Well, you could say I really took that idea of hibernation to heart! I’ve not been sleeping 22 hours a day, but I have been resting more. I’ve still been active when I need or want to be, but when it’s time for down time, I committed to it. And when Christmas break was over and the kids were heading back to school (i.e. today), I was more than ready to get back to a routine.
I woke up this morning, fixed breakfast for the teenagers, fixed a sandwich for the hubby’s lunch, read my daily Scripture, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, and then? Hard stop. I’m acutely aware of how my body is feeling and what it was telling me was that I needed to go back to bed. It was strange, because fatigue usually creeps up on me slowly. This time it seemed like it had been hiding right around the corner and pounced on me all in a matter of moments. I headed up the stairs to my bedroom and had to pause midway to rest. I slept close to 3 hours and then willed myself to get up and get dressed so that I could feel at least halfway human.
Fatigue is so frustrating because I have all these things I want to do and my mind is still quite active. It’s a slow torture, if I’m being dramatic. So I occupy my mind by playing endless games of Block Blast, listening to podcasts about decluttering, and writing. I’ll probably take another nap, so that I have energy to prepare dinner.
I’m sorry I don’t have more interesting things to talk about here, but that’s my life at the moment. You get what you pay for. You’re welcome. I hope you have a blessed day!! Look for beauty and blessing and you will find it.
Category Archives: Stories
My very brief “75 Hard” journey and what I learned
I don’t know if any of you have heard of “75 Hard” but it’s this bazonkers challenge that some guy made up a few years ago, and it seems to have quite the following.
The challenge is this: For 75 consecutive days you must complete the following tasks:
1) Drink one gallon of water
2) Follow a diet of your choosing, no cheat days!
3) Read 10 pages of a nonfiction book
4) Complete two non-consecutive 45-minute workouts, 1 of which must be outdoors
5) Take a progress picture
If you miss any of the tasks even once, you have to start all over again on Day One. Oof.
A good friend of mine completed this challenge a couple years ago, and she is now working the challenge once again. When she did it the first time, I seriously gave it some thought but never did anything with it. This second time I felt compelled to hop on and give it a shot.
Now a couple of these things were easy for me. I have been intermittent fasting since March of 2023 so following a diet wasn’t a big deal. I would just be more intentional about sticking with my chosen eating and fasting “windows”. No problem.
Reading 10 pages of nonfiction? I’m a huge reader, and 90% of what I enjoy reading is nonfiction. Again, no problem.
Taking a progress picture is a simple enough task, and thankfully no one would have to see it but me, so the trick was just to remember to do it. Easy peasy.
It’s the gallon of water and 2 daily exercises that were the real challenge for me. I don’t mind drinking water, but I prefer coffee, and that doesn’t count. So I just had to be intentional about sipping from and refilling my water bottle throughout the day. I even bought myself a larger bottle (half gallon) so I would only need to refill once during the day. However, since I had just been coming off training for the Sleeping Bear half marathon, I was already in the habit of daily hydrating so this wasn’t a huge deal.
For the exercising I was doing an outdoor walk and indoor Fitbod workout each day. That was going very well, and with all the water I was drinking, my muscles were recovering well every day. I would feel a bit of soreness but it never stuck around for long. I was feeling really good!
Y’all, I lasted 8 days. That 9th day I had a super busy day morning to night. Doctor appointment for me, orthodontist for both kids, and having to use paratransit to get everywhere means every trip takes awhile and has zero flexibility. But that wasn’t what killed the challenge for me. I had been out of town the weekend prior and the day before I came back, my husband left for a 3 day work trip. So on that bonkers day with all the appointments, that evening I just wanted to spend time with my husband. I had to make a decision – stay home and complete my workouts (because all the appointments prevented me from getting them done earlier) or ride with my husband to take our daughter to her horse riding lesson. I chose the latter, ending my 75 Hard challenge streak, and I have no regrets.
