So I had 16 miles on my training schedule this weekend. I spent all week watching the forecast and fighting off a panic attack.
All you heat lovers? Can suck it. I hate training in the heat. That hatred is the whole reason I picked a spring marathon, so I wouldn't have to train in the heat.
Hot weather is not my friend. First off, I'm not a sweater. I'm not talking about the yarny confection I'm currently knitting for myself, I mean I don't sweat properly. This means I don't cool off properly. All those people you see just dripping during a hot summer run? I don't do that. My face sweats a little and becomes hideously caked with salt, but nothing else sweats. I just get hotter and hotter and hotter until I pass out. I studiously avoid training in temperatures above 60 degrees. Truthfully I prefer the temp not be above 45, and that is short sleeves and shorts weather for me.
When I checked on Saturday and saw that the high was projected to be 80 degrees today, I almost freaked out. My heart was racing, and I was so nervous I could hardly sleep. I couldn't head out until 7:30am at the earliest since Jamie was at work until 7am. I was dressed, fed, and ready when he got home and out I went.
As I left my driveway, I didn't feel chilled at all. This is a bad sign. I decided right then that I was going to pace 12 minute miles. The goal was to not feel hot, not sweat, and not breathe hard. I carried 32oz of water and 3 servings of Shot Blocks, plus a handful of emergency Starburst. Have I ever mentioned that I'm prone to hypoglycemia? I'm a bag of distance training awesome, aren't I.
My path was a huge square. The first section was a rolling 5.25 mile distance from my house up the Church road. There was a very pleasant breeze, and the sun wasn't full up. I was pacing 11:30ish and feeling really strong. After turning the first corner, the next 4.5 miles was flat and straight, but through pretty country I'd never run through before, so it didn't feel too long. The breeze was still my friend and the surface was good. I hit the next turn at 9.3 miles feeling pretty damn smug about my super smartypants plan for slow slow miles. I hit all my marks for hydration and food, and I turned down Humboldt Rd.
Oh. Humboldt Rd. No shade, super crappy surface, straight straight straight with the breeze behind me so it did nothing to cool me off. By MapMyRun I should've turned for home around 13 miles. It lied. The turn wasn't until 14 miles, and I was desperate for it by then. I was still hitting my pace, but mentally I was starting to fray. The temperature had been climbing over the last 2 hours and with the breeze now behind me, I was feeling hot and panicky. I took my water/food break, and just gutted it out as long as I could.
I hit 16 at 3:15 on the dot. I was pacing for 3:12, so I feel that was pretty damn good. Unfortunately, I was still 0.8miles from home. That was a long ass 0.8, let me tell you.
Basically, 80% of this run was great. I had no pain, no difficulty. The last 20% was tough. If I'd started an hour earlier I think I could have avoided the heat problem entirely. Or, you know, if the weather was FREAKING NORMAL. Had it been 40? I'm pretty sure I would've sailed through that run feeling phenomenal. Still, I can't know what the weather will be like on marathon weekend, so I'm glad I had the opportunity to trial a hot race strategy. What would I do differently? Start an hour earlier, and freeze two of my water bottles so they could be used for cooling off, or just not be piss-warm when I need cool water.
I finished, had a couple of big bottles of water and a Coke, took a cool shower and had the most awesome nap of my life. I am not sore, nothing aches, I liked my new shoes, and I'm proud of myself for facing the fear and getting through it.
That said. Universe, if you're listening, I'd really appreciate some seasonally appropriate weather on Saturdays from now on. Thanks.
Also, chocolate milk is delicious, and I had me a huge glass about 45 minutes after finishing. Go go sweet chocolatey protein!
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Fourteen Point One is not Fifteen
A recap of my run today:
Leaving the house:
What a great day, I feel all bouncy and happy and runner-y
Mile 1:
Oh, well...it's a wee bit windy! That's okay, it's such a nice day!
Mile 2:
Wow, it's really windy! Look at the tops of all those big trees...they sure are blowing around. Good thing I'm going downhill! Lalalalalala
Mile 3-6:
Why have I never run this route before? It's so pretty! Also nice and flat with a clearly marked bike lane! Lalalalalala
Mile 7-9:
Uphill is so much nicer with a tailwind. This hill isn't so bad at all! Hmmm...those trees are a little worrying...still blowing around quite a bit.
Mile 10:
AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHH!!!!! OH GOD THE WIND MAKE IT STOP MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOP. OW!!! OWOHMYGOD OH.MY.GOD. WHERE IS THE TURN?!?! WHERE IS IT?!? I'M BLIND! I CAN'T SEE ANYMORE! AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!
