You learn a lot about your body when you ask it do to things it's not used to doing.
This morning, for example, my body made it through an 8-mile run -- definitely something it's never been asked to do before.
Surprisingly, my body didn't seem to mind the distance. My feet didn't hurt, my knees didn't ache and I had more endurance than I expected.
I know it's because I'm doing it right -- following the training schedule, keeping hydrated and eating something like a PowerBar before the run. Plus, I'm diligent about stretching before and after the runs.
But as Dave and Scott, a couple of marathon alums, reminded us during this morning's run, I'll soon have to start learning how to keep my body going during the run.
Somewhere along the running route this morning, Dave and Scott reached into the pockets of their fuel belts (another distance running essential) and each pulled out a small foil packet.
"Have you guys tried goo yet?" one asked me and another teammate who was running in the group.
Neither of us had tried it. Just the name -- goo -- didn't make it sound like something we'd be eager to try.
Dave and Scott advised us to try it soon and get used to it before our races. Find flavors we like, find what works for us. We'll be happy that we did, they said. Our bodies will thank us.
"Goo" is actually spelled GU and is the brand name of an energy gel designed to keep your muscles going and mind alert during extended periods of exercise. (This morning's run lasted one hour and 25 minutes.)
Dave and Scott brushed over the basics of the science behind the substance -- something about your body only being able to provide a certain amount of energy and needing a quick fix along the way. They each took a shot of GU about 40 minutes into the run.
Curious, I later jumped online to learn more about the mysterious substance, learning quite a lot about how the body burns energy during exercise and probably adding a few new words to my vocabulary.
I also found a whole host of customer reviews on various websites. Depending on who you ask, GU is either the greatest product ever invented or something not fit to be consumed by humans.
Dave and Scott seemed to recommend it. And I know that my body will need something to help it going as our runs get longer.
Undoubtedly, GU will become just another part of my long runs. I just wish they had a better name for it.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Do You Like Cross Country?
"Do you like cross country?" the woman behind the registration table asked Jamie and me as we handed in our paperwork for this morning's race.
"I'll tell you when I'm finished," I replied.
Cross country? Yikes.
Jamie and I had decided a few weeks back to search for area 5K road races. I found one online and sent the link to Jamie. The day worked out for both of us and the race, in Dover, was convenient for us. So we decided that this would be the one.
What we didn't know at first was that we'd be running a cross country race, not a road race.
It wasn't easy. Although 3 miles should have been relatively easy for both of us, the course traversed hilly fields, a small footbridge and a wooded path. It was nothing like the running we were used to. We had to watch our footing carefully, stepping around stumps, rocks and other obstacles.
About half a mile into the course, Jamie and I exchanged a look that seemed to say "what have we gotten ourselves in to?"
I know, I said to her, this is my fault. I picked this race.
You're right, she said, this is your fault.
But we did it. I finished 35th out of about 75 runners. My time was 32:04. Jamie wasn't far behind me. We were both pleased with our performances.
It was the first race I'd ever run. Jamie and I decided that we should try another -- a road race next time.
Soon after crossing the finish line (and probably before), we decided cross country might not be our thing. Sure we did it, but it wasn't as enjoyable as we wanted it to be. It was certainly more enjoyable when it was over.
But I wouldn't trade this morning's experience.
We had some good laughs -- calling each other on the way to the race confiding that we were nervous, missing the exit to get to the race and unknowingly picking out one of the fastest runners before the race as the person we would use to pace ourselves. We both laughed when we saw him nearly a mile ahead of us at one point.
Plus, I tried something new, something outside my comfort zone. That's always a good thing.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
"I'll tell you when I'm finished," I replied.
Cross country? Yikes.
Jamie and I had decided a few weeks back to search for area 5K road races. I found one online and sent the link to Jamie. The day worked out for both of us and the race, in Dover, was convenient for us. So we decided that this would be the one.
What we didn't know at first was that we'd be running a cross country race, not a road race.
It wasn't easy. Although 3 miles should have been relatively easy for both of us, the course traversed hilly fields, a small footbridge and a wooded path. It was nothing like the running we were used to. We had to watch our footing carefully, stepping around stumps, rocks and other obstacles.
About half a mile into the course, Jamie and I exchanged a look that seemed to say "what have we gotten ourselves in to?"
I know, I said to her, this is my fault. I picked this race.
You're right, she said, this is your fault.
