The world would be a better place if more people said “Thank You!”

Posted: April 6, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Team in Training | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

I have been struggling with my fund raising this season. Last year I blew my own goal out of the water without barely trying. I raised so much that I now have a full wardrobe of TNT branded attire – sweatshirt, fleece pullover, back-pack, and was even able to upgrade to the hotel option. This year, not so much…  I am stuck at about 60% of my much smaller goal and recently had to fork over a credit card number in case I can’t raise the rest. Ouch. I was pouting and feeling sorry for myself and wondering why it had to be so hard. I guess I kind of forgot that it’s not actually supposed to be easy. I have been having such a delightful time walking instead of running that I sort of assumed it would all be fun and games.  In my quest to bond with other walkers, I even posted a comment on a discussion board about being a non-traditional (er, uh, heavier) athlete. Much to my surprise, I got this in reply from a fellow named Steve:

*Just want to say a big THANK YOU to Lyda for her work with TNT. I’m a leukemia survivor and a failure at TNT fundraising. I think asking people for money is harder than doing the distance. Lyda you did both!!!! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!*

I was blown away as I hadn’t said anything in my post about fund raising, but it was exactly the message I needed at that moment.  I asked Steve if he would be willing to share his story and below is his email to me in it’s entirety. Steve and I have never met, but his words have touched my heart and inspired me to raise the bar on my fund raising efforts.

If you have been meaning to donate, but just haven’t gotten around to it, or if you have been trying to decide if supporting a half-marathon walker is where you really want to ear mark your donation dollars this year, or if you just haven’t been moved to give, read Steve’s story below and please consider making a donation in his honor.  Maybe $52 dollars for the age he was when he was diagnosed, or $6 for the years since the diagnosis, or $35 for the years he’s been a pilot. Any amount is welcome and every bit counts. And if your budget simply doesn’t allow for a donation, your emotional support is every bit as important to me and for that I say “Thank  You!”

Lyda,
I was very touched and moved by your wanting me to be an honoree but I'm
just a guy who was lucky/blessed/gifted (from others hard work) to
survive a bad disease.

I went into the hospital on Valentines weekend in '05.  I had Acute
Myelogenous Leukemia and was told I would have to have a bone marrow
transplant. AML has a 20-25% 5 year survivor rate  (I didn't find this
out till much later.)  but most people get it an an older age, I was
52.  My first question to the doctor was "How long till I get my life
back"?  He said 6 months but it was more like 8.   Being in the hospital
for a total of 93 days over 4 stays sucked as I'm an outdoor kind of
guy.  I had been walking 800-900 miles a year for 10 years after
quitting running.  (Running is hard work and walking is just putting one
foot in front of the other.)  I have been a pilot for over 35 years, for
20 years in hang gliders and for the last 20 sailplanes
(gliders/airplanes without engines). And I did a lot of outdoor/field
work with my job.  (I'm a tech in earthquake research)

I received a tremendous amount of support from my wife and son, father
and siblings, the doctors and nurses, co-workers, friends and strangers
and one of the biggest was the wonderful cells from my sister. These are
the people that did the hard work I just stayed in the hospital and got
taken care of.  No way was I going to let them down.  I have been very
lucky through all this, I kept my job and was able to work part time as
my strength came back, my insurance paid the (huge) bill, my sisters
cells work perfectly ( I was off the anti-rejection drugs in a few
months with just the right touch of graft vs host).  I remember the day
during recovery I walked to the corner, it was a big deal!

In '08 I got the idea for doing a half marathon but as I was already
doing 8-10 mile walks I thought that a marathon would be more of a
challenge.  So after 8 weeks of training I did San Diego Rock and Roll
in 6:10.  You know how that feels.  I signed up for TNT for the next
year but didn't like asking people for money so I came up short of the
needed amount.  I paid my way and did the marathon in 5:38.   Last year
I did it for the LLS "Make Cures Happen" and was able to get a few
hundred in donations.  I'm better in giving money than raising it.  I
also broke 5:30 with a 5:24 finish.  For me the hard part of training
was 14-16 mile walks so I never let myself get out of condition.  In
2010 I did 51 walks of half marathon distance or better.  I always feel
so good after a long walk.  But after weekends of 18, 18, 20 and 20 mile
walks training for Carlsbad I hurt my foot (planner fachitis- misspelled
I'm sure).  It's slowly getting better and I should be able to do the La
Jolla half on the 17th.  Then training starts for real for SD R&R in
early June.

Maybe more of my story than you wanted.

I just wanted to thank you as I try to do with others from TNT when I
get a chance.  Your raising funds for LLS helps real people (like me).
The world would be a better place if more people said "Thank You!".  So
once again THANK YOU!

