One Thousand Miles

January first, Two Thousand Twelve ........................................................

I logged a two mile run which left me standing barefoot in the cold as my feet burned. It would be another twenty eight days until I ran again.

That same day I opened up my running log spreadsheet to set new goals and log the painful run. Staring at the computer screen I could not but help but wonder how everything would work out, after all it was just a week away that my reversal surgery would occur.

Too much time has passed to fully know what I was thinking but I imagine it was something like, “Oh, what the hell, just put down one thousand miles.

How truly strange that I should meet that mark the same day my mother started her treatments for her cancer.

This morning when I awoke I knew I needed four and one quarter miles to meet the “impossible” goal I set in January....... I ran four miles this morning, ending up one quarter mile short ..... I had mixed feelings about going out again to complete my goal until Susan came home from work.... we spoke about it and her words, “Your Mom would want you to finish this” led me to lacing up my shoes and getting it done.

How Strange Life Can Be

Mike

One Week Later

An entire week has passed since my last post; as I sit here thinking back it amazes me how much has happened but more importantly how much will simply fade into the background as future weeks reveal themselves.

This week mimicked a roller coaster with it's head jolting fast turns, slow climbs and rapid descents. Physically, I was “all Over The Board”, feeling great some times, terrible at others. I ran the least number of miles I had in months at just twenty one. I probably averaged fifteen trips to the “can” each day, thankfully early in the morning and later at night. This led me to consuming the most pain pills in a single week I think I have ever taken outside of right after surgery (a total of three and one half as I bite them in half) , trust me when I say if I didn't need them I wanted them. I believe I even took a half pill in my sleep.

Steamtown, a fall Marathon held in Scranton PA approaches in a little more then a month and I sit on the fence as to whether or not I will go. I'm really not a fan of Marathons but Steamtown is something different, a point to point run through small towns who roll out the red carpet for the runners. Scranton is also the home of one of my former college roommates, so I also have the pleasure of spending some time with him and his wife. My hesitation is two-fold, first, can I run twenty six miles in control of my guts. There will be Port-o-potties along the way but they are spaced out. (Running in the woods is far more convenient) Second, I pay a price with each hard run, requiring many trips to the “Loo” after-ward, that's not bad if I'm at home, I'm not sure I want to go through that at a friends house. Who knows, a month from now I may be much better, I am hopeful.

Great friends showed up this past week but the elation of spending time together seemed fleeting. As we said goodby I wanted to say, “No ........ you’re not going, we have more golf to play, more trails to run”. We will...... we will play more golf.... we will run trails together ............I'm sorry but I am getting greedy with my time and I would rather have it now then later. 

Last week I found out that my blood work has gotten better, the Oncologist was pleased that my white blood cell count is back in the normal range. We also discussed the pain in my hands and numbness/pain in my feet....... no surprise there, it may be permanent. I dismissed discussing drugs to help, after all the drugs would simply mask symptoms, not help with a cure. I'm not against medication but I will avoid it as long as possible. After all, I'd rather dance with the Devil I know then the one I don't.

This morning I have a follow up with my surgeon, Dr. Berg, I'm looking forward to seeing him but hope I don't hear the words, “OK, I'm going to give you a digital exam”. Being in the technology field I often think of digits in terms of bits and bites. The first time I heard the Doc tell me I was going to get a Digital Exam I thought of a modern day probe, pencil like (nice thought) until I saw him snap on the gloves, then and only then did I realize that digits, ARE ON YOUR HANDS !

My thoughts are with my Mom and Dad, Mom's treatments start in just a couple days. We all are praying that her response will be good with minimal side effects. While no-one can predict how this will play out, I know the power of love... the love we receive and the love we give to others ... it is a blessing and comfort to our journey regardless of the final destination. There is an abundance of love surrounding my parents.

Mike

5K Success (almost)

The end of summer approaches; Patrick returns to college, Sue starts back to work Tuesday and Maggie starts her senior year of high school a week later. It will get too quiet around here too soon.