But we did it. I finished 35th out of about 75 runners. My time was 32:04. Jamie wasn't far behind me. We were both pleased with our performances.
It was the first race I'd ever run. Jamie and I decided that we should try another -- a road race next time.
Soon after crossing the finish line (and probably before), we decided cross country might not be our thing. Sure we did it, but it wasn't as enjoyable as we wanted it to be. It was certainly more enjoyable when it was over.
But I wouldn't trade this morning's experience.
We had some good laughs -- calling each other on the way to the race confiding that we were nervous, missing the exit to get to the race and unknowingly picking out one of the fastest runners before the race as the person we would use to pace ourselves. We both laughed when we saw him nearly a mile ahead of us at one point.
Plus, I tried something new, something outside my comfort zone. That's always a good thing.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The First Mile
As I reached out from beneath my blankets this morning to turn off my alarm clock, I reminded myself of something our Team In Training mentor, Dave, had emailed the team last week. I've included a copy at the bottom of this post.
Dave is a TnT alum. He completed his first marathon a couple of years ago when he turned 50. He runs with us every Sunday, encouraging us to push ourselves farther, offer fundraising tips or talk about other aspects of TnT program.
When my alarm went off just before 6 a.m. today, it was dark and cold. The temperature was only 63 degrees inside my house. It was barely 40 degrees outside.
It was hard to get out of bed, but I knew I had to do it. With other commitments scheduled after work, I needed to get in a morning run if I was going to stick to the schedule.
I bundled up a little more than usual for my 3-mile jaunt. I clipped on flashing red lights -- one for me and one for Rebel -- so that passing drivers would see us on the side of the road.
For the first mile or so, I ran with my hands tucked inside the sleeves of my shirt to keep them warm. My face was cold. I could see my breath.
Rebel, on the other hand, seemed to love the cool air. He pranced around a little as we ran. If it's possible that dogs smile, he was definitely smiling when he looked up at me. Maybe he was laughing at me.
It's only September, I reminded myself.
The New England mornings are going to get darker and colder as my training progresses through the fall and winter months.
Soon, my body had warmed up. The chill in the air actually felt good.
Sometimes -- most times -- getting started is the hardest part.
THE FIRST AND LAST MILE
I just finished running.
It's 6:12am.
During the run many revelations came that paralleled this morning's run to life.
There are two very difficult miles to run no matter how long the run.
The First and the Last Mile.
I usually run five miles or more.
The first mile is the hardest and the one most missed.
You see, you have to get started to run the first mile.
It's hard to get started.
I have to get out of bed.
Those first few steps that wake a sleeping body are part of the first mile.
They are tougher than the steepest hill.
You have a race to run, a course to complete, or a project that awaits you.
You too have a first mile. And your first mile is tough, just like mine.
When I take my first step outside most of my run is completed.
I've accomplished the hardest part.
I've gotten started and stepped out.
The next few steps bring out the stiffness of your body as the muscles stretch and your lungs fill with the crisp, cool morning air. It's still dark outside and menacing shadows reach out from strange corners.
Darkness creates a different, somewhat eerie world.
There could be dangers in the shadows but danger usually doesn't get up this early.
If there are any aches and pains, the first mile will bring them out.
The greatest probability that you will give up and turn back is in the first mile.
The vast majority make new year's resolutions each year. Most have broken them at the end of the first two weeks.
The first two weeks is the first mile.
Miles 2, 3 and 4 are usually uneventful, but the last mile is a doozy. There is something about the last mile that's a real stretch and it doesn't matter whether I am running 2 miles or 10 miles. The last mile is a real stretch. The effects of the previous miles pile up but at the same time you can ‘see’ the finish.
And so it is with life.
To get started is a strain.
To finish is a stretch.
The First and The Last Mile
What's your first mile?
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Putting the "Team" in TnT
My friend and teammate Jamie was missing from this morning's run -- or at least that's what I thought until I received a text message from her after running The Loop.
Here is our conversation, via text (abbreviations and text shortcuts included), that I think shows the "team" part of the Team In Training program:
9:05 a.m. - (Jamie) - Did the whole six w/o a walk break!! T/y so much for pushing me on wednesdays!
9:45 a.m. - (Me) - Awesome! Just finished the 6miles . . . did u go early 2day?
