This week was interesting. I feel like I said that last week, but it’s true. They all have a little different flavor from the previous. This first photo you’ll see below is after a happy 5.08 mile run. I ran for a planned 70 minutes, and that’s the distance I ended with, in case those of you who like round numbers are annoyed. This was Tuesday, and I ran into town and turned around at 35 minutes (halfway, if you’re following). This run felt STRONG. I had no trouble with breathing or pain. My knee and ankle braces WORK! They supported my knee and ankle as they were designed to. Not only was I pain-free during the run, but I didn’t have any lingering soreness afterward.
This week I joined a local gym to take advantage of the weight machines so I can build some muscle, in my legs primarily. My son has a membership and he had been encouraging me to go, knowing I had been talking about finding ways to do some strength training to support my running. So instead of running Thursday we went together for Leg Day. I tried out all the machines and I was definitely feeling the burn the next couple of days! I think this is a good thing to incorporate into my training and will help me to increase my endurance without injuring myself. As long as I don’t push myself too hard. There’s a fine balance there, of course.
Then there is the “long run”. Which for this week, was a break from last week, so I only ran 4 miles. Also, I ran it a day early because we were taking the kids out of town for the weekend to do some exploring. Knowing I only needed to complete 4 miles, I pushed the pace a bit with this one, and it felt awesome. Again, I was feeling strong and had no issues. Look at my face though! I don’t even see any sweat. I was definitely feeling good here.
I mentioned that my family was going exploring over the weekend, and I plan to write a full post about it, but I’ll tell you we did a little bit of hiking. More than anticipated, however. I’m glad I wore my knee band, because they would have had to call a park medic to pull me out of the woods. I didn’t think to officially track our hiking, but according to my Garmin step counter, we hiked around 10 miles on Saturday. Yowza! Stay tuned, and I’ll tell you all about that later.
This week I ran a total of 9.08 miles but if you include an estimated 10 miles of hiking (which I am, cuz dammit that counts) that’s 19.08 miles in the books! 140.57 miles for this portion of the training + 193 half marathon training comes to a total 333.47 miles counting towards getting ready for this marathon. Next week’s menu includes strength training, a couple 75 minute runs and a 17 miler. Can she do it, folks? Or will she chicken out and go back to bed? Time will tell. Stay tuned!
So. I ran another half marathon. This is the one I was training with a friend for, only she was not able to run the race due to a foot injury. However, she was sending me cheers from home throughout the race and was surely with me in spirit! Also, the race went as well as could be expected. Would you like to hear all about it? Grab a tasty beverage and sit back.
This particular race, Bayshore, has been kind of a dream of mine ever since I heard of its existence. The race offers 3 distances, the 10k (which I ran last year), the half marathon, and the full marathon. The races are located in Traverse City, Michigan, where my dad’s family essentially called home for many years. The small city is located in northern Michigan and is home to the Old Mission Peninsula, which is flanked by the Grand Traverse Bay. My grandfather owned property on the peninsula, on the West Bay, and my cousins and I spent a week every summer there. We have so many great childhood memories from our time “up north”. We ate cherries, we hiked, we swam, we strolled along the shore searching for Petoskey stones. My husband and I honeymooned at the cottage, sharing my childhood memories and making new ones. We’ve had family reunions there. My paternal grandparents are both now buried on the peninsula. The property my grandfather owned was eventually sold and the cottage is now gone, but a big piece of my heart still lives on Old Mission. So when I learned there was a race that actually allows you to run all over the peninsula? Sign me up! I ran the 10k last year, which was satisfying but slightly disappointing because only a small portion of the race I felt like I was ON the peninsula. The half marathon distance starts at the north end of the peninsula and follows the coastline of the east bay all the way south into town. This was the race for me.