Steve

Reasons why walking a half marathon is better than running a whole marathon

Posted: April 1, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Running, Team in Training | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Don’t get me wrong, running a marathon changed my life forever and not much else is going to compare to that, but I have to say I am finding quite a few benefits to walking a half marathon this time around…

  • Your body is not in physical pain – this is a novelty that continues to surprise me, even 2 months into my training. I can walk for an hour or two and although I might be tired, I don’t have to take an ice bath just to get from sitting to standing and back again.
  • You can have a glass of wine (or two…) the night before your long training day without, well, any negative consequences. And, hey, I’m all about a training program that lets me have a glass of wine on Friday after work!
  • You can talk and walk at the same time. I know, I know, theoretically that’s supposed to be true when running too, but no one ran as slow as I did and I was too fast for the walkers, so there wasn’t really anyone to talk to…
  • No Energy Gel. Let’s face it, that stuff is disgusting. I learned to accept and adapt to it as it allowed me to go 26.2 miles, but I can’t say enough how excited I am to be functioning on Cliff Bars instead of Cliff Energy Gel (which, btw, I liked far better than Gu, not that that is saying much).
  • You’re not totally wiped out 100% of the time. The long training days actually energize me instead of totally ruining my energy for the next 2 or 3 days or all week.

The one thing that hasn’t changed from last year to this year is the young people suffering from Leukemia and Lymphoma. I’m still about $650 from my fund-raising goal and need your help in the fight to eradicate blood cancers. Please consider a $50 donation – if only 13 people gave that amount, I would have it!

Make a donation here.

 

Are marathon walkers actually athletes?

Posted: March 20, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Running, Team in Training | 1 Comment

In July of last year, at the age of 41, I completed my first marathon and fulfilled one of my life goals/dreams. My intention was to run the event, but my version of a run is more like a jog and at a 13-min and up mile pace, many walkers out-pace me. I held my steady jog for the first half, then probably half-walked, half-jogged for the last half. My big claim to fame these days is that I finished my marathon 5 minutes faster than Al Roker completed the New York City Marathon.  There are those out there who would claim that neither Al or I are true marathoners.

I stumbled across this defense of the marathon walker on active.com. The author notes:

  • She trained herself to walk a 12:30 minute mile and IMO could clearly hold her own with plenty of joggers
  • In the two events she completed, the “true” runners complained that the walkers “ruined” the event for them
  • Endurance events like running, walking, and jogging are personal sports and as long as we all follow the rules, she wondered why shouldn’t walkers be able to participate?

Her post was, in her words, a rant. The idea that my measly 7-hour marathon was simply some bucket-list item to be checked off and not a real athletic event in some people’s eyes does make me a little angry, but mostly it makes me sad. Completing a marathon literally changed my life. It proved to me I could accomplish  absolutely any goal I put in front of myself as long as I was willing to let go of my preconceived notions of how I would get there. I sacrificed my time, pounding the pavement during hours of  training (and, by the way, I spent more time on my feet in training than the faster runner). I sacrificed my body, including a hip injury that took months to heal and almost prevented me from participating. Are those not the same sacrifices a faster runner makes? Does that not make me an athlete??

When I meet someone who has finished a marathon, I get excited because now we have something in common and I love swapping stories about our experiences. I tend to find these experiences are more similar than different. We all hit our own brick walls, we all fight off injury, we all have our own disappointments, and we all feel that surge of pure joy as we step across the finish line – whether it is our first or fiftieth event.  How does the fact that one of us finished in half the time of the other change what we both shared in our 26.2 mile journeys?

I consulted Merriam-Webster for their definition of athlete…

a person who is trained or skilled in exercises, sports, or games requiring physical strength, agility, or stamina

It doesn’t say anything there about a person who “ran a marathon in under 4 hours.” I trained, I exercised my jogging skills, I applied 7 hours of stamina. Does that not make me an athlete? Well, it does for me, and for all those purist athletes who wish to diminish my participation as less than athletic, I have another label for you – poor sport.

***************

For the non-elite athlete in every one of you, please consider a $26 donation to Team in Training. They help regular people like you and me fulfill our dreams. Besides, the more support we give them, the more of us there are at these events to drive the purists crazy!

Meet Gil, and then make a donation

Posted: March 12, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Life's Observations, Team in Training | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Last year when I did the full-on marathon with Team in Training, I did the event in honor of my friend, Nick.  Thinking about Nick’s journey to recovery helped keep my feet pounding the pavement far beyond when my brain had gotten tired of running and the rest of me wanted to go home. His story was an inspiration to me and I think knowing that he was alive and well was an element of that inspiration. As most of you know, this year I’m taking on a different challenge and trying to be a little more patient with myself as I walk a half marathon.

