Long over due...

I honestly can't remember the last time I sat down to write something more than an email or news letter... how sad.  The last several nights I've been mentally kicking myself for letting yet another day pass without getting back on the proverbial horse, but then exhaustion takes over and within a matter of moments my alarm clock is going off and somehow all of the good-intentioned-tomorrows became a stream of oh-well-yesterdays.   While I can't anticipate this to be terribly pretty, let this blog post be the end of that and a return to what fuels me.

The last several many months have been chalked full of this, that and the other thing - some of it important and worth mention, much of it common and likely beyond my memory at this point.  Instead of focusing on what's been, however, HB suggested I simply list out what I could have written about and move on with it (with or without further details as necessary).  Makes sense and starts a clean slate, so here goes:


* My Dad had a massive heart attack two days before GW's 4th birthday in October so we cancelled his party and flew to Colorado.  Upon arriving, GW promptly came down with a passing virus and deliriously missed the whole trip while riding out the Motrin-wave.  Fortunately, while serious, the heart attack wasn't fatal and my Dad's made as solid of a recovery as one can and GW recuperated with a few weeks to thoroughly enjoy his birthday gift (the helmet) for Halloween.

* We raced in and finish the 2013 Marine Corps Marathon in 4:50:25 (goal was between 4:30 and 5:30).  Having missed the last 10 miles worth of distance training due to unhappy kids wanting no more than two hours in the stroller at a time, I hit the wall at mile 18 and limped it in the rest of the way with excruciating IT Band pain.  Thank goodness I had amazing support from HB and our awesome friend TS, I couldn't have done it without them.  THANK YOU!

* One thing I am not thrilled with from that day is my disastrous judgement with regards to my pump... I chose to keep it on me instead of leaving it in the car so as to enable me to get food at the finish line.  Unfortunately, the sweat and salt build up that happened during the course of the race broke my pump beyond repair - effectively preventing me from eating at the finish line anyway.  Thank Heaven, at least, that we have insurance that covered the cost of getting a replacement, because otherwise the cost of running 26.2 miles just became much, much, much more expensive!

* The pain I felt in Marathon wound up leading to an IT Band release surgery that took me off my feet and out of running for two months.  My doctor said that he was glad to have done it because my Band is the thickest he's seen and that it's no wonder stretching wasn't enough.  The surgery largely fixed the issue and I haven't had issues with it since starting back into running.  At some point I may need to go in to have the right knee done as well, but as of now I am a-okay!

* I gave in... I got a Continuous Glucose Monitor (CGM).  I can't remember what it was specifically that made me change my mind, but I've forfeited another portion of my abdomen to yet another diabetic device, which, surprisingly, is very handy and not nearly as obnoxious as I anticipated.  I'll definitely have to write more about my Dexcom G4 so I will make a note to save this topic for later.

* GV turned 1 year old in November and is the biggest bundle of joy you can imagine.  She's talkative, curious, friendly, incredibly smart and very engaging - particularly when she ought to be quiet at mass.  She eagerly wants to do everything GW is doing and, in spite of his initial protests and her flagrant acts of retaliation, they appear to be growing on one another with actual (there is nothing censored about these two) affection.

*  Much of the time I would have otherwise spent writing over the last year has been spent volunteering for Team Red, White & Blue. Admittedly, it does not provide me the same sense of accomplishment I get when I've written a piece I'm proud of, but there is definitely a happiness involved in creating a positive community that enables a sense of connection and belonging that didn't exist for me - and for many - before.  At just over one year into building our local Community we have roughly 300 members and I think it's about time to reclaim some of my own life and that starts here...

In the coming weeks I hope to finish some blog drafts I've had sitting around collecting dust and, with a little bit of luck, I will actually start some new ones.  I anticipate that in a similar sense to running, starting to write again may be initially painful and it may be difficult to find my stride.  However, I have faith in muscle memory and I'm sure my fingers can find their way one after the other just as one does when starting exercise again... if not, one has hope that HB is an excellent editor and all that is irrelevant to you!

Fingers crossed.

Post MCM IT Band 3 Mile Hell.

It's been nine days since HB and I finished the Marine Corp Marathon.  The tips of my toes are still numbly tingling, my knees continue to ache with every bend and my weight is still lower than it probably ought to be in spite of my excessive eating.  I feel like the world has been in slow motion ever since that mile 18 marker where each step became labored and each mile - now each day - seems longer than the last.  Obviously the change with daylight savings time can take some of the responsibility for this, but I have a hard time looking much farther than the tip of my nose for a better place to lay responsibility for my under-trained, over-stubborn pain.

I went into the Ortho yesterday - the beloved Dr. Hawken up in NOVA - and had him look at my knees.  Pleased to see I had zero swelling and to hear I've actually been stretching, he wasn't surprised to learn I finished the race or that I plan to continue my version of "short distance" running.  However, when HB outed me as having complained that my knees hurt worse during the marathon than the rest of me did giving birth to GV, Dr. Hawken narrowed his eyes and my options.  Identifying the non-aggressive approach as physical therapy and cortisone shots, he felt the boney structure of my knees once more and admitted the likelihood of continued pain following this treatment unless I were to wise up and pick a different sport.  Knowing me, as he does, he therefore recommended I skip the blood sugar chaos caused by cortisone, cut to the chase (ha) and go directly to the aggressive approach of surgery.