Now I want you to understand that racing for me is terrifying at moments. Not being able to see the start from far away, being unfamiliar with the terrain. It’s not like home where I’ve memorized the potholes and cracks in the roads and sidewalks. My anxiety for this race began building several days before the race. But standing in the chute among all the other runners was somewhat calming. I was finally here. And I had trained for this, I was ready to go. Until I realized I was standing near the wrong pace group, among runners way faster than me. Not to worry, I simply shuffled back until I found my people. As I stood there waiting I checked my phone and realized I had lost my Bluetooth connection to my cochlear implants. It’s a good thing because reconnecting involves taking off my hat in order to remove my left cochlear implant, remove the battery, replace the battery to make it “discoverable”, put it back on my ear, put the hat back on, etc. So I’m glad I had that time to make sure I was connected. I rely on my music playlist to keep me going throughout these long runs.
Once I was situated and connected I got back to bouncing around to keep my legs warm and as I’m bouncing I realize there’s a strange stillness all around me. It occurs to me that everyone is looking in the same direction, some with hands on their hearts. Ah! It must be the National Anthem playing. I hope I didn’t do anything disruptive or disrespectful. It wouldn’t be the first time. No worries, carry on Mel.
I wish I could remember more of the details of this race, but I’ll share with you what I do remember. Coming up the first hill, I marveled at the vineyards stretched out on each side of me, and the East Grand Traverse Bay glistening in the morning sun ahead. The road leading me forward, filled with runners. I don’t want to forget that moment. Or later, coming around a curve to an open expanse, my view filled with brilliant blue water on my left and lush green evergreens on my right. I thought about taking a picture there because it was so freaking gorgeous but it wouldn’t have done it any justice, and it would have taken away from my enjoyment of it. I would have wasted the moment fiddling with my phone, most likely unsuccessful anyway.
I continued running, soaking in the atmosphere and the majestic scenery. All the anxiety had disappeared. I was thanking God for this experience. It was incredible. I felt strong. I was at peace. It wasn’t until I was about 6 miles into the race, that I started to really feel the burn and the soreness of my legs. I still felt strong, and my legs were moving well. That’s also about the time I started to see more and more spectators. Kids giving high fives, dogs wondering why all these people are running in the street. Posters lovingly prepared: DIG DEEP – a POWER button – WORST PARADE EVER. I love these races. You think making a poster and standing at the side of the road isn’t a big deal, but it IS. Without the spectators, it’s just a grueling training run. We NEED these people.
Around the 8th mile I was starting to really struggle because the weather had warmed up quite a bit. I decided to take my shirt off during my next walk break but with the deaf/blind vest and the sweat sticking to my shirt, it took longer than I anticipated. So by the time I got reset I was running through an aid station with a gang of onlookers to my comically awkward process. It didn’t matter. There’s no shame among runners, and these people understand and have likely seen it all. In fact, later in the race I was passed by a woman carrying her shoes, running in her socks to the next aid station. You do what you have to do. So it was a bit of a chore to get that shirt off but it was so worth it to lower my temperature a few degrees. It gave me the rejuvenation I needed to keep going.
The last few miles of the race honestly felt like drudgery and I just wanted to be done but those spectators kept me going! The runners were still moving ahead of me and I just kept reminding myself what I came for, and that was to complete this race. And I did! I finished! I set a new personal record for myself, and I did not fall. Though after the finish I was struggling to walk. My left foot knew we had crossed the finish line and just refused to lift, so I hobbled along the fence line until I saw my husband and kids walking up, all smiles. They escorted me to the recovery area and found me a chair and some ice cream. It was an incredible moment, getting to share this accomplishment with my three favorite people in the world. I tear up just reliving it.
This was such a great race. It was so difficult, but I have to accept that reality because I’m signed up to run my 2nd full marathon in October. Yes, yes I did. I swore I wouldn’t run another one but it turns out I lied. I’m glad I already committed to the marathon, because I think I would have chickened out after this race. It was a sobering reminder of how difficult and painful it is to run a lot of miles, but it was also a good reminder of the immense joy I still find in running.