I considered not dedicating the training to anyone in particular, but my thoughts kept drifting back to my friend Gil. Unfortunately, Gil’s story does not have a happy ending – he died in 2008 from Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia at the age of 41, leaving behind a wife and 6 year old son. I have often commented on the brutality of the way Leukemia afflicts such young people, and I guess this situation isn’t really any different. Is it not just as brutal for a young son to lose his father? Sadly, when Gil passed away, I had not been in touch with him in almost 8 years and I had no idea he was living just across the state in Spokane, let alone battling Leukemia.

I met Gil when we were both in college at the University of Kansas. He was a graduate student in the Department of Geography and I was an undergrad working in the department office, also studying Geography. In some random way, I don’t really remember now, he also wound up living in the same apartment building as me and my then boyfriend (soon to be first husband), Steve. I guess because our daily lives intersected so much at both school and home, we spent countless hours together with Gil and his girlfriend, Lisa, who was also a friend.  Gil was a night owl and would often call or show up at 10 or 11pm to see if we wanted to play Spades or Hearts, and I have many memories of long nights of playing cards and laughing until our faces ached.

You see, Gil was the oddest human being I have ever met. He enjoyed being outrageous to the point of being absurd. He told me once that he yelled out at some women in a car next to him, “I bet you don’t even sleep with the sheets on!”  No one knew what that was supposed to mean, not even Gil. He loved to make crazy movies that also did not make any sense. I happen to have a few on VHS (that sadly I can’t watch any more since I no longer have a VCR) and in one he runs around the campus sneaking up on people with a large piece sheepskin on his head and filming their reactions.  He was very hot headed and if he got mad during one of our card games, he would scream and yell and get red in the face, but a few nights later he would be knocking at our door again to play cards and as near as I can recall, we always played. He often accused me of having a ‘difficult’ sense of humor and would do things he thought were funny that I would often only find amusing. This would frustrate him to no end and he would get weirder and weirder trying to see if he could get me to actually laugh out loud.

After we all left college, we stayed in touch off and on over the years. I got married, then divorced, and spent many years of my career as a road warrior. There were countless times that I called Gil from some random hotel room and we would spend hours talking on the phone about nothing in particular. He would give me quizzes with questions like whether I thought it was funnier for someone to die by having their guts fall out or whether it was funnier for someone else to die by having guts fall on them. (Again, no one ever knew where he came up with this stuff or what it meant.) It was sometime during these years that I developed quite a crush on him. He was crazy, and handsome, as well as a very loyal friend. I saw him a few times when he lived in California and had high hopes for something more, but his feelings were always strictly platonic. I now admire his ability to maintain our friendship and still make it clear that he was never going to be interested in me in any other way, even if it frustrated me at the time.

We drifted apart and I met and married Brian. He lived in Japan and eventually married a Japanese woman, Keiko. He invited us to his wedding in Florida, which we attended (and I am now of the opinion that one should never pass up wedding invitations – it’s not the first time I have rekindled a friendship over a wedding invitation). In May of 2000 Brian and I planned a trip to China to visit my father and stepmother and decided to stop in Tokyo and visit Gil and Keiko. We did a few touristy type things, but my fondest memory of that trip was playing Hearts and laughing way into the night. That was the last time I saw Gil. We may have traded an email or two after that, but Gil wasn’t much of one for email and Japan was simply too far away for hours-long phone calls. Life moved on and we went our separate ways, although I always expected we would reconnect again as we had so many other times over the years. I had no idea he had started a family, no idea he had moved back to the US, and I certainly had no idea that he battled Leukemia for years, including some rather intense treatment sessions. Instead I learned of his death from his old girlfriend Lisa, who when we spoke simply said the world just didn’t seem quite right without Gil in it and she could not have said truer words.

So, my friends, cherish your friendships – reach out to someone you haven’t talked to in awhile (because you don’t always get second chances) and please make a donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society on my behalf, so that 6 year olds don’t  have to lose their dad, wives don’t have to lose their husband, and friends don’t have to lose each other.

Walk on, Lyda

The Agony of the Teeth

Posted: March 9, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Life's Observations | 2 Comments

The Agony of the Teeth

For those of you who are sick of hearing me talk about my stupid root canal, this post is not for you. In fact, I am almost sick of hearing myself talk about it. But I can’t stop thinking about the experience and therefore I simply can’t move to the next topic until I deal with this one.