9:46 a.m. - (Jamie) - Yes i left a note on my car so you guys would know i needed to mk sure done by 930
9:49 a.m. - (Me) - Oh! I didnt even see it. Im sure jack did. Im so proud of you for doing the whole 6mi! The loop is nice isnt it?
10:09 a.. - (Jamie) - It is nice. Loved it!
10:10a.m. - (Me) - Me too! Cant wait til next wk! Sorry I cant do wednesday.
Jamie and I seemed to hit it off right from the start. She and her 3-year-old daughter sat in front of me at the informational meeting the night we signed up for the program. Since then, she has always been there for a quick word of encouragement. Recently, we've been meeting on Wednesday evenings to run a 3-mile loop in Dover.
We talk about our running progress, fundraising efforts, our jobs, our personal lives, whatever is on our minds. During the week, we check in with each other by email. In short, we've become friends.
Last week, she sent me an email saying she's glad that we both joined the Team In Training program at the same time. I'm glad, too.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Here is our conversation, via text (abbreviations and text shortcuts included), that I think shows the "team" part of the Team In Training program:
9:05 a.m. - (Jamie) - Did the whole six w/o a walk break!! T/y so much for pushing me on wednesdays!
9:45 a.m. - (Me) - Awesome! Just finished the 6miles . . . did u go early 2day?
9:46 a.m. - (Jamie) - Yes i left a note on my car so you guys would know i needed to mk sure done by 930
9:49 a.m. - (Me) - Oh! I didnt even see it. Im sure jack did. Im so proud of you for doing the whole 6mi! The loop is nice isnt it?
10:09 a.. - (Jamie) - It is nice. Loved it!
10:10a.m. - (Me) - Me too! Cant wait til next wk! Sorry I cant do wednesday.
Jamie and I seemed to hit it off right from the start. She and her 3-year-old daughter sat in front of me at the informational meeting the night we signed up for the program. Since then, she has always been there for a quick word of encouragement. Recently, we've been meeting on Wednesday evenings to run a 3-mile loop in Dover.
We talk about our running progress, fundraising efforts, our jobs, our personal lives, whatever is on our minds. During the week, we check in with each other by email. In short, we've become friends.
Last week, she sent me an email saying she's glad that we both joined the Team In Training program at the same time. I'm glad, too.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
The Loop
Today I reached another milestone in training, completing a 6-mile loop through New Castle and Portsmouth.
It was the first time the Sunday run didn't include an "out and back," where the team runs to the half-way mark for that week's mileage, then turns around to head back to the starting point.
My training schedule had me slated to do 4 miles today. But I had already done 5 miles in last Sunday's run, so I thought I could add another mile.
On the sign-in sheet this morning, I checked off that I planned to run 5 miles. I didn't want to be overly ambitious and wanted to see how I felt once I started running.
Soon after I started, I knew I would go for the whole 6-mile loop. The weather was perfect, a cool bright morning. And running along the coastline was beautiful. I reminded myself more than once how much I enjoy living so close to the ocean.
Most of my team runs up until today had me running with a teammate -- mostly because we had the same pace and enjoyed chatting to pass the miles away.
Today was a little different. We all started together, but seemed to run at different paces. Soon we were spaced out along Route 1B.
As much as I enjoy running with a partner, it was nice this morning to have some time running alone. Even my runs at home are spent talking to Rebel and making sure he stays with me.
I enjoyed this morning's quiet. My shoes made a soft but steady sound as they hit the pavement. I spent my time taking in the scenery -- a heron in the harbor, beautifully manicured lawns and dozens of walkers, runners and cyclists who were also enjoying a morning of exercise on a crisp morning.
I could see my teammate in front of me for most of the way, and periodically glanced back to see the runner behind me. Our run coach, Jack, and other volunteers offered encouragement -- and a cup of Gatorade at the 5-mile mark -- at checkpoints and along the route.
Surprisingly, The Loop went by rather quickly.
I wasn't as winded or sweaty as I thought I would be, despite a tougher-than-expected hill on the last part of the route. The training must be working. Less than a month ago, I would have laughed if someone had told me I would be running 6 miles.
At the end of the run, a Team In Training alum shared her story of singing the "Rocky" theme song to help her make it up the last hill along The Loop. I'm pretty sure the song was going through my head, along with words of encouragement I repeated to myself as I ran the last hill. It helped. And I made it.
I had a good stretch at the end and left with that feeling that all of my teammates can relate to -- the feeling you get when you run farther than you've ever run before.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
It was the first time the Sunday run didn't include an "out and back," where the team runs to the half-way mark for that week's mileage, then turns around to head back to the starting point.
