Friday, August 17, 2012

The Charlottesville Women's 4-Miler

I have gotten up at 5:45am and driven across town to make 6:30am weekday runs--I don't do that any more, but I do go on my own, just out my front door, usually sometime between 7 and 8:30am. I have gotten up hungover at 6:30am on a Saturday to make a training day--the running itself was surprisingly pleasant, but leaning over to stretch out was woozy business.  I have run twice on vacation--letting my running shoes take up valuable real estate in my suitcase and once making my dad find me a spot on the beach in San Diego and then wait 45 minutes for me to do my thing. Since June 16, I have run three days a week without fail--except that one day that dad and I rode bikes along the Pacific coastline for twice ten miles.  

I started at a 16:50 mile, at our first time trial.  I am now running, by  my own calculation, about a 13:15.  Still slow as dirt, but I care less about speed (though improvement always feels good) than about controlling my pace so that I can run the whole whatever, which I do in true neurotic fashion by using a heart rate monitor to keep my heart rate in a reasonable range.  I'm getting better at doing that without the monitor, actually.  I'm comfortable between 70-85% of maximum; over 92% and breathing gets painful.  I am up to about 10 miles a week.  Tomorrow is our first shot at four miles--a dry run of the race called a "fun run".  I am dubious of this description, but still willing.

I cannot say that I love it.  The race is what gets me out the door many times, making me wonder when the next one should be.  And, man, this place is hilly. But I don't hate it, either.  I like the personal challenge and sense of accomplishment.  I like the feeling of conveying myself across the earth, my feet hitting the ground, the air in my lungs.  I like doing something that I know is so good for me, and I think about that a lot while I'm doing it. I try not to use the time to mull over my problems or plan my day.  My running time, like my yoga time and, not often enough, my sitting time, is time for peace of mind and attention to body.  On a lower note, the fact that hormone-blocking Tamoxifen has killed my metabolism...well, that's also motivating.

And so, the race has come a long way in its first purpose:  getting me off the couch, out of the house, and healthy.  But I also signed up for this particular race so that I might give something back to the UVA Breast Care Program, which has been nothing short of amazing.  The money raised by this race does all kinds of wonderful things, some of which have been of direct benefit to me.  

When I was diagnosed, I got a huge gift basket and an equally huge binder of material explaining breast cancer and cancer treatment, all of which were supplied by 4-miler funds.  Those same funds allowed the massage therapist at the cancer center, whose services I am lucky enough to have access to for as long as I am here to access them, to attend a course specifically on breast massage for breast cancer patients, which addresses scarring and reintegration with the body after the trauma of surgery.  Another thing the race has paid for, which has nothing to do with me but I just think is awesome, is a mobile mammogram unit--a bus that drives to the medically underserved areas of Virginia and provides free and low-cost mammograms to women who otherwise wouldn't get them.  How great is that?  And there is so much more.

I have had so much help for the past 13+ months that it is hard to ask for more. But that's my problem.  I know that many of you will be happy for the opportunity to contribute.  And so I humbly ask that each of you consider sponsoring me for the race, if you are able.  Any amount, however small, would be put to good use.  Here is the link:


You'll click the "make a donation" box, then choose the option to sponsor a runner and look me up by last name.  If you have any problems or the desperate desire to support the USPS, please let me know.  You can also read more about the race, the programs thus supported, etc.  And the doctor in the picture there? That's my oncologist.  She's fantastic.

Thank you in advance for your generosity.  The race is September 1--there's only two weeks left, so don't wait!  

Monday, August 13, 2012

Happy birthday to me!

Today is my birthday.  And continuing a series of incredibly fortunately-timed events in this year of cancer treatment (if such things can ever be called fortunate), I just had my port out on Friday.  What a perfect birthday present:

The end of infusions!
The end of invasive treatments!
The end of surgeries!
The end of discomfort on the massage table!
The end of awkward hugs!
The end of a limited wardrobe!
The end of wearing my seat belt behind me on the passenger side...

Most importantly, the all-clear from my doctors.  Another form of it, anyway.  A physical manifestation of the cancer-freedom I officially earned with my surgery in January.

It took me a long time to decide what I wanted to do this year.  Last year it was easy.  I had known for a month that I wanted to shave my head on my birthday, and that party was awesome.  Then I needed the support, the boost, the strength from all the love around me--which came freely, fully, amazingly from all sides.  This year, I don't know. This year has been enough work and I've called in enough favors; I just want to do something easy, something effortless for myself and for everyone else, too.  So, a movie in the afternoon and dinner and drinks out later.  Simple.  Plenty of room for celebration and frivolity while someone else can clean up and no one has to think up a costume on 24 hours notice. ;)

And I thought it would be nice to write this quick celebration of such an important milestone:  Bye-bye port! Hello first post-cancer birthday!  Now, off to enjoy that birthday, but there will be more from me soon:  an update on my life as a runner, such as it is (and a link to sponsor me in the big race!).

Much love!