A number of years ago I had a tooth that changed color and was causing me some pain. That dentist said there did not appear to be anything wrong, but if it didn’t go away in 3-5 days, to come back. The pain went away, so I thought nothing of it. Fast forward a few years. That same tooth started acting up again and I used the same logic of I’ll wait 5 days and see if it goes away. Plus I had an appointment for a cleaning coming up and figured I would just ask about it then.  After 5 days it still hurt, and after 7 days, then 10 (yes, I know I’m an idiot, but let’s just call it optimism). By Day 10 I realize this is not getting better, but it was Friday night so I figured I would call them on Monday to deal with it. That Friday wound up being a very, VERY long night.  Prior to this night, I could take some Tylenol and go to bed and maybe wake up in the middle of the night when it wore off, but take more Tylenol and go back to sleep. I took 2 Tylenol. Nothing. Took 2 Advil an hour later. Nothing. I could not sleep because I was so distracted by the rhythmic throbbing of my tooth. So, I went to the source of all knowledge – the internet (seriously, how did we live before Google??).  There are a LOT of interesting home remedies for toothaches out there – clove oil, peppermint oil, tea bags, vanilla extract, whiskey (whee!), hold a towel  with vinegar to the outside of your mouth (??), gargle salt water, and soak a small cotton pad in fresh onion juice and apply it to the aching tooth (I don’t think so).  In my desperation, I tried painting my teeth with vanilla extract, which did nothing for the pain, but I did have nice breath.  I chewed on a tea bag to no avail, and lost my vanilla fresh breath. I also learned that many of my fellow sufferers experienced more pain at night and that you have to sleep sitting up (which was later confirmed by the dentist). Countless people posted their remedies in the wee hours of the night and I have to say it was some comfort to know I was not alone in my late night suffering. I was also absolutely heart broken by the number of people who suffered because they had no dental insurance and could not afford to seek help anywhere else.

On Saturday morning I called the dentist and he predicted root canal and agreed to fit me in on Tuesday morning before my flight to Hawaii.  He also called in a prescription for antibiotics and Vicodin. The Vicodin certainly did kill the pain, but not in any kind of “fun” way. It’s hard for me to imagine that people get hooked on this stuff. Basically, it put me in a coma and I was either dead asleep or extremely groggy. This is a fine state for avoiding the pain of a hideous toothache, but not much good for anything else.

The root canal procedure was uneventful and painless. I would like to say the rest of my trip to Hawaii was as painless, but the “discomfort” my dentist mentioned would occur, was as painful, if not more, than pre root canal and I was chewing Advil like candy the entire trip. I finally started feeling like a normal human again on Sunday – the day we left to come home…

How have you coped with your own dark journeys in the night with pain?

Space Needle pictures make me happy

Posted: February 28, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Life's Observations | Leave a comment

I decided to follow the advice that I dish out at work all the time to folks who are struggling to blog. We encourage them to get a reader, like Google Reader, subscribe to a bunch of blogs in their field or area of interest, then find a post they like and comment on it.  I am now an avid consumer of blogs and read through my reader on a daily basis, so I figure this should be easy. (Is it a gift or a curse that I seem to have no real concept of whether things will actually be easy or hard..?)

Today’s posts in my reader consist of a few posts from Harvard Business Review which are interesting but  not compelling, a post on Penelope Trunk’s Brazen Careerist, a blog I love, but she is waaay out there, not for everyone, and I couldn’t even begin to know what to say about her latest post. There are 597,286 gozillion posts from Social Media Today and all I really have to say about that is enough already. I’m seconds away from unsubscribing strictly from the annoyance of having them take up so much of the real estate in my reader.

So, the post I settled on was from my favorite local news blog, the Queen Anne View, about the Canlis brothers doing a publicity stunt by posing for pictures on top of the Space Needle. Canlis is a fantastic Pacific Northwest restaurant, with equally fantastic prices and an urban legend.pdf that if you don’t eat or drink (or spend) enough, they will give you a card inviting you never to return. I have only been once, but we ate, drank, and spent more than enough to save us from that fate.

The brothers are trying to garner votes for their new chef for The People’s Best New Chef award with a Facebook campaign. They are doing a retro black and white photo shoot of themselves around town, including on top of the Space Needle. Note this is not of them AT the top of the Needle, but rather ON top of the Needle wearing harnesses.

I suppose I should make some comment about using old fashioned pics on a social media platform to revitalize a family business, but that would be boring and work-ish. I live within eye shot of the Space Needle and have come to think of it as MY Space Needle. When I see it from the highway, I know I am getting close to home. I have come to learn that it has a life and gets colored red for National Aids Day, green for St. Patrick’s Day, and they turn the lights out for Earth Hour.  When the fog is just right the legs disappear and it looks like an actual space ship floating in the sky. To see the pics of these two guys up on top of this iconic landmark with the wind whipping them around was exhilarating to me. I could imagine what it might be like to be up there, without having to face my own terror of heights to go there.  And they just looked like they were having so much fun. Maybe that’s what drew me, I have any number of crazy goofy pictures I make friends (or Brian) pose for and they all make me smile, and some of them even make it to our Christmas cards.  So, I don’t know if this post makes me want to go eat at Canlis, but it might make me want to get out my camera…

Amore Infused (with curious comedy)

Posted: February 21, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Restaurant Reviews | Leave a comment