Mile 11:
Ok. Crosswind still sucks, but better than headwind. I can do this. After the next turn it is downhill all the way. Just keep swimming just keep swimming just keep swimming....
Mile 12:
OHMYGODNOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANT MY MOMMY!!! I HATE MY LIFE!!!! WHY, UNIVERSE, WHY?!?!!? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO OFFEND YOU SO?!?!? I'M A NICE PERSON!!! I PAY MY TAXES AND TRY REALLY HARD NOT TO KICK KITTENS!!! WHYYYYY?
Mile 13:
It's okay (gasp). It's okay (wheeze). Just 2 little miles. 2 miles. It's nothing. There's a downhill! See! Oh, ow, downhill is not my frieeeeeeeeeeend. Hey, 2:26 isn't so bad for 13.1. I can do this. It'll be okay. Just 1.6 little miles. It's a tailwind now! See?
Mile 14:
OHMYGODIT'SNOTATAILWIND. i'm going to cry. DON'T CRY SISSY PANTS, JUST POWER THROUGHITPOWERTHROUGHIT JUST DO THIS YOU PANSY-ASS MOTHERSMURFER!!
Mile 14.1:
Fuck this. I gotta pee.
And there you have it. I finished the 14.1 in 2:38. At the 10 mile mark I was on pace to do 15 in 2:40. The demon wind killed it. I'm certain I looked like some kind of crazed mime to anyone driving by. Mile 10 took 13:58. That is madness.
Part of me thinks I should have just finished the 15, even if I had to walk it. The other part of me was in so much pain from hunching into a driving headwind that I wanted to lay down in the road. My head hurts from squinting into the sandstorm that is a driving headwind after a huge snowfall melts.
Regardless, I ran farther today than I have ever run before. I'm starting to think I can do this marathon thing, because I really did feel great until the wind smacked me down at mile 10.
And now? I'm going to have pie.
Leaving the house:
What a great day, I feel all bouncy and happy and runner-y
Mile 1:
Oh, well...it's a wee bit windy! That's okay, it's such a nice day!
Mile 2:
Wow, it's really windy! Look at the tops of all those big trees...they sure are blowing around. Good thing I'm going downhill! Lalalalalala
Mile 3-6:
Why have I never run this route before? It's so pretty! Also nice and flat with a clearly marked bike lane! Lalalalalala
Mile 7-9:
Uphill is so much nicer with a tailwind. This hill isn't so bad at all! Hmmm...those trees are a little worrying...still blowing around quite a bit.
Mile 10:
AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHH!!!!! OH GOD THE WIND MAKE IT STOP MAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOP. OW!!! OWOHMYGOD OH.MY.GOD. WHERE IS THE TURN?!?! WHERE IS IT?!? I'M BLIND! I CAN'T SEE ANYMORE! AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!
Mile 11:
Ok. Crosswind still sucks, but better than headwind. I can do this. After the next turn it is downhill all the way. Just keep swimming just keep swimming just keep swimming....
Mile 12:
OHMYGODNOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I WANT MY MOMMY!!! I HATE MY LIFE!!!! WHY, UNIVERSE, WHY?!?!!? WHAT HAVE I DONE TO OFFEND YOU SO?!?!? I'M A NICE PERSON!!! I PAY MY TAXES AND TRY REALLY HARD NOT TO KICK KITTENS!!! WHYYYYY?
Mile 13:
It's okay (gasp). It's okay (wheeze). Just 2 little miles. 2 miles. It's nothing. There's a downhill! See! Oh, ow, downhill is not my frieeeeeeeeeeend. Hey, 2:26 isn't so bad for 13.1. I can do this. It'll be okay. Just 1.6 little miles. It's a tailwind now! See?
Mile 14:
OHMYGODIT'SNOTATAILWIND. i'm going to cry. DON'T CRY SISSY PANTS, JUST POWER THROUGHITPOWERTHROUGHIT JUST DO THIS YOU PANSY-ASS MOTHERSMURFER!!
Mile 14.1:
Fuck this. I gotta pee.
And there you have it. I finished the 14.1 in 2:38. At the 10 mile mark I was on pace to do 15 in 2:40. The demon wind killed it. I'm certain I looked like some kind of crazed mime to anyone driving by. Mile 10 took 13:58. That is madness.
