Boston Marathon 2013

April 15, 2013 By Leave a Comment

I’ve not written about running for a while. I still run- several miles a week, but I’ve not been running races or training for a specific race or distance.

The past few years I’ve loved keeping up with the Boston Marathon- I loved watching the winners and following the people I know locally or my running friends I’ve made on Daily Mile, and I’ve always had tabs on a few people who were running it. Last night I saw a few friends give out their bib numbers, so I texted in, to receive their updates by text, and it was fun to be able to see their progress today via text messages.

I was really happy for my friends, to see they finished in the 3 hour ranges- that isn’t an easy feat to do at all, and I was sure they would be happy with their performances!  My son is home sick today, and we have a snowstorm in Colorado. I was working at home, and checked the weather to see how much snow we were supposed to get. I saw the red banner on the top of the news site: 2 Bomb Explosions at the Finish Line at the Boston Marathon. It almost seemed like a prank- another unimaginable act of violence, that was now real.

I knew my friends had finished, when this happened, and I heard later they were safe.  But after seeing the pictures, the videos, and hearing the accounts, there are many people who weren’t safe.  There are those who died- actually died- by either just going out and running, or supporting someone who was.  Hundreds of others injured, including loss of limbs.

Anyone who runs, knows what kind of devotion, training, and dedication it takes, to run a marathon.  To know some of these runners who lost their lives, or who may never be able to run again- it is just heartbreaking.

Running really helped me get my life back on track after cancer.  It kept the focus of my being “sick” and helped me focus on what I could do- not what I couldn’t. It played a key part in my recovery- physically and emotionally.  I vowed one day, I wanted to run a marathon, and one day I would run the Boston Marathon.  Even though I’ve not been able to do that- yet- it is still a goal- often in the back of my mind, when I run.

After today, it seems like we have lost another piece of innocence- another thing that will never be quite the same. We run, we train, we try our best, to be the best we can be, and now- we are not safe when we want to have that day, that race- to give it our all, and see what we we can really do, under the highest stress and when we push our hardest.

But the biggest surprise I think we saw today, is what we are made of, shone through in the chaos, smoke, and blood.  When bystanders, police, fire fighters, medics, doctors, race officials, parents, friends, family members, runners, and strangers ran not away from the smoke, and chaos, but into it- to help.  It showed, we don’t need a race to be the best we can be. After all these awful acts of violence- no one knows for sure what is coming next- people still didn’t hesitate, and put their lives on the line to help.  How many lives or limbs saved, from these unselfish acts from others today? We may never know, but we know among the horrific events, we saw the best of the human spirit rise up today.

I came across this quote years ago- when I was in the midst of my cancer recovery.  It inspired me then, and now when I run. I hope by sharing it- it helps, all of us- runners and non- runners.  As we saw today, all we really have- when it counts- is each other.

“I run because I can. When I get tired, I remember those who can’t run, what they’d give to have this simple gift I take for granted, and I run harder for them. I know they would do the same for me.” – Anonymous

Filed Under: Cancer, Current Events, Running Tagged With: , , , ,

April 18th- Birthday and Cancer

April 18, 2012 By 4 Comments

 

Birthday and cancer may seem like an odd title, but April 18th, would have been my mom’s 63rd birthday.  She passed away 2 years ago, and I can’t help but think about her today. Losing a parent never really goes away.  There are always reminders, birthdays, holidays, and family events that tend to make you stop and remember.  Fortunately, I have a lot of happy memories of her, and that is what I like to remember about her.

I actually skipped the cemetery visit today. I’ve always gone on her birthday, and death anniversary. But this year, I don’t feel the need.  I know she is in a better place, and even though her remains are buried, I don’t think her spirit is in the cemetery. Her spirit is in the memories my siblings and I have of her, and in our children.  People often tell me what great kids I have, and credit that to my mom.  She was a good mom, and I model a lot of my parenting after my mom.  When I’m facing parenting issues I have no idea on how to handle, I think back to what she did, and 9 times out of 10 it works with my kids.

So today, in her honor, I’m going to spend some extra time with Ryan and Cole, and tell them a story about when I was a little girl with my mom. I have the picture books she put together, and I’m going to find the book with my first trip to Disneyland, when I was 6, and show those pictures to the boys, and tell them what I remember about it and my mom.  I think that will do more to honor her spirit and teach my boys about their Nana, then going to the cemetery.

