Just one of those days.

Well. That could have gone better.

I had high hopes of a good run at the Oakland Half Marathon. My training has been going well; a few mid-teen runs and a couple of hill runs had me feeling I could easily enjoy the day and not exert myself too much. I was looking forward to seeing old friends, chatting a little, running 13.1 miles and going home to get through my weekend stuff. It didn't quite work out that way.

Saturday I went to the "expo" and picked up my race packet. It went smoothly and easily, first getting my card, then my number with the timing tag, then my tech shirt. The expo was a disappointment because there was no there there (sorry Oakland, couldn't resist). There were mostly local purveyors of services, a couple of other marathon booths, a Gu tasting booth (although they weren't selling it), a Clif booth (they weren't selling either), and race merchandise which I didn't even look at. My "goody bag" contained a bunch of literature and fliers, a teeny bottle of EVOO, a sample sized bag of Gu Chomps, a wrist sweat band from an insurance company and that was it. Not so goody after all.

I carpooled Sunday morning with Ellen, a great chance to catch up with my original running partner. She's substantially faster than I am now (... everyone is substantially faster than I am now) but we had the ride to chat about everything. We decided to park at City Center since it would only be $5 and that way we wouldn't (1) lose the car and (2) have to walk too far. We got there way early and were able to sit in the warm car for a while before heading out.

The morning was cool, sunny and a bit breezy. I wore shorts for the first time this year (with 100 SPF sunscreen on my legs, paranoid much?), a long sleeved top and throwaway gloves. Because it was supposed to be partially overcast turning to total overcast, I was wearing black. Not my smartest idea, but it turned out to not be a huge factor.

I met up with a few people I knew and then went to stand in the front of the back of the crowd; I wanted to be in front of the walkers but behind everyone else. It was pretty good placement although many walkers seeded themselves way up front since I continued to pass them for the first couple of miles. Finally the anthem was sung, a few words from the mayor (which we couldn't really hear), then the horn and we were off! "Off" being relative, of course. It took a few minutes to cross the start line and start running.

I felt really good that first mile, holding myself back so that I wouldn't be pulled along with the crowd's enthusiasm. My plan was to go 9:1 the entire race, plus walk through water stops. That worked for all of one whole mile. A short way into mile 2 my legs felt heavy and my lungs started heaving. I was dizzy and my stomach was queasy. I seriously considered just turning around and going back to the start but figured it would work itself out in the next couple of miles as I warmed up. It didn't.

The race was very well run, the waterstops were frequent enough and well stocked and staffed. The street closures were handled professionally by the Oakland PD and the majority of Oakland's residents were happy to see the race and runners (except for the honkers in their cars trying to get somewhere important). The route was varied and interesting and I saw a few areas of Oakland I'd never been through. I tried, really tried, to to get into the spirit of things and my body didn't want to cooperate.

I knew by mile 2 that I wouldn't be sticking to my plan but I really thought things would improve. I reviewed the route in my head and tried to figure out how far I'd have to go to walk back to the finish, compared with how far I'd have to go to stay on the course. It always worked out shorter, or even, to continue the race.

I tried gels, I tried drinking water and electrolyte fluid, I tried running and walking and shuffling. If I ran either my lungs couldn't get enough air or my legs felt like cement posts. If I continued running I got dizzy and nauseous. While walking I just felt dizzy. My muscles and joints ached and I felt like I had the flu. I was alternately hot and chilled. I tried to see the beauty of the sunny day, tried to enjoy the fact that I was out there. I kept telling myself that any day I could run, no matter how poorly, was a good day.

At about mile 10 I saw one of my old TnT buddies, now a coach. I was telling him that I was having one of those days that every runner has, but that you hope comes on a day you haven't paid to run. My timing was just off and I told him I hoped that it meant my crappy run for this training series was over. He walked with me for a couple of minutes and we talked about our upcoming plans and races, then I ran on.

I was pretty sure if I continued my shuffling I could finish before 3 hours and that became my last goal. As I came around Lake Merritt I shuffled to the next light post, walked to that car, ran to the parking meter, shuffled to the corner. Repeat as necessary. It became apparent that I would not, in fact, break 3 but I wanted to finish strongly. Then coming down the last hill (and one of the only hills on the route) I saw my coach and stopped to hug and talk. I stopped for several minutes and didn't care about time any longer, it was more important to talk with him. Finally he sent me on my way. At that point I was shivering from the cold since we were talking in the shade.