My training schedule had me slated to do 4 miles today. But I had already done 5 miles in last Sunday's run, so I thought I could add another mile.
On the sign-in sheet this morning, I checked off that I planned to run 5 miles. I didn't want to be overly ambitious and wanted to see how I felt once I started running.
Soon after I started, I knew I would go for the whole 6-mile loop. The weather was perfect, a cool bright morning. And running along the coastline was beautiful. I reminded myself more than once how much I enjoy living so close to the ocean.
Most of my team runs up until today had me running with a teammate -- mostly because we had the same pace and enjoyed chatting to pass the miles away.
Today was a little different. We all started together, but seemed to run at different paces. Soon we were spaced out along Route 1B.
As much as I enjoy running with a partner, it was nice this morning to have some time running alone. Even my runs at home are spent talking to Rebel and making sure he stays with me.
I enjoyed this morning's quiet. My shoes made a soft but steady sound as they hit the pavement. I spent my time taking in the scenery -- a heron in the harbor, beautifully manicured lawns and dozens of walkers, runners and cyclists who were also enjoying a morning of exercise on a crisp morning.
I could see my teammate in front of me for most of the way, and periodically glanced back to see the runner behind me. Our run coach, Jack, and other volunteers offered encouragement -- and a cup of Gatorade at the 5-mile mark -- at checkpoints and along the route.
Surprisingly, The Loop went by rather quickly.
I wasn't as winded or sweaty as I thought I would be, despite a tougher-than-expected hill on the last part of the route. The training must be working. Less than a month ago, I would have laughed if someone had told me I would be running 6 miles.
At the end of the run, a Team In Training alum shared her story of singing the "Rocky" theme song to help her make it up the last hill along The Loop. I'm pretty sure the song was going through my head, along with words of encouragement I repeated to myself as I ran the last hill. It helped. And I made it.
I had a good stretch at the end and left with that feeling that all of my teammates can relate to -- the feeling you get when you run farther than you've ever run before.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
3 1/2 hours
I spent some time online today learning more about the Disney Half Marathon and Marathon programs. (You can learn more about the events by clicking on the link on the right-hand side of this page.)
It's not only about how far you can run; it's also about how fast you can run.
Runners are required to maintain a 16-minute-mile pace during the race and complete the half marathon in 3 1/2 hours. There are checkpoints along the way, and if runners aren't keeping up pace, they'll be picked up and driven to the finish line.
There is no way that I'm letting this happen.
Before reading this, I really had no idea how long it would take to run a half marathon.
At training, our pace is somewhere between 10 and 11 minutes per mile. Not fast, for sure, but steady. As we feel the positive effects of our training, our pace is picking up. But we all know that as our distance increases, our per-mile pace will also increase.
I have no idea what a 16-minute mile feels like. I know that a brisk walk is about a 15-minute mile. So in reality I have to maintain a brisk walk pace to stay in the race.
But, 3 1/2 hours of running?
There are few things, if anything, that I do for 3 1/2 hours without taking a break -- even non-physical activities like watching television or working at my desk. Sleeping, I think, is the only thing that comes to mind.
In exactly four months today, I'll be running for 3 1/2 hours straight -- hopefully less. Unbelievable.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
It's not only about how far you can run; it's also about how fast you can run.
Runners are required to maintain a 16-minute-mile pace during the race and complete the half marathon in 3 1/2 hours. There are checkpoints along the way, and if runners aren't keeping up pace, they'll be picked up and driven to the finish line.
There is no way that I'm letting this happen.
Before reading this, I really had no idea how long it would take to run a half marathon.
At training, our pace is somewhere between 10 and 11 minutes per mile. Not fast, for sure, but steady. As we feel the positive effects of our training, our pace is picking up. But we all know that as our distance increases, our per-mile pace will also increase.
I have no idea what a 16-minute mile feels like. I know that a brisk walk is about a 15-minute mile. So in reality I have to maintain a brisk walk pace to stay in the race.
But, 3 1/2 hours of running?
There are few things, if anything, that I do for 3 1/2 hours without taking a break -- even non-physical activities like watching television or working at my desk. Sleeping, I think, is the only thing that comes to mind.