Part of me thinks I should have just finished the 15, even if I had to walk it. The other part of me was in so much pain from hunching into a driving headwind that I wanted to lay down in the road. My head hurts from squinting into the sandstorm that is a driving headwind after a huge snowfall melts.
Regardless, I ran farther today than I have ever run before. I'm starting to think I can do this marathon thing, because I really did feel great until the wind smacked me down at mile 10.
And now? I'm going to have pie.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Facing the Fifteen
So...it's been a while.
First, the bad news. My father passed away on January 27th. He experienced the fun that is "terminal agitation" and was awake for nearly 48 hours before finally collapsing under some heavy sedation. He died less than 24 hours later. He saw things. He had conversations with people that weren't there. He tried to strangle my sister. He kicked me when I wouldn't let him get up to go to the bathroom.
And yet. He was still there with us. He answered questions, told us stories long forgotten about our childhood years, gave hugs, leaned into my shoulder, and played with his dog. It was awful and frightening and horrible and stressful and guilt inducing and gut wrenching. I am still grateful we had that time.
Some of my most vivid memories from those surreal two days:
1. His reaction when I told him my sister was going to make his funeral arrangements (relieved)
2. Some of the crazy funny shit he said:
Regarding my sister: "You're an overbearing bitch, you know that?"
(Sarah's response: Yep. You raised me after all.)
Regarding my mother (his ex-wife): "I was married to your mother for a lot of years, and that woman had a big fat ass."
Regarding my daughter: "She's high maintenance." (She is. Really.)
My favorite, though, was when the Hospice doctor asked him when he had his last bowel movement. The doctor had a very think Indian accent. Dad answered "I don't know. It was a long time ago. At that place off of Main street (looking at me) Do you remember the name of that place? They had sundrop in a bottle"
I said "Dad, he asked when you had your last bowel movement. Not where you last went bowling."
Dad said "Oh, it's been 10 days. I thought that was a stupid question."
3. The expression on his face as we wheeled him into the transport van for the ride to the Hospice house (he was too agitated to stay at home, we couldn't keep him safe). He looked lost. Like a little kid. It was a bitter moment for me.
He is resting now, and that gives me some comfort.
Okay. On to happier stuff.
I had been having a serious lack of running mojo. Bad runs, bad times, just zero motivation. Last week I went out for a 3 on Thursday and felt okay, so I was hopeful that I'd be able to finish the Point Bock run (5 miles) sub-55.
It snowed on Friday, pretty heavily. I was happy because I felt like it was NEVER going to snow. On Saturday, the weather was pretty great for me. A little sunny, just a little wind, and nice clean roads through a winter wonderland...34 degrees. Ahhhhhhhh.
Point Bock is an out and back. I don't like out and backs generally. I don't like seeing the winner when I'm only about 25% done with the course. It's demoralizing. I was pleasantly surprised with this out and back as the course was really pretty with the snow and the trees and water.
I was also pleasantly surprised when I felt great and passed (yes, PASSED) my husband who always kicks my ass at these things. When I heard them call out 40:28 as I passed the mile 4 marker (39:17 by my Garmin) I knew I was about to get a PR as long as I didn't blow up in the last mile. I didn't. I finished strong. I hit my watch and almost passed out.
48:38
Holy fuckballs.
My official time was 48:35. I was so stoked. I've been waddling my rapidly fattening ass around at a 10:30 pace for the last two months. I guess I need to saddle up and go for it more often!
Speaking of saddling up...
I have 15 on my calendar this Wednesday (was supposed to be Saturday, but I'm meeting my Ragnar peeps in Madison for 6ish miles that day). Fifteen is farther than I have ever run, being a half-marathoner. Part of me is all "Yeah! Bring it! Suck it 15! You think you're so hot!" Part of me wants to hide in the corner. Add to this the fact that it's supposed to be 53 and raining on Wednesday? Fear. I'm probably going to pee myself. (No, really. That happens to me. You don't poop out three kids and not pee a little.)
Eek.
Also I started a round of P90X today. I am tired of being fat. It worked for me before, it will now. I'll be a lean, mean marathon machine by May. I need to lose 15. 20 would be better.
Wish me luck! I'll post about the 15 (if I'm still lucid) on Wednesday.
First, the bad news. My father passed away on January 27th. He experienced the fun that is "terminal agitation" and was awake for nearly 48 hours before finally collapsing under some heavy sedation. He died less than 24 hours later. He saw things. He had conversations with people that weren't there. He tried to strangle my sister. He kicked me when I wouldn't let him get up to go to the bathroom.
