The Alter G Alters Lives

So, I've been injured. I haven't blogged about it yet because I didn't want to make a "thing" out of it, but about a week and a half ago I got sharp pains in my shins and calves during this god awful 15K race in Central Park. It was an early race (8am) and it was a really cold day, so at first I figured I was just tight from that. Both shins, both calves, and my left piriformis were in so much pain, and it only got worse over the course of the 15K. I was running easy during the race, and afterward walking was pretty painful, so I knew something was wrong.

In the PT world they call it "post-tib" - it's an issue with my posterior tibial muscle and tendon. It's inflamed and feels like the back of my shin bone is stabbed when I step down on the right side. Less than ideal, to say the least. My PT is stretching me, massaging me (which hurts like HELL), gave me exercises to do, and is doing stim and ice with each visit, which appears to be helping. I rested for 4 days straight (which is hell for someone training for a marathon...) and I'd planned to try an easy run Sunday and a long run Monday, but then it came: snowmageddon 2010. I have to say, this city has done a really crappy job of managing the snow - my neighborhood STILL isn't plowed, and it's been more than 48 hours since it stopped. Weak sauce, NYC.

The Alter G

I have been in contact with coach Michael Conlon to see what I should do, since running outside wasn't an option, and he said he'd let me run on the Alter G. What's the Alter G? Well at this point I'm calling it a goddamn miracle worker, but that's not technically what it is. It's a treadmill that uses differential air pressure to lift part of your body weight as you run. You put on these ridiculous looking shorts that zip into the machine while you're in them, and then the air pressure removes whatever portion of your weight you want it to. I ran at 80% of my body weight and it was heaven - the pain was at about a 3 or 4 to start and went down to a 2 or 1 within a few minutes. About half way through there was no pain at all. I got to run for about 75 minutes at 9:30 pace, and felt so so great. Of course, I now want to lose 20% of my bodyweight and run like that all the time!

Walking around after I got off the Alter G, there was actually still no pain, and I woke up this morning feeling better. I think a combo of rehabbing on that bad boy, doing my PT exercises, getting the massage/stretching, getting the stim, and icing, I just might be OK for race day.

This season has been chock freaking FULL of injuries. My darling Steph, who I did that mud run with, found out last week she has stress fractures, is now in a boot, and can't run for at least 6 weeks. No Disney marathon for her. Layla made it only 5 miles last week during her final long run before her IT bands and hips shat out on her. She's most likely deferring to NYC marathon this fall. And the heartbreaker: Kate Latti, who started our San Diego season but had to drop due to a knee injury, now has a hip stress fracture and can't run for 12 weeks. No Phoenix marathon for her. Two seasons in a row, two bad injuries, no marathons run. Several others were scheduled to do the full but have had to drop back to the half (Rachel Bliner, Lauren Sanders, etc), and so I'm just hoping to make it to that starting line as healthy as humanly possible.

WE DID IT!!!!

Holy crap, y'all, we have officially met my fundraising goal for this season!!!! To everyone who donated, I want to say THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!! And then I want to say it again!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! My extra special thanks to Peter Dick, Gail Davis, Kelly Reiter, Sandy Doyle, and my very own Grandma (Marjory Dick) for putting me over the top.

You know, when you first embark on something like this, you never really know what to expect. You hope you can count on your friends, family, and co-workers, but it's not that straightforward. People may be non-responsive, they may be forgetful, they may not believe in donating money, they may support other charities, or hell, they may be just plain broke. I am beyond fortunate to have supportive, loving, engaged, and not-completely-broke people in my life who are willing to contribute to something that I am so passionate about - some for the second time this year. When I say I couldn't do this without you, I sincerely mean it. Without your donations, the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society wouldn't exist, there would be no Team in Training, and I would never have had this opportunity to support, and ultimately pay tribute to, my hero: my Grandpa.

Last season I raised $4,151, and this season I'm up to $2,323. In addition to cutting-edge research, have a look at some examples of where that $6,474 goes:

• Registers 129 people to become bone marrow donors
• Covers 260 patients' chemo drug prescription co-pays
• Trains 540 peer volunteers who provide emotional support to newly diagnosed cancer patients
• Provides 13 leukemia patients with patient aid for an entire year




LLS Spending Breakdown

 

One of the most well known contributions by LLS-funded research is Gleevec, which is a drug used to treat CML (chronic mylogenous leukemia). CML is distinguished by a presence of the "Philadelphia Chromosome". A whopping 82% of CML patients achieve a full cytogenetic response when taking Gleevec, meaning there are NO remaining cells that have the Philadelphia chromosome - which is the goal of the therapy. It came out about 8 years ago, and now it's a staple in most CML treatment plans.

