I didn't think this day would come

This past July and August my mom was in the hospital (actually in 3 hospitals). She had been over-medicated and mis-medicated and was suffering deep dementia-related symptoms. She was agitated, raving, hallucinating, confused, angry, delusional, violent. She was so weak she couldn't stand unassisted and had to be helped with the most basic tasks of living. Her diagnosis was multi-infarct dementia and the doctors assured us that the condition was permanent. She would need life-long confinement and constant care.

I'd like to tell all those doctors that BULLSHIT YOU JERKS, it was the medication after all. Today my mom moved into a brand new assisted living facility. She has a very minor level of care, 3 meals daily, medication oversight and complete freedom of movement. There are a lot of things she can't do, but so many more that she can. She can't live alone again but she doesn't need to be locked away for her own protection or watched constantly.

A tough part of this move was my mom's having to acknowledge that the large part of her independence is gone. She's been her own support system for most of her adult life and to have to depend upon others, to have to ask for help for basics, is foreign to her. She'll never again drive a car, never balance a checkbook (or even write a check), never set her own daily schedule. She won't be planning her own meals, won't be cooking or shopping alone. All her financial decisions are out of her hands.

But the hardest part was having to downsize her possessions. For almost three quarters of a century my mom has been a collector. When I was a little girl she started collecting antiques. She scoured old barns and out-of-way shops and had her own personal antique store owner who would call her first when something good came in. Lovely, heavy dark woods; fancy intricately designed upholstery fabrics; antique pewter mugs; old red glass. Then she started traveling around the world and collecting more things. First there were the fine art objects, then the folk art.

Two years ago she moved from La Jolla to a smaller home up here. She needed to be closer to me, closer to my brother, closer to a support network. She went from about 2000 crowded square feet to about 1500 square feet. She didn't pare down her possessions, didn't sort anything, didn't discard anything. Everything squeeeeezed into the smaller home. But now the space she moved to today only has 750 square feet. Lots of things needed to go.

As the main packer it was my job to talk my mom into sorting her possessions. We started with big furniture, went through books and then sorted objects. We packed what she absolutely wanted. We stuck books to donate to the library in a far corner. I set aside a large table for questionable items. About the only thing that convinced my mom to not take everything was the idea that her choices weren't irrevocable. We covered that table, then surrounded that table, and went through rolls and rolls of bubble wrap. Boxes were marked as "books" or "fragile" or "very fragile" or "the most fragile."

Everything we moved - packed or piled - had a story. "I found that in an old store in the U.P." Or, "Noreen called me when this came in and I rushed to get it. " And, "I bought that in Alaska" "Russia" "China" "Mexico" "Egypt" "China" (she liked it there, went a few times to different places) "Cuba" "Mexico" (went there a lot too; I went with her a few times) "Thailand" "Detroit" "Jupiter" (I made that up to see if you're paying attention) (but she would have gone if there were interesting things to see).

There is memory loss, with some things there's lots of memory loss, but my mom remembers where her beloved belongings are from. She remembers who she was with if she wasn't traveling alone, she remembers how she bargained and often how little she paid. She doesn't remember when she went to many of these places. I thought that putting aside her stuff was remarkably brave and it broke my heart to see her have to go through this.

It only got worse when we got to her clothes. My mom has always lived with plenty of closet space so she has never had to get rid of things. Before arthritis crippled her fingers she made most of her clothes; she was a fabulous seamstress and had a great eye for colors and great touch for fabrics. She made timeless classics and, apparently, kept them all.

She went through her first closet by herself and almost everything was in the keep pile. I took her into the next closet and told her that everything had to fit onto one hanging rod; everything else would go on her bed. When it was all "keep" "keep" "keep" I made the same bargain about the clothes that I had about the other items: nothing is irrevocable. Once the movers took the clothes she definitely wanted, I'd re-hang the rest of them and she'd have plenty of time to change her mind. That got things moving.

I'd ask when she had last worn something. Point out any spots or worn bits or tears. Ask if it fit. Cajoled her. Jollied her. Laughed. Rolled my eyes. Admired dresses while telling her she had no use for them. Asked her if she planned to move back to Detroit to wear some of her warmest clothes. Took things away while she was undecided.

But I knew exactly how hard it was to put aside a couple of articles. One was a gorgeous red lace (backless) party dress that she wore when I was a little girl. Yup, that was in the 1960's! She has kept this dress, moved it about 8 times and probably hasn't worn it for 40+ years. It's still in perfect shape, still stylish. She will never wear it again, I could never wear it (although I'd love to); it will just hang. She finally gave it to me to put on the bed and it looked like she was going to cry. I felt like the meanest meany who every meaned.