Explaining the details of a "release," Dr. Hawken outlined how he'd make a small incision and then punch a nickel sized hole in the IT Band to reduce friction at the knee.  Granted, surgery is surgery is surgery and shouldn't be taken lightly, but given the facts (my passion for running, the persistence of this pain and the permanence of this solution) and that he successfully fixed the carpal tunnel in both of my wrists in 2011 (not to mention HB's knee in 2012), I'm totally on board.  So sometime mid-December I'm going to have my right knee done and, once that is healed, I'm going to go back in the spring to do the left.

Course, in full knowledge of my current discomfort and what's in store for its remedy, I decided to give into my recent self-deprecating feeling of under-accomplishment (yes, post 26.2 miles I am feeling indolent) and go running with Team RWB tonight.  Having spent the past week hobbling stiffly like an injured grandma - if you can even call it that - and mentally whining my way from room to room, it shouldn't have been a surprise to me when less than ten steps into the 3 mile loop my knees went straight back to their rating of 12 on a 1-10 scale of pain... But since I didn't stop for the last 8 miles of the marathon, there was no way I was walking my head-lamp wearing self back to the car on my own to mope.

Hard not to feel motivated with these guys!! 

So, with HB's encouragement and the company of one very motivated RWB teammate, DN, I made it the full loop without stopping.  The last little bit I was able to kick up the speed a notch (logic: run faster, sit down sooner), but I know for darn sure that I am going to feel it tomorrow.   I am hoping to power through a 10k Turkey Trot and at least one more half marathon between now and the scalpel, so maybe by the will of God and perhaps a mix of my stubbornness and pain killers I'll get it done.  I'm already putting hopes of personal record (PR) times aside - which, if I am being completely honest, is very big of me.  I guess I am becoming nicer to me in my old age, go figure.

All for now.  BG is 107 and I'm going to bed.

Team RWB

Over the last handful of years I feel like my identity has morphed into something I never expected.  When I was younger, I had this black and white plan of what my life would look like along the way -- I'd achieve a certain level of education, I'd become an integral cog in one of the government's hush hush agencies, I'd quickly move up the ranks in obscure positions I'd happily leave to other's imaginations and I'd generally be seen as a successful, glamorous person -- but the unexpected began to happen and suddenly my future became what my compulsive organizational behavior had fought so long to prevent: grey.  

I don't say that in any negative sense, but rather as more of a acknowledgement of my former rigidity and as an acceptance of the control I simply do not have.  Since 2009 I've weighed my options and made assertive choices to step away from "The Plan" in an attempt to "let go and let God" do what is right for me and, more to the point, my family.  I acknowledge there is a certain degree of passivity in this lifestyle outlook, but I'm tired of trying to force the square peg (plan) through the round hole (life) when there is a more simple way...  I am not what I expected, but I am passionate about what I've become:  

I am the wife of a veteran.  I am a mother of two.  I am an endurance runner.  I am a type 1 diabetic.   

As random as this topic may seem, I bring it up because today was a big day for me where I felt like all of my "new" pieces melded together in one cohesive positive direction.  Typically my being feels ripped in twenty directions -- the mother in me needs to be cuddling or cleaning something, while the wife in me ought to be packing a lunch in the kitchen or showering more often, the runner in me should be at about mile seven already and the diabetic is reminding me that, oh yeah, you still haven't finished your coffee.  But today, today I was cohesively all of those things at the exact same time and for a bigger purpose than myself...  let the ramble about Team RWB begin. 

A few weeks back, right after the Boston Marathon bombings, HB and I were introduced to a veteran's support organization that works to build communities and combat PTSD through physical activity and positive social interactions.  Side stepping the dingy VFW bar scene, Team RWB validates the modern American veteran and their families by connecting veterans to one another, creating a common purpose and a positive post-active duty group identity.  It acknowledges the hardships OIF/OEF veterans have endured and by placing one foot after the other actively defies the social stigma that disabled vets cannot do for themselves...  Team RWB bridges the gap between all of the well intentioned civilian non-profits that act on behalf of veterans, the Department of Veteran Affairs and the veterans themselves by bringing simple person-to-person "let's go do something" humanity back.  

Given that HB and I are out running all the time anyway - we're gearing up to start our marathon training after all - it took next to no effort to get a weekly Team RWB 3 mile run set up in our area.  For the past several weeks it's just been the two of us with our incredibly patient duo in the Bob stroller, but, as I already said, today was different - someone came!

With one new member, the group is still dominated by my family, but I feel elated that it took one step in the right direction today.  I'm so hopeful that with time and persistence I'll be able to grow the local team and that one day we'll have ourselves a vibrant, constructive, healthy community for vets in the Rappahannock area...  I mean the reality is, folks, that PTSD is no joke and with 22 new vets committing suicide a day there is something that we as a country - as a community - are doing wrong.  Many of our current vets joined the military when war wasn't just a possibility, but a given and to transition back to civilian life after all they've been through is a truly daunting mission.  

Not only does Team RWB give them an off base, non-VA Clinic place to find support and camaraderie they loose when no longer "in," but it gives people like me a chance recognize what they've done and lost by doing what I'm already doing: living the life their bravery and sacrifices have enabled me to live.

So, today, I was every bit of me and then some.  I jacked my sugars up a bit, took my insulin pump off, laced up my minimalist shoes and went running with my husband and kids; and all to support our vets.  Next week I'll do the same and the week after that and the week after that too.

That's who I am.  Who are you?