Pitbull, Carly and me. Running in One Direction.

I've always been a lover of music.  I've played the piano all my life, and the clarinet in high school. Sang in Gilbert and Sullivan musicals.  There is almost always some music playing in the house somewhere.

And I can't run without my music either.  I've tried.  Every so often, I think that I'll listen to the birds chirping their early morning songs while I run.  But that doesn't get me moving up the hills like some heavy duty hip hop does.  I need my tunes.

I love a varied playlist - I'm eclectic all the way.  I'll go from Adele to ZZ Top in a heartbeat, with John Denver thrown in for some wholesomeness.  I'm hoping his easy going lyrics balance with Eminem shouting and swearing at me in the early morning.

Yes, I'm a fan.  Awesome running music.

(Speaking of Eminem - one day last year I was running at the park, listening to him curse through Till I Collapse.  I ran past a nun in her habit who was saying her rosary.  I wondered if we canceled each other out.)

Music motivates me. It makes me go faster.  It helps me up Hilda.  It entertains me.

And I sing when I run.  I play my air guitar.  I bang my air drums.  And I love it.  I'm sure people driving past me think I'm having a seizure or something.  But isn't it better to be getting some strange looks on the road than sitting at home in front of the boob tube?

This past week I've had two of my fastest runs ever.  My usual route is 4 miles and I ran it this morning in 44:15.  That's the fastest I've ever done!  And that includes 4 pretty good hills.

And I have several people to thank for that awesome time -

Pitbull, for telling me to get back in time.
Carly Rae Jepsen, for telling me that she might call me. Maybe.
One Direction, for telling me that I'm beautiful.
Florence and the Machine, for telling me my dog days are over.  That I run fast for my mother, father, children, sisters and brothers.

And most of all, Beyonce.  Did she tell you? Girls run the world.

Run Up and Down. Repeat 7 times. Then go see Hilda.

3 months post op and I am finally feeling normal again.  And that means training again!  The New York City Marathon is just 4 months away, and I'm getting my rear end in gear.

I'm back to running 4-5 days a week, and I'm also running hills again.  Hill repeats had always intimidated me.  When I read about other mother runners running them, I always thought that hills were for real runners, not me.

Well, hello, I'm a real runner! And hill repeats are now one of my favorite things.

Except for Hilda.

I have a hill route that I run - it's just up and down my rural country road.  I run three miles - three different hills.  Two hills I run twice and one I run three times.

And then there's Hilda.

There is this hill right before my driveway. For lack of imagination, I've named her Hilda.

 OK so that looks pretty pathetic.  Hilda doesn't look bad at all!  

But pictures just aren't conveying the feeling I get 

when I stand at the bottom and look up.

And then she continues around the corner, and heads upward some more.

She's not an exceptionally long hill.  Or steep hill.  But I have a fear of Hilda.

I don't know what it is.  I've avoided running up her for the last 2.5 years.  She is certainly steeper than what I normally run.  But there is no reason why I can't just crank on up the slope.

So I did just that this morning.  I said to myself - get your rear end up that hill.  Is Hilda stronger than you?  No, Ma'am, she is not.  I ran up the Queensboro Bridge in the NYC Marathon last year for crying out loud! I'm going to let a little hill defeat me?

So up I went.

I almost made it to the top without collapsing.  My Garmin beeped 3 miles (Done!) before I reached the top.  How's that for a lame excuse to quit Hilda?

But she's not going anywhere.  Hilda will still be there next week.  And the week after that.  And the marathon after that.  I'll be racing up Hilda before I know it.

And the good thing is that my driveway is right at the top of Hilda.  So I can just collapse on my own turf when I'm done with her.

Happy National Running Day! Now go for a walk.

I just got back from a glorious 4 mile run in the beautiful sunshine of New Jersey, in celebration of National Running Day.   It feels so good to be on the road again!  I'm up to about 18-20 miles a week - a combination of walking and mostly running.  I'm also walking the dog for 2-3 miles a day as well, in addition to running. So these legs are making up for 2 months of surgery induced rest.

And the movement feels wonderful.  My heart is pumping, my muscles are working, my lungs are feeling full of healthy air.  Exercise does so much for the body - and the soul.