We never even touched the folded shirts and sweaters, that will be another job for another time. We didn't go through any of her paperwork, didn't touch the garage (oy. The garage). I met the movers this morning and in the pouring storm they spent a couple of hours loading our carefully packed boxes, the bed, the sofa, the desk, the chairs, the end tables, the lamps, the mirrors, and more more more. When they left the house still looked full.

They brought everything to her new apartment in her new home. The movers carted in the goods and I unpacked some things while my bro and sister-in-law took my mom down to the dining room for her first meal there. I emptied the wardrobes, filled the mini-fridge, set up the bathroom. I placed things in drawers and in the closet and on the shelves. I didn't touch the boxes of "stuff" but made sure my mom had the things she needed for her first night.

When my family came back from lunch, raving about how good the food was, I had a surprise for my mom. I directed her to the closet, stuffed full of her clothes. And there, hanging front and center, was her beloved red dress.

I'm such a pushover.

Nike Womens' Marathon Half 2009 Report

Another day, another race report ...

2009 charm in upper left

This is going to be easy because mostly I can say "see last year" or "see the year before" about -- well, just about the whole thing.

Anita and I both made it through the lottery this year and decided that even though we had just run the full Chicago Marathon, we'd run the Nike Half a week later. Maybe a little too enthusiastic but you have to remember that all this registration took place before last spring when life was a bit simpler all around. Our goal was to enjoy the scenery, walk the hills, laugh at the crowds, have a good time and get the necklace.

We decided to go to the Expotique on Thursday night, their so-called "ladies night" and get it out of the way. After waiting in line for about 15 minutes we got to enter the big tent in Union Square. Packet pickup went very smoothly, then we continued into the even more crowded main tent. They had the usual things inside like the Nike+ tie-in, shoe sampling, manicures and oxygen bar. Outside were samples of cereal, chocolate, Luna bars and the free food and drink. We had a glass of wine and some nibbles, wandered around a while and went across the street to see what clothes were for sale this year.

Last year I was able to buy a couple of tops because I was at my lowest weight since I'd started running 10 years ago. This year I wasn't quite so lucky. I lusted after the race-branded shirts and jackets since they were in my colors of black and red. Very nice. But very small. C'mon Nike! How many times do I have to rant about this? This particular race is directed toward newbie runners and walkers training with Team in Training. Many of the women doing the race are completely out of shape and very big and this will be their only race -- ever! They want to buy a shirt and a jacket and a sweatshirt and nuh uh. Nothing for them, they're too big to wear Nike clothes. Even one of the Nike saleswomen couldn't have fit into those tops (she kept apologizing to all the women trying on the tops and putting them back on the racks). I ended up buying another running cap to add to my (really big) collection - at least I got something in my colors!

Sunday morning I met Anita at the Rockridge BART station and we headed to the City. Sadly we're both completely hopeless with directions. Luckily we managed to find the parking lot. Very luckily since my stomach wasn't feeling very well and I didn't want to have to stop on the side of the road. Sorry, TMI. We got on the very warm comfortable bus and got to the start area well before the crowds arrived.

It was such a change from our previous Sunday morning; 30 degrees warmer! I don't normally find standing around in 60 degrees very warm but this time was ok. We had worn our matching tops that we hadn't been able to wear in Chicago and sleeveless was a little chilly for hanging out. I decided not to bother with a poncho since I'd just toss it as soon as we started running. I did keep my gloves and was glad I did.

We checked our gear, hit the porta potties a few times and found our corral. We lined up in the one that went to 11:59 since we didn't plan to walk in the first mile until it thinned out and that's about our normal running pace. We waited, waited, waited. While there we chatted with a group of women who were from Chicago and who had run a bunch of other races. We checked our watches and knew the race had started but were standing still 15 minutes later.

I think it took a good 20-25 minutes to finally cross the start and it was just like last year (well, like all the years I've done this race) with people seeding themselves improperly. Since we were in no hurry we tried not to do too much bobbing and weaving but it was impossible. We ended up darting and dashing for almost the whole race, even when we were ourselves walking.

It was apparent very quickly that I was tired and didn't have too much to offer. I tried to make our walk breaks regular but with the crowds that wasn't easy. Once the hills started I gave it up and we ran when I could and walked the rest. We ended up walking way more than I had hoped. I may say before a race that I don't care when I finish but in real life I do care. Once I get in a race I want to have a good performance. Hell, it's a race!