April 18, 2009 was the day I received the phone call from my doctor that changed my life- forever.  I was told I had thyroid cancer. That day seemed so long ago, and yet, it seems like it was yesterday. I remember wondering what was going to happen to my boys. I remember my family and friends telling me I was going to beat this, and be okay.  I remember being the most scared I ever was.  I remember crying for hours and then stopping.  Getting dressed and going out with my family and friends.  Being normal, in an abnormal situation.   Knowing I had to for my kids.  Nothing else mattered. They needed their mom- every child does. I remember that night resolving no matter what, I was going to fight and do whatever I needed to do, to fight cancer, get healthy, and live so my kids didn’t have to grow up without me.

It isn’t always been easy. I have to do follow up visits every time this year, that stress me out and bring up all the “what if’s,” again. But, three years after a cancer diagnosis, with the help, support, and love of my kids, family, and friends, what I envisioned as hope, three years ago, is a reality.

I wish I had time to respond to all the emails I get from thyroid cancer patients, but I just don’t anymore.  I am planning to write another post soon, addressing a lot of comments, questions, and issues, I’ve received in emails.  I haven’t written about cancer in a long time, but this date is significant for me.  No one knows what is around the corner, but those of us who have had cancer, happen to know some of what we need to deal with.  My boyfriend, John, pointed out to me this past week, I know what I am dealing with, and can stay on top of it. It actually does make it easier in some respects.

The only way cancer wins out is if it steals your spirit from you. There were days when I was fighting cancer, I didn’t care if I was alive or not. Then I remembered my kids and family.  Let them be your strength.  Let people help you.  Even though it is a battle, thyroid cancer is curable.  Don’t let it take your passion, drive, and optimism away.

One of my favorite things I read when I was fighting cancer was, “Cancer is a word. Not a sentence.” Sometimes it is easy to let it become a sentence, but it doesn’t help you in the long term.  Three years ago, as I was crying on my bed for hours, I would have never imagined I would be in the best health of my life, cancer free, biking, 30+ miles, placing in competitive running races, and thriving, within a few short years.

I want anyone who is fighting cancer, to know life is what you make of it- cancer or no cancer. Don’t let it become your “sentence.” Fight with everything you have to keep it a word.  Fight with all you have, and then some, to beat it.  It is hard at times- most things worthwhile are.  But, three years later I can tell you, from being there and back, it is one of the most important things you will ever do.

My mom passed away before I got my cancer free diagnosis last year.  But she saw me fight it, and continuing to live my life.  One of the last conversations I had with her in the hospice, she held my hand with what little strength she had left, and told me I was fine. She told me to keep running; she could see how strong it was making me.  She said she knew the cancer was gone- she said I was just too strong for it to survive- I was stronger than cancer. She was right.

Happy Birthday, Mom.  I love you.

To all my thyroid cancer fighters and survivors: Keep fighting! Cancer is a word. Not a sentence.

Filed Under: Cancer, Family & Friends, Health, losing a parent, Mothering, Parenting Tagged With: , , , ,

In Memory of Susan Niebur

February 8, 2012 By Leave a Comment

I found out yesterday that a mother I know of two young boys, who was fighting a very aggressive form of breast cancer, inflammatory breast cancer, had passed away.

It shouldn’t have been such a shock- Dr. Susan Niebur has been writing about her battle with cancer for years, on her blog, Toddler Planet.  She had already survived almost 5 years since she was diagnosed with IBC, and had lived almost 3 years beyond the time most IBC patients live.  Susan herself realized, one day she wasn’t going to be here- but that was always one day in the future.

I met Susan in 2010 in New York- we served on the American Cancer Blogger Advisory Council, and we had a meeting the day before the BlogHer conference.  Susan had an aura to her.  I knew the first moment I met her, she was fighting cancer. I didn’t know what kind, or the details, but she didn’t focus on that.   I remember when we were taking a tour of the Hope Lodge, she had to rest on the bed in one of the rooms.  I remember thinking at the time, having just fought thyroid cancer a year before, I was so lucky- that the cancer I had was very treatable and curable.  Yet, I was amazed that Susan was even there- working on a cause she believed in.

And at the time, she made me think. Not by saying a word, but by her just being there, living her life, doing what she wanted. It was such a powerful example for me.  Some people will never have to endure a sliver of what Susan went through, just to get a few more years of life.

It is so easy to take what we have for granted.  To complain about the small things, worry about really trivial things.  I realized I was lucky- for whatever reason. It could have been, just as easily me with IBC, fighting to live.  I had a second chance to live my life, and not have to battle every day just to live.  I didn’t have to lie down on a bed to rest, after walking down a hallway.  When I heard her speak in the meeting, and give some background into her condition, she didn’t have to say it- I knew she going to die- someday. But that day was far off.  She was strong, and determined. She had two little boys who needed their mother.