I may try again some other time, but I don’t know. I strongly felt like God had been leading me to that challenge, so I had to really ponder why. I think He was trying to show me how much my daily life had been lacking in discipline. And while 75 Hard was very much an all or nothing thing, installing discipline into your life doesn’t have to be that way. The key is to be intentional. So now I’ve been thinking a lot more about how I can maintain that intentionality but in a way that fits with my impairments and my daily life. I’m being humbled here. I need to cut out a lot of things in my life for awhile that were distracting me. I would spend hours on Facebook or Netflix or the stupid coloring app on my phone, and before I knew it, I had lost most of the day. Since I’m not working, I don’t have anyone telling me what or when things need to be done. I am the boss of my life, and I had been doing a shoddy job of it.
So I decided to make my own list:
1) Read 10 pages of a book
2) Exercise for 30 minutes
3) Drink a half gallon of water
4) Pray/study the Bible for 30 minutes
5) Write for 30 minutes
The times listed are just minimums of course. I just list them that way so I have measurable goals. I found a habit tracking app so I can keep the list in front of me and check things off as I go. It will be satisfying to see streaks of habits, but I’m allowing myself the ability to skip days if necessary. Some days my body and mind need rest, and I’m going to honor that. But I’m working really hard to not slip back into bad habits. While binging on Netflix seems like it would be restful, it’s really not. And it’s discouraging when you come off of a session of 6 episodes of Reba and realize you’ve lost your whole day, and you still need to put away that laundry you washed last Tuesday, and you have no idea what you are going to feed your people for dinner.
So yeah. I’m working on some healthy habits. I was gonna say “new” healthy habits, but then caught myself. These are not new. I’m working on some healthy habits – again. And I should say, it feels pretty damn good.
Moving forward!
What now?
Runners like to ask each other questions like, “What’s next on your calendar?” or “Do you have a goal in mind?”. The answer to that first question is nothing. I have nothing on my calendar. But to answer the latter, I do have a goal, and that is to focus on running faster 5ks. I told my husband when I came home from Sleeping Bear that I was done with longer races for awhile. 10k would be my max. He didn’t believe me. He says I say that every time. Which is probably true, but whatever. I think this time I’m serious. We have a high school senior now, and our youngest will soon be learning to drive, so I just want to have more time and mental focus available to be there for my kids. Training for half marathons takes up a lot of time and focus. But speedwork for 5ks? I can do that. And it’s a goal that keeps me active, which for my M.S. is a really important thing.
So for the blog going forward I’ll still be talking about running and fitness related stuff, but I’ll likely start throwing in other random crap I’m obsessing about. Because I’m always finding random crap to obsess about. If you had to guess, it’s most likely food related. Probably.
P.S. I’ve really been struggling with my writing lately, and I know that’s really normal so I’m riding it out, but I’ve been thinking about short stories. I have lots of short stories in my head, and I want to work at getting them out on paper to share. And when I say paper, I mean the computer screen obviously. So you might see some of that here too. As always, no promises.
Peace out, folks. Shalom.
Sleeping Bear Half Marathon Complete!
Finally, my post race recap. It gets a little messy in my head, so bear with me (you are welcome for that accidental pun!)…
The Sleeping Bear race was four hours away, so I booked a motel in a nearby town for myself and Allison, my guide runner (all the lodging in the area was filling up fast!). We had to drive to Traverse City (also nearby) to pick up our race packets so while we were there I introduced Allison to one of our favorite T.C. restaurants, Slabtown Burgers. After dinner, we made a valiant effort to find ice cream for dessert, but were unsuccessful. All the ice cream shops were closed for the season!
We drove to the beach where the finish line would be the following morning, and got some pictures of the sun setting over the water. Incredible to see. There was a local retired man with two goldendoodles there watching the sunset, and we chatted with him for a minute. I asked him about the hills on this course, after he told us he rides his bike on the trails all the time. He said there were a couple of decent hills, but assured us they were short (Spoiler alert: he lied.).