Brian and I were invited to join our friends Francis and Jamee for dinner and a comedy show this past Saturday. We met them at 6pm at Amore Infused, and were surprised to find we were the only people there. I guess 6 on a Saturday is a little early, but we were still the only 4 people in the restaurant when we moved to the next door theater an hour later. Our waiter, Billy, was wonderful with just the right mix of friendly and yet not in our face (which I commend given that he clearly didn’t have much else going on…).  Brian had the Duck Confit, and he cleaned his plate, so I took that as being good. Jamee had the NY steak and I immediately had entree envy when the plate came and wished I had gotten that instead of my veggie fettucine (menu said, “in sweet cream butter chablis with white truffle oil” which I thought would be a white/cream sauce but somehow it was a dark sauce??).  I don’t remember what Francis ordered, but he doesn’t eat cheese, which I think is a crime against nature, so I guess I blocked out whatever it was he had.  I had to say it was confusing as to why no one was there. I hear they recently relocated to this space and perhaps they need to do a little more marketing?

After dinner, we moved over to the theater for the Big City Comedy Club. I was intrigued by a drink I found on the website called the Vanilla Whiskey Press and thought that would be fun to have with the show. I found out this was only available in the bar (we were in the theater) and the theater just had wine, beer, and well drinks. Fortunately, the server was willing to go out to the bar to get it for me, but seeing as it’s all right there together, I’m not sure I understand why they would limit the drink selection.  This was the 7pm show (second show was at 9pm) and there were only 10-15 people there. The show started late and almost didn’t start at all due to low turn-out, but finally they decided to just roll with it. The show kicked off with short sets by Mairym Carlo and Solomon Georgio. I have to applaud these guys for getting up there and going for it even with the light crowd. We laughed out loud during both sets and I was surprised/impressed by how funny both acts were. The headline was a fellow named Orny Adams, who is evidently famous having been in Jerry Seinfeld’s movie, Comedian, but he was new to me. He seemed to have the most trouble with the “intimate” size of the audience. He was game enough as we get started and even had the audience members introduce themselves. Brian thought he was HILARIOUS and laughed hysterically/maniacally at all of his jokes. This of course caused Orny to banter with Brian a bit which Brian LOVED and laughed more and louder and it created a vicious cycle, but it’s tough not to laugh when Brian is laughing like that, so it was all good. But somewhere along the way Orny seemed to lose his groove a little. He got into it with a couple of guys who weren’t loving his bit about American truck commercials and kind of got in their faces about leaving. Maybe this goes over better with a packed house, but when it’s just the 2 guys sitting next to you, it gets kind of un-comfortable. Finally, Orney just threw in the towel and invited everyone to come to the 9pm show. Ironically, it was 9pm by this time, so I guess it all worked out. Overall, a great show, albeit a bit more “real” that perhaps your typical event.  And I was happy to see folks were lined up out the door of the theater for the 9pm show, so maybe Seattle just isn’t cut out for the early shows.

Now, I can’t finish this post without sharing the dessert we had. One of the chefs was sitting just behind us in the theater and while we were pondering what to order, he told us that we simply HAD to try the chocolate lava cake. It sounded a little rich/foo-foo to me, but he was such a huge fan that I figured we couldn’t pass it up. A small piece of cake is served with a little chocolate bowl on top filled with cherry liqueur which they then light on fire. The fire melts the bowl which then pours all over the cake. I gotta say the chef was right, this thing was RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE good. I feel like they need a better name for this, like Amore Jubilee or something, but man oh man, I would send someone to this place for this dish alone.

Why am I so stupid?

Posted: February 17, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Team in Training | 5 Comments

I don’t mean book learnin’ (I do okay in that department), but why after 42 years on this planet do I continue to fool myself with delusional thinking??  It’s not that I consciously thought walking 13.1 miles (instead of running 26.2) would be *easy*, it’s just that I somehow didn’t realize it would be quite this, well, HARD. I was thinking to myself, “oh yeah, I have been through this training routine before and this time I don’t have to go as far or as fast, so no big deal. Walk in the park.”  Only it turns out you can’t actually stroll your way through a half-marathon. They do have a time limit on how long they will keep the roads open for your lolly-gagging self. So, first shot of reality was when one of our coaches, Jeff, started educating us on the pace we needed to maintain during the race. We need to walk a 17 minute mile. That is actually a very reasonable pace and would be great if I actually walked at that pace. Right now I walk just over an 18 minute mile. Oops. Okay, so speed up a little, no problem. I speed up and my calves started screaming in anguish over this new development in their formerly casual lives. Turns out I have to work up to it slowly and be patient with myself, which we all know I have little patience for…