It’s serendipitous that my devotional this morning actually talked about how we can have joy and pain coinciding. We can feel both simultaneously, and that’s an incredibly mysterious fact of life. There will be pain. Expect it. But also we have in us what it takes to keep moving forward and find joy in the midst of it. I am so grateful that God has sustained me as I continue to run. That He has given me the inner strength to keep challenging myself and doing these ridiculous races that both terrify and thrill me.
Isaiah 40:29-31 ESV “He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”
Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time there was a woman named Molly. Molly was a wife and a mother, and she took great pride in the work she did to keep her home and everything in it fresh and clean. A good portion of that task involves laundry. Thankfully, Molly had a machine that did all the washing for her, and another machine to dry everything. However, her washing machine was getting up in years and needed to be replaced. Molly and her husband, Marvin, drove over to the local hardware store and looked at all the fancy washing machines for sale. They read reviews of each machine and compared prices and features. After hemming and hawing, they settled on just the right machine for their home. They made their purchase, scheduled the delivery, and went home happy.
When the day of delivery came, Molly and Marvin were ecstatic. It’s new washer day! Hurray! Marvin left for work, and Molly stayed to wait for the delivery truck to arrive with her new washing machine. Soon, the truck arrived. Two lovely gentlemen stepped out of the truck and, after confirming this was indeed what Molly had purchased, they proceeded to remove the old washing machine and replace it with the new one. It was such a quick and easy process, Molly was overjoyed. She sent the delivery men on their merry way and got to working on her inaugural load in the new machine. Since this was a larger model than the previous one, she was very interested to see how it handled washing pillows. She threw a couple in the washer and let it do its work. She was so tired from the excitement of the morning she decided to take a nap. She shut the door to the laundry room and retreated to the living room to rest.
When Molly woke from her nap she remembered right away that she had a load of laundry in her new machine. It had been about an hour and a half, so she knew it would be done by now. She bounced up the stairs to the laundry room and grabbed hold of the doorknob and turned. She pushed and immediately felt a THUD. Her son was home, he must have heard her coming and hid in the laundry room to play a trick on her. “Leonard, that isn’t funny, let me in.” She pushed on the door again. THUD. There was no give at all when she pushed. Something solid was blocking this door.
Molly’s mind raced as she contemplated what could be causing her to be locked out of her own laundry room. Panic set in. What if? What if they were never able to access this room? All the towels, bedding, purses, and not to mention the water heater! As she panicked, it dawned on her that the only thing solid enough to block the door from opening was the new washer. The new washing machine must have walked its way forward as it spun dry the pillows, blocking the door from opening inward.
Molly immediately called Marvin, explaining the predicament and ensuring he would be coming home promptly. Marvin was very handy, he would surely be able to solve this problem. When Marvin arrived home, he wasted no time getting to work. After a complete inspection of what he was dealing with, he went to the garage to grab the necessary tools. Molly stood in the kitchen, washing dishes and fiddling around to keep herself distracted while Marvin worked. He was making a lot of noise! Lots of loud banging, sporadic curses, a few trips back to the garage for tools. It felt just like the scene in A Christmas Story when the father is fixing the furnace. Eventually, Marvin was able to get the machine moved far enough back to open the door, though he had to break the feet of the machine in the process.
Molly and Marvin stood outside, staring into their laundry room, collectively sighing in relief that it could have been worse. There could have been a flood! (Wink, wink) Seriously though, Molly’s propensity for home disasters is reaching epic proportions. She could benefit from some adult supervision.
The New Washer, still prone to walking when overloaded.
This folks, is a true story, though the names were changed to protect the innocent. Ha. Ha. We went that night to Lowe’s to order a replacement washer, and after a month of waiting, we finally have our new washer. The old one still washed fine with the broken feet, so it was not a hardship at all. However, even the new one has the tendency to walk if its unable to balance the load. The policy in our home is to never close the door when you are running a load in the washer. Maybe someday I’ll have a cute sign made to hang above it, I don’t know.
I hope you’ve enjoyed story time! Stay tuned, because this was fun to write and you may see more from me down the road. Shalom, my people.