The morning of the race was cold. I think maybe around 40 degrees Fahrenheit? A little more than a few degrees above freezing. But the forecast showed it would be warming up to the 60s, so I dressed for that. You warm up quick when you are running, so it’s always wise to dress for the later weather, not the earlier. We parked at the lot near the finish line, and walked over to hop on a charter bus that would take us to the starting line. The charter bus was a welcome reprieve from the cold. Soft cushy seats, heat. I was making a conscious choice to enjoy this ride. I was excited to be surrounded by all the other runners, and excited to finally be running this race I had been training for.
Once we were delivered to our starting location, we got in line for the bathrooms for one last go. I was thankful to have a real bathroom available because I have a semi-logical fear of porta potties. And since we had gotten a pretty early start, the lines weren’t terribly long, and I was also thankful for that.
From the bathrooms we walked over to the starting line and waited some more. The sand dunes were to our left, and the starting line to our right. The sun had just started to peak out when we got off the charter bus, so by the time we were waiting at the starting line, it was in full sunrise glory. I got a great shot of the sun rising over the portapotties (the ones we didn’t have to use).
While we waited we were able to cheer on the full marathon runners as they made their start, 30 minutes before us. And before long it was our turn. We counted down, and then we were off! The start of most races is always pretty crowded, and this one was no exception. I just tried to stay focused on not going out too fast, and let all the faster runners get around me (let’s be honest, they were all faster runners).
It was in that first quarter mile that I realized my Garmin watch was on my “walk” setting from the day before! So I didn’t have my pace showing in the big bold numbers, and I didn’t have my run/walk interval notifications. No worries, I was feeling pretty strong and told Allison I would just keep running at this pace (whatever that was) and see how it went. Throughout the race she was able to tell me how fast we were going, so that helped a lot. I wasn’t worried about missing walk breaks because I knew there would be hills coming that I would likely need to walk up (and down), so that was a fine compromise for me.
I can’t remember how far in I started feeling gassed, but it was a lot farther in than I had expected. I was feeling great. Super surprised at how well my legs were holding up. However, in the last half of the race there were lots of moments where I was running out of gas and needed the Gatorade that the race organizers provided at the aid stations. I knew that would be provided, so I intentionally did not bring any hydration with me. And as it turns out, that Gatorade saved me. Without those periodic pick-me-ups, I would have been slow walking the last half of the race, for sure. I would walk through the aid station, gulp my Gatorade, and minutes later that second wind would come and I felt like I could run again. It was quite fascinating to me, that such a simple thing could rejuvenate me so quickly and I was able to go from barely able to move my legs, to being able to run again.
I can’t give a play by play, because I don’t remember details of any race that way. I’m sure some people can, but I’m not one of them. I remember snippets. Like the time I tripped on a small crack and went flying forward. Allison thankfully had quick reflexes and caught me before I fell. Falls like that are so scary. They happen so fast yet they seem to happen in slow motion. During this race it happened around the 10 mile mark and I only remember that because that’s when I was starting to feel the major fatigue in my legs. Hence the trip and near-fall.
The last mile was an exercise in insanity. I was trying my best to stay in a running motion, but it was getting so difficult. I did have to walk some to rest my legs because I wanted to finish strong. So during the last mile I told Allison to stay close to me, because falling was definitely a greater possibility. I was starting to get mildly frustrated because there were so many turns in order to get to the finish line. I kept asking her, can you see it? And she never answered in the affirmative but assured me we were getting closer.
The closer you get to the finish, the more spectators you see on the sidelines. At one point, a woman shouted to us, “You’re almost there!”. And I shouted back, “I don’t believe you! She’s (Allison) been telling me the same thing!” But alas, we did finally turn the last corner that revealed the finish. I couldn’t see it as much as I could hear it. The cheers and shouting were endearing. So many people there to support all the runners. And on our right, hordes of faster runners walking back to their cars with their arms full of snacks. That’s when I knew we were close – all the snacks. I forgot all the pain and weakness I was feeling and ran forward. Allison and I both raised our arms in the air and smiled big as we crossed that finish line.
