into the clouds. In training I had practiced moving up steep sections using a side step technique to save your calf's. It worked and I was able to move just as fast without tiring myself out. Soon the summit was reached and I saw my friend Dennis just ahead of me. This could only mean one of two things, either Dennis was having a bad day or I was having a great one. I voted for the later.

Downhills are not my friends, in fact I am getting to the point that I detest any downhill with more then a slight grade. Needless to say, after you crest the summit there are some serious downhills to contend with. So down I go, trying to let gravity pull me along, fighting the urge to brake, yet I'm loosing that battle. Only one runner has passed me going up hill and now two pass me in the first fifteen minutes of downhill running as my knees start to ache.

Who knows why things happen but it was just at a moment when I might have moved into a bad attitude I started thinking about my mother. Visions of pound cake, where I'd eat the cake first leaving chocolate icing to be savored last. Cookies that I'd plunder from glass jars found in the “Secret Hiding Spot”, re-stacking them to conceal the theft. Thoughts from vacations, places we lived and happy days came flowing when I wasn't one hundred percent consumed with not falling down. The pain in my knee, it went away.

Eight or nine miles into the race I thought I would start to feel drained, instead I still felt strong. Close to the second, and last aid station I saw the guys who had passed on the downhill, they were only three or four minutes ahead of me. “I can catch them, there are enough uphills”, I thought to myself.

Once again I spent little time at the aid station, leaving this time with chips and pretzel pieces dropping ungraciously from my mouth.

Ten minutes later I see “First” guy. For about a mile and a half we play  “Cat and Mouse”, I would catch him on an uphill, only to run out of hill to watch him put distance between us on the down. Finally, a hill long enough to catch and pass, where I could place enough distance between him and I so not be be caught on the downhill. “We got him Mom”, I said out loud. Runner number two isn't much further ahead so once again the “Cat and Mouse Game” plays out and I pass.

“One Mile To Go”, the sign says. I'm on the road heading to the finish, glancing around to see if anyone is behind me. Not seeing anyone I'm pretty sure I'm in the clear but little more then a quarter mile later I hear footsteps and turn to see someone just fly by me. It's “Second Guy”; a look at my Garmin shows a seven fifteen pace, this guy has to be running a six thirty and he's young. A voice in my head tells me, “ If I go after him all I might do is push him to run faster and I'll throw up at the finish”. (Not Today)

Dennis, Craig, Larry and I

As I was running I had no idea what my elapsed time was from my Garmin, as I set it for pace and distance. I was shocked therefore to see two hours twenty eight minutes on the finish line clock. I had run this race twenty two minutes faster than last year, under trained, recovering from surgery and chemotherapy.

I had a good laugh a week ago when the race director, Clark Zealand sent an email seeding me in fourteenth place. At the time I wondered what sort of dope was he smoking! I finished exactly in fourteenth place, there is no way this should have happened but it did; thanks Mom. You were with me as you have always been and I shall be there for you.

Love,

Michael

Race Preparation

Packing My Bag for Terrapin Mountain

Running Shorts
Long Sleeve Running Shirts (2)
Short Sleeve Running Shirts (2)
Bandana (2)
Socks (3)
Towel
Baby Wipes
Desiden

I doubt many other trail runners will be packing the last two items, hopefully they will remain unused.

I am looking forward to the race and am happy to report that three shots of Metamucil Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday worked their magic last night. Of course it was not the most pleasant of evenings but I leave lighter and confident for the next several days.

Mom, when you read this please know I will carry you in my thoughts as I run.

Love,

Michael

Running In Fog

The fog lay thick enough so that trees vanished from view a few few dozen strides away. Drops of water fell from tree branches and newly spun spider webs glowed white from condensation. As I ran towards a fire pond I became aware of the sounds of life playing louder and louder as I neared. Once there, I stood for several minutes listening to the symphony and watching the fog roll across the water. The frantic voices of frogs mingled with a single song bird and in the distance the pounding of a wood pecker echoed as loud as any jack hammer.

Spring is arriving.

Time for new life and hope.

My recovery continues to go well but my heart is burdened with the news that my mother has been diagnosed with kidney cancer. There is good news, it appears the cancer has not spread, yet the surgery to remove the tumor will require an extremely skilled surgeon and team.

I am not a “church goer” but it might surprise many to know that I consider myself a religious person. I believe in the power of prayer and will be praying for my Mom. For any of you who pray please remember my Mother in your intentions. 

This weekend is Terrapin Mountain, a half trail marathon with over three thousand feet of climbing and descent. It was the last race trail race I ran prior to my cancer diagnosis and the first I'll run as a cancer survivor. I plan to crush my time from last year, we'll see.

Mike

St Patrick's Weekend

I'm not sure I have ever seen a nicer Saint Patrick's day. The weather has continued to bring May like temperatures with highs in the seventies, blue skies and light winds. It seemed almost hot yesterday as I laced up my shoes for my first road race of the year.