And yet. He was still there with us. He answered questions, told us stories long forgotten about our childhood years, gave hugs, leaned into my shoulder, and played with his dog. It was awful and frightening and horrible and stressful and guilt inducing and gut wrenching. I am still grateful we had that time.
Some of my most vivid memories from those surreal two days:
1. His reaction when I told him my sister was going to make his funeral arrangements (relieved)
2. Some of the crazy funny shit he said:
Regarding my sister: "You're an overbearing bitch, you know that?"
(Sarah's response: Yep. You raised me after all.)
Regarding my mother (his ex-wife): "I was married to your mother for a lot of years, and that woman had a big fat ass."
Regarding my daughter: "She's high maintenance." (She is. Really.)
My favorite, though, was when the Hospice doctor asked him when he had his last bowel movement. The doctor had a very think Indian accent. Dad answered "I don't know. It was a long time ago. At that place off of Main street (looking at me) Do you remember the name of that place? They had sundrop in a bottle"
I said "Dad, he asked when you had your last bowel movement. Not where you last went bowling."
Dad said "Oh, it's been 10 days. I thought that was a stupid question."
3. The expression on his face as we wheeled him into the transport van for the ride to the Hospice house (he was too agitated to stay at home, we couldn't keep him safe). He looked lost. Like a little kid. It was a bitter moment for me.
He is resting now, and that gives me some comfort.
Okay. On to happier stuff.
I had been having a serious lack of running mojo. Bad runs, bad times, just zero motivation. Last week I went out for a 3 on Thursday and felt okay, so I was hopeful that I'd be able to finish the Point Bock run (5 miles) sub-55.
It snowed on Friday, pretty heavily. I was happy because I felt like it was NEVER going to snow. On Saturday, the weather was pretty great for me. A little sunny, just a little wind, and nice clean roads through a winter wonderland...34 degrees. Ahhhhhhhh.
Point Bock is an out and back. I don't like out and backs generally. I don't like seeing the winner when I'm only about 25% done with the course. It's demoralizing. I was pleasantly surprised with this out and back as the course was really pretty with the snow and the trees and water.
I was also pleasantly surprised when I felt great and passed (yes, PASSED) my husband who always kicks my ass at these things. When I heard them call out 40:28 as I passed the mile 4 marker (39:17 by my Garmin) I knew I was about to get a PR as long as I didn't blow up in the last mile. I didn't. I finished strong. I hit my watch and almost passed out.
48:38
Holy fuckballs.
My official time was 48:35. I was so stoked. I've been waddling my rapidly fattening ass around at a 10:30 pace for the last two months. I guess I need to saddle up and go for it more often!
Speaking of saddling up...
I have 15 on my calendar this Wednesday (was supposed to be Saturday, but I'm meeting my Ragnar peeps in Madison for 6ish miles that day). Fifteen is farther than I have ever run, being a half-marathoner. Part of me is all "Yeah! Bring it! Suck it 15! You think you're so hot!" Part of me wants to hide in the corner. Add to this the fact that it's supposed to be 53 and raining on Wednesday? Fear. I'm probably going to pee myself. (No, really. That happens to me. You don't poop out three kids and not pee a little.)
Eek.
Also I started a round of P90X today. I am tired of being fat. It worked for me before, it will now. I'll be a lean, mean marathon machine by May. I need to lose 15. 20 would be better.
Wish me luck! I'll post about the 15 (if I'm still lucid) on Wednesday.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
New Year, Same Old Me
The obligatory "New Year's goals" post...here goes.
To finally, finally drop these last 10 twin pounds and keep them the smurf off. (I lost them once already, but they came back!) The key here is controlling my emotional response to food. In that vein, I've chosen lowfat chocolate milk as my indulgence of choice as my runs get longer. I adore chocolate milk. The kind that comes from the chocolate cows, not the Hershey's syrup variety :) It's a treat! It's a dessert! It's a smurfin' energy drink, y'all!
Finish a full marathon.
Log 1000 miles for 2012 (this seems to be a common thread among my running friends).
Meet the authors of the blogs I read in person (Woo Hoo! Ragnar!).
Master color knitting (doesn't seem to fit with the rest, does it?)
Actually make myself some clothes with my newfound knitting mojo, instead of dozens of accessories (not that they don't rock, too).