I tried to walk out of the way of the runners coming behind me but my legs wouldn’t withstand walking, so I collapsed onto Allison instead. A photographer rushed over to help walk me over to the fence and someone offered us bottled waters. I kind of hate this drama at the end of longer races, because it really looks worse than it feels, but it’s unavoidable. When I’m pushing my legs that hard, I have to expect they are going to rebel. I think my prayer is always just that they wait until I cross the finish line for that rebellion. One of these days it could result in a DNF (did not finish) and that would be soul crushing.
After my legs resumed normal function (mostly), we sauntered (hobbled) over to the snack area and retrieved our hard-earned spoils. Banana, granola bar, beer, and orange slices!! I remember getting orange slices at one of the aid stations during the Grand Rapids Marathon and how it felt like a gift from heaven, it was so refreshing. On this day? Equally miraculous. The gentleman handed me two and I could have kissed him I was so happy. Orange slices never taste as good as they do after running all those miles.
To end the race experience we walked over to the beach area and took our socks and shoes off. The water was blocked off by a slight stone wall, so we didn’t put our feet in the water, but putting our feet in the sand was cooling enough. It felt amazing to sit and rest there. Allison didn’t know this about me, but I used to have a strong aversion to sand. I couldn’t stand touching it. Up until a trip with my family to the Michigan’s Upper Peninsula in 2020. We walked onto the beach so we could all dip our toes into Lake Superior and I found myself saying, “oh, this feels nice”. Which was such an odd thing for me to say, I surprised myself! Something about that trip I guess flipped a switch and now it doesn’t bother me. Sand, sugar, flour, it’s all okay for me to touch. It doesn’t make me cringe anymore, and I’m loving that change. But I digress…
We sat for awhile and then decided we were hungry, and ready for that post-race meal to replenish all that we had burned off. We had decided ahead of time to get pizza, because it happened to be something we both love. After some quick Google searching, Allison found us a highly rated pizza place, Papano’s, that had a location nearby. They had personal size pizzas, so we each ordered our own and got what we liked. It was a fantastic end to a full and memorable race experience.
She is not me
I want to share something that I learned this week, in case it might resonate with you as well. The other day I found out some bad news. A horse that my daughter had loved riding had passed away. I was feeling quite emotional about it, and debated when to tell her. I finally decided to just rip the band-aid off and do it right away. I went up to her room, opened the door, and said, “I have to tell you some bad news.” And then I stopped. I couldn’t get the words out. Tears were welling up in my eyes. She sat there waiting. Then, jokingly, “Mom, just say it!”
I had to keep looking away. Swallowing my spit in hopes of stopping the tears and getting my voice back. After several bizarre seconds, I finally spit it out. “Trixie passed away over the winter.” And then I waited for my daughter’s equally devastated response.
I got nothing like that.
She was not devastated. Not overcome with sadness. Not the emotional wreck that her mother was appearing to be. She was calm. She explained to me, sounding so grown-up, “It’s fine. Horses die all the time for lots of reasons.”
I was stunned. She was so calm and pragmatic about the news. Who is this kid? She is not me.
Here I was, trying to shield her from the hurt, protect her from the sadness that I only assumed she would feel. Why? Because when I was her age, I would have felt those things, and this type of news would have crushed me, leaving me in a cloud of sadness for days.
But she is not me.
This had me thinking about how often I have done this with her, my daughter who looks so much like me and yet in personality and emotional makeup is so different. She has grown up in an entirely different home environment than I did. She has experienced different things. She has learned how to process her big, upsetting feelings and has come out stronger. When I attempt to shield her from these sad scenarios, what I’m really doing is doubting her strength. I’m saying I don’t believe she can handle it. But that’s not for me to decide, is it?
She is not me.
I am learning that I need to give her more credit, and this has me thinking in broader terms. How many times have I done this with other people? How many times have I tortured myself and put off having difficult discussions with family, friends, even coworkers (I’m going way back here; I haven’t worked a job since 2013). Why were these discussions so difficult? Or rather, why did they *seem* so difficult? I think there are two equally valid theories to answer this question. Some would say that it’s empathy, that I’m thinking of others’ feelings, and being courteous of how they might feel about the topic of discussion. Fair enough. But the other theory, the one that was a lightbulb moment for me, is that it might be projection. I am projecting onto others when I assume they would react the way I would. And I think in the aforementioned discussion with my daughter it was definitely the latter. I was assuming her reaction would be like mine.