I hope you all realize that your money may be funding the next big break through, the next big treatment, or even the actual cure. I also hope you all know what you mean to me. I have never felt so loved and so supported; equally as important, I have reinvigorated faith in the ability of a small group of people to have a big impact, and for people to show up when I really need them to. You are all so wonderful, and I am simply lucky to be in each of your orbits.

Action, Charity, Effort, Love

After spending this week in London, I got back to NY late last night, and was dreading the early wake up call this morning for GTS. I am running a 15K tomorrow (plus a run before that to make sure I get enough mileage in), so I only had to do 5 miles today - knowing that it would be a much less painful day helped get me out of bed and off to practice.

The other thing that helped was that I'd planned to run today's miles for Brian Schultz. If you've been following my blog, you know that Brian is the cousin of one of my San Diego TNT teammates, Sarah Stafford. Sadly, Brian succumbed to sarcoma on December 11th, just 2 days after his 33rd birthday. My heart goes out to his family, especially his wife and baby daughter - I hope they're taking solace in the fact that he's no longer in pain, and finding some way to get through this so close to the holidays.

So today I showed up to GTS for Grandpa and for Brian. Before we ran, Erin MacBeth, one of the TNT coordinators, told us that not one, but TWO of our TNTers had been found as bone marrow matches as a result of a bone marrow donor registration drive that we all attended back in October. That's two families whose prayers may have been answered, just in time for Christmas. Powerful stuff.

I ran my miles and came back to get my bag, and someone had attached a note of thanks on it. It said:

If that little voice in your head starts telling you "this is too hard," please remember the words of our own Peter Macaluso, a past TNT participant who lost his battle with leukemia on September 16, 2004.

"...there may come a time where you wonder: is what I am doing making a difference? When you're on your last miles of a marathon, or of a hundred mile cycling course, or trying to make it the last yards to shore in a tri... and you wonder: am I making a difference? Is it worth it? Come celebrate with me, 'cause the answer is a resounding YES!! I have no choice, but you do, all of you. And you've chosen action over complacency, charity over selfishness, effort over easiness, a life of love over a life of indifference."

I will always choose action, charity, effort, and love - for Peter, and most importantly, for Grandpa.

The Triple Bypass for Grandpa

Today was the infamous Triple Bypass run. For those of you unfamiliar, you run the Brooklyn bridge, the Manhattan bridge, and the Williamsburg bridge (and then of course you have to run BACK across the Williamsburg bridge...) as part of a 3 hour run. It's bananas. Last season I had a particularly hard run that day. I don't know what it was exactly, but it didn't feel good at all. Today felt 97 kinds of amazing.

We started off at Finish Line (Michael Conlon's physical therapy outfit) so we were warm and sheltered from any NY winter elements. Coach Christie got us started with her mission moment, which was first about her Dad, who is currently hanging onto remission, and then about her great friend Josie who passed away on Christmas eve of last year. Incredibly inspiring, and she speaks so beautifully. Then, it was my turn.

That's right - I decided to do my mission moment today. Last season, as you may recall, it took me all the way until the day before the race to get it out - but this season, as I'm the mission captain, I wanted to tell my story in front of the entire team, in an environment where it would hopefully give them some inspiration or motivation for a particularly tough run.

I once again cried throughout the entire thing like a huge asshole, but it's important to me that the team members know how special Grandpa is to me, and how much inspiration he has given me, and how special TNT is to me as a channel of paying tribute to my hero. I got through my story, and then during the run people actually used the story to keep them going. Lauren and Sarah yelled out "Miles for Grandpa!!!" at the top of one of the bridges, and then one of my mentees Eunice was having a tough time around mile 14, and she said "I want you to know that all I'm thinking about right now is your grandfather." That's what Grandpa does... he unifies everyone, he inspires and motivates, he reminds you to always believe, to keep going, and to never give up. I am so proud to be his granddaughter.

While he's not physically present on this spiritual plane any more, today he was there with every single one of us. And like a triple bypass lifts stress off the heart, today's triple bypass lifted my spirit. It felt amazing, for mind, body, and soul.

May She Rest

In a sad irony, after writing about Elizabeth Edwards yesterday, I came home tonight to pull up the news and see that she had passed away earlier today. May she rest peacefully, and may she be remembered for her courage, grace, and indomitable spirit.

One Hell of a Run, One Hell of a Cause

This Saturday was frigging amazing. Finally, a run where I felt strong, light on my feet, and most importantly, lighthearted. My love Lauren Sanders got us started with her mission moment about her wonderful friend Derrick, who fought one hell of a cancer battle - one that she continues to fight, as he has left this world. Derrick died 2 years ago today at the age of 23. Yes, t-w-e-n-t-y-t-h-r-e-e. Heartbreaking.