My worst moment was at about the 6 mile mark when the wide flat road thinned to go up the hill. People were packed in like sardines, in front, on both sides and behind us. I was watching the women next to me who were moving over and totally missed the foot tall barrier pole directly in front of me. I tripped on it, kicked myself in the leg (talented!), started to fly and only Anita's grip on my arm help me stay upright. Ow. OW! This was not my plan for the day, to bruise my leg and wrench my back before the hills even began.

We walked up the hill, along with almost every single other person there. What, does nobody run hills during that race? I feel very sorry for the 2 or 3 people trying to run around the plodding crowds. We were walking and still passing a majority of the other people.

The great views we're used to weren't there. The fog was in and the bay scenery was absent. Too bad for the people hoping for photo ops of the Golden Gate Bridge; all that was visible was one of the lower pilings. It also meant that the fog was coming in, not a problem while we were running but it got a bit chilly when we walked. It was, however, a great weather day for a race: not too cold, not too hot, not too windy, not too sunny.

Blah blah walk walk run run whine walk. See last year and the year before for descriptions of the water stations, crowd support, food and drink - it was the same again. We walked more and more as the race went on because I was exhausted. My breathing was as bad as it had been in Chicago so we just decided to take our time. I felt awful since it looked like Anita could run the whole thing very comfortably and I was holding her back. She insisted that she was happy to stay with me so I just shut up about it.

We did have fun crowd watching, looking at what we could see of the views, searching for bison in the park, walking, eating chocolate (they had plenty this year), chatting. We ran some but very little until the last mile when it flattened out again. As we turned the corner toward the finish I told Anita to take off for her patented sprint but she stayed with me and we crossed the finish together, smiling.

We got our little blue boxes from the tuxedo'd firemen, got our timing chip-thing removed, got a space blanket, a bottle of water, then our shirts. The necklace this year had a very fine short chain with a square charm. The front says "Run Like A Girl" and the back says "NWM SF 2009." The shirts were very similar to the shirts given out at Chicago the week before, the same cut and fabric, with one exception - they had XXL so even with Nike-sizing it was a decent fit. The color was another blue, this one more turquoise than Chicago's.

like usual, my camera doesn't reflect the real colors

Instead of the little blue Tiffany bag we'd gotten in the past, this year the major sponsor Safeway distributed a reusable shopping bag with their own and the race logos. It was very nice, held everything we needed it to hold. There was a different cereal sponsor this year but they still had the cups of yogurt/cereal/fruit. We grabbed that (and then threw it out because it didn't taste good) and headed to the bus to grab our checked stuff since it was getting cold.

The bag check and retrieval was very efficient again this year and we threw our warm duds back on then tried to find the bus line. It was long. Very long, winding back and forth and hither and yon and we started to freeze. An hour later (no, this is not an exaggeration) when we got to the bus my feet were numb, my fingers were numb, my lips purple and I was shivering. That was my excuse when we finally got back to the parking lot and were walking toward my car. We found the car, arrowed that way aaaaaand ... I tripped on the only freaking rock in the entire parking lot. Once again I managed to not fall but I twisted my back again. I shouldn't be let out.

Have a nice trip; see you in the fall

I had very high hopes for our last long training run before Chicago Marathon. Although our 18 miler was hard because of adverse weather conditions, our 20 miler went great despite the lightning and thunder and rain. Our short 11 miler last week went well. Everything looked promising for our 22 miler on Saturday. My prep went well and I was excited to get to the run.

It started out well. I met Anita and Bree at the Alameda Ferry Terminal parking lot at just after 6:00 am. It would have been just before 6:00 am had I known that Highway 238 was going to be closed. It didn't delay me too much and we got on the road by 6:10. It was dark and since my headlamp had fallen apart the night before I carried a disposable flashlight.

The plan was to run the long way around to the bridge, across then out to Crown Beach, then back to the parking lot the short way for 12-ish total miles. We'd refuel and do one more out-and-back to the beach for the last 10 miles. Done that way we couldn't take shortcuts. There are enough water fountains and bathrooms along the way that even on a hot day we'd be able to hydrate. The weather forecast was back and forth all week; first they said hot, then not, then hot again. Maybe windy but that was expected. Overcast/not overcast. We weren't worried, we'd trained with all of that.

The first part of the run to the bridge went very well. It slowly got lighter out, and warmer. We got to see the beautiful sunrise, made even prettier by the smoggy skies. I felt good until about mile 7 when I started tiring. I ignored it, knowing we had a long way yet to go. My legs were heavy and flat and my breathing started to get sloppy; I didn't know which was causing the other problem. I didn't want to change our 4:1 run:walk until at least after 13 miles so I pushed on, whining just a bit.