Also in the book of I-have-been-here-before-and-therefore-think-I-know-everything somehow thought I would be spared the emotional element of training with the Team in Training group. I did all that last time, right? So, I’m all done getting all emotional over this cause, right? Wrong-WRONG-W-R-O-N-G. What I should have learned from that experience was how profoundly moving all these stories are and that if you think it won’t be a shot right to the heart, you are sadly mistaken or you no longer have a heart. I am happy to report I still have one and it took about 2 seconds to start flexing that muscle as well. At my first Saturday practice, a large Hawaiian man, Bill Aven, got up to speak about his daughter, Ashley Aven, who passed away in August at age 18 from Leukemia. He told us that he was going to try not to cry because Ashley would be mad at him. That’s okay, the rest of us, myself included, were able to step up in the crying department. He told us all how she was given two months to live back in January, but she decided she had too much to do first – like graduate from high school. With only months to live, she chose to spend her time accomplishing the goals that were important to her, even though she would never get to use that diploma for anything other than her own sense of accomplishment.   Suddenly, I am reminded that I am here for a reason and it’s not to stroll my way through this experience unmoved or unchanged. I am here to stretch myself physically, emotionally, and financially – to support the end of fathers having to hold back their tears for their daughter’s unfulfilled dreams.

http://pages.teamintraining.org/wa/rnrseatl11/lhawesh4as

Walk on,
Lyda

There she goes again!

Posted: January 23, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Life's Observations | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

Well, here I go again – sort of…

Last June I had the good fortune to live one of my lifelong dreams and run 26.2 amazing miles in the Seattle Rock N Roll marathon in support of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. In the process I proved to myself that I (that anyone) truly can do anything we set our hearts and minds on. That knowledge will be a gift I carry with me for the rest of my life.

However, that being that “first” experience, anything else I do will inevitably pale in comparison. But I loved the training, loved meeting so many new friends (some of whom I have “kept” beyond just the event itself), and, yes, even loved those early morning dark and cold Saturday runs because the goal itself kept me moving and motivated. I also learned of the heartbreak that Leukemia and Lymphona strikes into the lives of many, and that it so often strikes young people. I almost could not bear how many 9, 10, 11 year old boys I learned were struggling with this hideous cancer during my 5 months of training (and, honestly, that particular aspect of this illness continues to piss me off).

What do I do with all that? I decided not to even try to compare last year to this year, but I knew I still wanted to participate. So, instead of running a marathon, I am walking a half marathon. I can’t do that without training, but it will require me to acquire a new discipline as well – patience. It will allow me to savor the moments, smell the flowers, and take in a little more of the journey along the way.

I cannot begin to express the gratitude I felt at the generosity of my friends and family in donating on my behalf last year. It’s not easy to come back and ask that you give again, but until there is a cure, there is still a need, so I humbly ask that you consider donating again.

http://pages.teamintraining.org/wa/rnrseatl11/lhawesh4as

Walk on,
Lyda

It takes a village – Lyda runs a marathon!

Posted: July 18, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Life's Observations | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

Seven glorious and grueling hours, plus 5 minutes, and 12 seconds. Yes, I finished and yes it was a long, LONG day. But I’m getting ahead of myself… I’ll warn you now this is a LONG ‘update,’ but 26.2 miles is a long way to go and there’s lots to share, so I hope you will bear with me).

I have always thought of running as a solo event. Especially training for endurance runs where you spend such long stretches of time out on the running trail with just the sound of your feet hitting the pavement and lost in your own thoughts. On July 26, 2010 after 26.2 miles, I came to learn that running a marathon is most definitely a community event; at least it was for me.

One of my trainers, Nadine, asked me after the race if I felt a sense of pride when I crossed the finish line. I can honestly say that as I stepped across that line what I felt most was profound humility and an awesome sense of gratitude – that my body carried me all those miles and hours, and for the tremendous help and support that got me there.

First, to all of you who supported me both financially and emotionally along the way, I could not have done this without you. Thanks to all of you – I raised $3600 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society! And thanks to all of you – I had an army of people encouraging me and believing in me, even on those days when I wasn’t so sure. And to my coaches, mentors, and new friends with Team in Training, who guided my every step of the 5 month training journey, I cannot even begin to imagine taking this on without each and every one of you (Tuesday nights and Saturday mornings still find me thinking of all of you).

I was beyond moved by the numerous ways that many of you expressed your love and support and there are a few stories I simply have to share:

• I have to start at the beginning and therefore the first “shout out” goes to my near and dear friend Holly. When I told her I was registering for my first marathon – without missing a beat, she said, “Great, I’ll do it too!” And she did, and she made it a point to be my very first donor. Although she trained on her own, we shared the tales of woe as we ran longer and compared aches and pains. And in an a huge act of generosity and friendship, when my injured hip flexor made it painful to drive my manual transmission, she traded cars with me and let me drive her automatic for two weeks so I could heal in time for the race.