I think it really reminded me why we're out there. Lauren is on her 3rd season with TNT and she is a very strong runner. But beyond that, she gets what it's really all about - and I needed to be reminded. Her energy and positivity is infectious and I just think she's 47 kinds of fabulous, and I am so grateful that she had the courage to get up there and share her story. Derrick sounds like he was almost TOO awesome, and clearly his light shines on in Lauren. To read more about Derrick's story, go here: http://www.djdully.blogspot.com/

It's amazing what your body will do when your heart is full. I took my 10:30 pace group out and we had the most fun, amazing run down and up the west side highway. We were laughing, we were talking, we weren't complaining, and we were kicking some ASS. We did about 11 miles as a group, and then for the last 5 we split up and I ran them with Steph in the park. They were tough, especially with the hills, but I felt like a frigging superstar at the end.

Then today I went to yoga, which was surprisingly delightful. I'm starting to suck a little less at downward dog (it's been my nemesis for years) and we hit some really spicy stretches that my legs desperately needed. I came home, made myself a healthy fajita, and opened up my computer to read the news from today. I saw that Elizabeth Edwards, a pillar of strength and grace, has stopped responding to treatment. The article said her cancer metastasized to her liver and then there is that horrible phrase: there's nothing more they can do. The prognosis, they say, is weeks, rather than months, and that's a phrase I know all too well. I also know it could be closer to days - you never know what that goddamn disease is going to do.

I think she has been an inspiration in many ways - how she handled her disease, how she handled her douche of a husband (if a guy treated me like that and then had the wherewithal to treat his mistress like shit too, I'd take a dull butter knife to the jugular), and now how she is handling her limited time remaining. She left a message via her Facebook page:

"You all know that I have been sustained throughout my life by three saving graces – my family, my friends, and a faith in the power of resilience and hope. These graces have carried me through difficult times and they have brought more joy to the good times than I ever could have imagined. The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And, yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human.

"But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful. It isn't possible to put into words the love and gratitude I feel to everyone who has and continues to support and inspire me every day. To you I simply say: you know."

We should all be so lucky to have half the grace she has. And we should all heed her words - living with hope, trying to have a positive impact in the world, that's what makes life all the more worthwhile.

I'm proud to be part of an organization that tries to have a positive impact every single day. I hope you're proud for donating to one - and if you haven't already, it's not too late to make a positive impact yourself.

The F*cking 5K

Fair warning: I have a BAD attitude today. And when I say bad, I mean B-A-D. Tonight we had to run the Peter Niessen 5K again. Peter is one of our fabulous TNT coaches, and each season Michael Conlon names this god awful 5K after one of the coaches. I have to say up front I mean no offense or disrespect to Peter, it's not his fault we have to run the damn thing. I was pissed off all day that we had to do this race - I was dreading it and just getting more and more angry that I had to run it. In fact, I was pissed off last week, when Michael Conlon reminded us we had to run this today - so pissed off that I renamed it the Peter Niessen F*cking 5K.

What makes this 5K so awful? Let's start with the course. First mile: downhill. Awesome. Second mile: a series of long, rolling hills down the west side. Ew. Third mile (plus the .1): ends on the top of Cat Hill. Sadistic.

Then there is the fact that it's a race. The coaches always say "You're only racing against yourself." Ummm, bullshit. If that was the case, we'd all run this course on our own and report our times anonymously. We are racing against everyone, and it really sucks when you see people flying by you. It makes me want to trip them. I warned you, BAD ATTITUDE.

Then there is the unexpected: a frigging raccoon - yes, a RACCOON - crossed our path just before the 2nd mile marker (and by "marker" I mean Michael Conlon drew on the street with purple chalk). Are you kidding me?

All that said, tonight went better than I expected. I decided ahead of time to do a tempo pace and not try to go all out. Partly due to fear of failure, partly due to my bad attitude, and partly because I didn't want to go out too fast and blowup on the west side hills. I don't know whether to declare it a victory, but I will say it wasn't entirely a defeat this time. At this point, I'll take it.

As Laura and I were walking back to the subway and debriefing our 5K of doom, she mentioned a conversation she'd had with Layla about how hard this season has been. Layla said "You know what's harder than running a marathon? Running your 2nd marathon." That shit is profound. And insanely accurate. You know what to expect, you know it's going to suck, and it's kind of like what people say about tattoos and childbirth, how you forget how bad it hurts, so you go back for round 2. Now that we're deep into the season, we're being reminded of how bad it hurts, and we know just how miserable that last 6.2 is. It's really really really hard because it's physically demanding and mentally it's hard to stay positive - exhibit A, my current disposition - and my lovely Layla is right. This is hard as shit.