Metaphor Day

Yes, it's Metaphor Day here in my brain! Enjoy….

I'll back up a bit first; back in September, I went to see my new doctor at Stanford. He turned out to be quite full of himself (he was also being followed by some visiting doctors, so I hope that played a major factor in his attitude) and basically diagnosed me on what he saw rather than adding in my history. He prescribed physical therapy and proclaimed that was the solution to all my problems. While I believed it  would help, I never bought that it would solve everything. I went back to the same place I've gone the last few rounds in PT, and to the same therapist. I see her on Mondays and another therapist on Thursday.

She's the one that thought up the first metaphor. During my evaluation (which took two appointments because I'm that complicated..), she told me that my ankle and hip are the criminals here and my knee is the victim. That was pretty much entirely opposite of what I had believed for all these months. Turns out, my ankle is weak and is throwing off my knee, which is throwing off my hip…. and just to add to this equation, she can't rule out the defect in my hip causing problems. So the hip, in turn, is also probably throwing off my knee.

I'm currently a little over half way through the prescription and I'm thinking about stopping.. I have one more appointment so I can talk to her before I really make the decision. Here comes the second metaphor; the other day, I was driving home from PT and was thinking that life was a chess game. Of course, then I started wondering which piece I was. I refuse to be the King, having so much power that I would basically be powerless. The Knight doesn't appeal to me because it is the hardened soldier, moving according to exact regulations. Bishop and Rook are little more appealing in that they can move as far as they want, the only problem is the direction is limited. Then there's the Queen, able to move in any direction and as far as she wants.. I decided this is where I want to be. Unfortunately, while I do feel that in some aspects, most of the time I feel like the pawn; blindly moving forward one step at a time, being used for someone else's end-game. The doctor didn't know anything about me and just fit a diagnosis to me (conveniently one that has an exercise program made up by him!). The physical therapists are trying their best, but I'm just not benefitting from being there because there's some underlying problem that they can't quite grasp. My main therapist keeps trying, but she feels so bad when I get off that table and I still have a horrible limp.

Which brings me to the final metaphor; I wake up every day and step into a mine field. I never know how my leg is going to feel each morning or if the next step I take is going to "blow up". Take into account when I fell down the stairs about a month ago because my knee buckled. Or the swelling that has increased although it was never really a problem before. Or the newest and most baffling symptom; my knee goes numb.

This is where I stand right now... seems to be even more of a spot in limbo than when I started, with no answers in sight.

Tower of Terror; two races in one day!

I would like to start off by saying that flying with two wheelchairs isn't quite the horror show I had feared. While it was complicated, took extra effort, and I am eternally grateful my Rabbit friend was there to help, everyone was great in getting us where we needed to be. Good things aside, the trip confirmed my suspicion that Phil hates me...

By the time we got into our room (upgraded to a Princess Suite! Woohoo!) and I got to take a look at my chairs, Phil's tire was flat. The one I just got fixed a couple days before we left. And the pump I brought wasn't working. In the morning, I walked over to the bike rental in the hopes they had a pump that would work. They didn't. And it seemed that none of them knew anything about road tires. So after the expo, we took a taxi to a nearby bike shop. After some confusion and extra exploring, the bike guy found a teeny tiny hole in the tube and proclaimed I had just gotten a bad tube. I'm pretty sure I heard Phil chuckle at that. They fixed my tire once again, got me a new pump, and sent us on our way back to the taxi with Phil's most expensive tube yet. It's time I learn how to change road tires myself.....


The Tower of Terror event is a 5K in the morning and a 10 miler at night.. and of course we signed up for both! The 5K is a trail run and I had been wondering how I would do it from the moment I signed up. By the week before we left it had come down to Phil was not a possibility, Saber was a big maybe for fear I would wear out my arms for later, and the cane was looking better and better. I finally decided the night before that I was least afraid of running with my cane... at least I wouldn't need my legs later. So I taped up my hip, knee, and ankle (I couldn't even imagine using my giant brace in the humidity!) and headed out with my cane. I must have given them my wheelchair time because I ended up in the first corral with my Rabbit friend. She had a 1st place finish to defend, so she headed up front, while I stayed to the back so I wouldn't get in anyone's way. The Headless Horseman came out of the trees to signal the start of the race and we were off... heading into the trees he had gone back into. I ran small bits when I could, got some thumbs up, and some surprised/impressed comments about being out there with a cane. Around mile 2, I could hear the announcers from the finish line say #3 (Rabbit) had won!! Shortly after that, I got a text asking where I was so she could come find me.. I had just made it out of the trees and was going onto the track. I found her in the field just after that and she jumped back onto the course to walk with me until I headed into the finisher chute, where I ran in with a wave of surprised cheering and a high five from Goofy.

After a relaxing afternoon, lunch, and a nap, we went to the 10 miler start. I had been told to go to the information booth, where there would be people to take care of Saber while I ran. I got to meet the other wheelchair racer, a gentleman doing his first race, then we were led to the corrals. The man leading us kept calling out to make a path for the wheelchairs and at some point everyone began standing up and clapping for us as we came through.. It was a bit overwhelming and I was glad to get to the empty side of the corrals for a moment. We took some pictures and talked until the race director came over to lead us to the start.... then we took more pictures and talked some more ;) My Rabbit friend had to go into the corral, then we met our bike escorts. Unfortunately, we couldn't hear much of the announcements because the speakers were facing the other way, but all of a sudden it got very clear and we stopped our conversation mid-sentence as we heard "wheelchairs get set...!" Apparently I take off like a shot when something like that happens...

Me and my Rabbit.. who seems to like chasing me down

Wheelchairs at the Start!

My bike escort was happy to talk, and give me warnings about the course, and play in the fog by the characters, and encourage me up the four hills that make up the first 3 miles of the course.... and mock the repeated trail announcements ("I think there might be a speed bump coming up" and "Sounds like the dirt trail is a scary one!"). There was an out-and-back section during the hills where the people going the other way kept raising up cheers for me, including some friends we had made over the last couple days. Somewhere on the trail into ESPN, I made the comment that my bike escort's headlight was giving off an excellent, giant shadow of me and he decided turning to strobe would be even more impressive. I spent pretty much the rest of the race this way.

As we started to head out of ESPN, right about the 10K mark again, a Rabbit came up behind me. I lost her on the uphill I was struggling up, but caught up again when it went back down. We leapfrogged again for the next few miles. My bike escort was sure to tell me whenever she was catching up again, and was excited to see our future sprint to see who got to the finish first.  I took my last lesson of drifting a bit farther on this race.... I was going pretty fast down into a hairpin turn, called out a warning to the other runners, including the Rabbit, and pretty much whipped around the turn by hanging on to one wheel and letting the other one keep its momentum. I'm not entirely sure I'll ever be able to repeat that one, but I hear it was quite impressive!