But she is not me.
I am in awe of this. Humbled and amazed. How can a 14 year old be smarter than me? Well, I believe she watched carefully those first few years as I worked through trauma therapy. She paid attention to my changing reactions to every stressful situation that came my way. She learned from watching me. And she’s not afraid of her emotions the way I used to be. She can feel sadness and knows it won’t destroy her.
I am so grateful to see this emotional resilience in my daughter, but I am also grateful for the greater lesson I’m learning here. I am learning to allow other people to have their reactions, and I am not so acutely affected by them as I once was. We all have big feelings. I can handle mine, and you can handle yours. This has been one of the many great outcomes of trauma therapy, and I wish I could share it with everyone who cares to listen. That said, I’m hoping to write more about it here on the blog, especially since the kids are back in school and that allows me more headspace for it. So stay tuned for that, my friends.
Sleeping Bear Training Week 7
This week, I’m pretty sure *I* was the sleeping bear. I’m gonna warn you right here, this is more than a running post. I’m gonna detour and touch on family matters and a little on perimenopause. If you can’t handle that, please move along. Thank you very much. If you’re game, please continue.
Sunday – I slept 8 hours, 43 minutes the night before. Not a lot of activity. I think I went to church. Yes, yes I did and I went to Planet Fitness afterwards to use the hydromassage beds. That was needed. I was still in a lot of pain from last week.
Monday – Slept 9 hours, 36 minutes. I had planned to do strength training but according to my records, I did not. I did take a wicked nap in the afternoon in preparation for taking our daughter to her first concert. She was going with a friend to see Pierce the Veil and Blink 182, and hubs and I had a dinner date while we waited. I got a little teary eyed seeing her walk off towards the venue, knowing how much this meant to her. It was a good day. My babies are growing up so fast (more on that to come).
Tuesday – Slept 7 hours, 44 minutes. Ran 5 miles with hills. We’ve got a couple gnarly hills around our neighborhood and I was very pleased to see that my lungs and legs are handling them much better! This is growth, and great progress. It can only get better from here, if I stay consistent with the strength and hill training.
Wednesday – Slept 10 hours, 30 minutes. Took my daughter to the doctor for a well child visit. She’s doing well. Very healthy. Could use some improvements in her diet, which I’m sure is true of most teenagers (she’s 14). Right after getting a mom-requested lecture from the doctor about getting more fruits and veggies into her diet, she stood up and a package of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes fell out of her pocket. And, thank you for making my point, my dear! It was quite comical.
Thursday – Slept 9 hours, 40 minutes. I guess I didn’t do any training on this day. Probably more napping. I know I did have a lot of family management stuff I was working on so that’s probably what took all my time and energy. That and we took my daughter (Zebra Cake girl) shopping for some back to school clothes. I don’t remember what time we got home but I remember going straight to bed.
Friday – Slept 10 hours, 13 minutes. More family management stuff most of the day. Fitbod workout, 58 minutes. Triceps, shoulders, chest and lower back.
Saturday – Went to bed just before 8 pm the night before, which put my total sleep at 11 hours and 37 minutes. I was so tired. I did wake up around 4 am, read a book for about 10 minutes before going back to sleep. Because why not? This has been the pattern, and I believe it’s why I can “sleep” so many hours and still be tired the next day. It’s not great. I am blaming hormones and perimenopause, and have plans to see my ob/gyn doctor about it, eventually.
I say eventually, because I’ve been super preoccupied with managing my family’s schedules and clerical needs lately. I have one teenager just about to start driving and the other one entering his senior year of high school. And yes, the older is fully capable of doing many things on his own, but he is still living here and still in school and can always use some guidance. That and many things still require parental approval because he’s under 18. I don’t talk about my kids much here mostly because they have become their own people and they don’t need mom blabbing about their lives. They have social media, if they want to blab about their lives they can. But I will say that I am super proud of both of them.