In exactly four months today, I'll be running for 3 1/2 hours straight -- hopefully less. Unbelievable.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Run the Course
Today was the 25th annual Union Leader Classic, an 8K (5mi) road race that starts and ends at the Union Leader building in Manchester.
As a non-runner and non-racer, I remember attending my first road race when I started working at the Union Leader a few years ago. I was overwhelmed by the amount of pre-race work that goes on behind the scenes -- ordering, sorting and folding T-shirts, arranging for drinks and food for runners, recruiting volunteers and sponsors and a whole laundry list of other details.
My first race day was even more overwhelming. Runners warmed up along open stretches of road and parking lot. The timing station was set up, trophies lined the front table and volunteers dealt with lines at race-day registration. People seemed to be everywhere.
Racers took off with a gunshot start and we waited. It didn't seem like long before the first runners were rounding the corner to complete the somewhat hilly five-mile course.
Inevitably around this time of year, person after person will ask in the days leading up to the Union Leader Classic whether I plan to run it. As the person in charge of the event, I should be on site to deal with any problems that arise, so I have a nice excuse not to run.
Plus, before signing up for the Disney challenge, I had never even thought about running a race. All that's changed now. I plan to run my first race, a 5K in Dover, at the end of the month and have looked into a couple of other 5Ks in the area during the upcoming months.
With a few years of experience, organizing race day has become a little easier and, for the most part, I know what to expect on race day.
The one part of race I wasn't familiar with was the actual course. So last night, after a day dealing with last-minute details for the race, I put on my sneakers and decided to try it. I knew it would be a challenge. And it was.
It was unusually hot, it was getting dark and the course seemed to go on forever, especially the stretch of road that runs along the lake where there are no houses. And the roads were much hillier than I've ever realized while driving in the car.
I certainly wasn't breaking any record speeds, but I was setting my own personal record -- my first five-mile run. Hopefully it was the first of many.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
As a non-runner and non-racer, I remember attending my first road race when I started working at the Union Leader a few years ago. I was overwhelmed by the amount of pre-race work that goes on behind the scenes -- ordering, sorting and folding T-shirts, arranging for drinks and food for runners, recruiting volunteers and sponsors and a whole laundry list of other details.
My first race day was even more overwhelming. Runners warmed up along open stretches of road and parking lot. The timing station was set up, trophies lined the front table and volunteers dealt with lines at race-day registration. People seemed to be everywhere.
Racers took off with a gunshot start and we waited. It didn't seem like long before the first runners were rounding the corner to complete the somewhat hilly five-mile course.
Inevitably around this time of year, person after person will ask in the days leading up to the Union Leader Classic whether I plan to run it. As the person in charge of the event, I should be on site to deal with any problems that arise, so I have a nice excuse not to run.
Plus, before signing up for the Disney challenge, I had never even thought about running a race. All that's changed now. I plan to run my first race, a 5K in Dover, at the end of the month and have looked into a couple of other 5Ks in the area during the upcoming months.
With a few years of experience, organizing race day has become a little easier and, for the most part, I know what to expect on race day.
The one part of race I wasn't familiar with was the actual course. So last night, after a day dealing with last-minute details for the race, I put on my sneakers and decided to try it. I knew it would be a challenge. And it was.
It was unusually hot, it was getting dark and the course seemed to go on forever, especially the stretch of road that runs along the lake where there are no houses. And the roads were much hillier than I've ever realized while driving in the car.
I certainly wasn't breaking any record speeds, but I was setting my own personal record -- my first five-mile run. Hopefully it was the first of many.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
I Run Because I Can
While sitting at my office computer today, I received an email notifying me that another person had made a contribution to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
It was from my "Aunt" Kathy, my mom's college roommate.
In our younger years growing up in Toronto, my sister and I would spend nights at Aunt Kathy's. We would play games, climb onto her what-seemed-to-be-at-the-time giant bed and make ourselves at home.
I remember taking the subway for a day of shopping around the city as a little girl with my sister, mom and Aunt Kathy. I remember taking trips to her parent's lakeside cottage. I remember going on paddleboats at a small amusement park, Aunt Kathy always worried (like I was) that we would somehow get lost or stranded in the small pond.
Over the years and because of the many moves my family made along the way, we didn't stay as close to Aunt Kathy as we probably should have. She never had children of her own, and I think that we, along with her neices and the hundreds of kindergarten students she taught in her career, were her children.