• My friend Tara made a gesture that was almost more meaningful than I can put into words. She had been cheering me along through the training and I was encouraged knowing she had completed more than one marathon herself. As I was getting to the longest part of training, struggling with my own doubts about my abilities, a small envelope appeared unexpectedly in the mail one day. As I began to open it and could start to see that it contained some sort of jewelry, recognition washed over me and I literally took a gasp and tears welled up in my eyes. She had sent back to me a charm bracelet of girl running that I had sent to her years ago when she did her first marathon. That bracelet was an anchor to me and I wore it every single day in the weeks leading up to the race – and I look forward to returning it to its rightful owner in person someday soon.

• I called my friend Lee in the days before the event and confided in her my doubts and fears about my potential injury and whether it would prevent me from finishing the race. The Dr. had given me 3 potential options of what it *might* be, with each option less pleasant than the last, so Lee and I simply referred to it as “multiple choice injury.” I didn’t want someone to tell me everything was fine, when potentially it wasn’t, and she gave just the right balance of understanding without letting me get sucked in by my anxiety. She sent me the following in an email the next day: “You might be able to finish the race and you might not. If you don’t finish, it isn’t for lack of effort or lack of psychology or lack of passion for what you are doing, but is a sheer event of bad luck and bad timing. But I am 200% CONFIDENT that you will push your body to its ABSOLUTE LIMITS in pursuit of this goal. While you are running, we’ll be pulling weeds at an organized weedpull on Saturday. For every noxious, aggressive, invasive plant that I ruthlessly murder, I will ask that God send its strength and toughness to you.” And her comments about pulling weeds sustained me throughout the race in a way I did not expect.

• By sheer luck (or providence), I bumped into my friend Casey at the start line on race day. I had forgotten she was doing the event and was pleasantly surprised to see here there in the crowd of 25,000 people! We wound up crossing the start line at the same time and she let her two other friends run ahead and said she would run with me for a bit. We wound up running together for the first 10 miles until her half marathon run split off from my full marathon course. I’m not sure if she realized what a huge boost it was to have her company and those early miles literally flew by. After we split apart I reflected on what a shot of support it was to have her send me off to the rest of the race (and, again by fortune, we met one of my coaches, Siri, at the split and she took a picture of us before we each went on our way).

• My friend Cynthia surely deserves a medal of some sort. She casually offered to me a couple of weeks before the race that she would be willing to meet me in the back half of the race and finish with me. We agreed she would jump into the race at Mile 16, which happened to be just a few blocks from my house, and run the final 10 miles with me. I was appreciative of the offer and was glad to know I would have company, but little did I know the huge impact her presence would have on me during the race. As I said to her at least 100 times over those ten miles, “I am so glad you’re here and I don’t know how I could do this without you.”

• And finally, but most importantly, my husband Brian. When I told him I wanted to do this, he shrugged and said, “Oh, yeah, cool, I was wondering when you were going to get around to doing a marathon.” He believed in my ability to do a marathon before I had even signed up for the race. He was sans wife every Saturday morning, and when I did get home I was usually tired, cranky, and sore. Five months is a long time to put up with someone in that condition on a guaranteed weekly basis. He would bring me water or ibuprofen or a soda or my dinner if I was too tired to get off the soda. He enthusiastically (okay, maybe a bit too enthusiastically) dumped ice on me in the bath tub and coined the forever memorable phrase, “Lyda on the rocks.” He also fretted and worried when my hip injury got to the point I couldn’t drive the car. When he saw me at Mile 16, he practically danced out onto the course to give me a hug. When I saw him as I approached Mile 26, all I could see was the huge smile on his face.

So, now for the race itself…

We got up at 3:45 AM and loaded onto busses that took us to the start line, arriving at approximately 4:30 AM. The very first wave of the race started at 7 AM (and I was in wave 28), so we had some time to kill. After all the anxiety in the days leading up to this day, I was strangely calm that morning. (Or maybe I was just too sleep-deprived to notice!) I made my way to my starting corral around 7:15 and bumped into Casey. We crossed the start line together at approximately 7:45 AM. I felt good and although running at a pretty slow pace was jogging comfortably and had no hip pain. I saw my coaches Nadine and Jeff and Siri along the way and they shouted out their encouragement. Casey and I talked about everything and nothing and I feel as though I blinked and we hit the split where she turned left to finish the half marathon and I turned right to continue on the full course as it ran out onto the floating bridge deck.

It was about this time that I began to be cognizant of the time limit I had to make it to Mile 14. Our coaches had advised us that we were required to make the 14 mile mark by 11:00AM or we would be diverted to the half course and would only complete a 15 mile race. As I was running back across the bridge and towards Mile 14, I could see how few people were behind me. I did see some of my Team in Training mates and just as I was leaving the bridge, one of them was just getting onto the bridge and told me as we passed each other that they almost didn’t let her continue. My anxiety increased, but I knew I needed to keep my pace steady or I wouldn’t have anything left for the back half of the race. I made it to Mile 14 and breathed a sigh of relief to pass the mile marker on my way to Mile 15.