I did my first "training" run this morning. It was 5 degrees and sunny, the road was a bit icy in places, but I was geared up well and was never cold. I felt energized and full of purpose over those 3.2 little miles, even if they were a bit slow. In my defense, I walked up a monster hill because the shoulder and side of the lane was really, really icy and I didn't feel like dying or damaging myself!
I have also decided I will wear my Garmin for every run, even little "silly" ones. I want to track every step I take outside this year and have a little mappy representation of the miles I've covered. I will also make more use of dailymile.com to keep track of bits and pieces and to see what my compatriates are up to.
Cheers to the New Year!
To finally, finally drop these last 10 twin pounds and keep them the smurf off. (I lost them once already, but they came back!) The key here is controlling my emotional response to food. In that vein, I've chosen lowfat chocolate milk as my indulgence of choice as my runs get longer. I adore chocolate milk. The kind that comes from the chocolate cows, not the Hershey's syrup variety :) It's a treat! It's a dessert! It's a smurfin' energy drink, y'all!
Finish a full marathon.
Log 1000 miles for 2012 (this seems to be a common thread among my running friends).
Meet the authors of the blogs I read in person (Woo Hoo! Ragnar!).
Master color knitting (doesn't seem to fit with the rest, does it?)
Actually make myself some clothes with my newfound knitting mojo, instead of dozens of accessories (not that they don't rock, too).
I did my first "training" run this morning. It was 5 degrees and sunny, the road was a bit icy in places, but I was geared up well and was never cold. I felt energized and full of purpose over those 3.2 little miles, even if they were a bit slow. In my defense, I walked up a monster hill because the shoulder and side of the lane was really, really icy and I didn't feel like dying or damaging myself!
I have also decided I will wear my Garmin for every run, even little "silly" ones. I want to track every step I take outside this year and have a little mappy representation of the miles I've covered. I will also make more use of dailymile.com to keep track of bits and pieces and to see what my compatriates are up to.
Cheers to the New Year!
Monday, December 26, 2011
Here's to a Smurfing Awesome New Year
Well, I made it through Christmas. Alcohol helped. I don't even have a hangover, and do you know why?
Because if you're tore up before 2pm and then stop drinking, you will be sober again before the Packer game at 7pm. Sober before bed = no hangover. Woot.
Let's start with the bad news:
1. My Dad is now Hospice.
2. I gained 5lbs in 10 days.
Obviously one is worse than the other. However, I think engaging Hospice now while he's still 100% independent of cares (in other words, he can still bathe/eat/poop without help) was a very good, rational decision on his part. He is handling this as well as a person could, and I believe it is the right choice for all of us. It's hard, but we're working together to make the best of it.
Now, for the second bit. I have been eating all. the. things. for two weeks. Part of it is emotional, part of it is hormonal, part of it is water :) As of today I am off sugar and alcohol. I was really starting to feel cruddy, and my motivation was lagging pretty badly. I already feel better after one day totally off my "drug", and I'm looking forward to spending the next two weeks getting my low-carb mojo on.
My marathon program starts 1/1/12 for the Cellcom on 5/20/12. I am really stoked about starting! The weather has been wintry awesome here for the last couple of weeks and I am ready to get some bracing fresh air and many miles under my (ever loosening) belt. My plan is to be a lean, mean marathon machine come May!
In addition to the marathon, and all the races that lead up to it, I was lucky enough to get on a Ragnar team with a bunch of fabulous bloggy-type ladies! We're doing Madison to Chicago on June 8-9, and I'm very excited about it. I need the camraderie and motivation that goes along with training for something like this, and I think it's going to be lots of fun.
Team name: The Panty Raiders
Now all I need is a nickname....
Oh, I managed to crank out more handknits in the last 4 weeks than in the previous 9 months combined! I made Christmas stockings for my whole family, a blanket for my Grandma, a bunch of little stocking ornaments, and a pair of socks for me. They were supposed to be for the sister, but I bound off the cuff too tight and there is no way she'd be able to get them over her heels.
I have rediscovered knitting in a big way, and I'm all set to start teaching myself fancy colorwork.
I might be prematurely 90. My husband is always teasing me about my antiquated vocabulary and proclivity for odd old-fashioned handicrafts and recipes.
Because if you're tore up before 2pm and then stop drinking, you will be sober again before the Packer game at 7pm. Sober before bed = no hangover. Woot.
Let's start with the bad news:
1. My Dad is now Hospice.
2. I gained 5lbs in 10 days.
Obviously one is worse than the other. However, I think engaging Hospice now while he's still 100% independent of cares (in other words, he can still bathe/eat/poop without help) was a very good, rational decision on his part. He is handling this as well as a person could, and I believe it is the right choice for all of us. It's hard, but we're working together to make the best of it.