After that, all we had to do was get through Hollywood Studios to the Tower of Terror... I pulled ahead when my bike escort peeled away as I made the last turn towards the finish, then pushed with whatever I had left in me to make it across. The guy that led us to the start appeared next to me and gave me information I couldn't hear and pointed me towards the woman that had Saber, a woman from Autism Speaks gave me my medal, another woman gave me a card that turned out to be my invitation to the awards ceremony.. I finally made it over to Saber and took a breath. The woman with Saber gave me a high five for following her earlier instructions to "beat the boy", then was ready to catch me when I decided I needed to stretch my body before settling comfortably into Saber. We stayed there until I felt ready to move, but we only made it a couple feet when they announced the other wheelchair was coming in, so we turned right back to cheer for him. The woman taking care of us let me take his medal to him; I also got a hug and reassurance that he would be back for another race.

We headed out to get our drop bags so we could change into dry clothes and go into the after party. However, my body had other ideas... we changed, went to the awards ceremony (where they loaded me down with my award, Tower of Terror ears, a glass, and a RunDisney bib belt), got food, and in there somewhere my energy just crashed. We rode the Tower of Terror to christen our medals, then picked up Phil so we could go back to the hotel.

Female Wheelchair Champion!

It was a fun and fast weekend that seemed to not stop for long at any point, except when stuck on an airplane, and I'm glad I was able to go again for the second year in a row. It's one of Disney's smaller events and I really like that... and hey, the medal is the Tower of Terror. Can't beat that!

1st Half for the 2nd Time

As you may have read in a previous post, I completed 13 half marathons before my leg gave up.... well, technically it was 12, then I threw in one more because I'm stubborn and had already signed up for one more. But anyway.... last weekend became my new stepping stone in this new adventure. My first half marathon in a wheelchair. Oh, and because I'm just a little crazy, I also signed up for the 10K the day before to complete the Inaugural Disneyland Dumbo Double Dare.

In a tired state, after a long drive home yesterday, I realized that just like my first half on foot and my first ultra marathon, I was surrounded by people I've been training/running with for quite a few months. So thank you to the small army of Brazen friends, running friends, and my new CAF/wheelchair racing friends (also all my friends cheering for me from afar!) for making my feelings of being excited and terrified lean more towards the excited side!


On a side note: I still haven't received my new racer, so Phil had to come to the big event after all these months of torture/training I've put him through... I'm pretty sure he hates me now.

Saturday Morning, the 10K: For the first time in a wheelchair, I got to start with other people.. two to be exact. All the 5Ks and the 10K that I have done this year, I have started on my own (except one where I started in the mass of people), so it was nice to be on the line talking to someone other than the race director or the timing guy. For a little extra fun, we started by going downhill (an underpass) where I reached speeds of 21 miles an hour for that short stretch and soon met up with my bike escort, whom I had ended up meeting the day before as we left the expo. He was really great staying with me for the first mile, cheering me on and even getting a rouge car off the course... I lost him to the crowd not too long after that when the first runners caught up to me (we only had a 1 minute head start). After that, I was consistently cheered on by the runners and other bikes coming through, and the spectators, volunteers, and cast members I passed by. Other than the first two miles, we wove through the parks and the backstage areas, which either was a lot of new places or just looked very different from my new view point.
  My only real goal for this 10K was to finish and beat my previous 10K time... you remember that one right? The one I did just a week after picking up Phil. This would be a good gauge at how far I've come since April. I went from 58 minutes down to 49 minutes!
  I ended up getting 1st place by default.. the other two wheelchairs were the two gentlemen in one of the pictures below. To my surprise, that meant I got to finish by going through the winner's ribbon, with my own confetti. I can't even begin to tell you how much fun that was!

A picture with my bike escort, and some post finish pictures.

Sunday Morning, the Half Marathon: Sooo, anyone that's done it, you remember your first half.... a lot of colliding emotions, wondering if you're going to make it to the finish, questioning if you've done everything right.. yeah, it's not much better the second time around. I had been doing that the whole week before (especially with not knowing which chair I'd be using until the last minute). Fortunately, I didn't have much time to worry that morning.
  Due to some miscommunication, we had been sent the wrong way to the ADA tent for the 10K start and were told to be adamant for the half, but we ran into a blockade and cast members that wouldn't let us through the way we were told to go. Instead of being a bit early and having some prep time, we spent about 10 minutes convincing a cast member to let us through, then waiting for an escort, and by the time we made it to the tent I had to go straight from Saber to Phil, then into the line of chairs to get to the start. This time, there were seven of us at the start; 3 racers, 2 hand cycles, 1 day chair, and 1 cane (who started a little later when he deemed it safer). We had the same downhill start as the day before, and I was left in the dust by everyone. Poor Phil just can't get up to those speeds, especially since I can't push correctly due to some sizing issues. I did almost make it 2 miles before runners came upon me this time though. Once again, I was cheered on by runners (one asked me to warn him when I was coming on the next downhill), bikes (one told me he was trying to get his nephew into a racer), volunteers, and cast members.
  I made quick work of the next few miles to make it out onto the streets. My parents were on the first corner outside the park to cheer for me, then I headed up the overpass (the first long uphill I had been worried about) to the very enthusiastic yells of the high school cheerleaders stationed there. As I crested the overpass, it was the first time it really hit me what a difference this race was from previous years. On foot, I may have just been starting or even still waiting to start, and usually when I hit that point in the race, the sunrise is just becoming a glaring sun in warning of what I'd be walking in later; this time the sun was still very low in the sky and was making no effort to glare in any way. I happily sped downhill and headed farther into Anaheim.
  Just before the 10K point, my Rabbit friend came cheering from behind me. I was suffering from an incline and un-smooth road (Phil hates both) so she passed me easily, but called back at me to stay with her, that she'd pace me... when I didn't catch up, she yelled at me to kick her ass. Phil and I eventually came to an understanding and the road evened out, and we played leap frog with the Rabbit for a couple miles. I even made her laugh as we headed through the bumpy parking lot of the Honda Center, before I finally pulled ahead to go onto the dirt trail that would take us to Angel Stadium. There's a turn to get on this dirt.... I impressively slid (drifted) onto it and happily headed down one of my favorite parts of this course. The trails had other ideas though; they had put down a thick layer of sand/gravel that I got stuck in. Another runner ended up pushing me through and back onto a smooth section of downhill, where I had to call out to get other runners out of my way until we hit the other long uphill I had worried about. Two men behind me apparently made a pact and decided to push me up this hill ("Yeah, we got ya! It's all about runners, you're doing great!"), then gave me a good push when the trail headed back down. I was once again calling out to get runners out of my way; I even got one woman hit by another runner because she was plugged in and not paying attention (I will admit to giggling at that).
  The trail takes us to the Angel Stadium parking lot, down a ramp to go around the outfield (I had gravel kicking up at me from every wheel.. after we finished, I had to ask my Rabbit friend to wipe down my back because it was still covered in it), and then a sharp turn to get out of the stadium. This is where my inner trail runner decided to come out a bit more. My wheels were covered in the gravel, so instead of sliding gracefully through the turn as I had done earlier, I just slid. Into a padded wall. Which took my right wheel up high enough to dump me over. Into the gravel. A few runners were quick to jump in and help me; I pulled my legs away from Phil and a woman righted him while two others helped me stand and get back in the chair. My Rabbit friend caught up during all this and made sure I was okay and moving, before leading me up the ramp to get out of the stadium. With no running start and gravel still covering my wheels, the ramp was going to be hard, but one of the runners that helped me up ended up also helping me to push up the ramp.
  Outside the stadium, we get to the 10 mile marker and the second time I had a big moment of realizing the differences. Usually when I hit 10 miles, I have to take stock of my legs and figure out if I can do a fast 5K to finish or if it's not going to work so well; this time, I just kept going. It ended up being the last time I saw my Rabbit friend until the finish... I guess I smelled that finish line and was happy I could actually speed towards it for once. I passed/talked to another friend around mile 11 and was able to head off again with a smile. And finally saw the Tower of Terror, which means there's just over a mile left and I usually see as a bright spot in my death march; it was still a bright spot, but there was no death march this time... I happily pushed through the last backstage section into Downtown Disney, where there's all kinds of spectators, around Paradise Pier Hotel, and into the finish chute lined with more people.
  I collected my finisher medal, Dumbo medal, aaand Coast-to-Coast medal, then moved off to the side because I figured there was a Rabbit right behind me. Many other runners I had shared the trail with had stopped to congratulate me, tell me how tough I was (the ones that saw or helped me after the crash), thank me for giving them a pacer to chase, and so much more. Just like my first race in a wheelchair back in January, I felt on top of the world and happy that I could inspire such good feelings in others... and I still hope that me being out there will get at least one more person to sign up next year.

