One More Cancer Comrade

I've been meaning to write about this for some time. Just after I got back from the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure, I learned about one more person I know who just found out that she has cancer. In this case, it is breast cancer. Amy is a TNT alumni, a mentor, a runner and triathlete. In fact, she just completed her first Ironman in August. Then, a month later, she learns that she has breast cancer. She is perhaps late 40's - I hate guessing people's ages, especially those of women. Her prognosis is very good. The cancer is in one breast, and the tumor was surgically removed in a lumpectomy. But even so, it makes me sick to know that one more person has to go through this crap.

I woke up early this morning - too early - and I am not sure why. But as I lay in bed, trying in vain to fall asleep again, I started thinking about Amy. And while she was on my mind, I decided to write a little about her. Maybe someone reading this will give Amy a little prayer or some good vibrations, or a positive thought. I think she is going to be fine. She told me she was determined to survive, something I remember from myself nine years ago. But even so, a kind thought about her or a prayer for her can't hurt.

So here I sit, early morning, writing my blog. I have a mug of Earl Gray with honey. I have Beethoven on my CD player - Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, the piece of music that was so important to me nine years ago as I battled lymphoma. One of my cats is keeping me company. Still, I feel tired and I am thinking of my TNT buddy Amy, hoping she is doing well, saying a little prayer for her. One more good person with cancer. One more name to go on my next race shirt. The list never gets smaller.

Good Thing I Wasn't in That Field!

For the first time in six years, I was in the area for the Richmond Marathon, a race that I have never done. If I didn't have the lingering heel pain, I think I might have signed up for the half marathon and done a run / walk combination, starting after the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure ended in late September. But looking at the results, I am glad I didn't! I think I would have been humiliated! It was a really fast field.

Let's look at the marathon first. My best time in a marathon was 5:57, walking most of it. That is a great walking pace, but would be far behind any runner. So that we are comparing apples with apples, let's assume that if I trained for and ran a marathon, I could at least do it at double my best half-marathon time of about 2:28 as I recall. Let's add 13 minutes for a half minute per mile slower pace, a bathroom break, and so on. That would give me hypothetical time of about 5:09. Where would that have put me in the Richmond Marathon?

Well, in my age group of 60-64, I would have finished 45th out of 66 people - not so good. If I lied about my age and went up to the 65-69 age cohort, I would have finished in the middle - 13th out of 26. By the way, my neighbor John is in that age cohort, and finished in 3:45:29 - and he was undergoing horrific treatment for prostate cancer less than a year ago! And he would have finished in the top third of men 20 years younger!

What if I lied about my gender? Well, in my age group, I would have beaten 9 women and finished behind 10. Keep in mind, I have never run a marathon in anywhere near that time, so it is hypothetical.

What if I had indeed run the half marathon? Well, it would have been worse. Not only would my best half marathon time - I've only run two - have put me dead last in my age group, I would have finished over 30 minutes behind the guy who actually did finish last among 60-64 year olds. The last guy to finish ahead of me would have gotten his medal, had a snack, stretched out, and probably read a book by the time I came dottering in! And I would have finished dead last in the 65-69 age group as well, 15 minutes behind the last place man. Holy crap! I would have finished in the bottom half of 70-74 year old men. I would have beaten all five of the 75 and older men, though. Small consolation!

I feel I will eventually get over my heel injury and want to run again. In fact, I want to run a marathon next year, my ten year anniversary of surviving cancer. But clearly I am going to have to step up my game if I don't wish to see my name in last place among like-aged men.

But on the other hand, as Teddy Roosevelt once said: "Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failures, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy or suffer much because they live in the grey twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat." So the true last place is the guy or gal who doesn't have the guts to lace up those running shoes and cross the starting line.

Why Can't My Bank Account Behave Like Beer Does?

I went to my favorite microbrewery the other night, Legend Brewing Company, to quaff a brown ale and catch up with my friend, Ed. He has been having an incredibly rough time the last two years battling melanoma. At age 42, this is the fourth time he has had cancer, and this go around has been really rough. He somehow keeps smiling. I could write a couple of dozen post just about what he has experienced over the past couple of years.

Since I was driving afterwards, I limited myself to one brown ale of about 18 ounces. Really! After drinking it, I had to visit the mens' room, and made a quick trip. Ed and I talked for another hour after I finished my beer, and during that time, I had to make two more trips. Ed laughed pretty hard at the third one. "Wait till you get to me my age," I said. "The old prostate!" I stopped at the grocery store on the drive home, and had to pee a fourth time! From one beer! Seems like had to have peed a quart at least! Now, that is a lot of output from one 18 oz. beer!

It got me thinking - why can't my bank account behave like a beer does? Put in $100 and a couple of hours later, I get to take out $150 - $200? That would be pretty sweet, eh? If you find a (legal) bank like that, let me know.