Now, for the second bit. I have been eating all. the. things. for two weeks. Part of it is emotional, part of it is hormonal, part of it is water :) As of today I am off sugar and alcohol. I was really starting to feel cruddy, and my motivation was lagging pretty badly. I already feel better after one day totally off my "drug", and I'm looking forward to spending the next two weeks getting my low-carb mojo on.
My marathon program starts 1/1/12 for the Cellcom on 5/20/12. I am really stoked about starting! The weather has been wintry awesome here for the last couple of weeks and I am ready to get some bracing fresh air and many miles under my (ever loosening) belt. My plan is to be a lean, mean marathon machine come May!
In addition to the marathon, and all the races that lead up to it, I was lucky enough to get on a Ragnar team with a bunch of fabulous bloggy-type ladies! We're doing Madison to Chicago on June 8-9, and I'm very excited about it. I need the camraderie and motivation that goes along with training for something like this, and I think it's going to be lots of fun.
Team name: The Panty Raiders
Now all I need is a nickname....
Oh, I managed to crank out more handknits in the last 4 weeks than in the previous 9 months combined! I made Christmas stockings for my whole family, a blanket for my Grandma, a bunch of little stocking ornaments, and a pair of socks for me. They were supposed to be for the sister, but I bound off the cuff too tight and there is no way she'd be able to get them over her heels.
I have rediscovered knitting in a big way, and I'm all set to start teaching myself fancy colorwork.
I might be prematurely 90. My husband is always teasing me about my antiquated vocabulary and proclivity for odd old-fashioned handicrafts and recipes.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Smurf My Life
Like the title? It's part of my New Year's Resolution.
I like to curse. Actually, I love to curse. Profanity is awesome. There are few things in life as satisfying as a well-deserved F-bomb.
Here's the problem: I have a boat load of little kids. They are rapidly becoming little parrots. I have to curtail the profanity, or I'm going to have one of those little CPS moments in the grocery store. You know the kind...when your kids yells "Mommy, don't hit me!!" even though you've never raised a hand to them? Or screams out "You are a BITCH!" when there are seven dozen grandmother's in pearl clutching distance?
How will I quit cursing, you ask? I have decided to insert the word "smurf" in place of the intended swear word. We practiced today at work. It was all kinds of hilarious. Try it. I'll wait.
See? Awesome.
So why "smurf" my life? Well I'll tell you.
A couple of weeks ago, my Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Yep, that's the kind that killed Patrick Swayze and Steve Jobs. It is going to kill my father. Probably soon. He is stage IV, though the oncologist says stage IV does not adequately describe his situation...there is simply no classification beyond stage IV. He has opted for chemo to try and shrink the tumor and quell the metastases. It is largely pointless. It breaks my heart to see him trying to process that the end of his life is near. My Dad has always been a strong, decisive leader. He was a teacher turned school administrator, and just retired a couple of years ago after almost 40 years as an educator. He has always been proud of his ability to control any situation. He is a "fixer" personality (so am I), and being confronted with something that cannot be fixed is difficult. He feels weak and sick and helpless. I feel weak and helpless in the face of this.
Making things worse is the fact that my sister is stationed overseas. She is attempting to separate in order to come home and care for Dad in his final days. I am trying to do all I can, but I have a very young family and a full time job. I also live an hour away from my Dad. Fortunately, he has a wonderful girlfriend that is truly a gift. She was there for him at diagnosis when he couldn't tell us, his children, what was happening. She took him to his first chemo appointments, before I even knew he was sick. My plan is to visit a couple of times a week, take food that he might find appealing (pancreatic cancer steals your appetite, starting pretty early on), do laundry, run errands, and clean his house. I also want to provide a distraction...it can't be fun to do nothing but sit and contemplate your mortality. I made a batch of his favorite Christmas cookies, and I hope he will want to eat them. It was therapeutic for me to make them.
Please visit www.pancan.org and raise your awareness of this insidious disease. Did you know that November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month? Neither did I until I was made horribly, tragically aware of it. It is also Lung Cancer Awareness Month.
Boobs get a whole month all to themselves, and an avalanche of pink friggin' everything. October practically shrieks "BREAST CANCER!!! BE AWARE!! ARE YOU AWARE!!! OF BREAST CANCER!!!! HALF THE POPULATION HAS BREASTS!!!! BE AWARE!!!". PanCan has to share a month with lung cancer. Guess how many people I've run into that know November is PanCan month? Zero. Including the staff in the cancer center.