This particular donation gave me pause for a moment today because about two years ago Kathy was left paralized from the neck down after what was supposed to be a routine surgery. After initially being in a coma, she had been transferred to a hospital where she endured attempts at rehabilitation. No one quite knew what the prognosis was. And still nothing is certain.
My mom found out almost by accident while arranging to see her during a quick trip I took with my parents up to Canada earlier this year. The news most certainly upset my mom, and I know that we were all a bit nervous about what condition we would find her in when we met her at the hospital.
We all felt a sense of instant relief when we opened the door to the tiny hospital room to find Aunt Kathy smiling widely. Without the use of her legs or hands, she was confined to a wheelchair and needed help to do the smallest tasks. Her husband, Richard, retired from his postal service job and spent every day at the hospital with her.
I remember marveling at how small she had gotten. Her leg muscles, after years of not being used, were basically non-existant. She weighed less than one hundred pounds. Her fingers seemed to be glued together and pointed straight out. She couldn't pick up anything, brush her hair, feed herself or even scratch an itch on her face.
And walking, well, that was a long way off. When we visited in April, she told us how proud you become of the little moments when in a situation like hers. She shared with us a story about finally being able to move her foot enough to tap a beach ball and the feeling of accomplishment that came with this once-simple task.
Sometimes it takes something significant to remind us to appreciate what we can do every day.
Since then, Aunt Kathy has moved back home. Her downtown home has been equipped with a chairlift, wheelchair ramp and other necessities to accommodate her new lifestyle.
It's not unlike my parent's house, which has been outfitted with medical devices to help my mom, who was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at the age of 30, move around and complete daily tasks.
Nothing comes easy for my mom. And I know nothing comes easy for Kathy, either.
I bet both of them would give anything to be able to get up and run with me in the morning just for one day -- even if it means waking up before the sunrise. I know when that alarm goes off, I'll want to stay under my blankets and get that extra 45 minutes of sleep.
But I have to remind myself that there may come a day when I won't have the option of getting up for a run. Or a walk. Or even getting out of bed without a struggle at all. Odds are I could get rheumatoid arthritis. Or, against the odds, I could have a sudden medical condition like Kathy.
I want to run because I can. And I want to run for those who cannot.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
It was from my "Aunt" Kathy, my mom's college roommate.
In our younger years growing up in Toronto, my sister and I would spend nights at Aunt Kathy's. We would play games, climb onto her what-seemed-to-be-at-the-time giant bed and make ourselves at home.
I remember taking the subway for a day of shopping around the city as a little girl with my sister, mom and Aunt Kathy. I remember taking trips to her parent's lakeside cottage. I remember going on paddleboats at a small amusement park, Aunt Kathy always worried (like I was) that we would somehow get lost or stranded in the small pond.
Over the years and because of the many moves my family made along the way, we didn't stay as close to Aunt Kathy as we probably should have. She never had children of her own, and I think that we, along with her neices and the hundreds of kindergarten students she taught in her career, were her children.
This particular donation gave me pause for a moment today because about two years ago Kathy was left paralized from the neck down after what was supposed to be a routine surgery. After initially being in a coma, she had been transferred to a hospital where she endured attempts at rehabilitation. No one quite knew what the prognosis was. And still nothing is certain.
My mom found out almost by accident while arranging to see her during a quick trip I took with my parents up to Canada earlier this year. The news most certainly upset my mom, and I know that we were all a bit nervous about what condition we would find her in when we met her at the hospital.
We all felt a sense of instant relief when we opened the door to the tiny hospital room to find Aunt Kathy smiling widely. Without the use of her legs or hands, she was confined to a wheelchair and needed help to do the smallest tasks. Her husband, Richard, retired from his postal service job and spent every day at the hospital with her.
I remember marveling at how small she had gotten. Her leg muscles, after years of not being used, were basically non-existant. She weighed less than one hundred pounds. Her fingers seemed to be glued together and pointed straight out. She couldn't pick up anything, brush her hair, feed herself or even scratch an itch on her face.
And walking, well, that was a long way off. When we visited in April, she told us how proud you become of the little moments when in a situation like hers. She shared with us a story about finally being able to move her foot enough to tap a beach ball and the feeling of accomplishment that came with this once-simple task.
Sometimes it takes something significant to remind us to appreciate what we can do every day.
Since then, Aunt Kathy has moved back home. Her downtown home has been equipped with a chairlift, wheelchair ramp and other necessities to accommodate her new lifestyle.