I titled this as if I do “end of week” updates regularly. Y’all know… I do not. I’m far from regular. But, I just put a cheesecake in the oven and felt like kicking back and writing about some of the exciting things that have been going on with regards to MS and running. I may have mentioned, I’m training for another half marathon. It’s at the end of May, and I’m running it with one of my best friends. It’s been challenging getting our training runs in during the winter but since we are both committed to this race, we are able to hold each other accountable (though, I’ll admit, it’s mostly her keeping me accountable. If I had my way we would be doing far fewer long runs.)
Anyway, during this training I was noticing, and my friend was able to see as well, that my left leg had become increasingly “lazy”. Lots of scuffing of the toe, slapping of the foot as it landed, etc. I think this had started a long time ago, but I hadn’t bothered with it since I wasn’t doing as much running. I talked to my neurologist about it at my last regular check up and she recommended I get some physical therapy to help strengthen those lagging muscles. So I’ve been going to physical therapy for a couple weeks and already I have noticed improvements. The first was that the PT noticed my stride when I run is very short, and she recommended lengthening that stride to get more use of my hamstrings and quads. I tell you, it’s definitely harder to run with that longer stride, but even with that I’m seeing my pace come up. I’ve shaved almost a minute off my short distance pace since beginning our training, without really trying.
Another improvement I’ve seen is that my left leg seems to be getting more involved in the walking process. See, normally I swing my body a little to give that left leg some extra momentum. Since doing these PT exercises, that’s changing. The PT has hooked my leg up a couple times to a stim machine to activate those muscles and I know that’s helping to get them working properly again. I’m having to retrain my brain to talk to those nerves that operate my leg and foot. It’s fascinating and exciting at the same time.
I’m still struggling with fatigue; that hasn’t changed a whole lot. However, I’m learning to change my mindset and be kinder to myself about it. I remind myself that it comes and goes, and that when it comes, I just need to rest, enjoy the slow down period, and ask for help when needed. My teenagers have been real troopers with that, so I’m grateful to have them around.
We’ve had a lot of illness and health issues going around our family for what feels like forever, but with spring comes sunshine and warm weather and I have hope that healthy days are right around the corner. I also hope that for you, dear reader, that you have healthy days and sunshine. May God bless you! Until next time…
I had originally started this post around the new year, and forgot about it. As we are coming up on the anniversary of the events, I thought it would be a good time to finish the story. Also, a disclaimer: the photos included here lack captions because 1) I couldn’t figure out how to add captions and 2) with my vision I’m not even entirely sure what’s in each photo. So I apologize to all the other visually impaired readers out there.
In April of 2021, my husband Mike and I were looking forward to celebrating our 22nd wedding anniversary with a weekend trip up north (Up North being a big deal in Michigan). We had planned to leave Friday afternoon, while the kids were still at school, and Grandma was to come and stay the weekend with them.
On this fateful Friday morning, I was frantically awoken by my husband. When I opened my eyes I could sense there was an emergency but could not tell what. I hurried to put on my cochlear implants, and when I did Mike handed me a stack of towels and said “You work up here, I’ll work downstairs.” A few short steps from my bed, and it did not take me long to realize that the floor was soaked. Our bathroom sink had been left running when I got up several hours earlier to use the toilet. I can’t tell you how many times in the past I had gotten up in the middle of the night to go the bathroom and left the water running. Only every other time it had happened, my husband was awake enough to hear it and made sure I got back up to turn the water off. This time that did not happen. The water had been running for several hours, and because it was a slow drain, the water quickly overflowed. The water had spread from our master bathroom, to the carpeted hallway, and through the floor to the main floor ceiling to the kitchen. And then through the kitchen floor to the basement ceiling.