There were lots of people cheering in the runners and I managed to run, slowly, the last couple of tenths. I crossed the finish line, grabbed a medal and a heat sheet, and trudged along. I got a bottle of water and a quarter of a bagel and made myself eat and drink, trying to stop the shakes and ease my stomach. It didn't work too well. I saw a friend and chatted for a few minutes, glad to be standing still, then went to find Ellen who was meeting me over by the beer tent.

I found her and figured that beer wasn't going to make me feel any worse so we stood in the long line. I got a few ounces and we continued to walk around. The beer tasted good but I only had a very little since I didn't want to get sick on the way home.

I went home, showered and collapsed on the sofa. I felt as if I had just run a particularly hard full marathon. All of my muscles, all of my joints, all of my internal organs hurt. I guess it was from pushing myself while I didn't feel well. I didn't want to eat but I forced myself to have a few slices of turkey for the protein and to drink water to rehydrate. I napped on and off for a couple of hours but mostly just lay there reviewing my race.

Today I'm sore from the top of my head to my toes. That poor performance took a lot out of me, but I'm not going to let it get me down. I've had those good training runs recently and I think the bad run was the aberration, not the good runs. I'm looking forward to my longer runs, looking forward to getting back out there.

Any day you can get out and run, or any day you can get out and walk, is a good day. It might not feel that way at the time, but I'm lucky I get the chance.

Return to the hills

A couple of years ago when I screwed up my knee, I quit running or walking hills; it just hurt too much. I didn't mind little inclines or declines but even walking up steps was bothersome. When we decided on a marathon last year we picked the flattest one around, Chicago. Our training included no hills whatsoever and that suited me and my knee just fine.

This year I decided I wanted to run Vermont, so hills are back in the picture. Our longer runs have had a little hill here, a little hill there. But nothing like the hills I'll face in the marathon. Seeing that the race has a 6 hour cut-off and seeing that I'm running slower than I ever have before, I realized that I need to get a bit of hill training. Or a lot of hill training.

The return of Daylight Savings Time meant I could do a short hilly run after work. We've avoided Inspiration Point (and the damn cows) except for a couple of easy walks, but it was time to give them a try. Yesterday after work I met Anita for a planned 4 mile run. Our (my) intent was to do a firm 9:1 for 2 miles, turn around, and 9:1 for as long as we could before I blew up on the hills. It actually worked as planned, with a couple of exceptions.

We started out slowly (... like I'm running any other way lately) and the first hill had us both huffing and puffing. I literally gasped my way to our first walk break and never did catch my breath before that short little minute was gone. We made it through the first mile, continued on. A 9:1 with our pace usually has us running the hill leading up to the short forested part and sure enough, despite checking my watch desperately to find the walk-9, it was all run. I was determined to suck it up (heh) and keep going, so keep going we did.

When we got to the 2 mile marker I decided we should go out to the 2.5, turn around, run our complete 4 miles and then walk the rest. We kept going but right around the corner, to my cownsternation, was a large bovine on the side of the trail. My heart sped up a bit, but I decided to tough it out and edge around the far side. We ran a bit further and as the path opened up I saw on the other side of the trail: 3 more big -- really big -- cows gazing at us. Getting to the 2.5 marker would have meant squeezing past in both directions.

That was all I needed. We turned it around and hoofed (heh) it back down the trail, away from all that beef. Seriously, I wish they didn't cause my heart to race, my teeth to clench, my brain to freeze. It's dumb. It's silly. But the whole thing about a phobia is that it's irrational. Cow anxiety, sheesh. As if I don't have enough things in life now making me anxious.

It turned out to be for the best. Except for one slightly extended walk break we 9:1'd it right on back again, including the hill I had said on the outward bound that I'd be walking on the return. Yeah, I was wheezing like a bellows and at one point I think my quads were yelling loudly enough to be heard at the Golden Gate, but I kept on running. Heck, it was just 4 miles, right?

