Posts Tagged ‘running’

Personal Worst

07.05.2011

Since I finished treatment, I’ve been a half-marathonin’ fool.

I ran the NYC in March with a childhood friend.

I ran the Nashville in April.

This is one of those race photos they try to sell you. Hehe.

I took May off, but was back at it again in June, this time in Seattle.

Me and my Seattle running buddies. They stuck by me the whole way.
Interesting Fact: We have 10 kids between us.

 

How do I explain this marathoning madness? Simple. I know myself.

When I asked my oncologist what I could do to minimize my odds of recurrence, she said, “You will hear a lot of things. But there are only two things we know for sure. Exercise regularly and keep yourself to your lowest healthy weight.”

I am a compliant patient, but I knew I would be even more compliant with these goals on the horizon.

So that’s that. I don’t want the cancer to come back. Plus there are added bonuses.

When I run regularly, I feel better. I’m more confident in my body. It’s the only time I actually enjoy my booblessness.

Vigorous exercise marks a clear before/after for my treatment. I couldn’t run during treatment because of my extreme nausea and pain. Now I can.

Running helps me combat post-treatment fatigue. I sleep more deeply and have more energy when I’m running.

Running is an individual sport but runners compete against themselves. “To PB” is a verb — it means to get your personal best time.

So I thought that by running three races in four months, I would PB by the end.

I was wrong. I PW’d.

That’s right. I got my Personal Worst.

I’m not one for excuses but I do like a good story, so here goes. Pull up a chair and stay awhile.

Devoted readers of my blog may recall that I started an experimental use of an old medication, Metformin, in early May to prevent the cancer from recurring. My oncologist reassured me that any side-effects would be short lived. She obviously forgot she was talking to the side-effect queen.

I was so nauseous, I ended up back in bed most evenings. My doctor told me to take Zofran, the big guns anti-nausea drug. It only kind of helped and heaped on new side effects like dizziness and constipation. It was one thing to endure those when I could lie in bed all day during chemo. But I’m trying to hold down a full time job and raise a young family here.

I tried cutting my dose in half, reasoning that taking some of the drug was better than none of it. They had to back off on my chemo dose because of my bad reactions, so why wouldn’t I do the same thing with the Metformin? When the nausea persisted, diabetic friends offered suggestions. Cut down on your carbs. Take it with meals.

I tried all of the above, to no avail.

Worse yet, the nausea and related fatigue started to cut into my running. Exerting one’s self while dizzy and pukey is highly unappealing. As I pulled back on training, I started losing some of the ground I had gained in my wellness. I went from feeling better to pretty bad again.

The morning of the Seattle race, I took my medicine before the run.

I spent the first 8 miles feeling nauseous.

“Slow down a little, I’m sorry,” I kept telling my friends.

They obliged, insisting that it was all about running together.

And we did. We ran the whole way, except for the water stations. And my insistence on high-fiving the kids who came out to cheer for the runners. And to thank the people carrying flags to remember fallen soldiers.

Oh, and the potty stop.

But we ran and we ended with the uniquely exhilarating feeling of delicious endorphins coursing through our veins.

Even a PW wasn’t terrible.

But that was the beginning of the end of my affair with Metformin.

When I got back home, I had an evening where I became arrested by nausea. That was the final straw.

Why, I reasoned, am I trading in something I know will help me (exercise) for something that might help me (Metformin)?

So I stopped taking the pills.

Today I met with the nurse in the Survivorship Clinic. She’s a runner so she appreciated my PW tale. She has seen a lot of people on Metformin and her opinion was this:

The running is more important. The drug is a hypothetical. Metformin is hard for some people, and it sounds like you are one of those people. Quality of life matters and you need to keep exercising.

Cancer and survivorship often involve selecting between two crappy options. It feels unsettling not to do something medically to keep the cancer from recurring. But it felt even worse when I tried to.

My PW clarified the best of the crappy options. Stop the drugs and keep running.

And keep finding ways to hang out with good friends. They’ll make it fun, even when it is your worst time ever.

 

 

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Posted in Survivorship, Wellness | 29 Comments »

A Downhill Connection

05.13.2011

Yesterday, I ran on a shady paved trail through the park. The 5.8 mile path is a refuge in the heat, which was climbing toward 90˚.

I like running the same route week after week. Partly, I am a creature of habit. Also, running the same trail allows me to monitor my progress. I check in with my body. How fatigued am I? What pace can I go? How do I contend with this hill? How strong do I feel when I’m finished? I note all of these things and feel the runs getting easier, which is good for my confidence.

At the top of a big hill near the halfway point, I felt the fatigue setting in. The heat was draining me and I was sweating profusely.

Running helps me practice patience and compassion with myself, so I don’t tell myself to push on much of the time. I stopped to walk for a couple of minutes. After catching my breath, I felt much stronger and continued on my way.

It was time for a big descent. In the recent past, I have kept my pace steady, even on downhills. I don’t know what has been holding me back –– a fear of the speed, a fear of falling. I just haven’t been up to it.

With my renewed energy, I decided to let myself fly. It was a joy. I also felt hopeful that I might pick up some of the time I lost walking and make a good overall pace for this run.

As I rounded the curve, I saw a woman climbing over a wall separating my path with one of the many unpaved trails in the park.

She looked lost. She was about my age, dressed in running garb.

Pace be damned, I thought, letting go of the time I was making up. I stopped to see if she was okay.

She asked me how to find a certain trail. I told her that I am only familiar with the paved routes.

“We are about one mile from the exit,” I said. “If you want to run with me the rest of the way, I can drive you to your car.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “I think I’ll take you up on it. I’ve been running for about an hour and a half. I promise I don’t have a knife stashed anywhere.”

She continued with me on my flight down the hill. I took one of my earbuds out so I could converse.

“Are you training for anything?” I asked.

“No, I just like to run a lot,” she told me. “Are you?”

“I finished cancer treatment at the end of last year, so I’ve been doing half marathons like mad.”

She was unfazed.

“That’s great. What kind of cancer did you have?”

I told her.

“I had Hodgkins when I was pregnant with my fourth child. She’s 12 now.”

“I knew you were a cancer survivor! You didn’t blink when I told you. Usually people get really quiet and awkward.”

We ran the rest of the way down the hill, chatting about treatment, side-effects, fatigue, and children. I took her to her car, as I promised. She did not have a hidden knife, as she promised.

I realized, once again, what a unique bond survivors share. It’s as if we can enter the middle of a conversation and not have to provide all the explanation that other people require to make sense of our experience.

This is why our online community is so powerful. We are what my fellow blogger Feisty Blue Gecko aptly calls stranger-friends. We often understand each other in ways that our closest intimates cannot.

I hope to cross paths with my new stranger-friend some time soon.

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Posted in Survivorship | 19 Comments »