Has anyone seen the HBO documentary "Weight of the Nation"?  http://theweightofthenation.hbo.com/  I really want to see it.  But you don't have to watch it to know that we are facing a crisis of obesity in this country.  I don't have to share the stats - we've all heard them.  We just have to look around and we can see the impact of an overfed and under-active society.

On the last few mornings of my walks/runs, a thought keeps popping into my head.  What if every person in this country went for a 15 minute walk every day.  Just 15 minutes?  No matter how busy we are, there are 15 minutes to spare.  No excuses.  Just get off your rear end and go for a walk.

Just think what it could do for us as a nation.

People say they are too unfit to walk for 15 minutes. Well, start somewhere.  You just have to start.  Getting fit reduces your risk for heart attacks, strokes, cancer, etc etc etc.  What's the downside of a walk?

People say there is nowhere to walk.  Well, if everyone got out and walked, perhaps demand for sidewalks could spur on construction projects, help the economy.  We are such a car oriented country.  A walk a day could change that.  I know that is simplistic, but why couldn't it help?

People say their neighborhood is too dangerous.  Well, if everyone went for a walk, couldn't the neighborhood be reclaimed in the name of safety?  You know the saying, safety in numbers.

What do I do with my kids?  Well, bring them along!  Kids love and need movement!

I don't have the right shoes.  Well, walk in what ever you've got.  Just walk.

I don't have the right clothes...

It's raining...

I'm tired.  I don't want to get up early...

Blah blah blah.

There are all sorts of excuses.  For everything and anything there is an excuse.

But imagine is everyone walked.  We'd say hi to our neighbors.  We'd stop being afraid of other people.  We'd get to know them instead.  We'd stop being addicted to our TVs, ipads, computers, phones.  So much good could happen.

So on this National Running Day, perhaps we should talk about having a National Walking Quarter of an Hour - every day.  A walk can accomplish a lot.

If only everyone would try it.

Starting to Feel Human Again

4 weeks post op and I'm starting to feel a little more human again. 

 

picture from http://runningtshirtsonline.spreadshirt.com/evolution-of-woman-women-s-running-t-shirt-A6417496

Thank goodness. 

I was starting to have some trouble with my pathetic self.

My recovery from this horrible but necessary surgery has been problematic, to say the least.  I had to have another urgent trip to the doctor on Monday as my bladder hasn't been working quite right.  The doctor thinks that it is having some trouble getting accustomed to it's new internal pressure.  It's going to take some time to get used to its new and improved function.  So in the meantime, I'm on another medication and have to go back for some tests in a week and a half.  Hopefully everything will be normal.  And the medication is starting to work, relieving the pain and spasms I was having.  Again, thank goodness. 

It's been difficult not getting depressed. I'm usually so active and always training for something.  Always having a goal or a project to work on.  I set myself some goals to work on during my recovery - mostly writing related - but in all honesty I've been in such a fog the last four weeks that I haven't been able to think straight. 

And not being able to really exercise has been very hard.  Running would always clear my head.  I'd start off grumpy, angry, whatever, and come home 4 or 5 miles later refreshed and renewed.  I'm up to walking two miles a day now which is certainly helping.  But it's nothing like pounding the pavement.

But then yesterday I got some news that has put a real spring in my step!

I'm in for 2012!  As in the New York City Marathon...again!  I got in the lottery last year, and thought I'd enter again this year. 

I figured that my chances were slim to zero for this year.

But somehow, I made it in again!  I am beyond excited!  November 4th is 199 days away, but now I feel like I have a goal again.  If my first few weeks of training are just walking, well so be it, but I'm still training.

The New York City Marathon is such an incredible experience.  Running those streets last year was a day unlike any other. 

And this year, it's going to be even better.  I can feel it. 

I'm getting my body healthier. 
All my bits and pieces have been put back where they belong. 
I'm losing weight. 
I'm eating a lot more spinach.

And at last my mind and body are starting to resurface from the last four weeks of drug induced lethargy and self induced pathetic-ness.

4 more weeks of recovery restrictions and then...

Look out New York, here I come!  Again!

One step at a time. One pink mile at a time.

Today I walked 3/4 of a mile.  A whole 3/4 of a mile!

I took my BFF (Best Furry Friend) Fendi for a walk this morning and enjoyed the fresh air.  It was cool and fresh and oh so beautiful!  It feels great to stretch my legs again and start moving around.