You know what? Everybody has a smurfing pancreas. EVERYBODY. Have you seen the statistics on pancreatic cancer? They are barbaric. 80% of patients do not survive to a year beyond diagnosis. At five years survival is something like 2%. That is pathetic. Basically, if you're not a candidate for a Whipple procedure, you're toast. And a Whipple? That is complicated, dangerous surgery. The recommendation is not to have the procedure at a hospital that does less than 5 of them a year. It is THAT INVOLVED. The result of surgery, even if you come out totally unscathed and free of cancer is instant diabetes. Would I rather be diabetic than dead? Yes, but what other cancer treatment results in another debilitating disease? It's madness.
Please go to the website and learn the signs. My Dad turned 65 nine days ago, a week after being given a death sentence. Sixty-five is not old. It is not the end of a lifetime, or shouldn't be. It happens accross age spectrums.
Know It. Fight It. End It.
In further smurf my life topics, my twins spent all of Thanksgiving weekend barfing their little guts out. There are few things sadder than barfing babies. Unless one of those things is one of those babies barfing his little guts out all over the back of your car when you are alone and over an hour from home after spending the day with your dying father and increasingly frail 94 year old grandmother.
That is way sadder.
That is something that makes Mommy lose her smurf and call Daddy at work and sob to him that she just doesn't have the emotional fortitude to deal with the current situation and he needs to come home immediately and keep Mommy from jumping off the roof and yes she knows that it's a holiday and that will leave work short and she doesn't care.
But he did come home. Because he is awesome like that.
Ok. Not everything in my life is smurfed. Some things are actually fun and exciting (or at least, the anticipation is fun and exciting). I promise my next post will be less doom and more fun.
I like to curse. Actually, I love to curse. Profanity is awesome. There are few things in life as satisfying as a well-deserved F-bomb.
Here's the problem: I have a boat load of little kids. They are rapidly becoming little parrots. I have to curtail the profanity, or I'm going to have one of those little CPS moments in the grocery store. You know the kind...when your kids yells "Mommy, don't hit me!!" even though you've never raised a hand to them? Or screams out "You are a BITCH!" when there are seven dozen grandmother's in pearl clutching distance?
How will I quit cursing, you ask? I have decided to insert the word "smurf" in place of the intended swear word. We practiced today at work. It was all kinds of hilarious. Try it. I'll wait.
See? Awesome.
So why "smurf" my life? Well I'll tell you.
A couple of weeks ago, my Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Yep, that's the kind that killed Patrick Swayze and Steve Jobs. It is going to kill my father. Probably soon. He is stage IV, though the oncologist says stage IV does not adequately describe his situation...there is simply no classification beyond stage IV. He has opted for chemo to try and shrink the tumor and quell the metastases. It is largely pointless. It breaks my heart to see him trying to process that the end of his life is near. My Dad has always been a strong, decisive leader. He was a teacher turned school administrator, and just retired a couple of years ago after almost 40 years as an educator. He has always been proud of his ability to control any situation. He is a "fixer" personality (so am I), and being confronted with something that cannot be fixed is difficult. He feels weak and sick and helpless. I feel weak and helpless in the face of this.
Making things worse is the fact that my sister is stationed overseas. She is attempting to separate in order to come home and care for Dad in his final days. I am trying to do all I can, but I have a very young family and a full time job. I also live an hour away from my Dad. Fortunately, he has a wonderful girlfriend that is truly a gift. She was there for him at diagnosis when he couldn't tell us, his children, what was happening. She took him to his first chemo appointments, before I even knew he was sick. My plan is to visit a couple of times a week, take food that he might find appealing (pancreatic cancer steals your appetite, starting pretty early on), do laundry, run errands, and clean his house. I also want to provide a distraction...it can't be fun to do nothing but sit and contemplate your mortality. I made a batch of his favorite Christmas cookies, and I hope he will want to eat them. It was therapeutic for me to make them.
Please visit www.pancan.org and raise your awareness of this insidious disease. Did you know that November is Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month? Neither did I until I was made horribly, tragically aware of it. It is also Lung Cancer Awareness Month.