Today I ran the Saint Jude 5K held in Baker Park. After looking at previous finishing times I hoped I might finish in the top twenty. I was so close …...... finishing twenty first out of about four hundred in a time of twenty one minutes fifty seconds. I ran well but had trouble pacing myself. I would look at the Garmin seeing a six fifteen pace (too fast), slow down to seven ten (too slow). This only proves that I need track work, hopefully I can make myself do it. I would like to think I can improve but as I mentioned to my Buddy Larry, after the race, “Anything I can run is just a bonus”.

This past week was difficult as I could not get my head back into work after returning from Chincoteague. Perhaps mental stress added to physical challenges I went through. My normal four to five day cycle repeated every other day. My hands and feet, often serving as a barometer for my overall health have staggered backwards. My feet in particular are taking on a new twist, painful numbness... unnerving.Still I managed to log almost forty miles of training.

I missed an appointment with the Oncologist but have reset it for next Thursday, I will be getting full blood workup and suspect that my red blood cell count should be better. I will probably also find out when I'll be scheduled for my next CAT scan.

Friday I had a Reiki session, the first in a month and I have to admit I was “Out of Practice”. Normally it takes just minutes for me to clear my mind and relax, not this time. Only near the end did I start to “Zone Out” to a different level of consciousness.

Driving home from Chincoteague last week I passed on of those “Church Signs”, you know, one of those with a “Catchy Phrase”. Well this time, this one hit home …...... it read.

DON'T CRY FOR WHAT IS OVER

REJOICE IN WHAT YOU HAD

Later …..... Mike

Beaching It

I laid on the Beach Towel watching my wife, daughter and sons playing in the Atlantic Ocean off of Assateaque Island. An occasional wave, if caught with good timing provided a short ride back to the beach. The water was chilly, the air was warm, partly cloudy skies with a gentle breeze kept the beach from getting too hot. In a word, perfect.

Earlier in the day I opted for a four mile run to gauge if there was any speed left in me after Catoctin training. I was encouraged to run fast to avoid the need for a blood transfusion as hoards of Hungry Mosquitoes were waiting for a feast. I hadn't thought this out too well and had left the house without the aid of bug spray. At one and a half miles I was pleased to see that I was running a sub seven minute pace and just as quickly displeased to realize that the keys to the rental car were no longer in my running shorts. I had very little doubt about the keys being found, but by who was my concern. If the keys had fallen on the paved section of the trail it would have been likely seen by another runner or biker. While the trail loop wasn't too busy, it was busy enough; thankfully I found the keys a half mile later sitting just along side of the trail. Taking no further chances the keys were placed in the zippered section of my hand carried water bottle. Except for the excitement of dropping keys I had a good run but know that I need some work on the track.

My body has not worked it's way out of a four to five day cycle it's stuck in, soon after I returned the floodgates opened up. Three hours later, sore and tired I decided to take a pain pill for relief and to quiet things down. Normally I never take a pain pill during the day, that is reserved for nighttime use but today I knew I would miss out on the Beach without it. A half pill worked wonders, actually better then I could have imagined, as I played in the surf I felt no pain in my gut, hands and the ever present numbness in my toes was absent. I will have to resist the temptation of using the pain pills during the day as I could see getting use to it quickly.

Timing is everything they say, in this case my timing must have been perfect, for after leaving the beach less then an hour passed before the second round of the “Grand Slam”. The return of the evil intestine kept us from going out to dinner but carry out from “Captain Zack's Seafood” was a tasty alternative. (Thanks Beverly)

As I sit here writing this I can still visualize Sue, our daughter and boys laughing and playing I the surf. I can see hundreds of families with their old and young staking out a piece of beach to build memories upon. What a grand day.

Mike

Hope

The car was stone quiet as we drove down Route Eighty Seven towards Albany. It was the quiet of those deep in their own thoughts as we each dealt with the news that Mom's cancer had metastasized to the liver.