Group pictures after the half!

Once again, I got first by default. There was a woman in one of the hand cycles (she was much faster than me, so she got the ribbon and confetti this time!), but since hand cycles aren't eligible for awards, all I really had to do was finish.. although we did see another chair in the finishing crowd as we headed back to the hotel and later saw that she got 2nd place! This time, there was an awards ceremony, so I got to go up and get my award then take a picture with the race director and Mickey. While I usually shy away from things like that, it was really fun to experience, but I did like it better when the three guys that won the male wheelchair division came back over to take a picture with me as well.

My award in front of me and my Rabbit pacer behind me.. and feeling pretty privileged to have both!

And then, of course, random shenanigans with our Brazen friends!

My travel companions; the Rabbit and the Turtle =)

Birthday #32 = 100K Bike Ride

Starting with my 30th birthday, I set down a challenge for myself to complete on or for my birthday. The first was a 30 mile bike ride, next was a 50K (31 miles!) run. This year was hard... my choices had been cut down; I couldn't figure out any way to spin a 32, pretty much anything with my legs was out, and because I wouldn't be far enough in training/I didn't want to hurt myself, the wheelchair was out. I was about to just settle on what had been deemed my "second choice" when two very big things happened; a friend asked if I was interested in riding a tandem bike and then told me about a ride in Shasta she was signed up for on my birthday. 100K, a metric century, 65 miles.

We got the tandem at the beginning of June and eventually named it Mack. On the front is my stronger and more road-bike-experienced Captain. Due to my lack of strength, I'm on the back, I'm the Stoker.... I basically just keep pedaling. Fortunately on my mountain bike, when I started losing strength I was told to turn my gears down and spin more rather than try to power my way up hills. In road biking, this made my cadence is high, which is a good thing and has the added bonus of making me feel like I'm still helping when we head uphill.

Although we were not exactly encouraged to shoot for such mileage in just a month and a half, we rode when we could with our crazy schedules and made it up to 21 miles with 800' of climbing. The ride would be 65 miles with 2200' of climbing, but that 21 mile day gave me hope that we really could do this. I also always had the back up that I would be happy as long as we made it to 32 miles.

We ended up as a group of six; the two of us, a friend doing her first 100 mile, my Rabbit friend doing her first 100K with us, and two friends of my Captain (one going for the 100 mile, one going for the double metric). And before I get too far, we had been warned of triple digit weather during the weekend so everyone was on high alert. Also, for my birthday, four of us wore "team" shirts; Thing 1 (my Captain), Thing 2 (me), Thing 3 (doing her first 100 mile), and Thing 4 (my Rabbit friend).

Things 1, 2, and 4 in the early morning!

For obvious reasons, we took the 6am start rather than heading out later and actually said crazy things like "I should have brought some arm sleeves". It was rather flat for the first part of the course and we were happy to take in the scenery, then there were some rolling hills, which actually make the tandem extra fun; although we're slow going up, we barrel down the hills. At about 28 miles, we made it to the 2nd aid station.. a quick stop before heading up. And up. And up for 6 miles. We varied between 2%-10% grades with some downhill breaks mixed in. My 32 mile goal was in there somewhere... on a fairly flat section so we were able to yell out celebratory "32!". At 34 miles, there was a fully stocked "lunch station" and a turn-around. We stayed there for a bit, and finally got to see more riders (we had been mostly on our own so far).
Somewhere along the hills Thing 1 had said something that made me vow we had earned the downhills by climbing the damn things, so we headed back out of the aid station. We flew down those hills, reaching speeds of 36 mph, losing Thing 4, and making the very nice lady back at that 2nd aid station wave to us with a shocked look on her face as we passed. By the time we made it back to the loop of the course, we were well past 40 miles and I thought might as well keep going and since I wasn't throwing tantrums on the side of the road, Thing 1 never questioned wether or not I wanted to keep going.
During the first climbs, I had started pedaling with my head down because it's easier to just keep pedaling when I can't see how much farther up we had to go.... when we got to another climb, it was much more important for me not to look. I was worn down, I hadn't been active for this long in quite some time, my knee hurt, my hip hated me from the last uphills, and my ankle had started to hurt somewhere near the end of the downhills. But I didn't dare say any of that out loud for fear of stopping, so I just kept pedaling. We got some cheering from a couple guys that came up behind us, one even put his hand on my back to push us forward a bit. They had brought me back to the surface enough to give him a tired thank you.
I requested a stop at what turned out to be the last aid station and headed in to fill our bottles with ice water (according to my Garmin, we peaked at 105 degrees), then we were off again. For some reason, we thought we were only going 62 miles, so I reassured Thing 1 and Thing 4 that I could finish since we only had a half marathon left. Also reassuringly, we had a long downhill that resulted in Mack taking us up to 47.8 mph. Then 62 miles came without any view of the fairgrounds, so despite my announcement that I was done, we kept going. My head was down again. And then I heard "What the f*ck is that?!" I looked up just long enough to see what turned out to be an 11% grade incline. Head down. Keep pedaling. It really wasn't very long, but at that point it seemed to go on forever. It was our last climb, then a ride through town a bit to get back to the fairgrounds and we were done!

In celebration, I got off the tandem and sat on the ground, leaning against the back of Thing 1's car. I was quickly inundated with questions that I'm not sure I answered, but soon there was ice on my knee and Saber was watching me closely, ready to help me get back to the tents. While Things 1 and 4 concerned themselves with things like food and checking on the three still out there, I spread my blanket in the grass and laid on it.... I at least did some stretching as well. I was given food and I also started in on the giant birthday cookie they had given me the day before, the only times I got off the blanket after was to share some of the cookie with the others. Thing 3 and double metric guy weren't answering, but 100 mile guy called it at about 50 miles due to a hurt foot and the heat (the peak heat for the day was 115 degrees) and would soon be dropped off. Soon double metric guy appeared out of nowhere and said he skipped his last out-and-back because of the heat and made his ride about 100 miles. After everyone had settled and the guys went to get food, Thing 1 finally got Thing 3 on the phone.. she was about to go up the "What the f*ck is that?!" hill so she wasn't too far off and had only one request; a cold beer.