What made this a good run was the scenery. Yeah, it was gorgeous. From the views straight across the Bay, as far as that Golden Gate, to the vistas of the spillways of the reservoirs in the other direction. It was every shade of green imaginable. The wildflowers were yummy yellow, baby blue, sparkling purple and orange orange. We saw a murder of crows soaring on the thermals and perched on the pylons. The lowering sun, blowing wind and low-60's temp created the perfect conditions for running.

Today my legs are a little sore, my lungs are very irritated, but my spirit is high. I'm a bit more confident that the run in Vermont will go well, including the hills. I'm hoping to get to IP several more times before the race, increasing the mileage and my hill stamina. I'm glad I got to see the area in all it's spring glory!

Random Tuesday

Bits and pieces of this and that.

Yesterday was a beautiful day to run, but I didn't. The sun was shining, it was quite warm, the wind was gently wafting through the grasses. But the pollen count was off the charts and I still had a sore throat so I decided gulping in great breaths probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. Excuse? Possibly, but at least a good one. I've had my cold this year and I'm fighting off this next one for all I'm worth.

Saturday morning I ran 15 miles with Anita, again on the Lafayette-Moraga Trail. We went from the parking lot to the end and back and averaged about 45 seconds per minute faster than the week before. It was a scenic run, but there was lots of dodging everyone else who was taking advantage of the cold, sunny dry morning. We're still horrifically slow, but the nice thing about that trail is we finish running faster than we started. I take it as a good sign that although I'm tired after these runs, I'm not in the least bit sore.

I finished the feet on my second pair of socks. That's a good thing, because I don't really like the yarn. I have a blue streak across my finger, where I wrap the working yarn, so I have a strong feeling that I'll have blue tootsies when I start to wear the socks. There's still the leg to knit but I've decided to make these short, probably 3 inches of pattern and 1 of cuff.

I figured we weren't going to have any more hard freezes this year so I started cutting back my frost-burned jasmine. A little late, as it turns out. I had to carefully clip around all the new growth. I also decided that this year I absolutely have to find a new gardener. The current ones keep the grass short, but I think they do that by killing it. Anyone who knows a good, affordable gardener/landscaper in this area, let me know.

I took my nephew out on Sunday to buy his Hanukkah present. Yeah, we're a little slow but at least we did it sooner than last year. He's an enjoyable kid to be around and we have fun together on our little jaunts. I can't wait to see what he's going to come up with to get for his 13th birthday, this October. Knowing us we won't be shopping for that until the following January. He's going to be an interesting teenager.

I'm having my usual trouble adjusting to the spring time change. I like it being dark in the morning but I think it's going to take a couple of weeks to reset my sleepy switch at night. Right now I think I could sleep from about 5:30 pm to midnight very well. That's actually more than I usually sleep but then what would I do from midnight on?

That's all I've got for now.

Buzz kill

I was sitting on my sofa tonight, content and tired from my lovely 4 mile run. I'm trying a newish thing: change at work, walk out the door to the trail, run at least 4 miles. I had intended to run yesterday but wussed out when the weather turned wet, cold and windy. Those 20+ mph winds and driving sheets of rain sent me home. Today I watched the skies cloud over, the trees start shaking and decided to run anyway.

My run was faster than expected, a reason for all the wheezing I did. "Faster" is of course relative. One dude on the trail kept passing me, stopping to stretch and then zooming past me again. The only people I pass are meandering along either in conversation or with a pokey pup. But I was consistent in my "speed" and felt great when I finished.

This renewed my newest commitment to consistent runs. I figured it's light enough out that I can gradually increase my mileage to 6 and still finish before it gets dark and creepy on the trail. Little did I know that it's already creepy on the trail. As I sat here tonight, blissed out from a good run, I came across this article. This happened right when I was starting my run, exactly where I was running:

WALNUT CREEK — A woman walking along a trail was robbed of her iPod by a man who claimed to have a gun, an East Bay Regional Parks Police Department spokesman said.

The woman was walking on the Iron Horse Trail, north of Newell Avenue, at 4:15 p.m. when the robber walked up to her and motioned that he had a gun in his waistband, police said. The woman did not see a gun, but handed over her iPod.