A day earlier I had formulated a “self challenge” of running to the summit of Phelps Mountain and back in two and a half hours.. The trail, about eight and a half miles with two thousand feet of vertical climb would be mostly runnable with the exception of the mile up and down from the summit.

Bets were made with a generous addition of half hour to complete the run. My only doubt would be the condition of my legs. Had they have recovered enough from a hard 50K four days earlier to allow me to power up the steep Un-runnable sections of the Mountain.

After a decent nights sleep, my legs felt little effect from race or hikes already taken. I knew three hours was “In The Bag” so I canceled all bets with the excuse that I did not want to be put in a position of doing anything stupid. (The question, Why stop now might be appropriate)

Starting out easy, I figured to cover the distance to the Phelps cutoff in forty minutes or less. I managed thirty eight, inclusive of a short stop to offer directions to a hiker. The last mile to the summit has places which can be run but I held back a bit to stave off fatigue in my quads. With only a quarter mile left some indication of tiredness appeared, by then however I knew there was no need to slow down. One hour eight minutes after I left our Lean-to at Heart Lake I stood on the summit.

Standing on a rock outcropping, looking over mountain tops playing hide and seek with clouds, I prayed. I prayed for good news from the tests my Mother would have later in the day. I could not imagine selecting a better place. A gentle breeze cooled then dried me off and soon enough I was on my way back down the mountain.

The site of someone bounding down over rocks brought looks of “What The Hell” from more then one hiker moving up the trail. At the Phelps cut off I once again stopped to offer directions only to bounce from boulder to boulder soon after. The mile and a quarter to Marcy Dam was traveled without thought, just effortless reaction to vision and foot placement.

Returning to Marcy Dam in one hour forty minutes I knew it might be possible to break two hours if I could maintain something around an eight and a half minute pace. “Stretch it out a bit Mike”, I thought. For a while I managed to run hard but a nagging hip flexor convinced me otherwise. Still, as I ran in to camp in two hours five minutes I had bettered my goal.

The car continued to click off miles in complete silence. My mind wandered from thoughts of our trip to Mom..... Dad …... times past ….... times to come. Who knows how prayers are answered, in this case the outcome was not what I prayed for but certainly not as bad as it could had been.

I remain full of hope for my Mother and Myself. This journey, which is difficult, leads us to new awakenings and appreciation for the bountiful life we have already passed through and that which is yet in our path.
 

All my Love Mom …... Mike

The CAT

“Never again” was the response I heard more then once as runners completed the hot, humid, mind numbing Catoctin 50K.

Cooling Off At The Finish

My race went well for twenty nine miles, it's a shame we run almost thirty three. With three and a half miles left my body rebelled, forcing me into the woods to seek relief. Ten minutes after stumbling off the trail I returned feeling worse not better. Kristin, who joined me for the last six miles, later commented, “When Mike's not talking I know he's not feeling good”.

I am pretty sure a PR was in reach for me until nature took over. Even so, my time of seven hours twenty one minutes was competitive and extraordinary satisfying. Crossing the finish line did not end my day of running. Slow and steady was replaced by sporadic sprints to the bathroom while I waited for running friends to complete their day.

Jumping into the car the next morning for a ten hour drive may not be best way to treat sore and beat up legs but how else does one get to Lake Placid for a few days of hiking?

In addition to the legs I had concern about the drive itself, particularly my ability to make it without incident.

I am happy to report the drive went well.

Monday morning I woke to sore quads but everything else seemed amazingly happy. Our plan was to hike Giant Mountain, a climb of over three thousand vertical feet in three and a half miles. I wasn't concerned about the uphill sections of the trail but I knew the downhill's might produce “screaming quads”. The ones that talk to you with each step, yelling when you have to stretch those legs out. All in all the hike went well.

Everything tastes better in the mountains and our spaghetti and meatball dinner tasted like a gourmets feast. Even the Carlo Rossi jug of red wine purchased for the occasion tasted splendid with yours truly tastefully drinking (more then I should) out of my water bottle. It would later prove to be a monumental mistake in judgment.........

Lets just say that I will be returning home with one less pair of underwear.