We crossed the big bridge and started running across that little wooden bridge that goes under the road. We normally walk that but for some reason didn't. About halfway across I caught my toe on an uneven board and tripped. I tried to catch myself but couldn't. I went down, hard, catching most of my weight on my hands and knees. Ow. I was a bit stunned and instead of popping back up like I normally do (and doesn't it suck that there's a "normally" for my falling) I just stayed there.

Like the wonderful concerned friends they are, Bree and Anita asked if I was ok, if they could help me up, told me to take my time, etc. Like a total cranky bitch I told them to go away. Leave me alone. Go on. I might have yelled a little. They walked off and I peeled myself off the bridge. I knew that I was scraped and bruised and dirty and sore but I didn't want to look. I was wobbly and jittery and very stiff and sore but after I hobbled off the bridge I decided to suck it up and keep running. I told them to go ahead of me, insisted on it, and followed behind them. There were a few tears of pain and self-pity, but I kept running.

Adrenaline kept me going for a short time. I loosened up, started running a bit better. But within that same damn mile I tripped again! I caught my toe on the uneven pavement and literally went flying. I kept my feet moving, tightened my core and somehow managed to remain upright and in motion. After that I just stopped. Stopped dead and told them I was finished. I was done, I quit, no more, the end. I send them off ahead of me and forlornly (and slowly) walked on. A few more tears and a major pity party with myself being the only invited guest. There were close to 2 miles left until I got to my car.

Sure enough I got tired of walking after a while. Cautiously I started a slow jog, intermingled with regular walk breaks. I stayed behind Bree and Anita, not wanting any company. I got back to the parking lot fully intending to quit. I went into the bathroom and washed some of the blood off my knee and some of the dirt off my hands and went to my car.

At that point we had done about 13 miles. I really didn't want to leave it that way but I had very little energy or patience left. Bree suggested doing outs and backs to the bridge a couple of times and again, I didn't want to go and didn't want to socialize any longer. I crabbily told them to set out and I'd follow as much as I could.

Do you have any idea how boring it is to run while not being able to look up from your feet? I was convinced that if I didn't stare at the ground that I'd trip again. I was probably correct in that assumption but I didn't test it. We made it back to the bridges and walked across that time. We refilled our bottles on the far side and turned around to return. We walked the bridge that time too.

I varied but mostly stayed behind them. I went in front when our shadows turned because I couldn't see the ground as well with them in front. We went slower and slower and walked more and more and once again returned to the our cars.

We decided to do one more short out and back to get a couple additional miles. This time there was no pretense of running, we were hardly walking. Strolling, more like. Still, it was hard. My little wounds stung with the breeze, I had blood oozing down my leg, I was bruised and still not breathing well. It was fully sunny, a light breeze and getting warmer by the minute. It was upper 70s by that time.

Finally back to the cars with a total of 19.2 miles. Not too bad for crashing at 10.5 and quitting before 11. All that time on our feet had taken its toll.I was not a happy camper and would have been uncomfortable even if I hadn't taken a tumble. Thank you to both Bree and Anita for putting up with my whining, my falling, my crankiness, my crabbiness, my anger and my self-pity. You guys are great!

Obligatory notice of beauty: it was a clear day, beautiful views of San Francisco, the Bay Bridge, Oakland, the Bay, the Estuary. Beautiful. The birds were out in full force, pelicans fanning their wings in the sun, little whatdoyoucallits splashing around. It's a lovely place to run and we are incredibly fortunate to have places like that so close.

When I got home I decided I'd better take an ice bath. Although I used to take them regularly after long runs, I stopped doing it for some reason (probably because they're damned uncomfortable). But I had too many swollen spots to ice individually so I decided to plop into freezing water. I had ground-in dirt on one knee and palm, dirt all over my arms and legs, swollen knees and palms and a pull in my lower back from catching myself that last time. I'm sure the 20 minutes in the icy water was good for me but I didn't enjoy one minute of it.

A day later and the damage isn't too bad. I don't feel at all like I went 19 miles. My feet don't hurt (and they can hurt after just a few miles). None of the usual aches and pains from a longer run. Both of my palms are bruised (and I must have caught myself on the edge of one of the boards because I have a distinct line). My left knee is bruised and swollen but internally feels ok. My right knee is a mess. It's scratched, scraped, bruised, oozing and bloody. But again that's all on the outside and structurally it's fine. The only non-surface part that really hurts, strangely enough, is my shoulder. I apparently strained a muscle when I fell and caught myself.

The marathon is in 2 weeks. I intend to be fully healed by then. I also intend to stay upright for the entire 26.2 miles. What are the odds?