Life and Love
17 May 2012 6 Comments
Since I’ve been back I’ve done a bit of running. From a ‘racer’s’ point of view it’s been complete shite running.
I’ve run barefoot on the beach at least 3 times. I ran a speedy 3 miles twice and blew up. So, I took my shoes off and ran my 1.5 miles back on the beach through the Ocean. As I stopped I had a brief moment of ‘should I go down the steps or should I complete the run up the hill next to the cars’. I checked myself. When you are around Death I guess you re-evaluate. I asked myself, what would matter more to me, to if I was on my death bed. That I finished my run at a good clip up the hill or if I ran along the beach, barefoot, feeling the cold Ocean a la Chariots of Fire, (yes, Briz, like them in slow motion). I chose the latter. I am glad I chose the latter.
That’s kind of where I am right now. I enjoy what I am running. I am running too fast to run a full 6 miles without stopping. I’m blowing up, but before I’m blowing up, it feels good. I like the pace, the quick turnover the wind, the Ocean breeze. And you know what? I don’t care. That’s what I want to do right now. It’s rather liberating, running just for fun. I mean, I may as well take off the Garmin. I know?! I know.
I don’t know if it will last, but this is what is right for me right now. Rekindling the joy of running. Enjoying the ‘play’ of it at Sheehan would say. Enjoying…and for that I am grateful to enjoy these beautiful days in paradise.
On that note, enjoy this video:
Awake
03 May 2012 10 Comments
‘Shake dreams from your hair
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.’
Of course there are things that she will never see and that she wasnt able to do. Visit New York, the Maldives, live abroad again. But there are some things even us number counting running, control freaks don’t have power over. Father Time.
I am grateful for the time I have with her. I am grateful for the time I have had with her.
But this one you can’t escape. There will be no running away from it. No matter what your pace, none of us can out run this one. It will happen to us all. Perhaps one is meant to deal with our parents’ mortality so you can prepare for your own.
So, another day I am grateful for. I may not have fitness now, but I have my health. I probably need to value that a little more. Our priveledge and ability to run especially in Nature. So, I am indeed ‘Awake’
My pretty child, my sweet one.
Choose the day and choose the sign of your day
The day’s divinity
First thing you see.’
Measuring my Mojo
26 Apr 2012 7 Comments
My mood has been funny of late. I couldn’t wait to get back to running when I got back from SA, and so I did. But perhaps I jumped backwards too fast? Before I knew it, I was running here and there, signing up for the Doggie Dash ready to try and win some dog food.
Two years ago, Shaka and I did. We ran a 3.40 for 1K. This week after not really training, but actually doing some work, I did a time trial. On a slightly assisted 1K, sans dog I hit 4.02. I was not happy. Yesterday, I did it again. I was feeling a little rough, but I measured myself and my dog again. 4.15. Not happy.
As it so happens, my slow ass will not be running the Doggie Dash, so I will leave it to those, who are consistent and fit to scoop up the dog kibble. We will be heading to pick up a new member of the family, Christian’s new GT3, which in itself is a whole other story. Of course, the new mistress is younger, as Elizabeth said, they always are.
So today, I have no miles to meet or no race to prep for, so after my usual phone call to South Africa to find out how my mom is doing in the am, a pang of guilt sat on my shoulder and hips (that are nice and puffy) and I thought, ‘I should do at least 4 miles’ today. But, I didn’t feel like it. So I leashed the dog and went for walk on the beach instead. As I watched the birds fly over the glassy Ocean, I knew the birds were not measuring themselves. Of course, I am not a bird brain either, but there was a sense of relief and envy that they probably didn’t worry about mileage, or who knows maybe they do. As I walked I realized that we moved to Santa Barbara to get out of the London and NYC rat race…. yet I wondered if I hadn’t found my own wheel to spin on in a different form.
I saw some beautiful shells, and Shaka chased dogs and I admired her speed. Had I run my four miles I would’ve been looking at my Garmin, dragging the dog up Shoreline drive. I would not have seen some shells, thought about this post or admired the beautiful place we live.