Thing 3 and her cold beer!

When everyone was done and everything was packed up, we headed to a family cabin for the night. We ate barbecue, admired our surroundings, and slept wherever we landed. I was the first one up in the morning so I went out and sat on the deck to watch the rest of the sunrise over Shasta Lake. I was alone in the quiet for a little while and I couldn't help thinking about what great friends I had (even the ones I had just met) to give me yet another great birthday.. to take my crazy goals and make sure I accomplished them. I am also insanely proud of all them for the distances they accomplished in the three digit heat!

my morning view of the lake

Our whole group, our bikes, and my birthday cookie!

(none of the cookie made it home..)

Dirty Dozen: The Sequel

Like most sequels, doing this year's Dirty Dozen 12 Hour Endurance Run wasn't as "good" as the original... but while it lacked in areas that excelled last year, it brought its own new variables that were quite impressive. For anyone new here, last year I ran 31 miles to complete my first 50K for my 31st birthday last year, finally bringing my 7 year old goal to finish a marathon to completion. It was huge in its own right... this year was a lot of big moments that, in hindsight, made this one huge as well.

First, I want to say another congrats to everyone that completed their own huge goals this year! I am glad I got to be in the finish area for most of they day to be able to witness everyone's triumphs.. and if I didn't get to give you a hug, I owe you one!!

Going into this, I kind of just wanted to get out on the trail, so I ended up asking to be signed up for the 12 hour. That way I could just go out for a lap whenever I wasn't engraving medals. Then I thought I could take Phil out and got permission to make my own course on the pavement, but due to some lingering problems with the front tire, that went out the window the day before and I decided to take Saber and my cane and do whatever I could.

Saber and I started with everyone else, then I headed up to the pavement. It was lonely being on my own for a while, but I did have a short stretch where I was on the same trail with everyone else.. going against them first, then with them as I headed back. It was the heading back that was hard; on the way out I was going mostly downhill and with the crazy wind that had decided to join us for the day, the way back was into the wind and mostly uphill. That includes a long incline that gets steeper the higher up you get. My first lap ended up being 3.2 miles in about an hour. And I knew I would not be able to do that again for a while, but since I still had time before I would start engraving, I decided to head out on the official course with my cane-turned-walking-stick.

When the race started, some people had said something along the lines of "you're doing this?!", and not surprisingly, I got the same reaction with the cane. I remember saying "yeah! I figure can do three miles, right....?" I was then cheered out of the start/finish area. Less than a mile out, I already had my doubts. A couple friends had cheered as they went past, one stopped and walked with me for a bit, but my leg was already expressing its disbelief at what I was attempting. I passed the 1 mile marker in defiance. More friends passed by, building me up again and got me into the aid station, where I stopped to rest... and to learn some things about about making PB&J in mass doses. After leaving the aid station, I ignored the 2 mile marker.

Somewhere in the stretch through the grove of eucalyptus trees, it hit me that last year I had run through there nine times and now I was struggling for just once. That took me down for a bit, but a few more friends passed by with varying degrees encouragement/letting me work through. I did finally settle my mind with the knowledge that I was still moving even though I should not be able to. Then I gained a walking buddy, who distracted me with talk of his own 50K goal for the day and getting lost in the subject of bike tires and the mechanics of racing wheelchairs. I missed the 3 mile marker and we took each other into the finish, then he headed out again while I went to sit down..... and eventually found my Rabbit friend (Sheriff Rabbit for the day!) to lay on her shoulder for a bit.

I stuck around the start/finish area after that because I didn't have enough time or will to go back out quite yet, and it was nice to visit with others hanging around.... then I was engraving medals as fast as I could. At some point, I wanted very much to get out on one more lap with Saber. It took a couple tries to make it away from the tent, but I finally made a break for it with the encouragement of my helper for the day. This lap was better than earlier, but also harder when I turned back into the wind again. I was tired from the first two laps and when I left we were going into the 9th hour of the race, 10 hours for volunteers. I haven't looked at my Garmin yet, but unofficially I believe it was still my fastest lap of the day. I crossed the finish line with a total of 9.82 miles on my Garmin and was quite done. I handed Saber off to a friend, then went back to the race director, who was concerned... I'm not entirely sure if it was my limp or if it was just the fact that I had just come through the arch and was now heading towards him. I reassured him with "I'm done, gimme my medal!" He then very nicely laughed, carefully unwrapped my medal, and presented it to me with a cupcake on top.

I spent the rest of the day engraving medals and cheering on the amazing finishes. At the end of the day, I believe that everyone who had a goal met it.. and I don't know the final count, but I engraved at least 103 medals! I like the medal part because it gave me a moment with each friend and I got to see the miles they were going to remember for a long time.

Healing Words

I was working on my keychain last night... because it's on my keys, I handle it a lot so the "Sharpies ain't so permanent", as a friend recently put it. Some of it was more faded than the rest, even had parts that were almost gone. I decided I kind of like that it fades, it makes it seem more reflective of what I'm going through right now. No one can be strong all of the time and sometimes we need reminders. And it's nice to know we don't have to be these things all the time.

I felt better with each word I rewrote... Words like unstoppable, warrior, strength, and courageous were uplifting for obvious reasons; then I came across words like kindness, forgive, and surrender, words you wouldn't always think of as inspirational, but I now believe are the foundation blocks. You can't be all those obvious things without the not-so-obvious. You must be able to give and receive kindness to be successful. You must be able to forgive (yourself, others around you, your situation, the world in general) to be able to move forward. You must be able to surrender in order to be victorious.

And then there's acceptance, centered across the chest. I thought I had taken care of that one, but I didn't realize it was so visceral.... it's not just part of the foundation, it's part of the whole process. It is a vital part of each word listed, every emotion and thought. Acceptance is like water weaving through the forrest of words and it's time to break the dams blocking its progress.

A Work In Progress....

In this blog, I have been more open than I ever have been, and now I'm going to take it a step farther... I'm going to share some personal things (albeit watered down as compared to what I just shared with a select few people) and admit some things that I have been hiding.. or pushing down so far, I failed to admit it to even myself. If you just don't want to know that much about me, feel free to skip this post.


First off, you all terrify me in ways that just aren't normal.. of course, who has ever claimed that I'm normal? I was raised to be very independent, to pick myself up and move on, to ride through the storm, so to speak. Along with that, I was too shy to express my opinion and at some point didn't even know I could have one. Feelings and emotions were not expressed in my family, so I actually felt discouraged to even try. I made my first real friend when I was 8, another when I was 9.. knowingly or not, they taught me what a friend really was. And due to some people taking advantage of me at a young age, I have serious trust issues. How does this make you terrifying? Merely by worrying about me, by offering help, by asking how I'm doing.... by encouraging me to be this person I have been learning how to be since I finally recognized how closed off I was when I became an adult.

(Don't get me wrong, keep being you! I hope to one day not be so afraid..)