My son is growing and maturing so fast I can’t keep up. Between his sports, friendships, and various jobs, he moves through this house like a hurricane and I barely get a chance to sit down and have chats with him. But when I do, I’m always blown away at who he is becoming and I’m excited to see where he goes in life.
My daughter is almost the polar opposite of her brother. She is an introverted homebody, and we always know where she is. I suspect that may change when she starts driving and working, but I’m enjoying having her around while I can. We have the best conversations, and I love hearing how her mind works. She is confident in who she is and I love that. I wish I had that at her age.
As we look to starting another school year, I’m reflecting on how far we’ve come as a family. We’ve been through so many challenges over the years. What I am proud of is the fact that we fought through all of our challenges as a unit. When one of us was falling, the other three were around to catch them. We work together to support each other, lend a hand, and let each other know we are not alone. Sure, we argue from time to time but overall we know we are loved no matter what. I hope we never lose that.
And that concludes my weekly training/life update. I imagine once the kids are back in school I’ll put more effort into writing more frequently. But still, I make no promises.
“There is no doubt that it is around the family and the home that all the greatest virtues, the most dominating virtues of human, are created, strengthened and maintained.”
― Winston S. Churchill
I need a new driver
I made a note awhile back to write this post but felt stuck and left it hanging. I’ve been struggling to find my groove with writing lately. Today being the first of June, I set a goal for myself to write at least 30 minutes and run at least 2 miles a day for the entire month. Y’all, there are so many parallels between writing and running, it’s uncanny. Warming up is crucial to both. I haven’t run yet today, but I did some writing, and in the practice of writing I already feel like I’m finding my “voice” again.
Anyway, back to the subject of this post, needing a new driver. Let me explain. Healing from CPTSD has been an amazing and difficult journey, and I am so grateful to be on the other side of it. HOWEVER, it came with some downsides. I believe my constant level of anxiety was the reason I did the things I did every day. The anxiety is why I had my routines. It’s why I couldn’t leave the laundry unfolded for too long, it’s why I had to plan the meals. My routines were driven by my anxiety.
With anxiety no longer driving the car, my routines were off-roading. Wee!! It was kind of fun for awhile, liberating even. But now I’m sort of getting back to reality and realizing I need some level of routine. Because I don’t live alone, and people count on me. So if anxiety isn’t driving the routines, what is? That’s a really good question, and I think the answer had to come after a lot of soul searching. I realized that I really like having a clean home. It feels very satisfying to have laundry and dishes that are not only clean, but put away. I am able to relax when we have food in the kitchen and I have a plan for meals I can feed my family. Having this order in my home gives me a really peaceful feeling. So I’ve been reintroducing my routines bit by bit, but only after making sure it’s because I want them there, and they make sense.
This change may not be noticeable to anyone else. On the outside it looks the same to my family. The difference now is that when I have my fatigue days and can’t keep up with my routines, I am able to say to myself, “just rest, that can wait.” Or better yet, I can ask my family members to help. I don’t feel that shame and guilt that I did before. I am able to have grace for myself and this body I live in. It’s a *wonderful* thing.
This is a matter of self-care, which the culture talks a lot about and I sort of cringe at, but I do agree you need to take care of yourself first. Well, second. Jesus first, then take care of you. I am better able to take care of family now because I take care of my needs first. Only now I feel like I’m doing that because I want to, not because some invisible force told me I should. My stepmom used to say “don’t should on yourself”, and I love that saying. “Should” is a terrible driver. You may be getting things done that way, but you do it with the added baggage of guilt and shame. Find a new driver, one who gives you grace and patience. You might find, as I did, that the new driver looks a lot like you!
Running with Guides
A few months ago I signed up for a new-to-me 10k. The entire race event is set up to raise funds and awareness for pulmonary hypertension (PH) and multiple sclerosis (MS), and it offered multiple distance options. The name of the 10k distance was “Melinda’s 10k”, which is my full name so you know I just HAD to sign up. I did not look at the course map, and I had no friends who were running it but I wasn’t worried about it. I would wear my DeafBlind vest and be extra careful, and it would be fine. I signed up, and then forgot all about it.