It's not unlike my parent's house, which has been outfitted with medical devices to help my mom, who was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis at the age of 30, move around and complete daily tasks.
Nothing comes easy for my mom. And I know nothing comes easy for Kathy, either.
I bet both of them would give anything to be able to get up and run with me in the morning just for one day -- even if it means waking up before the sunrise. I know when that alarm goes off, I'll want to stay under my blankets and get that extra 45 minutes of sleep.
But I have to remind myself that there may come a day when I won't have the option of getting up for a run. Or a walk. Or even getting out of bed without a struggle at all. Odds are I could get rheumatoid arthritis. Or, against the odds, I could have a sudden medical condition like Kathy.
I want to run because I can. And I want to run for those who cannot.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Going the Extra Mile
My training schedule had me set to do three miles in this morning's team run. As we approached the turnaround spot for the three-milers, our run coach, Jack, said it was time for me to turn around.
But I didn't want to stop just yet. I wanted to keep going.
I called ahead that I was going to keep going to the four-mile turnaround.
Amid the chit-chat with team members, the fresh coastal air and the almost perfect temperature, I reached the four-mile mark before I knew it. Jack ran up ahead and stopped just past the "4" and arrow he had marked in chalk on the pavement before the run.
He encouraged and praised us as we crossed the road to finish the final two miles.
We turned around, running at a slow and steady pace. My teammate Mira and I were the first ones back this morning. Jamie was right behind us.
As we finished the last few feet of the run, Bob (another Team in Training volunteer and supporter) slowly drove his pick-up truck beside us. He turned the music up louder and, with the sounds of "Black Betty" coming from the stereo, helped us finish the run strong.
Soon, the rest of our team members (those doing the five-mile loop) made it back to the school where we start and end our Sunday runs. We gathered in a circle and started stretching.
And we talked.
We talked about how much progress we've already made.
We talked about the feeling of accomplishment when you run farther than you ever have before.
We talked about how good it feels to mentally set a point at which you would allow yourself to walk but you decide to keep on running when you reach that spot.
We even talked about what training runs we would want to do after we complete our marathons and half-marathons.
We all left energized and making plans for our next run. Jamie and I made plans to meet up during the week for a run, and she suggested that we find a 5K to run soon. I came home and emailed her a list of upcoming races.
What a difference having a motivating team, coaches and other supporters makes in this program. I guess that's why it works.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
But I didn't want to stop just yet. I wanted to keep going.
I called ahead that I was going to keep going to the four-mile turnaround.
Amid the chit-chat with team members, the fresh coastal air and the almost perfect temperature, I reached the four-mile mark before I knew it. Jack ran up ahead and stopped just past the "4" and arrow he had marked in chalk on the pavement before the run.
He encouraged and praised us as we crossed the road to finish the final two miles.
We turned around, running at a slow and steady pace. My teammate Mira and I were the first ones back this morning. Jamie was right behind us.
As we finished the last few feet of the run, Bob (another Team in Training volunteer and supporter) slowly drove his pick-up truck beside us. He turned the music up louder and, with the sounds of "Black Betty" coming from the stereo, helped us finish the run strong.
Soon, the rest of our team members (those doing the five-mile loop) made it back to the school where we start and end our Sunday runs. We gathered in a circle and started stretching.
And we talked.
We talked about how much progress we've already made.
We talked about the feeling of accomplishment when you run farther than you ever have before.
We talked about how good it feels to mentally set a point at which you would allow yourself to walk but you decide to keep on running when you reach that spot.
We even talked about what training runs we would want to do after we complete our marathons and half-marathons.
We all left energized and making plans for our next run. Jamie and I made plans to meet up during the week for a run, and she suggested that we find a 5K to run soon. I came home and emailed her a list of upcoming races.
What a difference having a motivating team, coaches and other supporters makes in this program. I guess that's why it works.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
The Cancer Center
A few years ago, my mom had an adverse reaction to a new rheumatoid arthritis drug.
She was terribly tired and her blood levels were dropping every day. Doctors put her on what I considered to be a maintenance program of daily blood transfusions while they hospitalized her and ran test after test.
It was a scary time for all of us because we didn't have any answers. The word leukemia surfaced more than once among the possibilities. I don't think any of us wanted to think about it. We never talked about it.
Finally, my mom agreed to seek other medical opinions in Boston.