Despite the strides I've made to find a middle ground of embracing my independence and being able to pick myself up, but also being able to express whatever is on my mind and to ask for and accept help, there is still a big piece that I haven't been very good at. I still internalize too much, sometimes to the point that I hide from even myself. This is where I'm at right now.. my brain has been in this fog since November when I was told my leg was done. I'm in this internal fight where the automatic side and the learned side are trying to take over rather than work together. And yes, I'm aware that I have seemed okay for most of this time.. unfortunately I'm really good at hiding, but because of a bit of a meltdown a couple days ago, I'm revealing all in an effort to break this cycle.


   -My leg, from my hip to just below my knee, hurts all. the. time. The knee pain used to be background noise that I could just ignore. While I know I'm ignoring a large percentage of the pain still, it's not just in the background anymore.. I'm having more bad days with it than okay days, and hardly any good days at all. And sometimes the pain likes to shoot up my back and/or down to my ankle. I am going back to the doctor in July (first appointment they had).
   -On the heels of that, I'm scared. The knee replacement has become more of a viable threat. It's not a "sometime in the future" anymore, it's sometime soon and it terrifies me for reasons I'm not even sure of. I'm afraid of the wheelchairs.. I enjoy them, they make my life easier, and I seem to be really good with them, but I'm afraid of relying on them to the point that I'll be "confined" to them. On the other side of that coin, I'm constantly worrying if I'm training correctly or efficiently.... In an effort of full disclosure, I found a racing mentor last week and he's already been a great help in that.
   -I overthink things to the point that I become afraid to act (this is where I am now)... I've lost trust in myself and can't decide wether or not to say something because I don't know if it's right, so mostly I choose to say nothing.
   -I haven't worked on my own art in over a month, I've had a few projects staring at me to be finished and more waiting to get past the starting point. As some of you saw, I did finally finish one.. and it felt really good!
   -I need to be home more to be able to settle (working on that one now). And I need to take more quick trips away for a reset, luckily a lot of those are coming up fast.

If there's something else I've done recently that worries you or you want to know more, please ask me about it... and be sure to get a real answer rather than a vague one. And, as always, thank you for caring about me as you all do!

On Foot vs The Chair

This weekend I seem to have realized the difference in running on foot as compared to the chair... or more specifically, my running. For the last few months it has been this gradual tip-toe around the line; knowing it's there, but not quite crossing it entirely.

A few points to illustrate how my thoughts are shifting;
  -Last month I did my first 10K with Phil. I went out with my usual thought of doing what I could, however fast my body would let me. And I was shocked when I finished in just under an hour. My fastest 10K on foot was an hour and 26 minutes... even jumping down almost half an hour didn't quite click. To further point out my brain's stubbornness, I would like to say that I was extremely excited when I pulled off this feat about two years ago on foot, except it was taking 21 minutes off my half PR. One would think the 10K would catch more attention.....
  -Last week I did my first 5K with Phil. Someone asked me what my goal was for the day and instead of my usual desire to just cross the finish line, a longtime, secret hope came out of my mouth without permission; I wanted to finish under 30 minutes. I started with a little extra push with that thought, and all the extra cheers the announcer guy encouraged.

There I go, taking off down the street!

When I came in, the clock was at 21 minutes. It didn't occur to me until I got my official result in an email a few minutes later that, with my 5 minute head start, I had still made my goal with 4 minutes to spare. With that happy thought, I went about changing clothes and switching chairs, cheering in friends that were also in the 5K, congratulating them on their age group awards, then going back and forth between the awards announcements (to see them get their awards) and the finish line (to see my rabbit friend finish up pacing the half). Due to some stalling at the awards, I was able to see said finish and go back to the awards, ready to cheer more. To my surprise, Announcer Guy called me up for 3rd place in my age group and 1st place for the wheelchair! The only award I've ever gotten was because I was the only one in my age group and so far I haven't been eligible for awards in the chair, so earning two at one race when I was perfectly happy just to have made my goal was a little overwhelming.. and very exciting!

All of us with our age group awards!!

  -This weekend seems to have been the official turning point. On Saturday I went hiking at Point Lobos with Saber. On the way out, while going over rocks and down hills I would eventually have to go back over and up, I realized my brain had switched back to my old thoughts of it being just another part of the day. Just a few weeks ago I would have been looking around for an alternative route just in case I couldn't do it or wondering if there would be someone to offer a little help if I got stuck. I got a lot of comments about whatever section being a challenge, some encouragement and questions, one guy even proclaimed I had arms of steel, but I never once wondered how I would get back. I just knew I would.

  On Sunday I went out for a 7 mile run with Phil. On foot, seven miles was a daunting, almost 2 hour adventure that usually involved taking it easy the rest of the day. With Phil, my plan automatically formed around the run taking a little over an hour, then I could meet my parents at a festival and walk around with Saber for a few hours. Seven miles is the farthest I've gone with Phil so far. Looking back eight years at my initial start into walking/running, I had to be so careful with my knee whenever I increased mileage. Now it's just another training day. Today my shoulders/arms are sore, but it's the regular kind, not the ice-it-for-days-and-stay-off-it kind.

This all dawned on me last night while I was working on Phil as we watched a movie and it's strange to know that shift happened on its own. I know that on the surface it seems that I had mostly accepted being in the chair, but it really is another mindset that I had to grasp on a whole other level. In the last eight years, I rarely accepted the title of "runner" because I didn't feel like one for a long time and when I did I felt I was firmly in the back of the middle of the pack... and I felt comfortable there. Now, not only am I faster than I've ever been, I'm getting thrown to the front of the pack and I'm fighting to hold my place there. Maybe deep down, I feel like I have to earn the front by doing more than just getting in a chair, but more likely I'm a kid that's been given something they never thought they could have and I just want to see how fast it can go.

Back In The Saddle...

A week and a half ago, I came into possession of a borrowed wheelchair racer for my use until I can get my own with the very generous donations of my friends and family (can't stop thanking you all for that!). I named my borrowed racer Phil.. full name Phil Shadow. And the longer I have Phil, the more the name suits him, although I couldn't really pinpoint why.... until yesterday..

Yesterday I "ran" my first 10K with Phil. First in a chair. First in this journey on wheels. I was tricked into this 10K.... yes, I'm going to keep saying that! My Rabbit friend got talked into pacing the Santa Cruz Half Marathon, which gave her a free friend or family entry.. and then there was an email telling me of this entry and the race director was fine with a wheelchair in the 10K. I thought I could give it a shot, and the next day I had a race confirmation, so I guess I was going to give it a shot!

Yeah... look how innocent she looks there..

So there I was yesterday morning with Phil, shivering with the Running Addicts Pacing Team waiting for 8am to roll around so we could get moving. After the half started, I headed to the start and talked to the timers for a moment (almost literally!). The timers got me out in front and asked if I wanted to start before the official start. Since there's a nice hill in sight of the start, I did want to go early so I could get as far as possible before the masses came at me.... so Timing Guy says I'm starting in 15 seconds and starts rattling off my number and some other numbers pertaining to me to the guy at the computer, and is suddenly telling me to go! I made it halfway up the hill before I had runners with me... had to convince a few of them and a spectator that I didn't need a push. Going uphill is still hard in a wheelchair, but Phil makes up for it as soon as there is any kind of downhill! Weeeeeee!!