I was devastated. Stunned. In disbelief. In a whirlwind of activity we managed to send the kids off to school and get everything cleaned up the best we could. It was still very early in the morning so while we waited to talk with an insurance agent, I sat on my husband’s lap and sobbed into his shoulder. Not only was our trip cancelled, but I couldn’t believe the mass destruction I had caused to our home. Mike had nothing but compassion for me. He had been angry all of 3 seconds when he discovered the damage, but from every moment thereafter he was in problem solver mode. He kept saying this could be a blessing in disguise. I had always hated the look of our kitchen, and now we would get to pick out our own cabinets, countertops, floors, etc. It could be fun!
I wouldn’t say the process was fun, however it was nice to discover I did have opinions when it came to the kitchen and bathroom designs. And there were a million little decisions we had to make together, so it gave us some good practice as a married couple. After 22 years of marriage it was nice to find we could work out our differences and make compromises without killing each other.
When the restoration crew came to assess the damage they brought very loud drying machines and put them on all 3 floors of the house. They had to cut holes in the kitchen and basement ceilings to get them dried. They ripped out our soaked kitchen and bathroom cabinets, and with them the countertops they were holding up. They put up plastic sheets as barriers because they had detected mold in the kitchen. It was a mess.
We got to work right away at choosing replacement materials, but there were supply chain issues so it did take longer than we had hoped for. We still had use of our fridge and stove, but no place to prepare food or wash dishes, so we lived on fast food for the next several months.
Oh, did I mention that I had already started training for my first marathon at this point? Yep. Marathon training on a fast food diet? Not ideal. But our family got really good at knowing how to get the best deals at all the fast food restaurants. Biggie Bags at Wendy’s, Five Dollar Boxes at Taco Bell, all the value menus. It was fun! (She said, facetiously.)
Anyway, all was restored by early September, just days before my marathon, and it was beautiful. I was so happy to have my kitchen back, I swore to never talk about hating to cook every again. I am grateful for the privilege of having a kitchen to prepare food in.
We put a motion sensor faucet in our bathroom, so that this would never happen again. It took a little getting used to, but it’s been effective; I’ve never left my bathroom faucet running because I’m not able to. I seem to remember one of our kids asking around this time, “why don’t we put one in the kids bathroom too?” And the reply being that there was no reason to because Mom never uses that bathroom. Well, never say never…
Fast forward to April of 2022, almost a year following the major flood. I was blasting my music through my cochlear implants, drowning out all other sounds, and doing a bunch of power cleaning. I noticed the dryer was quite dusty, so I grabbed a washcloth and ran to the nearest bathroom (the kids bathroom, which is the other full upstairs bathroom) to wet the cloth and wipe down the dryer. I continued my work, flittering around the house. My daughter had come home from school, used the small bathroom just off the kitchen, and when she walked out of the bathroom noticed a problem. She hurried upstairs to let me know, “Mom, the kitchen ceiling is leaking!”
I had NO idea what could be causing that but I zoomed into crisis mode. I handed her a bunch of towels and told her to grab a large bowl from the kitchen cabinets, put it under the leak, and start drying the floor (our practically brand new kitchen floor!). I was frantic, not knowing what to do, so I called my husband. He calmly walked me through turning the water off in the house and then gave suggestions for where to check for the source of the leak. I walked upstairs and opened the door to the kid’s bathroom (why was the door shut anyway?) and walked into a cloud of steam and water dripping off the countertop. It was then that I realized I had left the water running after wetting the cloth to clean the dryer. I could not believe it. I had done it again. Thankfully my daughter had caught it in time and the damage was not as severe, but the damage to my ego was just as devastating the second time around, if not more so. I had come to learn after the first flood that it was actually quite common, for people to leave faucets running and flood their homes. I never learned the statistics for two-time offenders but I was sure it was more rare.
The ironic thing is, we had planned a trip for our 23rd anniversary, since we didn’t get to take it the year before. And when I asked Grandma to come stay with the kids, I told her – jokingly – I wouldn’t flood the house this time. And then, of course, I did. Thankfully it happened a few weeks before the trip so we were still able to go. And boy, did we need that trip. It was just for the weekend, but it gave us time to process and reflect on all that had happened, and to be thankful that we were still crazy in love even after all the difficult things we’ve been through. Maybe even more so because of the difficult things we’ve endured. And when we look at those challenges we’ve had to face over the decades, dealing with a flood or two is no big deal.