Trail running is the venue I prefer but there is an unmistakable disadvantage, eventually these trails will slow you down. The road run was five miles, meandering through country roads, rolling hills and mooing cattle. I had little feel for how I should run but I quickly settled into a comfortable pace knowing there was a large hill somewhere around mile four. My goal was to finish somewhere around forty minutes, give or take two minutes and I did just that with a 38:16. I am pleased with my effort yet it pointed out that I need to get back on a track to work on speed as I plan on running several road races this year.

Corned Beef and cabbage along with Irish Soda Bread graced our table as we sat down to a traditional Saint Patrick's day dinner. I had an extra helping of Corned Beef for my brother Bill who would be skipping a traditional meal. I wonder, can you sprout potatoes or cabbage?

This morning I met up to run with my trail group on a relaxed ten mile run. I may go out again later for a bit to explore some he trails or just putz around and do some chores.

In either case I am appreciating the fact that I'm feeling pretty good. My feet are less than half asleep, often feeling like you would with sand in your shoes. My fingertips are sore and I have trouble with fine motor skills, such as writing, but they are getting better as well. I am hoping that in a couple more months this may be behind me. The fall I took last week has left me sore in the area along the incision below my belly button but this has not been a major issue. Finally, I'm still fighting to regain regular, predictable bathroom patterns but I'm beginning to realize that this may take more time than I had hopped. With careful management I have been able to get out with no problems but I do have to be careful.

Later ….. Mike

Set Back

Molly was going crazy, I was getting dressed to head out on a long run with no plans for her to tag along. As I slipped on my socks she wined, as I laced up my shoes she spun around I circles. “Oh Hell”, I thought, “I'll take her on loop and head back out again.” After all, I had only gotten her out a couple of times this past week.

Six miles later, with only a mile left, I decided to push hard and was flying when an unseen rock or branch sent me flying. It was a good landing in a good spot, elbows and knees, no blood, no bruises just a hard jolting stop. Standing and shaking off leaves and dirt I thought how fortunate I was not to have been hurt. I resumed at a good clip arriving home with an ever increasing urgency to head straight to the bathroom.

“Oh no, What Did I Do? What Should I Do?”, crossed my mind as I saw blood. Not wanting to panic I decided to just wait and see what would happen over the next couple of hours. Things “downstairs” were getting increasingly uncomfortable but the was no more bleeding. There would be no more running either as it just didn't seem to make any sense to push my luck.

Sunday morning seven o'clock seemed awful dark as the start of daylight savings time arrived. Our run was posted as a “Newbie”, slow and only five miles with a three mile “add on option”. I felt well after five miles and added the three mile loop with a more aggressive pace set by Craig; when we finished I felt pretty darn good.

As our group finished another was on a mission, a “Run Across Maryland”, forty two miles of rock , roots and some great scenery along the Appalachian Trail. The run started at Penn Mar Pennsylvania, completing in Harper’s Ferry West Virginia. I had offered to run an aid station halfway through the run expecting runners to arrive sometime around twelve thirty. They were right on time, in great spirits with perfect weather for such an endeavor. I was glad to be there for my friends but as they left laughing there was a certain let down and a feeling that I should be leaving with them. I had considered meeting them later in the day but as I drove away it crossed my mind that I could run again later in the afternoon, this would turn out to be a mistake.

Randy and I met at four fifteen Sunday afternoon with a plan for Randy to run nine miles and I would go for seven. They way the trails loop around I knew we would meet up and finish together. When we started I didn't feel well, having the ever present “got to go” feeling. Normally the feeling subsides or I can simply manage but after three or four miles I knew I was in trouble; Randy and I went our separate ways none too soon.

Normally I will carry papers to handle such a need but today I forgot. Forget leaves, the trees are still barren from winters sleep and those on the ground are dried out and crumple upon touch. So today, a hundred feet or so off a trail lies a formerly white bandana. (buried of course)

All of Sunday night until about three A.M., all day Monday and so far this morning I've been a mess. I am hopeful that the quakes will subside and allow me to get out for something of a run or walk later on. Today may reach seventy degrees with cloudless blue skies ruling the day, it would be a pity to miss out on such a fine day.

Spring is coming ..... Mike

Monkey on My Back

There is a Monkey on My Back and it's me.

I can hardly articulate moods which are flying around the inside of my head like a Kansas twister. It was a week ago the Groshong Catheter, A.K.A. port was removed. I was reminded in the morning while organizing my wallet, as within was the "Medical Alert". It may be of no interest to anyone, but my port was part of lot number REVD0436. Any other REVD0436 (ers) out there? Perhaps we should form a club.