In the same breath, yesterday I planned races for the next 6 months starting in July. Some 5Ks, some miles, a 4miler to really push the boat out. My frustration with my lack of fitness my 4.15 1K, made me feel shit. Crappy. I am not naive enough to believe that I will let the numbers go just like Elizabeth recently posted. If you race, you like to measure. Truth be told the world we live in, is a measuring world, a comparing world. No matter how far you stick your head in the ground (or up your own ass) you get assessed. At school, in the work place, on the scale at the doctor’s office, at the bank as you apply for a mortgage… So, it’s part of life.
Of course, there may be some Yogis out there that say, ‘Oh we don’t do that’, like us rats on the road. But they do. Look how far they can put their legs behind their ears etc. Look how doggie like my downward dog is. So it’s bullshit if they say they don’t. They just buy more Prana and less Under Armour. But every now and then you will see or find people who really don’t measure. Somehow they have shaken it off. The model married to the nice ugly guy. The handsome man with his ‘chunky’ wife. People who run 5 hour marathons, after 5 hour marathon, loving every minute of it. So it IS there, just not often. I’m not saying one is better than the other, I’m just observing.
And then of course, why do I measure, measure, measure running, more than anything else? How do I measure if I’m a good mom? Running is ‘easy’ in that it gives you a clear and simple number to see if you’ve improved. It’s black or white. Yes or No. More complicated however are my other relationships. Have I been a better mom? How do I measure this? Am I improving? Have I been a better wife? friend? daughter? am I improving in that too? Because, one of the ways we like to justify running and numbers is that you ‘live’ by pushing yourself. You feel alive by improving, by working hard and reaping the benefit. Why then do I not push that hard in other fields? Or do I? but it is too difficult to assess? Or am I too tired after a 30 mile week?
What I can measure is that I am privileged enough for this to be what’s on my mind. We can sulk about 4.15 1K’s. But I don’t have to sulk like the kids at the traffic light in South Africa cos they don’t get food. We are LUCKY. The first world has a very warm blanket the covers us. So in the scheme of things I know I need to shut the fuck up and gain perspective. But I’ll be getting my dose when I head to 5 hours a day in the Oncology ward as I leave Sunday.
So many questions…My head is in so many places. But maybe it’s easier for me to think of this too than other stuff?
Maybe all I need is new pair of shoes, a big hug from my kid, a piece of cake, or a PR?? (see Coach’s blog)
But who knows which one is what is measurably better for me right now?? Who knows. I’ll shut the fuck up now.
Cleaning Up
21 Apr 2012 5 Comments
For the last week or two I’ve been cleaning the DVR. I’ve caught up with House, Mad Men and The Killing. Only to leave in about 8 days to accumulate the same shows, again. However during this cleaning process, I’ve managed to stumble on a few jewels. I watch Oprah’s Masterclass. I had no idea who Grant Hill was. I wanted to share this video, as it really resonated with me. Though these last few weeks have been tough, I have definitely learnt to look at things a little differently. This cancer will win. Of that I am certain, but I have to manage how I feel about it. I don’t know if all these feeling will stick or stay. But I like how Grant Hill talks about Life and Sport and it’s lessons. (Apologies for any bs advertising at the beginning of the video. Blame Oprah, not me!)
In the Shadow of Death
05 Apr 2012 5 Comments
My journey to South Africa was terrible. A total of 60 hours, 4 continents, a lot of airline fuck ups, a lot of tears, exhaustion and anxiety induced nausea. I did not know if I would make it in time.Thankfully, I did. My mother was in the ICU, or death ward, as I like to call it. In the time I was there, there was more death than I have ever had to experience. Of course, I would turn my back on the depressing visuals of the man being kept alive by machines or the young 20 ish boy whose mother and sisters could only sit outside the glassroom and cry, but either later that day or the next day when the bed was empty, you knew the worst had happened.
I don’t know how doctors or nurses do it.
Luckily, we are out of the ICU. It was close. My brother had a night or two, where he said her face resembled our late grandfather. But,things have improved. Thankfully. I had a few nights here where I had to deal with the reality, that this was it. She was gone. One cannot cry while you are with her, as she needs your strength, but guaranteed between emails to friends, melatonin not working, I would shed more than my fair share of tears.