Crap! Now what should I do? Continue running and hope this was an aberration? Run the other direction (which has always seemed the creepier route)? Start later? Start earlier? Run on my treadmill (uh, yeah. Right. That's worked well all winter)? Carry a large stick? Run faster whenever I see someone?

I don't think I'll sleep well tonight.

Twenty years later

[Note: I wrote this two weeks ago and never realized that I didn't post it. D'oh!]

Last Monday was a big milestone for me. It was 20 years to the day that I started a new job. New boss, new responsibilities, new co-workers (and new paycheck). Back then I was a 35 year old, married, non-running, non-knitting, very lonely smoker. My new job ended up being one of the best thing that's happened to me.

At times hectic, at times boring, sometimes repetitive and often instructive, it's really been several jobs working for the same person as the company changed around us. I've spent more time with my boss and co-workers than than anyone else in my life. These people have seen me though divorce, death and marathons. They've become good friends, my family away from family. We've had tough times at work and some personality conflicts but like a functional family we've resolved any problems and moved on.

Twenty years.

First run of Spring

I realize that technically it isn't Spring. I also realize that it isn't even my first run this week. Today was the first time this year I felt it could be light enough after work for me to run alone, safely and in the daylight. I've been slacking on my running, slacking on my cross-training and all that slacking is making me grumpier and crankier and sadder. I decided I'd run after work come what may and if it ended up raining on me, or if it got dark before I finished, tough luck.

But it was gorgeous out. Probably mid to low 50's. Storm clouds passing by but never dropping rain. The sun low but still in the sky. Very little wind. The recent rains have left everything looking clean and fresh and growing. The grasses were that lovely shade of new green, bending in the slight breeze. Fruit trees had their fragile pink or white blooms. A few early poppies were closing up tightly for the evening to come.

I slowly wheezed my way along the trail, enjoying every breathless (literally) moment that I was running. Pollen is not my friend but it was so enjoyable running off a cruddy work day that I didn't mind my lungs working so hard. I may have scared a few people as I noisily gasped my way along the trail but I smiled to let them know I wasn't at risk for dropping dead in my tracks.

When I finished I felt fabulous. Tired, sweaty and dripping,wheezing. But fabulous nonetheless. Not a traditional runner's high, just a run well done, an accomplishment of which I was absurdly proud. My plan and my hope is to do this at least a couple of times each week after work. I doubt I'll get anything else done tonight but I don't care. Once again, I am a runner.

Blocked

Tongue tied. Wordless. Mute. Inarticulate.

I've had lots to say lately, but it never looks right when I type it out. It's stilted, jumbled, cold and ends up looking like endless whining (which it is, but doesn't have to look that way) or senseless babble (which it also is, but ditto). So bear with me.

There's been a little cross-training, a little running (very little), a little sleeping, a lot of knitting, a lot of family, a lot of eating and drinking. When the sun shines I've been happy and energetic and when it's gloomy I want to scoot under a shrub and hibernate for another month.

Every night at bedtime I think in panic "ohmygod I'm running a hilly marathon in 3 months" and tell myself that tomorrow's another day and I'll do a good run then. Once in a while I run that run but more often run/walk and even more often than that I plain old walk (or sit on my ass). I'm having a lot of asthma problems, some of them I'm sure related to RWF since there's been weight gain but I'm at that precipice where I need to run to lose weight but I can't breathe well enough to run until I lose weight.

Changing the subject to yarn, I bought oodles of gorgeous yarn at Stitches West. It seemed that this year every independent dyer had an Amy colorway (which would be true-red with shades of black and gray or white). Splendiferous yarny goodness in every booth and thanks to my new love of knitting socks, I didn't feel at all bad buying 15 many skeins in variations of those colors. The fibers ranged from 100% merino to wool with additions of tencel, or silk, or cashmere. All soft and touchable and they'll be wonderful to knit and to wear. I wore my self-knitted socks with shoes for the first time yesterday and even after those long hours of up and downing the Stitches aisles, my feet were happy. The sole of the socks showed some wear (I'm notoriously tough on my socks, which is why I wasn't ever going to start knitting socks) so I think I'll end up learning how to darn also.