Boobs get a whole month all to themselves, and an avalanche of pink friggin' everything. October practically shrieks "BREAST CANCER!!! BE AWARE!! ARE YOU AWARE!!! OF BREAST CANCER!!!! HALF THE POPULATION HAS BREASTS!!!! BE AWARE!!!". PanCan has to share a month with lung cancer. Guess how many people I've run into that know November is PanCan month? Zero. Including the staff in the cancer center.
You know what? Everybody has a smurfing pancreas. EVERYBODY. Have you seen the statistics on pancreatic cancer? They are barbaric. 80% of patients do not survive to a year beyond diagnosis. At five years survival is something like 2%. That is pathetic. Basically, if you're not a candidate for a Whipple procedure, you're toast. And a Whipple? That is complicated, dangerous surgery. The recommendation is not to have the procedure at a hospital that does less than 5 of them a year. It is THAT INVOLVED. The result of surgery, even if you come out totally unscathed and free of cancer is instant diabetes. Would I rather be diabetic than dead? Yes, but what other cancer treatment results in another debilitating disease? It's madness.
Please go to the website and learn the signs. My Dad turned 65 nine days ago, a week after being given a death sentence. Sixty-five is not old. It is not the end of a lifetime, or shouldn't be. It happens accross age spectrums.
Know It. Fight It. End It.
In further smurf my life topics, my twins spent all of Thanksgiving weekend barfing their little guts out. There are few things sadder than barfing babies. Unless one of those things is one of those babies barfing his little guts out all over the back of your car when you are alone and over an hour from home after spending the day with your dying father and increasingly frail 94 year old grandmother.
That is way sadder.
That is something that makes Mommy lose her smurf and call Daddy at work and sob to him that she just doesn't have the emotional fortitude to deal with the current situation and he needs to come home immediately and keep Mommy from jumping off the roof and yes she knows that it's a holiday and that will leave work short and she doesn't care.
But he did come home. Because he is awesome like that.
Ok. Not everything in my life is smurfed. Some things are actually fun and exciting (or at least, the anticipation is fun and exciting). I promise my next post will be less doom and more fun.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Mommy is all Crazy Pants
Whew...one blog a month. I'm exhausted.
My lovely children continue to grow and flourish in spite of my lackadaisical parenting skills, which is wonderful. They have been (knock wood) quite healthy this year aside from the occaisional sniffles. The twins are fat and sassy, saying new words every day. They are all about looking in the mirror and talking to the "other baby". I'm pretty sure that when each one looks in the mirror he identifies his own reflection as his brother.
Lily adores 4K and asks every morning "Do I have 4K today?!?". Friday is her least favorite day because there's no 4K on Fridays. I'm so glad she likes school, it makes everything easier.
Now. For the Crazy Pants:
I have decided to run a marathon. Specifically the Cellcom Green Bay Marathon on 5/20/12. My training starts January 1! I'm intimidated and excited all at the same time. I'm doing Insanity right now (which is "bananas, yo" in the words of Shaun T), and am thinking it will make me a faster runner. Lots of plyo for speed :)
My friend Laura is debating signing up as well. I'm not counting on training with her, though. She's not an all-weather kind of runner, and will likely be treadmilling it for the most part. Me? I LOVE winter training. LOVE IT.
So there it is. In print. I'm going to run a marathon. Along with a couple of 5Ks and half marathons in my training schedule.
May the force (or the Schwartz) be with me...
My lovely children continue to grow and flourish in spite of my lackadaisical parenting skills, which is wonderful. They have been (knock wood) quite healthy this year aside from the occaisional sniffles. The twins are fat and sassy, saying new words every day. They are all about looking in the mirror and talking to the "other baby". I'm pretty sure that when each one looks in the mirror he identifies his own reflection as his brother.
Lily adores 4K and asks every morning "Do I have 4K today?!?". Friday is her least favorite day because there's no 4K on Fridays. I'm so glad she likes school, it makes everything easier.
Now. For the Crazy Pants:
I have decided to run a marathon. Specifically the Cellcom Green Bay Marathon on 5/20/12. My training starts January 1! I'm intimidated and excited all at the same time. I'm doing Insanity right now (which is "bananas, yo" in the words of Shaun T), and am thinking it will make me a faster runner. Lots of plyo for speed :)
My friend Laura is debating signing up as well. I'm not counting on training with her, though. She's not an all-weather kind of runner, and will likely be treadmilling it for the most part. Me? I LOVE winter training. LOVE IT.
So there it is. In print. I'm going to run a marathon. Along with a couple of 5Ks and half marathons in my training schedule.
May the force (or the Schwartz) be with me...
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