Michigan Zombies

A week ago today, I was in Traverse City, Michigan to run / walk the Zombie 5K with my granddaughter and daughter-in-law. Over 1,000 people participated. It was my second timed 5K ever, but I did it for fun, not for timing. I ran the first 3/4 of a mile, then waited for my two family members to show up. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, there they were, in last place, walking on the sidewalk. I think my nearly five-year-old granddaughter had had enough of racing. So since I was waiting near her house, we grabbed a stroller and pushed her for most of the rest of the 5K. By that time, we were dead last! We caught some of the folks, then stopped for a potty break, and were dead last again! I was determined not to be last, so we ran and walked until we passed at least a hundred or so people. My granddaughter did get out of the stroller and and walk a little of it. My final time was something like 59 minutes! But at least I didn't finish last. Ironically, because they started several minutes after me but we finished at the same time, my granddaughter actually had a faster time than I did! Here are some photos.

My zombie granddaughter and I before walking up to the starting point.
My daughter-in-law is very talented, and did her zombie makeup for the race, along with that of her daughter. No, she is not a giant - I am scooched down a bit.
My daughter-in-law and granddaughter a few minutes before the start.
Zombies prior to the start of the race.
Straggler zombies on 10th Street, nearly last but still several minutes ahead of my grandaughter.

"Slow Heeling"

Folks have told me for some time how painful and slow to heal plantar fasciitis is. Like anything else in life, until you experience it yourself, you don't really know for sure. Now I know. After just over six months, I continue to have significant heel pain. I have a slow healing heel, or "slow heeling," I guess. Combined with my foot surgery in late January, most of 2011 has involved a pretty sore foot. No real complaints, because at least I was able to get past it enough to walk the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. I can't imagine not being able to walk that.

I am not sure how to totally heal my foot at this point. I want to do some long distant events in 2012 for sure, and need to get past this in order to do that. I need to get back to more consistency with my exercises and stretches. The plantar fascia itself is so much more flexible than it was six months ago. But I still have this painful area on the inside left heel. When I roll my foot on a frozen bottle or foot log, I can feel this little "popping" feeling as I roll over one part of it. So there is still damage in there to heal. For now, I guess I will walk some, hike some, avoid running and extreme long distances, and stretch as much as I can. It is so much better than it was, just not good enough yet.

You're Only as Old as You Feel

You're only as old as you feel, they say (whoever "they" are). That is probably true to some extent. For me, that is usually about 40 or maybe 45, despite my chronological age of 60. But recently, I've had some back pain on my left lower back. Usually, it is not so bad, but a few times it has litterally almost driven me to my knees! During those times, I can barely walk for a short time, and I feel like I am about 90, not 40 or 60.

I am not sure what caused it. My wife says it must have been the Komen 3-Day. I guess that is possible, because I can't remember when it started. I just remember it was mild at first, and that the first really bad day of it was Monday, October 10. It has come and gone since then. I've applied ice and had a few chiropractic adjustments, and sometimes done some stretching. A few times, my stretches - especially side planks - has made it a lot worse.

I ran and walked a 5K the other day - more about that when I can get some photos downloaded - and my back wasn't too bad. Maybe I felt around 50 or 55. So like everything else, I will take it a day at a time and see what develops with it. For now, I'll just hope that how I feel is no older than 60 most of the time.

Now What?

Every time I complete an event, especially since I started blogging about it three years ago, I come to this same question: now what? There is always a little feeling of downer, not exactly a depression, as those are apparently pretty all consuming from what I understand of depressions. More of a "I've worked my ass off for five months and accomplished what I said I would do and there is a little hole in my life now that the event is over" kind of a feeling.

So what should I do now? Should I take next year off? 2012 is the 10 year anniversary for me of surviving Hodgkin's lymphoma, so I feel like I should be preparing for something. Should I start thinking seriously about (and saving my dollars seriously for) the Honolulu Marathon on December 9, 2012 - my exact 10 year remission date? Should I fundraise for another Team in Training event, or help in some other capacity - like maybe as a coach's assistant? And until any of that happens, what, if anything should I write about in this blog? I don't have a ton of readership from what I can tell. If I stopped blogging for a while, would anyone but me notice?

My plantar fasciitis still continues. It is a fraction of where it was even two or three months ago, but I still have pain in that left heel, especially if I start walking. I have to somehow get that completely over with, but I don't want to be a lazy couch potato - that is not me, and it would drive me crazy. I know that I want to do a lot more hiking between now and the spring. There is a lot to think about right now, as I mull things over. Any thoughts?

Oh - I am in a 5K Zombie run next Saturday - just for fun. More about that later!

More Photos for the Livestrong 10K

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote how I walked and ran the Livestrong Dolphin Challenge 10K at Sandbridge in Virginia Beach. It was a lot of fun, and my first time in running in five months, both because of the plantar fasciitis and because I had been training for the long Susan G. Komen walk.

They had a professional photographer there, and I found these two photos of me on the internet. The first one is a few meters from the finish of the 10K, and I look like I am enjoying myself - which I was. The second one was me being presented my dolphin trophy for finishing second place in my age cohort by the Livestrong representative. Never mind that there were not very many people in my age group. If some other old geezer had wanted my little dolphin, he should have been out there running instead of sitting on the couch watching TV and stuffing his face, or sleeping in on a beautiful October day. Don't you agree? Now, the only way he is getting that dolphin is to pry it out of my cold, stiff, dead fingers!