We celebrated my mom's 82nd birthday this weekend. Like the Energizer Mummy, she keeps on going. There are good days and bad days with a couple of very good days or very bad days thrown in. It's hard being her main emotional support and I have to keep telling myself that it doesn't matter that I didn't sign up for the job. I'm hoping that the good days will continue and the bad days are kept to a minimum.

Anyone know any 12.5 minute milers who want to run about 5 miles in the Valley area after normal work hours a couple of days each week? Maybe what I need is just a running partner!

Doldrums

With the return of the gray, overcast and drippy weather came a return of my S.A.D. I'm not just down in the doldrums, I'm all over the doldrums. Maybe I just like the word: doldrums. Say it with me: doldrums. Dooooooldrummmmms. Strange word. Defined as "the state of boredom, malaise, apathy or lack of interest; a state of listlessness ennui, or tedium." Doldrums.

It could be a lack of sleep, too much over eating/over drinking during the weekend, realization that my next extended time off isn't for months.

I'll blame it on the weather.

Where did the time go?

For weeks I've had nothing to say, but time to write it up. I'd sit and stare at the screen and try to think of something interesting to relate. Blank. Now I have lots to share and no time in which to share it, so I'm going for the twitterized versions:

1) I finished knitting my very first sock. It's very cute. I'm quite hooked on sock knitting.
2) I ran 12 miles on Saturday. It was a great run, both physically and psychologically.
3) I saw the Billy Joel/Elton John concern in Oakland on Saturday. For old men they really rock out!
4) I started knitting my second pair of socks. Toe up this time.
5) I spent Valentine's Day with my mom. Because every little girl dreams of growing up and spending that very special day with her mother.
6) I'm going to Vegas this weekend!
7) I ran and worked on my day off yesterday. Got a lot done.
8) I made my plans to go to Vermont in May to run the marathon.
9) I registered for the Oakland Marathon Half.
10) I'll elaborate later!

Less than 4 months to go

I figured this past weekend was as good a time as any to get serious about training for my next marathon. I've breezed through many a training season in the past but that was when I was running several marathons each year. A little slacking and I still made it to the finish lines by the cut-off times. Since I only ran one marathon last year and none the year before I thought maybe I should make the effort to improve my running performance. Better late than never, right?

I scheduled a 10 miler for Saturday and got rained out. Yeah, I'm a wimp. I'll run a race in windy cold downpours but I have no intention of resuming training in that weather. So I sucked it up and hopped on my treadmill. With only a couple of short breaks (whoops, forgot my inhaler; whoops, forgot to eat beforehand) I ran for over 2 hours, getting in 9 miles. I moved the elevation from "dead easy" to "at least pretend you're outside" when I remembered that anything over a couple of miles on a level treadmill hurts my knees. When I finished I felt good. Not great, but good. I hadn't run that much for a couple of months and mentally at least I was glad I did it.

Sunday was supposed to be drier so Bree and I ran 5 miles on the Lafayette-Moraga Trail. We were very slow but it was good to be outside in the fresh air - or mostly fresh air. There were 2 spots along the trail where homeowners were burning wood and the smoke threatened to clog my lungs. Luckily the air was still so we ran right past those spots.

Today my legs are fatigued and sore, but in a good way. I have the tingling feeling in my toes that says I ran for a long time. My knees feel great, my back feels fine. I have a long road ahead of me (pun not intentional) but this was a good start. Lo0king forward to calling myself a runner again!

Thrice

I was quiet last month, hmmm? As it is, I think I posted as much as I ran. No reasons for either, just excuses that I won't re-babble. Busy and tired but nothing that more activity and more posting wouldn't have helped. February will show improvement; that's my story and I'm stickin' to it!

A very nice thing happened yesterday: the sun came out. I am such a creature of brightness and the last couple of dark gloomy months have made me want to hibernate. This is the same every winter and usually at the end of January I shake myself and tell myself to snap out of it, dammit! So now that it's February I'm going to snap out of it, dammit!