Now I’m just praying that I make it through this year without causing another major disaster. And I’m extremely grateful that my family loves me despite my propensity for calamity and can laugh about it all now!
Hi there! I was on a weekly roll there, posting stories and then…. hard stop. Sorry about that. I got stuck. To be honest, writing about old stories was getting a little, well… old. And not much has happened in the present that seems exciting enough to write about. My daily journals consist of a lot of mundane recaps and daily goals such as: laundry, groceries, nap, read, clean, etc. SUPER boring. But I still think about writing. All. The. Time. Because I am a writer. It’s who I am. I love writing. Always have. Probably always will. I just haven’t been writing anything here on the blog because I haven’t had anything I felt anyone would be interested in.
But awhile ago I stumbled on an old blog of mine (I’ve been blogging since 2003 on various platforms) and it was a lot of silly nonsense. I wrote because I enjoyed it, not because anyone was interested in it. And so I would love to get back to that. The not caring. Just writing because I enjoy it.
So I decided I want to share here a new genre of music I’ve come to love. Now, I have loved Bob Marley since I first heard him in high school, but that’s as far as I delved into reggae. However, this past summer my family and I took a cruise, stopping one day in Jamaica. Lounging in a pool of sapphire blue atop a lush green mountain overlooking the Caribbean Sea was extremely magical, but what I really fell in love with was the music. There was this energetic, positive, vibrant music blasting everywhere. And it makes my heart flutter when I hear it and I can’t help but sway and move to the rhythms. So several weeks back as I was trying to choose some music to get me through another session of folding laundry, I was reminded of Jamaica and searched for a reggae station. Y’all, it immediately brought me back to last summer and I couldn’t stop smiling. Or dancing! It makes housework so much more fun. Every one of you should try it. Really. Jot that down on your to do list. Then let me know what you think. I’ll wait…
Doctors never did figure out why I had been sleeping so much. They tested for all sorts of things, but came up short. They suspected Susac’s Syndrome, which at the time I thought was fatal, so I’m glad that turned up negative. I’ve had a couple fluorescein angiograms to take pictures of the blood vessels in my eyes, but both times they showed that everything was normal. To this day, I’m still a medical mystery.
After sleeping a couple months of my life away, I started to wake up a bit more to what was going on. I was still very deaf and still could not see well, and still had no answers and no hope. The reality of it all was starting to set in. I was now, ironically, having trouble falling asleep at night. The tinnitus would get so loud. I remember the ringing sounded a lot like chanting monks, which would normally be a comfort to me, but at four in the morning it was a nuisance. I brought this issue up to Dr. Hong at a follow up visit and he prescribed me Xanax to help me sleep. It worked wonders. I was able to get proper rest at night and was miraculously still able to wake up in the mornings to help get the kids ready for school.
I want to convey my level of desperation at this point in time without being overly dramatic. Mike and the kids had left me home alone for an evening because I had seemed to be doing so well, but that turned out to not be the case. I was feeling scared and beat down and I couldn’t see any way out of my situation. I was unable to communicate effectively with everyone I cared about. I felt utterly ALONE. I was at the end of my rope, and wanting to let go. I was feeling so desperate for a way out that I seriously considered swallowing the whole bottle of Xanax. Even more frightening than the hearing and vision loss was the thought that I wanted to check out of life permanently. I reached out to my girlfriends, hoping and praying that one of them could come over and save me from myself. My friend Tracy was the first to respond and she rushed over to the house. She prayed with me and hugged me and reminded me that I was not alone in this struggle. She left that night with the bottle of Xanax so I wouldn’t be tempted again.