The internet provides a lot of information about cancer patients experiencing "Post Traumatic Shock Syndrome" and perhaps this is what I'm dealing with. Almost wish I could blame and name, a Syndrome, so I could just say, "Hey Guys, I'm not really pissed off or in a terrible mood, it just my Syndrome". Ahhhh would be nice to have something to fall back on.

No, not to be for me,  I'm simply impatient, tired of hurting, asleep feet, sore hands and the new scars I bear. Guess it's time for me to "Man Up" and just quit feeling sorry for myself.

Reike tomorrow, I know Dee and Lorette will start me on a better path.

On a bright note, my running is coming back stronger then I ever would have guessed.

Mike

Seneca Creek

There was a light rain as three Hundred Fifty runners waited for the start of the Seneca Creek Trail Marathon / 50K. The forecast for the day was much better then anyone could have imagined, as it appeared earlier in the week runners would spend the entire day soaking in rain, mud and deep creek crossings. It was chilly, but with a much improved outlook, spirits were high, and, with that thought, I rolled over in bed and went back to sleep.

Yesterday was not one of my better days, although surgery had gone well on Thursday for some reason the pain medication made me sick to my stomach sometime mid-morning. No big deal I reckoned, I'll just “Gut It Out”, yeah, by six in the evening I understood why pain medication had been prescribed. Not wanting anymore Vicodin until bedtime, a nice glass of red wine led to a second glass of red wine to take the edge off the pain.

At nine o'clock, after a whole lot of discomfort had returned, I took a Vicodin and am happy to report it worked without stomach distress. Today it's been four hours since my last, I'm optimistic that the need for these may be over as my chest is sore but tolerable. (No bench pressing for a while)

This morning Molly and I took a nice hike after the sun started to poke out from behind the clouds. Our walk took us to the bridge in the photograph, it's nothing special but it has become fun with it's twists incurred from winter's impact.

Hopefully a nice long run with my running pals tomorrow morning. 

Mike 

Port Gone

The “Perfect Greeting Card” rarely comes along but my friend Larry has a knack for finding them.

Yesterday morning I had enough time after I awoke for a quick two mile run with Molly. Stepping outside I was treated to the smell of fresh air, the result of a full day and nighttime of rain. Less then a half mile down the trail I heard the cries of the spring peepers, “Looking For Love” after a winters sleep. “Too Early Boys”, I thought to myself. The rains made creek crossing a game of rock hopping to keep dry feet and though they remain half-asleep, they were nimble enough to win out. The real pleasure of the run came as the run was almost complete; the sound of geese grew louder and louder until looking up I saw a large flock flying in formation. By counting the number of geese in a small segment, then estimating an approximate number of segments there had to be somewhere around two hundred fifty heading North. Perhaps the spring peepers know something about the end of Winter that

I don't !

Arriving at the Hospital my cell phone rang, it was the admitting staff wondering if I were on time. They explained, I might have surgery early as their was some problem with the patient scheduled ahead of me. The way it sounded I was surprised that they didn't roll a gurney right to the front door. I had the whole scene in my head, gurney waiting, one nurse pulling off my shirt, another strapping me down while a staff member thrusts paperwork to be signed. A NASCAR worthy rush to the operating room whence the doc announces, “He's tough, no need to put him under. Now, hold real still”. Yikes !

I fact, the gurney wasn't waiting at the front door but I was rushed through admittance at breakneck speed. There was a high likely-hood I was going early but then again things don't always work out as planned.

There has never had an issue with an IV before, I've always been told I have “Great Veins”. My first “clue” that something wasn't quite right came as the nurse uttered the words, “The Vein it's getting all squiggley, look”.

Looking, not my first choice, yet after a few forward backward push/pulls I glanced over and saw exactly what she was referring too. The vein in the back of my hand, that straight as an arrow vein went all squiggley as she pushed in the needle.

No big deal, we'll just do it again, push/pull, push/pull squiggley wiggly.I felt bad for the nurse as she was visibility upset. She left the prep room and returned shortly later with another nurse and an explanation. “Athletes and runners have thicker veins then normal”, she had gleaned this information from one of the doctors. Apparently she was not inserting the needle fully into the vein so as she pushed the needle was pushing against the wall of the vein.

“No Problem, three times a charm”, I said. However the hospital had a two try maximum so she could not try again. Three times was a charm but with all the extra time to prep I lost my early “T-Time”. Now it was just a long wait, made much easier with Susan holding my hand and rubbing my neck.

Surgery went well recovery went well and back at home I was feeling good enough to have visitors and talk on the phone. Randy stopped in first, fresh from a five mile loop; Larry drove up when I mentioned Randy would be stopping by for a beer. I have to admit, as I first looked at Larry's card I didn't get the humor but a second glance through “Pain Killer Eyes” made me laugh.

Larry, if you ever want to start another career you could be a professional card finder !