It's hard to believe that exactly a month ago, I ran the NYC Half Marathon. 13.1 miles through Central Park and Times Square, along the West Side Highway to downtown, past the World Trade Center site, ending at the South Street Sea Port.  It was an incredible route and the weather conditions couldn't have been better.  It was a true joy to run that day!  My legs felt powerful and my heart was full of spirit.  I was so proud to be a runner that day participating in a great race.

Racing to the finish line.  I actually had a great sprint at the end - first time I've ever done that!

Post race at South Street Sea Port.

And now, 30 days later, I am proud to walk three quarters of a mile!  My body has been through a lot in the last 3 weeks following my surgery, and I know it will take me a while to get back to where I was in terms of strength and fitness.  But I will get there, and I will be strong.

It really is all about taking the first step.  Two and a half years ago, I couldn't run even a half or a quarter mile.  Now I've got 2 full marathons and 4 half marathons under my feet.  It's all about putting one foot in front of the other.  You start with baby steps, and then you grow.  Gradually you run farther.  And longer.  And stronger.

I could sit here and feel sorry for myself - and at times I have been doing just that - or I could say this is a time to start again, grow strong again, and run far again.

And that's just what I'm going to do.

One pink mile at a time.

I don't need to "grow a pair"

A little over two weeks ago I had a date with my surgeon in the operating room.  As I lay on the table, waiting for the drugs to kick in, staring at the instruments that would soon be invading my body, I thought of Betty White.

I had originally thought that I would not share all the details of what I’ve been through, you know, the whole TMI thing.  But then as I talked to some of my close friends, I started to realize that there may be some women who could really benefit from hearing about what was involved.  And, truth be told, I think there are some men out there too who should listen.  Women’s bodies are strong – stronger than we realize – but sometimes we have to put up with a lot. A hell of a lot.

Childbirth can do a number on our bodies, to which I can certainly attest.  After three big baby boys, ranging from 8lb 6oz to a whopping 10lbs, all delivered completely naturally at home, my insides weren’t quite in the shape – or in the place - they used to be.  They were dragging, literally.

I’ve been dealing with pelvic prolapse, which is something that many women encounter, post childbirth.  Not everyone needs surgery to correct it, but if I’m going to do something, then I want to go all the way. 

Darn perfectionism.

My surgery corrected 2 problems – a cystocele (a prolapsed bladder, which falls into the vagina) and a rectocele (a prolapsed rectum, which also falls into the vagina).  The cystocele was more of a nuisance than anything.  Stress incontinence.  Sneezing, coughing, laughing and sometimes running would typically result in an, um, accident. Ugh.

My doctor used a bladder sling to fix that prolapse.  He cut open the front of my vagina and inserted a mesh tape around my urethra to put it back where it belonged, then stitched me up.  Over time, my own tissue will grow over the mesh to keep it in place and prevent the stress incontinence.  Whoo hoo!

The rectocele was much more of a problem for me.  I had no idea that the rectum could even prolapse!  Sounds gross I know, and believe me, it is.  And a pain in the ass.  Absolutely.  My rectum had prolapsed so badly that it actually came out of my body. 

Hello world!  

From a piece of my anatomy that should never, ever, ever see the light of day.  And that became very problematic.

To fix my rectocele, my surgeon cut open the back of my vagina, pushed my rectum back into place, cut out some tissue and then stitched me back up.

The whole procedure took about an hour. 

I had a wonderful sleep under anesthesia, but boy recovery was rough.  Talk about pain and swelling. 

But I had some wonderful drugs.  Oxycontin.  The first couple of days were a bit of a blur.  But then my body started to react to the anesthesia and the oxycontin.  Essentially, my intestines stopped working.  They stopped moving things along for 5 days. 

5 long, painful, days.  Let me tell you, when that part of your body is full of stitches, constipation is the last thing you want to deal with.  The VERY last thing you want to deal with. Ever.

My doctor put me on all liquid diet and a variety of medications to get things moving.  Thankfully on day 6, things started working again.  Painfully so.  No more oxycontin though. Sigh.

It’s now been two weeks since my surgery.  I’m on a lot of restrictions.  No lifting anything more than a gallon of milk for 2 months.  No strenuous exercise.  No carrying a laundry basket.  No carrying groceries.  No pushing a shopping cart.