I followed Susan’s blog loosely the past year and a half since the day I met her.  If am to be honest, her blog made me uncomfortable.  I loved her words- she was such a gifted writer. But something about having a condition that can claim your life, shift your foundation, it hit too close to home for me. I don’t like to think about dying, and it breaks my heart to hear about cancer patients who have to fight so hard just to make it to another day, and to think about the children who will be left without their mother.

In some way I wanted to keep the vision I had of Susan in New York- she absolutely glowed when she was speaking, sharing her ideas, and working with people. I wanted to remember that about her.  She gave me hope and was an example to me, that no matter what comes your way because of cancer, you can make the most with whatever time you have left.

I read the last post Susan wrote on her blog, on January 22nd.  I saw it linked from my friend’s Facebook update.  My heart sank as I read her post- hospice was coming to her home, but Susan was still fighting. She wasn’t ready to call it quits or say good-bye yet.

I checked her blog daily, since January 22.  The one day I did not check it, Monday, was the day Susan’s battle with cancer ended.  I received an email from BlogHer yesterday their thoughts were with Susan Niebur’s family, and I knew she was gone.  That one day- that seemed so far off, had arrived.

Susan made me realize again yesterday, how precious life is, and how lucky I am- how lucky we all are really.  Not everyone survives cancer.  Not everyone has the quality of life they had before cancer. But everyone can live their life in the best way they can, and we can appreciate the small things. Being alive to give your child a hug. Telling your friends and family you love them. Following your passions.  Living your dreams.

Susan was an  astrophysicist, and had worked at NASA headquarters. She wrote numerous academic papers, but her mantra on her blog for her life was simple. It was, “All that survives after our death are publications and people. So look carefully after the words you write, the thoughts and publications you create, and how you love others.  For these are the only things that will remain.”

For the short time I met Susan and worked with her, it will stay with me forever.  She was a great voice for cancer awareness, and surviving cancer.  She will be missed, and my deepest sympathies to her family and friends.

I found this a few weeks ago for another friend, whose mother had passed away, and I thought of it yesterday for Susan. The stars were one of Susan’s passions.

Rest in Peace, Susan.

“Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in Heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.”

Author: Unknown

You can make a donation in Susan’s honor at The Inflammatory Breast Cancer Research Foundation

You can read more on Susan’s legacy at Care2 Make a Difference

Filed Under: ACS Blogger Advisory Council, Cancer, Mothering, Parenting Tagged With: , , , , ,

Reflections in Running

August 30, 2011 By 4 Comments

This is the first post I’ve had about running in a while.  I have been running- not just as much as I would like to.

There are a lot of reasons why- from having time with my kids, work schedule, having my house on the market, recovering from injuries, and surgery, managing my health, eliminating stress, the weather, to not enough hours in the day. It is hard when there is that thing you really like to do, but it seems like everything else has to come before it.

This is where I have been for several months.  I have felt fortunate if I could fit a short run in, over my lunch time, a few times a week. The past few weeks, I have really started to notice I have been missing the longer runs, and pushing myself.  I feel like I haven’t been doing any runs that are challenging- like I’ve hit a plateau.

A few weekends ago, I decided I was going to get back on track, and while camping with my family, I decided to go on a run.  This was at 8,900 feet. It was the middle of the afternoon and it was hot.  I didn’t know how far I would even be able to run, since I’ve not been able to keep up my distance runs.  I decided to just go- and see where I ended up.

I ran along the forest road, and there was a creek I followed for a while.  There were hills.  There was an occasional car that would drive by, but other than that, I only heard my breathing, the sound of my shoes hitting the rocks, and the water from the creek.

Every time I finished one hill, there would be another.  It wasn’t quite the trail I had been hoping for, but I pushed on.  The first mile seemed to take forever.  When I had finished it, 11 minutes had passed.  Considering how many hills there were, I didn’t think that was too bad.  I decided to see if I could run another mile.  The trail flattened out, or at least the hills weren’t as steep for most of the second mile.  As I finished the second mile, I was getting tired, but wanted to go another half mile, so at the end I would have ran 5 miles.

As I turned the bend, with a third of a mile to go, there was the steepest hill yet!  It struck me how much running and life go hand in hand out there, on the hot, isolated trail.  Just when you think you are done with the steep hills, another one can pop up- seemingly out of nowhere, to throw you the most difficult obstacle yet.  I knew if I had seen that hill before I decided to continue, I would have turned back. I considered turning back, but that spark and determination I find so often when I run, kicked in.