But, she is back in the oncology ward now. You know things are bad when you are glad to back in oncology Christian said. But, the chemo is working. She is still weak and is now sporting a Sinead o’Connor haircut, but she is better than she was. She does not seem to be heading to that dark shadow. Of course, it will come at some stage, as it does for us all, but I guess at least I have been able to be here.
‘Spend some time with her. Enjoy her. Do what you used to. Say good bye, without saying good bye’, my brother said. So here I am. Happy to be in oncology. But, personally I cannot wait to get home.
Johannesburg is like the wild west. The African road etiquette is something to behold. Traffic lights don’t work, road signs are a guideline as are traffic lights when they do work. Ambulances cannot make it to accidents in times of emergency. Alarms surround houses and cars. Some houses look like bunkers from the outside. Policemen walk through malls with AK’s. I have not run here. I am too afraid. Luckily my anxious nausea stops me from eating too much. I could not live here.
I miss my safe first world coastal bubble of Santa Barbara. I miss my friends. I miss my son. I miss my husband. I miss running. I miss wifi.
Of course, Africa has certain aspects that we don’t have. People have servants. Servants that chop your beans and butternut for you into symmetrical cubes. I was at my aunt’s house for a night. I took a shower and when I returned to my room,my bed had been made in hotel fashion by the maid. So life, can be easy, in certain ways. Appropriately, I am reading Gone with the Wind, (Elizabeth’s recommendation), so from what I can read the southerners understand.
I have had time to think of the cycle of life , the various stages. I have had time to visualize a funeral. I have had time to think of mortality and the after life. What happens. I have thought of ‘The Tree of Life’ often. I have seen how my friends have rallied and shown me they care and love me. So, in this shadow I have seen a lot of light. I have seen care from my brother.
Death is tough. But as Drea said, Life is beautiful (as long as you don’t have to drive in Johannesburg)
I cannot wait to return to the hum drum of life. Groceries, cleaning, washing, mileage and Mad Men. I love my life.
Ra Ra, Agoura ra ra
25 Mar 2012 4 Comments
Friday morning, I received a text from my Aunt in South Africa. ‘Your mom needs your support now’. Every morning I get to wake up with a text from someone, telling me how my mom is doing. Is she eating? Is she in pain? Has the chemo had an affect? Since my mother has been in hospital for six weeks, this is how my mornings start. Some days are more stressful than others. Some weeks too. This week Hubby was away with his mistress. The 968 Porsche at the Nurburg ring with a posse of similar car racing freaks with their own mistresses. Finn has turned four and is demonic. Mimicking the worst of the worst children at school… bringing it home to me and exhausting me with it. Thank you Aiden from school. Right about now you owe me a bottle of Ken Brown’s Pinot Noir. This is the week I am solo.
I emailed with my brother, which can be a stressful experience in it’s own right. I called her boyfriend. I emailed with the doctor. The gist of it is, Carlsbad may not happen. My brother flies out on Sunday and will tell me how things stand. Does she need support? or is it ‘that’ time? The reason why I haven’t jumped on a plane is that I know my brother is there, and if it is indeed just support then perhaps I can go out when he has to leave, so as to extend her support from us there. This is my practical side. But I cannot know if this is the right thing to do unless I get feedback from him and the doctor on Monday am, South African time.
So, here I sit after weeks of training after New York. I could not run New Years 5K, my shins said no. Rain said no to the mile and now, here, once again, my hard work may be thwarted. Earlier this week Brizzle sent me an email saying ‘How about Agoura 5K this week end?’. I gently responded, with an absolute, ‘NO!’ I had my eye on the Carlsbad prize… and now my prize or potential prize may be ripped from me.
Agoura Hills 5K popped in my head on Friday morning. I emailed Drea, forgetting she was on her way to Texas to fly through a 10K and spend some family time. In the meantime, as I waited at traffic lights on the way to drop Finn off at school to learn more bad habits from Aiden, I emailed Brizzle: ‘How about Agoura tomorrow????’ I told him the background tale, and being his flexible self he said what I wanted to hear, ‘Yes’.