I caught up to friends in the half and/or got to see them after my turnaround. Talked to quite a few people on the course. Many runners/walkers cheered for me.. one lady even yelled in front of me to get others to make a path for me ("Hey! Guy in the blue shirt, get out of the way!"). When I got back to the first aid station, I realized I was almost done and despite being a little tired and my hip not quite agreeing to my position in the chair anymore, I was feeling pretty good.... which was much better than my fears of being undertrained.

The races ends going down that original hill to a sharp turn onto a ramp that takes you down into the sand, but to make that turn worse, they narrow down the available road while on the hill. Luckily I had made a large friend just before we got to that and he put me in front of him while yelling out to the other runners that I was coming through. With that little bit of a space cushion and spectators cheering loudly for me, I easily barreled onto the sand and made it over the timing mats before the wet sand ran out and the dry sand stopped me. It was then that I surprised/impressed a lot of people by continuing to move across the sand. Or at the very least, trying to. One very nice woman stopped and asked if I could use a push.. she ended up helping me walk through the finish arch and out of the way of the finish, all while telling me how great I did. Once she made sure I was going to be okay and I thanked her profusely, she gave me a hug and called me an inspiration.. I'll never get used to that. I actually hope I never do.

Sitting in the sand with Phil.. job well done!

A couple minutes later, I had an email congratulating me on my finish of 58:43

Eventually, I ended up back at the Pacer tent to wait for everyone to come in. I listened to the pacers compare notes, cheered for friends that had done the half (with some PRs mixed in!), and got a hug from Timing Guy. I ended the event with lunch with some great friends and good conversation.

10K doesn't get medals, but my Honu friend (who must be a rare Cheetah Honu, because he blew up his PR!) gave me his when he learned that I didn't get one, and even more so after he asked if this had been my first event

So, back to Phil.... this morning I woke up with the thought that Phil could be a nickname of Philip, which is derived from Philippos (yes, I have some strange bits of information in my head). Literally defined, Philippos means fond of horses. Loosely translated, it means noble. And in my strange mind, that means Phil is a noble steed and he definitely proved that yesterday!

The Kindness of Others

I started my fundraiser for my wheelchair racer (http://www.giveforward.com/teamkerry) and have learned some things in the process.... It's humbling to ask for money/help for yourself.

Eight years ago, when I signed up for Train To End Stroke with the American Stroke Association, the fundraising part was much scarier than the running/walking part for me. It's something that I look back on now as a major part of my transforming into the person I am now because I was a first-hand witness at what one person can inspire in others around them.. even those you had never met before.

Now I'm fundraising specifically for me.. albeit while simultaneously fundraising/coaching for Start Training with the Heart & Stroke Association.... and being a committee member/team captain for Relay For Life. I'm not saying any of that to boast, I'm saying that because last night I finally realized why I've been a victim of insomnia all week. I'm feeling pulled in too many directions, and I feel like I'm not up to par on any of them. At the beginning of the year, I decided that Start Training had most of my volunteering attention until their event in May, and would still take a small committee role for Relay, but the team captain part wouldn't get my full attention until May for the event in August. That was working really well... until I was going to Relay meetings once a month and seeing how much more we're doing this year, marking Start courses on Friday afternoons, going to Saturday trainings when I can, reading too many emails, learning about a second season for Start (who's event will be the week before Relay), life getting in the way.. and, of course, trying to raise some money to get myself a racer so I can still do what I'm encouraging so many others to do.

The bigger problem is I feel guilty for my own fundraiser when there are these other commitments I have. Whenever I post about my racer on Facebook, I force myself to wait before I post about the others because my initial reaction is to post all at once so that I feel that I've done something.

The lesson here is I can be passionate about all these things I do, but I don't have to put so much of myself into all of them, all at once. That I need to ask for help more and not be afraid of feeling weak for doing so. Most of all, I found that I'm still learning to accept the kindness of others as just that. Simple kindness.. people helping me just to help me.

No strings attached.

A random group of people circling around ready to help me, to provide support, to remind me I'm not alone. I'll never be able to come up with words for what I feel right now, so simply, Thank You.

My Story

Four months into this and I just realized many of you don't know my whole story... pieces of it maybe, but not all of it. I'm sorry, it's pretty long, so here we go.....

I will start by saying that I have been told many times over the years that I should write a book. While that never happened, I did come up with a title for the non-existant book; Medical Misconceptions and Why I Hate Doctors. That should give you a bit of an idea on how well the last 18 years have gone. And I do want to say that I have met some really great doctors over the years.. it's the ones that were not great that throw the profession off.

October 1994: I was 13 years old, had just started high school (for those of you doing the math, at the time, high school in my area started at 8th grade), and was indestructible! A little over the top, but, come on, what new teenager doesn't feel that way? Anyway.... one fateful weekend I was shopping with my mom. All day. Again, dramatic, but I will refer to my last question again. I had been sent out to the car on whatever errand (probably just to get me away for a few minutes) and on the way back when I stepped up on the curb, there was a sharp pain in the side of my knee. The pain was there for each step, not a horrible pain, just quick and sharp. Not worried, my mom said it was probably just from being on the go all day, but said if it kept up she would take me to the doctor. Obviously, it did.
  We were fairly new patients for this doctor. I had only seen him once, which had been near the end of the last school year. He was an interesting guy (still is) and I was curious as to what he would say this time... to this day, my appointments consist of him listening to my music to learn what's "hip", asking me about non-existant relatives and telling me about them, and/or quizzing me on extremely remote or unheard of places in the world. There's always some diagnosing and question answering in there too.
  First Diagnosis: Can't remember the term, but something like tennis elbow only in my knee.
  First Prescription: Whatever anti-inflammatory and a knee brace.. and come back in 6 weeks

Six weeks later, I was sitting in the office again telling him the brace helped, but even though I was getting better at not forgetting the anti-inflammatory, the pain was getting worse. He sent me in for my first x-ray, gave me a stronger prescription, and come back in 4-6 weeks.... We did this back and forth until the end of the school year, my knee was just on this downward slide that I couldn't stop and the x-rays showed nothing, so he sent me in for my first MRI and to my first orthopedic doctor.
  This orthopedic doctor probably gets my award for worst doctor ever. In my darkest moments, where I had to decide on where to place blame for my knee getting so bad, he gets the biggest percentage. I was 14 when I first saw him. Before he entered the room he seemed to have made his decision about me; I was young, it was growing pains. He never spoke directly to me, always asking my mom the questions, and eventually sent me to physical therapy just to get me out of his office for a few months. The physical therapy made me stronger, but otherwise didn't help. At my check-up after the physical therapy, he told my mom he didn't want to see me again unless my knee swelled, which had never been a problem. My mom stormed out of the office, made an appointment with our family doctor, then made a point to tell him to never send anyone to that doctor ever again. At my innocent shrug, he very calmly agreed with her and gave us another name.