A month ago I received a message from United in Stride, which is an online database that helps pair blind runners with guides. The company was founded in 2015, so it hasn’t been around for long, but I do believe it’s growing. I signed up with them several years ago, when I realized I was getting serious about running, but at that time there weren’t any guide runners in my area so I just forgot about it. Then comes this message from Allison, who wants to know if I need a guide runner for any upcoming races. At first I told her no, because I had forgotten about Melinda’s 10k, but then immediately came back and said yes, actually I do have a race I need a guide for. She was immediately on board! Not only that, she was eager to run a couple training runs with me, which was a great way for us to get to know each other ahead of the race, and for us to practice running side by side.
We ran this race together, and it was a good thing I had her with me. For several reasons, much of the course we were the only ones in sight (or at least in my sight): it was a small-town race, not a lot of 10k participants, not a lot of spectators, and I’m pretty slow so I hang at the back of the “pack”. There were several spots in the course where I could have easily made a wrong turn and gotten lost. I was super grateful to have her with me. I had been hoping to beat my previous 10k PR (personal record) from 2020, but that wasn’t meant to be. Not only was it really warm this day, but my fatigue this past month was pretty gnarly and prevented me from doing the amount of training I needed. I was happy to finish though, and I wasn’t too far off my goal, so I’ve got something to work towards for the next one.
The best part about this for me, what I’m really excited about, is that it opens up more options for racing. Up until now I’ve only ever entertained the idea of running races local to me, where I could easily get a ride from my family or friends, and not have to worry about inconveniencing them. The couple I have done outside of our area, my family and friends graciously took me to because they knew they were important to me, but I’ve run out of those bucket list type races. Now I just want to keep racing for the fun of it. It’s hard to ask someone to bring you to an out-of-town race when there’s nothing in it for them but standing around waiting for you to drag your sweaty ass over the finish line (thank you a million times over to my dear husband who does this without complaint, and is always more than willing to hug me and hold me up at the end, despite my level of stink).
So. All that to say, I am stoked to have yet another running buddy. Allison and I have been talking about what other races we could run together, and I love her enthusiasm. I’m old enough to be her mom, which took some getting used to at first, but I think her energy helps to motivate me so it’s a great thing. She made us matching bracelets that say “Unstoppable”, and I’m looking forward to wearing mine at all our future races.
As I was writing this it occurred to me that I don’t think I ever posted about my race from last month, so I’ll get that one started for you too. It will be another great opportunity to talk about my invaluable guide runners. I couldn’t do this crazy stuff without them!
Infusion Day
Today was my monthly infusion for Tysabri, the drug I take to manage my M.S. and ward off relapses. I don’t generally post about infusion days because they are typically uneventful so there isn’t much to talk about. Today was a little bit different.
Today my nurse had the challenge of some uncooperative veins. I don’t know why this is a thing, and she couldn’t guess why either, but for the last couple IVs and blood draws, my veins have been extremely uncooperative. My nurse tried so hard to get a good “poke” in two different areas of my left arm, but for some reason the pain was just unbearable. She could see I was in pain and my eyes were forming tears. She stopped what she was doing and looked at me with such kindness and compassion. She said she didn’t want to be causing me pain. It looked as though it was hurting her just as much as it was me. She was patient, allowing me to collect myself and slow my breathing as she made strategic suggestions for how we could make this happen. She knows how important these infusions are for my health, and she was determined to make sure I got my medicine one way or another.
The good news is that the third poke, on my right arm, went in with ease and with almost no pain at all. I was so relieved. I can withstand a little poking and prodding at the beginning, but there was no way I would have been able to withstand the previous level of pain for the hour it takes to infuse the medicine. No way. So I am thankful that she worked with me at my pace and didn’t give up trying.
I love my nurses at this infusion center. Love them. I’ve been going there for years and they have become like friends. They know me, and they treat me with care and respect. They are outstanding at their jobs. This young nurse was my angel today. She has gone above and beyond for me on numerous occasions, and today was no exception. I am so thankful for her.