I've been reading, I've been knitting, I've been eating, I've been napping and working and most of all I've been helping my mom get settled. She's doing well, or wellish, and turning her rather institutional apartment into a glorious, comfortable museum setting. But since it's a new facility she is just about the only resident. She's certainly the only person on her floor, so she's lonely. I'm filing the roles of daughter, friend and confidant as well as packer, mover, sorter, carter and the usual bookkeeper, mail clerk, health insurance coordinator.

During a long talk I told my mom that I miss my old life. The greatest thing in my life is my friends and I've been neglecting most of them for months. Yes, I mean you. You too. My email friends and my phone friends and my running friends and my knitting friends. I miss socializing. I miss going out for a run and chatting for hours. I miss having a glass of good wine with a good friend. I miss having a stitch 'n' bitch at my house. I miss going to bed and sleeping soundly the entire night -- oh wait, I never did that. I miss my routine.

So that's the goal. Reconnect. Write call visit entertain. Less time napping, more time conversing. What do you think?

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.

Is it spring yet?

Foggy, drizzly, overcast, cold. Come on, if it's going to be ugly outside at least we should be getting some measurable rain so that when it's 100 degrees here in 6 months we'll be able to water the lawn. But no, just enough precip to dampen the freeways and my spirits. Although I think the cloudy sky and waving trees are beautiful, enough is enough. Gimme some sunshine!

Gah. I vastly dislike having deadlines and it seems that lately everything has a time cut-off that has to be met. Personal life, family life, work life. I end up overwhelmed and having to recheck everything I do for stupid errors and hmmph.

The only good thing going on right now is I'm not exercising. No, that in itself is very much not a good thing. What's good is that when I exercise I don't sleep. When I do nothing my sleep improves. Totally bassackward but that's what I've found. Last night I took a 1 hour nap, got up and was productive for a few hours, then slept for 6 hours, got up once to go to the bathroom and slept another hour. I've had many weeks when I haven't had that much sleep. And I'm still tired. And don't want to run or wii or cycle or anything.

I'm happy I didn't make any resolutions because it would be pitiful breaking them so early (except the sunscreen thing; despite there not being any sun whatsoever, I'm still applying sunscreen to exposed skin).

We've found a new home for my mom and she's supposed to move next week. We won't be selling her current home for a while to make sure that she has everything she needs, but it's still a move with all the attendant problems. Throw in her physical problems and it's challenging for us all. The great part is that she's doing so well, is so stable cognitively and emotionally that it's enjoyable spending this much time with her. Of course, that increases my guilt about not being able to spend even more time with her. That also gives me a (somewhat) valid excuse for not having time to exercise.

And thus I come full circle. Where's the sun?

Gratuitous Bear of the New Year

About a year ago I decided that I really had to curb my bearaholic tendencies or else Hoarders would come and start an intervention at my house. I told myself I could continue with the Medal Bears, as long as they were small, but I needed to stop accumulating big bears. This notion was reinforced last summer when I faced the prospect of winnowing through my mom's possessions. I felt that my needing to own more things was unnecessary and was just a displacement of other emotions that I wasn't facing. Nice little self-psychobabble, huh?

My one medal bear last year was from Chicago for my Chicago Marathon medal and was in fact small. I never found a bear for my Solvang Century medal; neither a bear representing cycling nor the Solvang area. I counted my Tri Teddy as a 2008 bear, even though I really dressed her in 2009.

I slipped in my conviction during the summer when I was in Las Vegas. We were wandering around the shops and cruised into a toy shop (I know, what was I thinking?). Apparently while I wasn't paying attention Steiff started a line of less expensive bears. I certainly wouldn't have bought a $150 classic teddy, but these were different. This is a line of "cloud soft plush" bears that come in their very own suitcase for a reasonable low price. My resistance slipped away and Bree and I spent quite a bit of time finding the perfect bear to take home with me (you know, of course, that if you're buying a bear in the store you must find the one with the best facial expression, best balanced body, etc. You can't just buy one willy-nilly off the shelf). With help from my sis I named her Bubble, because she looked like a big, soft bubble.

During the later summer when I was so frantic with trying to care for my hospitalized mom, my sis sent me Tinkerbearr. This sweet fairy bear helped me cope and gave me comfort when it was badly needed.