This is where things get interesting... I was almost 16 at this point and I have always been a silent observer. Sitting in this new office was very different than sitting in the other one, if only for the staff alone. They were happy. They talked to me. It made the waiting room a much less desolate place. I was used to being a lot younger than most of the other patients, and basically being ignored. Here, I was a curiosity for two reasons; for being so young and for smiling at each person that looked my way. Spending the last three years in offices like this had taught me that I had a choice to have a good day or a bad day.. that I could be like those people that thought it was a hassle to be there or I could just enjoy the day no matter what. An older woman left me with some great words one day, "there is always joy to be found, sometimes you just have to look a little harder."
  My first meeting with my 2nd orthopedic doctor (I'll call him Dr. P since he's going to come up quite a bit) went something like this; "Hi, I'm Dr. P, you must be Kerry (shakes my hand) and your mom (shakes her hand). I know what's wrong with your knee (puts my latest MRI up on the light board)...." You know in the movies when some pivotal thing happens and they use the screeching sound effect and everything on-screen freezes? Yeah, that happened.
  Official Diagnosis: Plica Syndrome. For those playing the home game, plica is something we all have and is generally harmless, but in some cases (mine) it can become inflamed and wreak varying kinds of havoc.
  Solutions: Cortisone shot or surgery

I chose the shot first, it was given right there and I was to come back in 6 weeks. My mom was out of town when the check up came, so my dad had to take me... my dad doesn't like doctors or any building they may work out of. Keep that in mind. I went in and told the doctor the shot lasted about 2 weeks and started to wear off. That made surgery my only option because you're only supposed to get up to 4 shots a year. Dr. P's assistant went out to the waiting room to talk to dad, who said we would have to wait for mom to get back to discuss the surgery, but gave permission for another shot for now. She came back and asked if I wanted him there for the shot, and I said only if he wanted to... she came back a few minutes later and said he'd only come in if I wanted him to. I told her to leave him then because I was surprised he even came in the building, so I wasn't going to make him watch me get shot with a giant needle. Dr. P gave me the shot then left me with his assistant to get a bandaid and on my way out he handed me two Tootsie Roll Pops... one for my dad for being so brave.
  Mom came home and within a day I was scheduled to have my first surgery the Friday before Thanksgiving 1997. The surgery itself was uneventful; we went in extremely early and I was introduced to my personal nurse, who gave me a teddy bear with scrubs and a hospital bracelet that said "Kerry's Friend" (Dr. P later had to negotiate with me to give up the bear during the surgery). In the surgery, he took out the plica and shaved down the cartilage that had been damaged over the years, some of it down to bone... the report said the plica was the thickest he'd ever seen, especially in someone so young. The rest of the day consisted of getting myself discharged, getting back to the house, mom entertaining me with movies, and a visit from a friend after school along with a card for me, signed by everyone in choir. The weekend was me doing homework, finishing a double issue puzzle magazine, and mom trying to keep me entertained with movies. By Monday morning at my follow-up appointment, when Dr. P explained everything I was supposed to do, what would happen, and asked if I had any questions, I immediately asked if I could go to school.
  When I was feeling somewhat normal and getting released from care, he told me I had to remember that my knee will never be 100% because of the damage it took over the years.. then said he hoped he never saw me again.

Four years later, his hope was dashed. I went back in with knee pain. It wasn't bad, but with my past it was enough of a concern. After a few appointments, he said there was something wrong, but nothing showed on my new MRI and it wasn't bad enough to go in for a diagnostic surgery, so just come back if it gets worse. I just knew something was wrong, so I spent the next year and a half getting a 2nd and 3rd opinion, who both saw nothing and didn't even want to give the time of day. By then, it had gotten much worse, so I went back to Dr. P.... I was soon scheduled for diagnostic surgery December 2003, during which he found torn cartilage and shaved my patella a bit to make it track right. He promised me a knee replacement in my future (hopefully not until I'm 50), that I had to think of it as having limited miles on my knee.

Almost exactly a year later, I signed up with the American Stroke Association to train for my first full marathon (what better way to use those miles..?). Between the doctor, the coach, and my knee, I relented to training for my first half marathon, which I completed June 2005. I went on to do two more in January and October 2006. I was benched with knee pain in 2007 and was sent to physical therapy with the diagnosis of scar tissue, which my therapist was all too happy to take care of. I have three small scars (he used the old scars to guide him on the 2nd surgery, so no extras) and the massages went from not much problem to cringe worthy to holding me down. I think that last one was her favorite. After my release, Dr. P said I shouldn't be able to keep walking the half marathons. So I started running a bit, and played around with going barefoot.
  In 2008-9, I started doing more 5Ks and 10Ks with 3 halfs thrown in up to March 2010, when I did my first mud run... turns out I sprained my foot during the mud run and ended up in a boot for most of the year. I did more volunteering during that time and ached to get active again. Little did I know at the time, I had made a friend that would be all too happy to encourage that. Entirely out of the boot by November and into minimal footwear, I did my next half in February 2011.. it wan't great, but I finished. My new friend convinced me to go back to the Disneyland Half in September, then DisneyWorld January 2012. I completed half #10 in February 2012. I was becoming a stronger runner. In Disneyland I had shattered my previous personal record by 21 minutes, took that down a bit further in Disneyworld, and stayed there in February. In July, I finally made my goal of doing a marathon and turned it into an ultra, but by August I had been having problems with my ankle. I was in and out of the boot as needed and still did my next half in September, a 10 miler at the end of the month, and half #12 a week later (I'm still convinced the aforementioned friend tricked me into these back-to-back events ;) ). Half marathon #12 seems to have been my undoing. Around mile 9, my hip went out and a mile later it was hovering around being useless, but I made it into the finish... and ended up in the medical tent with a large volunteer medic quizzing me and ice covering my hip, knee, and ankle.
  Now we have a month and a half of visiting Dr. P again, getting a couple MRIs, and eventually being told the best thing I can do is stop running. And my knee replacement age has been brought down to a hopeful 40.
  New Diagnosis: Almost completely bone-on-bone on the bad knee and not to far behind on the good one. My patella tracks horribly, which is causing muscle spasms in my hip. My ankle/foot is just getting beat up being at the bottom of all this.

And a month later, I started this blog.....

Saber

Last week, I lucked into finding a store in Fremont that could help fit me for a wheelchair.... and they just happened to have the one I wanted.. and it was a perfect fit for me...... aaaaaand they ended up offering it to me at quite a discount.

So I picked it up Thursday after work and I now own my very own wheelchair! No more renting or borrowing! Well, I still have to borrow a racer for now, but that's less frequent. Aaaaaaaaand the guy that helped me at the store is going to try to get a racer in the store for me!

A quick picture I took Thursday while switching rides... Raptor (my bike) meeting Saber (my wheelchair), probably sniffing each other out. I hope they end up playing nice

On Sunday, we went out for a maiden voyage at Lake Elizabeth. I ended up fighting the trail too much because most of it has a slight lean towards the lake. I turned around after a little over half a mile and tried going the other way, but that way was just as bad. So, of course, I turned into one of the fields and bumped over the grass and dirt, tried out the different terrains I could find in the stretch near the parking lot.... I figured if I was going to be fighting the trail it might as well be fun. Since I've never been one to give in to not being able to do distance (and I had time to kill while a rabbit was running 12 miles anyway..), I switched to testing out inclines.

It looks flat, but I promise there was an incline on this!

A humble beginning, but a beginning none-the-less

I ended the day with almost 3 miles of wandering, sitting on top of this small hill just taking in the park. It wasn't far off from the nearest path, but it seemed like a world away. No one noticed me (unless they braved the "climb" and happened upon me), so I got to just sit in the sun and people/nature watch while said rabbit finished up one more lap.