The Seattle Rock and Roll Marathon happens to be filled with numerous “out and back” sections where you see those in front of you or behind you. I entered another of these places as I ran up the Alaskan way viaduct and faster runners were running “down” the other direction. All of the sudden I heard my name and for a moment I couldn’t see where it was coming from. Then I saw Holly on the other side of the viaduct and we were in a place where we could run to the middle and were able to give each other a high five. I had not seen her at the start line so seeing her there at Mile 15 was a huge shot in the arm. Not long after that, some random sweaty fellow without a shirt on leaned over the railing between the two directions and shouted out loud as day, “YOU ARE A ROCK STAR” and man, in that moment, did I feel like one!

I should point out that at this point I was even more aware of how “behind the pack” I was – there was a random person here or there around me, but I pretty much had the road to myself. During the “alone” miles, I kept thinking about Lee pulling those weeds and sending a little prayer of strength my way. I ran into a short tunnel and all I could think in that dark space was “I sure hope Lee is still out there pulling those weeds.” (I learned later that she was most definitely still pulling weeds and sending me prayers and although I don’t often prescribe to such things, I am telling you I could feel it.) I was on my way to Mile 16 to meet Cynthia and it was the thought of seeing her that kept my feet moving. I passed a police officer who looked me square in the eye and said, “YOU are doing JUST FINE” again, in that moment I was fine. Cynthia and Brian were there at Mile 16 and jumped onto the course as we headed up a mile long hill. Brian hugged me and dashed off at the next block to drive down and meet us at the finish line.

Cynthia was full of energy and spirit and thought everything about the race was in Cynthia-fashion, “fabulous” (Yes, to those of you who know Cynthia, she uttered her famous phrase more than once). I was getting a little tired by this point and having my own personal cheerleader was a very good thing. We walked up the hill and turned around a mile later and started to jog back down and back towards the viaduct. At Mile 19, we could see the final runner across from us at Mile 18. He was slowly and painfully slogging along and was followed by a motorcycle cop, a couple medics on a golf cart, a van to sweep people off the course, and a brigade of trucks to pick up the water tables. The woman next to me looked over at the sweeper van and said it looked like the Grim Reaper. Finishing this race was not a guarantee and I could see the threat of being swept a mere mile away, but hell if I was going to let that sweeper van catch up to me!

At Mile 20, Cynthia looked at me and said, “Lyda, you know what we should do? We should run the New York City Marathon!” I replied with a very curt “No” and then told her I wasn’t really that excited about *this* marathon anymore, so I didn’t really want to talk about doing another one. I was pretty cranky at the time, but I think back on her comment and it brings such a smile to my face now! As we were up on top of the viaduct, we saw another Team in Training Coach, Shelby around Mile 24. He gave me a big hug and told me I just had another short “out and back” and then I was home free. As we made the final turn-around, we saw the “grim reaper” flotilla again and saw a truck picking up porta-potties. I literally felt like they were erasing the course behind me as I walked or jogged along. We saw Shelby again and then Siri and Nadine. It’s worth pointing out that some Team in Training members only see one or none of the coaches and here I had a “trifecta” with three of them all together! I saw a fellow Team-mate who had been behind me suddenly in front of me, when I looked surprised, she told me that she had been turned around at Mile 24, cutting her race down to 25 miles instead of 26.2. Once again, I barely missed having the race cut short. When I hit Mile 26, our fourth coach, Jeff came around the corner and I threw my arms in the air and he gave me a hug as well. I could not believe I got to see all four coaches and it was a highlight for me.

Cynthia and I turned down the ramp towards the stadium and she dropped off the course when we found Brian. I ran into the final chute and was running all the way to the finish line. When I got there, John Bingham, who is a writer for running magazines was at the finish line. He is also a big supporter of Team in Training and had been the keynote speaker at the pasta dinner the night before. I have been a big fan of his as he writes for those of us who are in the slower running camp. He had encouraged us all to slow down a little to enjoy the journey and “get our money’s worth” from the marathon. He reached out his hand to mine and said, “Let me shake your hand and congratulate you.” As my feet crossed the finish line, and the finisher’s medal was hung around my neck, a wave of emotion poured over me. I felt so lucky to have made it every one of those 26.2 miles and I was overcome by the love and generosity of my friends and family who helped me to get there.

I have ended all of my “training updates” with the statistic that a marathon is approximately 41,280 steps. For me, I came away from this absolutely amazing journey feeling like the marathon, for me, was filled with 41,280 blessings.

Oh, and to answer the other question I get all the time – I don’t know. I simply cannot say if there are any more marathons in my future (Brian is hoping no and obviously Cynthia has her own ideas about New York…). I can say that I still love running and have set my immediate sights on a 10K in September. Beyond that I am honestly taking it one step at a time.

I will leave you with a John Bingham quote. It is probably the one he is most known for, but it is still my favorite, “The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.”

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