Stretching out, or, what motivates me?

I’m honestly not sure why this ocurred to me as I was driving to work the other day, but since I love to beat a dead analogy, I can take the potato bug one step further. While the lowly potato bug is curled up in a little ball, it’s legs are all inside. It can’t move forward.

So the entire time I’ve been curling up in a little ball, sometimes almost literaly, I’ve been stuck.  So now I have to figure it out- what will make me move forward?

I’ve become VERY good at finding things that aren’t enough to make me break out of my protective shell. (Which I could think of my fat suit as that, but then we’re really mixing those metaphors!)

• Fear of being the “fat mom” hasn’t worked, I’m kinda there.
• Training for a total of now five triathlons, three 5ks and a 150 mile bike ride? Nope, evidently I can do these things with the bare min.
• Wanting to make my husband happy, or my son proud? Well, the dog loves me no matter what, right?
• Wanting to look, better, live longer, be more active? Still obviously not hitting my trigger.

After my last, much more positive post, where did Debbie Downer come from? Well, in my defense, I did start this blog before that one... and self-depreciation is a well learned and deeply ingrained habit, but I’ve also been finding some great excuses NOT to work out. I got a tetanus shot at my doctor’s appt, so my arm hurts.  It was almost sleeting on the way home, so I don’t want to drive back to the gym.  I’m making cookies and washing the dog. I’m making more cookies. It’s cold. I’m tired. The half marathon is still five months away... see, I’m REALLY good at it.

But Wednesday I had lunch with my friend, Tricia Moen.  She is half of the reason I’m planning to organize a team for the Mercer Island Half. And was the reason I washed the dog last night, as well as made one of the sets of cookies.  She has been fighting colon cancer for almost two years now. She was only 37 when she was diagnosed. And in a recent visit to her doctor, was told that she should plan on chemo of some sort for the rest of her life.

This blog started, before today, as, maybe I should buy myself something that I don’t actually GET until I log a certain number of miles. Or some other way to compete with myself, or maybe even someone else, to help get back to getting my butt in gear. 

But last week, when my arm hurt from my one little shot, I couldn’t complain to my mom.  She was missing her 9^th of 12 chemo sessions because she had to get two shots every day for three days. One shot to raise her platelet count, the other to raise her white cell count. The first 8 sessions of chemo have worked so well, they have killed too many of the good cells. She tells the doctors that she’s fine, but she’s afraid to eat because she doesn’t want to be sick to her stomach. And with chemo every two weeks, she no longer has those days where she feels like the old normal again. There are no longer truly good weeks and bad weeks. Just bad, and not quite as bad.

I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s where I learned some of my potato bug tendencies.  She doesn’t want any help. She doesn’t want us to see her at her worst. So she internalizes and powers through.  But every couple of weeks, I bring her the best reason I’ve found, other than her own sheer strength of will and refusal to any kind of victim, to keep fighting.  A second-grader who is planning to be a scientist and cure cancer when he grows up, and still likes to sit in his grandma’s lap.

I keep telling Mom that if she wants to see him graduate from MIT, she’s got to hang around for at least another 12 years or so, since we aren’t letting him skip grades. So I know that she’s got at least one reason to fight.

Now I just have to convince myself that I need to be fighting, and gathering my community of friends, not hiding from it. Seeing Trish is one of the first steps for me in getting myself moving forward.

Seeing Trish reminded me that I need to carpe every damn diem. Because you never, ever know what tomorrow may bring.  And I’ll never find out if I stay curled up in a little ball.  But if I stretch out and take more steps forward, I just might find something amazing.

I am T... I am a T-R... I am a T-R-I

D-E-L-T-A!  (If you don't actually know me, you might not have seen that one coming huh?)

I've got another blog with my usual self-deprecating tone started, but I had already been thinking that I should be nicer to myself during my sorority's international "Fat Talk Free Week," which is an amazing initiative, and a somewhat brave one for a sorority (where many would think body image is torn down, although that was totally NOT my experience as a Tri Delta!) so it only seems fair for me to stay on board.  Put my uh, mouth where my mouth is?

Anyhow, when I saw this post over on Oh She Glows, and decided that it's better for me to talk about the good stuff.

She gives 16 reasons why she loves her body, so here are a few of mine:

1) I can get away without training, because if I tell my body to keep going I know it will. Even when the spirit is weak, my body is possibly slow, but still willing. (Hey- no one said I had to be SLOW talk free! Heh.)

2) My body grew a person, quite possibly the most amazing person I've ever met. No matter how frustrated I get with my body (or with my little man), the baby growing process is pretty damn cool!

3) My body, including my face, really don't lie. I have ZERO poker face, and that's not a bad thing.  I'm emotional, expressive, and project it all from pretty much every bit of me.

4) It's taken a long time, but I like my smile, dimples and all. (Much easier to appreciate when you see mirrored in the guy mentioned in #2)

5) My health may not be PERFECT, but I am healthy.

6) I can dance, jump and move. I am a triathlete. My body can swim, bike & wun, all in a row. As my son likes to point out, neither he nor his dad swim (and the dog can't ride a bike) so I'm the only one at my house who can do that! :)

As I mentioned above, the other part of this post is give a little shout out to my sisters of Delta Delta Delta.  Our open motto is "Let us steadfastly love one another" but that's awfully hard to do if you don't start by loving yourself.  Sometime I might go into my high school & college flirtations with eating disorders (anorexia and bulimia respectively) but suffice it to say that in the world of photoshopped supermodels, I think this is a VERY important and for college girls everywhere, timely, message.