By the way, I had gone for a workout with a friend last night after work, and I was still wearing my Livestrong shirt when I hit the super market on the way home. On the back of the shirt, it asks "We Fight Cancer. What do You do?" A man in line asked me what it meant, and I explained. He said "My wife and I just came from the MCV Oncology Center. She has two months to live." It turns out that she has liver cancer that has metastasized all over. It is so sad. What can you even say to something like that that doesn't sound trite?

My Komen 3-Day Walk Report

Walking in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure was an amazing experience, and also a big experience. It has taken me three weeks to post the pictures and write the accounts. And now, you can access all of them easier from this single blog post!

How did I get interested in walking the 3-Day in the first place? Well, my walk this September was the culmination of several years of wanting to do this event. The terminal breast cancer of my sister made it imperative to do it this year.

Poised to race for a cure again, I display photos of my special honoree race shirt.

What should I do the day before walking for three days? Well, near Washington DC, I took a hike on Theodore Roosevelt Island, a bit of wilderness in the big city.

Like numbers? My account of my 3-Day walk by the numbers will scratch that itch!

Everyone deserves a lifetime! For some, it is too late, but the fact that it is not too late for so many others kept our feet moving for three days. Inspired by the grit of the walkers and the courage, hope, and strength of the survivors as they marched by the end, I just had to create a short verse to commemorate the 3-Day walk experience.

In pre-dawn darkness at Nationals Stadium, we gathered together to walk for three days for this cause.

The Opening Ceremony of the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure was a moving start to our walk.

Do you enjoy listening to the sound of rain? Well, you would have loved the first long day of our walk!

To camp out in a pink tent as a manly-man is a challenge, but what about in a whole sea of pink tents?

There was lots of joy in Mudville as we camped out together without complaining about it. And while wet and muddy, it was nowhere as bad as my imagination had been about it!

A freak injury in camp to my previously undamaged foot was going to make the second day of the walk a challenge.

Walking along that second day through Maryland carrying a little bag of dripping ice, I am sure that I presented a sight!

Visiting the Remembrance Tent in camp and reflecting on my sister's recent death was an emotional experience.

Time to break camp, but I lucked out when young women from a local college field hockey team offered to strike my tent for me.

On the third and final day of the walk, I got a lot of inspiration from talking to survivors along the way.

When I crossed the finish line at the National Mall, I fulfilled the promise that I had made my sister in April - that I would walk this walk in her honor.

A special sign for me was somewhere at the finish, but I didn't see it. Even so, I deeply appreciate the gesture.

The last walker arriving each day was a very big deal, and at no time bigger than on the third day of the walk.

Did you ever tell someone that they fight like a girl? Well, in my mind, I think you paid them a complement without meaning to.

Our incredibly hard-working Three Day Crew was not important, unless you like safety, great meals, a well run camp, and good first aid care. Then, they become vital.

The Closing Ceremony was about as inspirational as you can get, seeing all of the breast cancer survivors marching along together at the end, decked out in pink!

60 Miles, Three Days, One Goal - to cure breast cancer! That pretty much sums up the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure in a few words.

Everyone Deserves a Lifetime!

One of the slogans you see a lot in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure is "Everyone Deserves a Lifetime!" You see it on tee-shirts, buttons, and signs, and I really liked it. It very succinctly sums up this cause: to cure cancers so that people can live their full lifetime and full potential. To have more birthdays, more of life's celebrations and great moments. To tell your grandchild your life story some day instead of having them read a letter you left them about your life and death. I am all for it.

So I dedicate this humble offering to all breast cancer survivors and victims, especially those whose names were on my shirt and those who walked along with me for nearly 60 miles on September 23-25. The inspiration that I received from them during the three days and at the closing ceremony was immense.

"Everyone Deserves a Lifetime"

Together we walked across our Capital City
Through aches, pains, and blisters, and a cool driving rain
We kept our feet moving, determined and gritty;
"We walk for a cure!" was our proud refrain.

About Maryland we tromped, past parks and through towns
People decked out in pink as we strode down the street
We were focused and upbeat; you never saw frowns
We'll stamp out breast cancer with thousands of feet!

For three days we walked, as sisters and brothers
Among footsore ranks, cheer and broad smiles were rife
We walked united to support many others
In their fight with breast cancer: a fight for their life

We walked for your sister, your mother, your friend,
Your daughter, granddaughter, your cousin, your wife,
Your grandma - and you, because in the end,
Each one deserves more good times in their life

And on that third day, quite worn out and tired
We watched fellow walkers - survivors in pink -
Take their victory lap, and I felt so inspired
When I reflected how close they had been to the brink

They had faced radiation with all that it gives,
And chemo, and cuts from the surgical knife;
But deep in their heart, their survival will lives:
The desire to have more time in their life

Cancer has certain limits to what it can do
Though with these survivors, it gave its best try.
"Take one of my breasts, or even take two,
But you can't crush my spirit!" was their battle cry.

I gazed at their faces, so strong and so proud,
Engendering feelings intense and sublime
"We will find a cure!" I silently vowed,
"Because everyone deserves a lifetime!"

Art Ritter
October 16, 2011