The other thing that was remarkable today was that while I was sitting around waiting for my ride to go home, I started talking with the patient next to me. I had overheard her talking about recent trouble she was having with a doctor, and how she had to stand up for herself in order to be “heard”. Having just finished the (fascinating and horrifying) book, “All In Her Head”, my ears perked up. I politely interrupted and gave her kudos for being the “squeaky wheel” in order to get the care she needed. That sparked further conversation and she shared with me her journey becoming disabled 20 years ago, at the age of 42, being forced to leave a career she loved. Her story was so different from mine in detail, yet in essence there were so many similarities. I was truly intrigued and encouraged by her fighting spirit and positive attitude that I left the infusion center feeling like I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, but I hope I do. I don’t think I’ll soon forget her, that’s for sure.
I think the lesson for me today is that I need to keep sharing my stories. It’s people like the lady I met today, that have been through transformative difficulties and are still able to smile and encourage others at the end of the day, that keep us truckin’ along. I pray that I am able to live another 20 years and more, so that I can keep showing people that you can endure hard things and come out the other side stronger. I meet people like this all. the. time. They are everywhere, and you just don’t realize it! Let’s share our stories. Let’s keep encouraging others. We’re in this together, folks. You are not alone.
Real Talk
I know it’s been a while since I posted. I’m still writing almost every day, because it’s what I must do for my general sanity, but I haven’t felt a strong need for blogging. Well, that’s not true. This whole blog is pretty much my personal stream of consciousness, and I haven’t wanted to bore you with my thoughts lately. But I’m going to try to get back to it. I’m trying to work some consistency into my life with writing and exercising, so adding blogging into that isn’t a huge stretch. (That’s a lie, I started this post 5 days ago.)
Consistency is a challenge when you are having to work around bouts of fatigue. I never know when it will come and how long it will last. And to be even more honest, it really bothers me that after nearly 15 years with M.S., I still struggle this hard with fatigue. Thankfully it doesn’t send me into a tailspin of depression the way it used to. My brain is getting better at managing, I suppose. Thank you to my therapist for that. And for the Holy Spirit, who whispers wisdom when I make a point to stop and listen.
I’m still running. Still writing. Still deaf, and still mostly blind. I have days when I feel okay with my physical limitations. Days when I’m just putzing around the house, so it doesn’t interfere too much. And then days like last Wednesday, when I was out grocery shopping with a friend. It’s exhausting and psychologically taxing. For someone who lived most of her life as a people pleaser with strong codependent tendencies, it’s a tough switch to not care about bothering the people around me. This is the attitude I must take whenever I am out in public if I have any hope of not collapsing into a puddle of tears. Metaphorically speaking, of course. What I am trying to say is that in order to make it through a store, even a store as small and streamlined as Aldi, I need to put on my blinders and not worry that I might be in other shoppers’ way. There is no sign on my back that warns – “Slow shopper, please excuse” – in order to solve the mystery of why I’m staring for so long at a wall of bread. (They all look so similar and I have to carefully read the labels on the shelves.)
I’m not sharing all that to garner pity or validation (well, maybe just a little). I think I’m mostly sharing it because I want you to remember this the next time you are at the grocery store, or in line at a fast food restaurant, and the person in front of you is taking an excessive amount of time (from your perspective). Maybe there is someone on a motorized scooter parked right in front of the chips you came for, and you have to wait an extra minute or two. Does it irritate you? Does it make you mad? Remember, they are probably just as frustrated having to use the stupid scooter. So please, have some patience please. Your kindness goes a long way.
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So that post went an entirely different direction than I expected. I came back to it today and groaned. This is the life of a writer. Not every day can be a great writing day, but you keep doing it anyway. The catch with blogging is other people are reading your crap writing and may be (gasp!) *judging* you. So I figured I have two options: obsess over every sentence to tweak and make it better, or delete it altogether. I’m going with a third option. Hit publish and move on with my day. I’ll be back with more updates, I’m sure. See you later, folks. Have a beautiful day.
Little M.S. Runner 