To our relief, doctors at her first appointment told us that it wasn't leukemia. She had a an infection that she had picked up because of her weakened immune system.
The treatment would be realtively simple, especially in comparison to some of the other options I think we were all mentally preparing ourselves for.
My mom would undergo several eight-hour IV treatments. These would be administered to her in the cancer center at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston where patients receive chemotherapy.
Because she couldn't drive herself to and from the treatments (and because we didn't want her to go through it alone), we took turns making the trip to the hospital.
It was eight hours I would never forget.
We walked into the cancer center and were shuffled into a large room. Curtains hung from the ceilings making thin separations between patients. Most of the curtains were closed. Some were open.
Thanks to the effects of a few of the drugs my mom was given, she slept for most of her treatment. This gave me time to wander around the center a little bit. The walls were lined with pictures and stories of cancer survivors -- and those who did not survive.
For most of the day, I sat next to my mom. The book I brought was open on my lap, but I don't think I read very much of it. The sights and sounds of the cancer center had my attention.
I remember the room being extremely quiet. I didn't hear a lot of conversations, aside from the chatter at the nurses station in the middle of the room. I think most of the patients were sleeping. Some were there alone. From time to time, I heard the sounds of people throwing up or groaning.
The patients came in every age, gender, shape and size. Cancer has no preferences, I guess.
There was a young couple next to me. I'd guess they were in their late 20's or early 30's. The woman was under a blanket, sleeping while she received her treatment. Her husband sat next to her holding her hand. He sat there for the whole eight hours. I could tell it was a routine this couple had done many times before.
I couldn't help but think of this experience as I ran my last three miles the other day. I don't know what happened to the other people in that room. Maybe some of them got better. Maybe some of them didn't.
I do know that my family made it out easy.
It's good to remind myself that I'm not just doing this run to complete a challenge, get in shape or meet new people. My running will make a difference.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
She was terribly tired and her blood levels were dropping every day. Doctors put her on what I considered to be a maintenance program of daily blood transfusions while they hospitalized her and ran test after test.
It was a scary time for all of us because we didn't have any answers. The word leukemia surfaced more than once among the possibilities. I don't think any of us wanted to think about it. We never talked about it.
Finally, my mom agreed to seek other medical opinions in Boston.
To our relief, doctors at her first appointment told us that it wasn't leukemia. She had a an infection that she had picked up because of her weakened immune system.
The treatment would be realtively simple, especially in comparison to some of the other options I think we were all mentally preparing ourselves for.
My mom would undergo several eight-hour IV treatments. These would be administered to her in the cancer center at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston where patients receive chemotherapy.
Because she couldn't drive herself to and from the treatments (and because we didn't want her to go through it alone), we took turns making the trip to the hospital.
It was eight hours I would never forget.
We walked into the cancer center and were shuffled into a large room. Curtains hung from the ceilings making thin separations between patients. Most of the curtains were closed. Some were open.
Thanks to the effects of a few of the drugs my mom was given, she slept for most of her treatment. This gave me time to wander around the center a little bit. The walls were lined with pictures and stories of cancer survivors -- and those who did not survive.
For most of the day, I sat next to my mom. The book I brought was open on my lap, but I don't think I read very much of it. The sights and sounds of the cancer center had my attention.
I remember the room being extremely quiet. I didn't hear a lot of conversations, aside from the chatter at the nurses station in the middle of the room. I think most of the patients were sleeping. Some were there alone. From time to time, I heard the sounds of people throwing up or groaning.
The patients came in every age, gender, shape and size. Cancer has no preferences, I guess.
There was a young couple next to me. I'd guess they were in their late 20's or early 30's. The woman was under a blanket, sleeping while she received her treatment. Her husband sat next to her holding her hand. He sat there for the whole eight hours. I could tell it was a routine this couple had done many times before.
I couldn't help but think of this experience as I ran my last three miles the other day. I don't know what happened to the other people in that room. Maybe some of them got better. Maybe some of them didn't.
I do know that my family made it out easy.
It's good to remind myself that I'm not just doing this run to complete a challenge, get in shape or meet new people. My running will make a difference.
REMEMBER, I'M DOING THIS FOR A GOOD CAUSE.
Have you donated to my fundraising campaign for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society? If not, please consider doing so. You can donate online at http://www.active.com/donate/tntma/Teresa. Please pass this link to everyone you know. Every dollar helps me get a little closer to the Disney 13.1!
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