I still feel foggy.  And I feel it if I’ve been up and around for too long.  I’m still taking a couple of naps every day.  And sleeping for a long time every night.

Oh, and now I have a bladder infection.  Great.  More pain and medication.

Thank goodness my dad flew 3000 miles to help out.  He’s been doing the laundry, shuttling the kids around to whatever practices and clubs are going on, plus odd jobs around the house.  My friends have been bringing us meals.  My BFF Beth, a nurse, has been expertly looking after me. My husband has been coming home a little earlier to help out and took a few days off right after my surgery.  My dad is leaving on Saturday, so I’ll be on my own next week and back to shuttling the kids around.  We are going to just muddle through.  If the kids have dirty clothes for a few days, well, so be it.  We’ll survive.

I just have to remember to not lift anything, and take it easy.  As a typically busy marathon-running mom of 3 boys, it’s hard to slow down.  But I have to.  If I don’t, I will undo everything the doctor did, and believe me, I don’t want to go through this again.  Ever.

If there is one thing I believe in, it’s a sense of humor.  To go through this, and the testing that I had to have before the surgery, and emerge emotionally sound, I’ve had to call on my sense of humor numerous times. 

I’m going to write about that.

And as a political news junkie, I’ve also had a lot of time to think while laying in bed.  With all the discussion lately in the media about birth control and womens’ rights, you better believe I’ve got some very strong opinions about the rights I have over my body. 

MY body. And I feel I have to write about that, too. 

After all, this is my journey. With my body. 

My pink miles.

And I will never need to grow a pair, because I'm a woman and my bits are strong. 

Crossing a different kind of finish line

I set myself some pretty tough goals at the beginning of the year.  My 30-30-30 plan. 

30 minutes of exercise every day.
30 minutes off my marathon time.
Lose 30 pounds.

It's the beginning of March, and I've made some headway. 
I've lost 6 pounds. I'm faster and stronger. I've exercised 30 minutes almost every day.

But now, I have to reevaluate, or perhaps I should say redefine, my goals.

Turns out I'm going to be having surgery on March 27th.  Yep, I'm going under the knife.  Something I wasn't expecting back in January.

It's not serious.  It's routine - but most unpleasant.  I've been suffering from multiple pelvic organ prolapse for some time, but it's been getting steadily worse over the last few months.  I think my stubborn cough has had a lot to do with it, plus I had very large babies (thanks, 10 pound Collin!), which started the whole downward progression.  Pun intended.

Anyway, the doctor will have his way with me on March 27, a short 3 weeks away.  I hear the first week of recovery can be pretty rough. 

And then I have 2 months of very restricted activity.
No lifting anything for 2 months.  Not even a gallon of milk.
No carrying a laundry basket.  That will be fun with three boys in the house and endless piles of laundry.
No vacuuming.
No carrying groceries.
And most definitely, no running. 
So needless to say, my 30 minutes of exercise won't be happening for a while.  Which means weight loss will be even harder.  And I can pretty much say goodbye to a marathon in the fall. 

I'm still running the NYC Half on March 18th, but I've had to cancel the More Magazine Half in April and the Superhero Half in May.  I was hoping to run the Wineglass Marathon in September, but that won't happen.

I'm of course disappointed that I have to let go of these races.  But I think the reason is definitely worth it!  My quality of life is going to dramatically improve. 

Running has helped me through this. 

Physically, I really believe that it has strengthened my muscles.  I'm sure my condition would be a lot worse if I didn't have the abdominal muscles that I do from running.  (The muscles are in there, I know it, but you just can't see them.  My six pack is just hiding out.) 

Mentally, running has given me strength too.  I've realized that I have incredible stores of strength.  Running up miles of hills, having a kick at the end of a 9 mile run, plus completing 2 full marathons, shows just as much emotional strength as physical strength.  I won't ever quit.  Ever.

So I'm going to look at this forced rest as a fresh start.  A fresh start with a stronger body that's had all it's bits put back into place.  I'll get through the pain of recovery.  I'll get through the frustration of not being able to do a single thing for the next 2 months.

It's like I'll be crossing a different kind of finish line. 
And then I'll head to the next race.