Check them out at http://www.endfattalk.org/

Pulling a potato bug

I know, it’s been a while... like 6 months while. So where have I been?

Two days after my last blog posted I got a call from my little brother. Mom had been sick, anemic to the point where she had to have a blood transfusion and spend the night in the hospital. She was back in action, but when he called they’d just finished her colonoscopy, and found “a mass that’s bleeding, and too large to remove during the colonoscopy.” They didn’t say the c-word, but we knew what that meant. Mom had cancer.

The following months passed in a blur. Doctor’s appointments- as the former journalist, I was the self-appointed asker-of-questions-no-one-wants-to-ask and note-taker, and the family information officer. And there was a lot of information to give. Stage 4 colon cancer, after surgery, fully resected. At least 12 sessions of chemo starting July 1, 4 hours in a chair and 48 hours wearing a pump every other week. And my mom, my strong, loving mom, who is a victim advocate in the special victim team of prosecutor’s office and holds the hand of people, especially children, who have been through the worst things you can imagine. Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, and doesn’t eat red meat. Now she’s poisoning herself twice a month.

She would not be happy about me talking about her here, but the fact is, I know I’ve built a wall. Much like the pill bug, or as I knew them growing up, potato bug, I’ve tried to concentrate on what I can, and spend a lot of time in an emotional and mental fetal position.

So I completed my race season, my first Danskin, rode for my friend and team captain in the MS 150, did my second Trek Women’s tri, but all the while, my heart has not been in it.

Danskin was my worst tri ever. There were too many people, it was too hot, and the water was choppy, meaning I struggled through the swim. I was so tired after the swim and thrown off my game, I unclipped and walked in clipless road bike shoes to get up the hills. Almost all of the hills. Got a little good karma for the day by stopping to help a woman whose chain dropped (it was my 1^st time I’d ever done it & it worked!) and while watching my heart monitor, never got above a walk on the 5k. Did I mention it was in the 90s by the time I finished? At 11am?

It was here I developed my new motto: I can do anything I set my mind to, as long as I prepare. (Note: for this event, I had NOT prepared)

Just a couple of short weeks later, it was time for the MS 150. I already knew with as much time as I’d spent driving to Oly (and as little time as I’d spent on my bike) there was no way I was going to make 150 miles, even over two days. So we set out on Saturday morning, Sept 11, and my only goal was to make sure I rode up a couple of hills, and maybe get to ride over Deception Pass (which meant the 56 mile loop). 12 miles in, I was feeling great. I’d ridden up all of the hills so far. Did a couple of Facebook posts so my son could see how I was doing along the way, and had been riding up the hills. Although I had the refrain to The Fray’s “Over my Head” stuck in my head, it seems I’d finally figured out how to work those gear deal-y thingers. I may do a fuller recap later, but the gist is: downhill (MOUNT ERIE- REALLY?) was as bad if not worse than uphill because my carpel tunnel kicked in; took the shuttle a couple of times, one time on a big downhill, the other my brakes were locked up; and I ended the day sore, but feeling good. I need to get better about staying hydrated, but there’s a chance I can try to do more on that ride in the future. Once I get out of the mental fetal position.

The weekend after the MS ride was the Trek. It was not my best TIME ever, and the weather was constantly threatening to be crappy, but I ended up feeling great. I cut almost 30 min off my total time with NO additional training. I only dismounted to go up the suicide hill that goes onto I-90, so my gear shifting lessons from the week before were worthwhile. And I would have cut off even more time if I wasn’t trying to post pics to Facebook since I again, told my boys that they didn’t have to come.

So since I’ve been curled up in a little ball with the occasional event to drag me out of the house, why am I back & blogging?

In large part, this blog has been all about me, and for the last few months, I’ve been trying my best to focus on NOT me. My mom’s cancer affects me, but it’s not about me. And my training has been almost non-existent. But the training part is going to change.

March 20^th is the Mercer Island ½ Marathon. This one’s for Colon Cancer, so of all of the events that I’ve done, it’s the first that I’ve taken so personally at the time I’m doing it. I’m planning to put together a team, just trying to find out if some of the teammates can do the 5k or 10k if others are doing the 13.1. Because thats what I'M doing. 13.1 miles. In case you’ve missed it in my earlier blogs, I HATE HATE HATE RUNNING. Seriously, just not a fan. But I’m working once a week with a personal trainer, I’ve read Marathoning for Mortals and built out a Walk/Run training plan that starts now, but is based on the mortal wisdom of the Penguin.

But I’m doing it. And again, to keep myself honest, I’m inviting you, my anonymous friends in the cloud, along for the ride. Because at 35, I did my first triathlon, something I’ve always wanted to do. And at 37, I’ll be doing my first half-marathon, something I’ve NEVER had ANY desire to do. But when you’re doing something to raise awareness and funds for research that could save your mom’s life, it’s worth pushing outside yourself.

And since I’m still a Big Girl who can Tri... if I can do this you can too. I’ll see you along the way.