It was nice to get out and really feel like I'm training again. I've missed that feeling....

The Magical Brain

Yesterday, due to a lack of sleep, my usual brain settings were set to Essential Functions Only.... that means the extra energy that usually goes to pain control was diverted to help with things like breathing, and staying upright, and stringing semi-coherent sentences together (that last one is harder than it sounds).

What all that means is for the first time since the initial fall of my legs 4 and a half months ago and for the first time with them settled into how they just are, I felt the full force of the pain they cause. The weakness with each step. The way each muscle is affected by every movement. The unsteady feel of each joint. I got to feel exactly what my brain hides from me on a regular basis.

It was overwhelming to learn what I really am going through. Usually I hate to be protected or coddled, but in this case, I'm grateful. The brain is an amazing thing... I'm glad that way back my teenage brain rewired itself to be able to file away the chronic pain. While I wish it would have installed an overload switch so my knee wouldn't have had to take out the rest of my leg to get attention, I'll take what I can get.

In the midst of all this, I suddenly understood the look a lot of people get around me. That look that says they really want to help, but are resisting because I didn't ask and they know I'm strong enough (or stubborn enough) to do it on my own. That look that shows up every time I take more than one try to stand up, limp more than usual, express any kind of pain, or when a joint pops or snaps loud enough for them to hear. I even sent some texts out, thanking those that get that look the most.... and with how pathetic I was feeling, even wondered how they manage to let me do anything on my own.

Today, with sleep, that delicate balance is shifting back and I'm starting to feel strong enough again (it was all stubborn enough yesterday). It'll take a few days to get back to my normal because that particular hell is not something to be forgotten quickly.

First & Last: a race report of sorts

So last weekend, the race days finally came and looking back now, it was kind of a bittersweet weekend... one I am glad I made it through, but I'm also eternally grateful for the support I had coming from every direction.

First rolling 5K!

I had resigned myself to starting in the last section (I hope I changed this automatic positioning for this race in the future), but when we went to the corral they said they had split the last section so that anyone with wheels left absolutely last. Not wanting to be stuck with the strollers I asked if I could be in the front of that particular pack. The volunteer grabbed someone official, who took one look at me and my wheelchair (the one I was obviously pushing myself) and told me I had to be going 16-minute miles to be back there.... I had no idea how fast I was going to be, but I knew it would be faster than that. He then gave my options; 16-minute miles or we start you all the way in the front.

Uhhhhh..... do what now?

Given those choices (and my bodyguard yelling things like "go to the front!!!"), I chose the front... then got there and realized I was the only one.. in the front... I did ask the race director to seed said bodyguard into the very front of the first corral so she could chase me down easier.

This was the 20th year of this particular 5K and it seemed like I was the first wheelchair start they'd ever had, or was extremely rare to have. While they were announcing me, runners cheering for me, getting my own fireworks, spectators cheering for me on my way out (some even thanking me for being out there), and getting congrats/more cheering all along the course.. I felt privileged to be there and proud that I could be. I only hope I inspired someone else to move up to the front with me next year. I have had all these low moments the last few months so it was nice to feel on top of the world for a while, I wish that feeling for the others that need it.

As someone else commented when they saw this picture, the grin says it all! 

Me with my bodyguard at the end of the 5K. Time: 42 minutes

My last Half Marathon on foot.

Bundle of nerves that morning? Nooooooo.... unless you count me getting quieter and smaller the closer we got to Epcot, then to the corrals. I lost count of how many pep talks I got that morning.

On my own in the corral, I comforted myself by sneaking as close to the front of the corral as possible by walking in the dirt everyone else was avoiding. Out on the course, I decided to take it on in small goals; 

5K- doing really well, also starting to get texts from my aunt, which end up being a great distraction

Make it to the Castle- still moving strong and able to run small bits of downhill, now getting texts from the aforementioned bodyguard (who had just finished her half), who thankfully distracts me even more!

10K- doing okay, but some aches are pushing through already

15K- had to stop and stretch my legs out twice, until right after the 9 mile marker when I got a handful of Biofreeze from an aid tent and, to the horror/shock of an older gentleman walking next to me, proceeded to put my hands down my pants to rub it onto my hips, sides of my thighs, and lower back 

.... after that I decided if I made it to the double digit miles, then I was just going to finish. Dammit.

I made it past the 10 mile marker 2 minutes ahead of the sweepers and reveled in the rumors that either 10 or 11 was where you were safe from them. By the time the magical number 11 started filtering back through the ranks I was only 30 seconds ahead, but managed to use the combination of downhill and grass to stay ahead just long enough to make sure I wasn't getting picked up. It didn't take long for them to get lost in the crowd ahead of me after that. And then things got bad; my leg finally gave up piece by piece and went down quickly... I felt like I was limping so bad at times that I should have had a hump and started calling for sanctuary. Luckily my texts were coming more frequently now, with extra capital letters and exclamation points. I was coached into Epcot this way, where I finally had 2 sightings of my personal (and very loud) cheerleader. I'm pretty sure she's the only one that would have been capable of getting a smile out of me at that point. Now all I had to do was get to the finish.

I'll never know how it happens, but I ran (or hobbled in a running motion, whatever, my aunt told me I looked good) to the finish as soon as I had a clear shot of it. I did show great restraint in not demanding a medal as soon as I crossed.

Finishers!!

Time: 3:48:40 (I believe that's my third highest time.. 1 and 2 minutes lower than my first two halfs and 1 minute higher than another half I did coming back from an injury)

Best part of this weekend? While wearing one of my two very special, hard-earned medals I got to have lunch with a great friend (once again, the aforementioned bodyguard and cheerleader... and pep talker.. and so many other things), my aunt (the texting one) and uncle who also did the 5K, and some local family (whom I haven't seen in a long time) that drove over to see us. Pizza and wonderful company has to be the best after-race reward I can think of. To my company, thank you and I love you all!!

For my next adventure, I just signed up to do the Dumbo Double Dare in September... That's a 10K, then a Half the next day. I'm sure I'll do some 10Ks by then, but that'll be my first Half Marathon!

Go Live

That's what my doctor told me yesterday as a way to release me from constant check-ups.

He gave me a prescription for another brace (one that will be a little easier as an everyday thing) and a wheelchair (in the hopes my insurance will help on that), and told me to go do what I can, modify what I can't, find new things to try, and enjoy myself along the way.

We talked about the Half Marathon this Saturday and basically it comes down to doing what I can, listening to my body, knowing that I can't necessarily push through the pain on this one, and accepting that I may not finish. That last one is hard.. it has been lurking in the background for a couple months now. Now it is right up front waving its arms around, jumping up and down. It's not that I have been trying to ignore it, it's just easier to accept when I don't actually think about it. I know the only ways I'm going to finish are by pure stubbornness, having some kind of reprieve from my tired legs, or getting off of a shuttle. Either way, I'm going to call it a win.

Who else can say they went out and tried with all the odds stacked against them?

The doctor did throw in trying this one with the wheelchair and, while I am still teetering on the fence with that, I'm more on the side that proclaimed this one to be my last race.

On foot.

Then bring on the wheelchair!