Alas, online registration was closed. But it got worse. Not only was it closed the 5K was sold out. Our game plan? Get there early and plead, try to register and run. Another band member who has been helping me out with my training had a free week end and joined in on our mission. Kary is a speedy gal, so running at my pace is not much of a challenge for her. But she keeps me ‘pushed’. She joined in, in an early morning and we had a very entertaining drive down.
The weather was perfect. Grey and chilly. When we got there the half marathon had commenced, we got to watch some people boom down hills and power up hills. We cheered and then it was our turn. We walked up the steep hill, did a little warm up and before you knew it we were on the starting line. Gaga blasted, then the anthem and the horn.
The Orange Flash, headed out in front and we started our race. I stuck on Kary’s shoulder. The plan was, not to look at my watch, she would do that and I just needed to run. The first mile is pleasant, a nice downhill and we looked pretty good, right up until the end of that first mile where the hill began. ‘Pick it up, pick it up’ she said. I passed some men huffing worse than me. Get to that hill and then it’s downhill. I could see. Before I knew it, I was up there and we were heading down.
We headed down for a while. It was pleasant. It reminded me of parts of the Bolder Boulder race. A nice neighborhood, a well organized race, wide streets. I felt good and I picked off a few people, like Drea had said, but there was one girl ahead of me, that I just couldn’t make any progress on. Mile 2 done. Good.
Mile 3 was it. It was still down and going well, but I could feel my stomach. My mind began to think, when will this end?? And then the final turn. But she was not small that hill, at least when you are 2.7 miles in. Then, the turn. It was an uphill. For about the last mile I had found someone to race. He too had a cheerleader – his Dad. My opponent, a little guy, that I would later find out, was the spritely age of nine. That very last hill, both his and my cheerleader were shouting at us ‘come on! come on!’ and both him and I moved one foot in front of another to make that hill, and then, yes, it was down hill. We ran as hard as our little legs could carry us, we turned the corner and we crossed that line. 20.42. Yes! A PR!
It is done.
If that may be 20.40 or 20.42 either way, that is sweet. A PR, by the very least of 25 seconds! I have gruelled through difficult training, not just since this year, but in our preamble to New York, Drea believed that this would help me in the long run, for the short run. And indeed it has. It has not been easy. New York was not as I wanted it to be. My body has complained. I have sighed and hated my coach at work outs she has set for me. She has believed I can complete them. I have not. There have been days where I have not completed what was laid down for various reasns, stress, shins, life, and I have felt like shit. She has made me feel better. She has given me realistic goals. Today, she told me 20.40-21.15. On Sunday she told me, I believe you can PR. More often, she is ‘righter’ about me, than I am.
So I am ever grateful for my coach and friend, Drea.
I am also ever grateful for my friends who rallied and accompanied me, drove me there, entertained me in the journey there and back and pushed me to that finish line time today.
So this week, brings me to yet another challenging week, emotionally. I don’t know if I will get to get away in Carlsbad or not. I don’t know when I will get to toe that line. I don’t know how bad my mom is. There are a lot of “I don’t knows” this week.
But, I can walk away, knowing, that all this has not been for naught. I have weathered weary shins, cancelled races and emotional turmoils. But today, was my day, and for that I am grateful. I needed today. I needed a little victory. Yes, today was a good day and as Lizzy and Ice would say, “I didn’t even need an AK”.
No Green Mile
17 Mar 2012 6 Comments
This is for The Green Lantern:
There was once was a race in Ventucky,
But the weather was really quite sucky,
The rain stopped play,
And it screwed up our day,
So, in the end we did not end up feeling so lucky.
Coach, however, was feeling quite plucky,
Sent me an alternate work out, that was rather mucky,
Two miles at 6.30,
Go out and let it hurry,
So, I did, and honestly felt rather fucky.
Thanks to a friend who pushed me a long,
As I was huffing and puffing a train song,
But, I finished those two miles,
Not at 6.30 pace, no surprise,
But a 6.37 average, and yes it did hurty.
Now, my work out is done,
The day can go on,
I may have no new mile PR,
But my next stop is Carlsbad 5K,
And that’s scary enough to make me want to go and find an Irish bar.