I started up the hill, and half way up, it didn’t seem that hard.  Another life lesson- sometimes things seem harder than they really are, until you just start to work on them.  Before I knew it, I was running down the hill, and had hit my 2.5 mile mark.  I turned around, and ran right back up the hill, which my Garmin told me was a 13% incline.  The hill didn’t seem as hard, and I was rewarded with a lot downhill time on the run back.

I was in mile four, when I caught up with the creek again. It sounded louder- almost like it was cheering.  Or it was me hearing that, because I was really cheering myself on.

I hadn’t run this far or at this level in almost a year, but yet I was out on one of the hardest runs I’ve ever done, and I was minutes away from finishing.   As I finished the run, I was reminded why I had missed longer runs so much.

Running mirrors life.  There are ups, downs, successes, failures, pain, elation, unexpected twists, turns, hills, and obstacles.  As you run and mange these, you gain a new perspective. With every hill you run up, and then run down, you are reminded of what lies within- strength, determination, hope, and accomplishment.

I wasn’t focusing on the time, but I was hoping with all things considered, I would finish in an hour.  I finished the run in 55 minutes.  My last mile was the fastest one- at 10:24.

I went and sat in the cold creek with my kids, who had been playing in the water with their grandpa and cousin.   As I watched them play, and felt the cold water rush over my legs, I felt another feeling I often gain with running- peace.

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I’ve signed up for my first race in almost a year on Labor Day. It is 5 miles.  While I have run a 9K race before, (5.5 miles), the 5 mile distance will be a bit more challenging for me this time since I haven’t had a lot of training time to build up my mileage.  Before the mountain trail run, my goal was to finish in 50 minutes or so.  I am pretty confident I can finish around this time, and I do like to race, to see how fast I can run.

I am happy to be back racing, and am going to focus more on the run itself- the sights, the sounds, my breathing, and the fact that after all of it- I’m strong, healthy, and still running.

Filed Under: Cancer, Family & Friends, Health, Running Tagged With:

Surgery to Prevent Cancer

July 19, 2011 By Leave a Comment

I had a laser surgery yesterday to remove the precancerous cell growth I had.  I’m very happy to be able to type this today- the surgery went great.  It was much better than I had been expecting.  The nurses, and doctors were so organized and on top of it all.  I am feeling groggy and dizzy from the anesthesia, but the pain is not nearly as bad as I had thought it might be.

The hardest moment for me was when I was in the pre-op bed, with the IV in waiting for the surgery to start. In the hospital bed like that, I felt sick.  I missed Ryan and Cole so much.  A lot of memories of surgery and cancer came back to me.  I knew this wasn’t cancer, but those “what-ifs” seem to have a way of creeping in.  I was going to be unconscious during the surgery, and that made me nervous.  I also saw my chart binder with my last name, and it reminded me of seeing that binder when I was in the hospital with my mom before she passed away.  I missed her a lot yesterday.

But my family and friends had called and texted me before the surgery, and I knew they were thinking of me.  I was able to mentally make the shift that I was not sick, this was a preventative surgery, and it would be better I was asleep during the surgery.

A day after, I hope this was the last surgery I will ever have to have.  As I wrote in my last post, I have made a few changes in my life, to work on keeping my stress down.  It takes a conscious effort, but I definitely do not want to get any more cancers, or abnormal cells that could develop into cancer.

I have received a lot of email from thyroid cancer patients and survivors.  It seems like we all have our struggles.  One person I know is still having dosage problems for Synthroid two years after the fact.  Another person  still doesn’t feel back to normal after two years as well, and is nervous about developing more cancers.

Yesterday all the nurses and doctors who looked at my chart told me I was a very healthy person.  I was a little surprised to hear them all say that.  When I asked them even though I had thyroid cancer, they said yes- from a medical perspective, thyroid cancer is treatable and curable, and they look at the overall health picture.

I wanted to write and share this, because it is too easy once you’ve had cancer, to stop viewing yourself as healthy. I like what the medical staff had said, it’s an overall health picture. One cancer, or two- a few surgeries, doesn’t make you an unhealthy person.  I am going to make that mind shift and keep all of it perspective.

Thank you to John, who took excellent care of me after the surgery last night,  my friends and family for your well wishes, and for checking in with me today.  I’m also very grateful to Ryan and Cole’s father’s family who are helping out with their care this week, so I can recover.

As I’ve written so many times, cancer does change you, and there are good parts to it and not so good parts to it.  But, the main thing is to keep on top of it, and trust your body.  It will be a fight for probably the rest of our lives, but as all cancer patients and survivors know- it is well worth it.

Filed Under: Cancer, Cole, Family & Friends, Health, Ryan Tagged With: , , , , ,
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