As awful as it was, that night was a turning point for me. I had to stop retreating into myself. I needed to reach out, both to God and to the friends and family He had put in my life. After my family returned home that night and we put the kids to bed, I shared with my husband what had happened. I could see from his face that he was both shocked and sad, but he was glad I told him and he reassured me that we were in this together, and that he and the kids needed me. We hugged for a long time and he let me cry on his shoulder. It was good to be reminded that he was there for me because, while we didn’t know it yet, we had an important trip coming up at the end of the month to the Mayo Clinic. I’ll be sharing more about that in the next installment of Adventures with Mel 😉
Warning: After a new puppy post this might be a real downer. Please bare with me.
I don’t think I talk enough about the pain I experience on a regular basis. Partly because I feel like it’s not so bad, in comparison to other people I know living with chronic pain, and partly because I don’t want to sound like I’m looking for pity. I am definitely not looking for pity. In fact, pity is a huge annoyance to me. When people hear about my physical struggles, what I went through and live with, the most common response is, with a wrinkled brow and frown, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” (In fact this just happened to me earlier this month at my son’s doctor appointment). While I appreciate the sentiment and concern, deep down it makes me feel small. I hate to be pitied. I only share because this is a blog about my life, and my ups and downs with multiple sclerosis.
So, back to the pain (you Princess Bride fans are quoting now, aren’t you? “To the pain!”… Focus, Mindy…) I get a lot of headaches, and if I don’t medicate soon enough when I feel one coming on, they are debilitating. This happened two days ago. I felt it coming on but was so busy with the new puppy I didn’t get around to taking my medicine in time. When I finally sat down and took a pill I was able to turn all the lights off and rest and wait for the medicine to kick in. When you wait too long to take it, it isn’t as effective, but it at least takes the piercing edge off. So when I felt another headache coming on last night, I didn’t wait to medicate. And this time I took two pills, just to be extra proactive. This worked, and I was able to enjoy the evening with my family. Lessons learned.
I also experience body aches at times. An all over pain, both like bruising tenderness and pins and needles. While I can’t predict the headaches because I don’t know what’s causing them, I can predict this all over body pain. It happens after lots of physical activity. I compare it to how you feel after a bad car accident (I’ve only been in one, decades ago, but I remember the pain). I had this pain after I chaperoned my daughter’s middle school camp, after girl scout camp, and even after Thanksgiving. And now I’m experiencing it after a few days alone with a brand new puppy. *Sigh*
So when I know I’m going to be doing something that involves a lot of activity, I have to plan in a couple days following in order to recover. I could avoid the activities altogether, but the memories I make are worth the pain. I’m not giving up on my family or friends just for a few extra days of comfort. Some things in life are worth it.
Well, it’s a week post-marathon and I’ve put this off long enough. I was hoping to write a beautifully elegant recap of the marathon, but you’ll just have to settle for my jumbled thoughts and memories. Keep in mind this was written in spurts throughout the week, if that tells you anything about how my recovery was going.
I’m still processing the reality of what I accomplished by finishing a marathon. I mostly feel relief and post race pain. Maybe when I’ve physically healed it will start to hit me. I want to tell you all about it, I really do, but I’m honestly just tired and sore. I need to rest and recover.
****Here is the pause while I am recovering****
Okay. Still fatigued but my brain is feeling much better. So, I finished in just under 7 hours. That’s nowhere near the time I had been hoping for. However, it occurred to me this morning that the number 7 is Biblically symbolic of completion. And this race was certainly that. Not just a completion of 26.2 miles, but the completion of the goal I set to prove to myself that MS hasn’t won.
Running was never my thing. Running was what my brother and sister did. However, there was a point along the way, along this journey with MS, that I discovered I could run. And I remember sitting at that table with Brett and Kari, out for a drink to celebrate one of our birthdays, when I told them both – “I think I want to try running a 5k.” That was six years ago, and here I am running a marathon. Incredible.
“One step. One punch. One round at a time.” This was the mantra Kari and I kept repeating in the last several miles of the race, in order to keep me going. (It’s from one of the Rocky movies but we weren’t sure we got all the words right.) I was losing motivation quickly. My legs were failing me in ways I had only partially anticipated. I had developed a mysterious lean to the right, my vision was even more foggy than usual. It was clear I was not going to finish anywhere near my time goal, well after the official race had closed down. But I set this goal, I decided back in the spring I was going to do it, so quitting was not an option. Kari reminded me of that. My son, Luke, ran the last 5 miles with us, cheering me on. My brother, Brett, was there for the last 2, lending an arm on the left side to keep me steady. There was a whole group of family and friends waiting for me at the finish line.
As the four of us (Kari, Brett, Luke, and myself) rounded the corner towards the finish, Brett and Luke snuck away and Kari moved further to the right. They knew this was my race and were gracious enough to let me finish on my own. Stubborn me, I did not want to be carried to the finish. I wanted it to be clear I could cross that line on my own two feet. And maybe that’s a little selfish of me but I had to know I could do it.
My sister and I were crying as I hobbled toward the end. I’m sure many others were crying too. I crossed that makeshift finish line and fell into my friend Sarah’s arms. Oh, Sarah. Let me break for a minute to tell you a bit about her. We’ve been friends for a couple decades. She’s the one who helped me get the job where I met my husband. She’s also the amazing woman who cared for me daily when I had my most devastating relapse in 2013. She has fed me, clothed me, even helped bathe me, when I was at my very worst. She has never shown me pity, but always strength and courage. She brings out the best in people when they can’t see it for themselves. She is an incredible human being and I’m so grateful she came to support me at this monumental race.
There’s so much more I could tell. My daughter, Natalie, smiling at me and reminding me, “you were in a walker!”. She knows this was big. She’s proud of her mom, yes, but my hope for her is that this memory will be a constant reminder that she also can do hard things.
And my husband, Mike. Sarah handed me off to him at that finish line. By this time my legs were collapsing and he wrapped his strong arms around me and wouldn’t let me fall (literally and figuratively!). He knew all along that I would finish this race because he knows me. He knows my stubborn determination and he knows how much this meant to me.
I guess all this is to say that running a marathon was not just about the running. This was an experience I’ll never forget. Yes, I may forget the pain, and the lost toenails, and the weeklong fatigue I felt after it was done. I may forget all the long training runs and the miles I put in each week. But I will never forget all the people who supported me along the way. There were lots of people at this race to cheer me on, but there were so many more back at home who have been rooting for me to slay this giant. And I couldn’t do life without any of them. Thank you all, for walking by my side and for carrying me when needed. My hope now that this crazy race is over is that I can put all my energy into giving back to you. I’m truly grateful.
Yesterday was my son’s thirteenth birthday. He is now officially a teenager. How quickly time seems to pass, until you are put in pandemic lockdown and time seemingly stands still, of course.
Normally, we would have thrown a party for this guy. Pizza, ice cream, video games, and a house full of rambunctious, stinky boys. I was a little heartbroken that we couldn’t do that but Luke took it really well. Besides wanting spending money so he could purchase the exact graphics card he’s been wanting for awhile (he’s a bit of a computer geek) he requested Taco Bell for dinner and my homemade cheesecake for dessert. (*Just want to toot my own horn here, but Mom’s cheesecake ranks #1 on his favorite foods list!)
Grandma drove an hour and a half each way to bring Luke a box of donuts for breakfast and visit with us in person. It was raining, so we all huddled in the garage and talked with Grandma from a safe distance away. While it sucked to have to visit that way, it was really nice to see her and I’m so glad she made the trek.
Overall, it was a pretty chill day. As you can see from the photos above, the cheesecake turned out beautifully and was a big hit. Between all the donuts, the tacos, and the cheesecake, Luke was pretty full. That second photo is good evidence that he was in a food-induced coma by the end of the day.
Now I’ll leave you with this, a lame haiku for my son:
Happy birthday Luke Now a teen in quarantine He loves his cheesecake
Deaf and half-blind runner with multiple sclerosis
Little M.S. Runner 