In fall that crack-dealer to bearaholics, the Vermont Teddy Bear Company, started developing new types of bears. The one that struck me the most was the Soft, Floppy Bear (which by the way, VTB, is really hard to find on your website). It just looked so CUTE! And it was low priced and I was depressed and yes, I once again displaced my feelings of sadness and despair with buying a new bear. It worked. Wow, what a bear! I was very impressed by the warm, squishy softness of a bear that seemed to hug back. I did manage to not buy one of their Go Green Bears (but give me time ...).

Last fall, this early winter, in fact the entire year was a tough one for not only my own family, but for so many of my friends. There were job losses, there was illness, there were injuries and there was death. If ever the comfort of a bear was necessary, it was 2009.

There was one more bear to come, one more surprise, one gift above all gifts. After our walk on Saturday, Bree gave me a gift and told me it was for various and assorted occasions (birthdays past and future, Christmas, Hanukkah). It was a large box, wrapped in very cute paw-print wrapping paper. I tore open the top of the wrap and knew immediately from the box exactly where it had come from. Yes, I know a VTB box when I see one.

My hands started shaking and I sat down. I broke the tape on the box and lifted out a bear I had coveted since I first saw it on the website. My eyes filled with tears and my breath caught in my throat. I lifted out the beautiful little bear and gave it a hug.


I reached a little deeper into the box and pulled out the bear's little stuffed penguin. Nothing like a bear having her very own stuffie.

Having spent not a little time with me in a toy shop choosing a bear, and even more time trying to find a perfect medal bear in varying locations, Bree knows exactly what a bear means to me. I don't think she realizes what receiving a perfect bear from a friend means to me. I've received many bears from friends, some damn fine bears from some damn good friends. But Bree had an even tougher 2009 than I had. Despite that, she spent time to think about me, to go out of her way to visualize what I'd like, to order and surprise me this way with something very personal and meaningful to me.

Do I have the best friends, or what?

Thank you Bree!

(L-R) Tinkerbearr, Feather, Bree LaBear and her mighty penguin Nitro

Looking forward

A year ago I was filled with hope and positive thoughts and visions. I hadn't much enjoyed 2008 and was sure 2009 would be a vast improvement. It was not.

People look back on this past decade and are doing best-of and worst-of lists and I don't even have to go to the way-back machine for that. Best-of for me was running my first marathon, then my second marathon, then finding through running a group of the best friends I've had in my life. Worst-of for me was family and health related, including losing my dad to cancer and almost losing my mom to dementia and over-medication. For the most part the best and worst are evenly balanced with one or the other periodically tipping the scales.

I only have one resolution for the next year and next decade, and indeed, the rest of my life. Too many years I've resolved to eat less or eat better or exercise more or start lifting weights or be less cynical or c'mon be happy and I'm tired of circumstances giving me an excuse to ignore those goals. I've found I have very little control over most of my life and most plans I've made for the past couple of years ended up getting shot to hell, so spontaneity will become part of me whether I enjoy it or not.

I do indeed plan to at least mentally register for a marathon, to set up a training schedule with runs and Wii's and rides and even weight lifting. I doubt I'll be exercising or engaging in any physical activity every day but I will again make it a habit instead of an oddity. I also plan to cut the crap out of my diet again, mostly because I feel better when I eat healthier choices. I'm not saying I'll totally give up popcorn, wine and ice cream for dinner but it will become a rarity instead of a usual meal. I will also not berate myself when circumstances have me chewing my nails as both a meal and an activity. Life happens and I'll adjust.

There's only one commitment, one goal, one resolution that I feel I can hold to. Indeed, I must hold to. I'd be happy if each and every one of my readers adopts the same goal, convinces others to share this goal:

WEAR MORE SUNSCREEN!

I hope you all have a happy end to this crappy year and a wonderful start to the new one!

Sunny skies, foggy brain

I seem to be in my typical holiday mood: cranky, anxious and jittery. Normally the bright sunny days improve my state of mind but today I'd like the thick fog to return so that my grumpy wouldn't seem so out of place. The holidays aren't the reason for the mood, it's the entire December-short-days, get-everything-done-by-the-end-of-the-year thing that gets to me every time. I'm quite ambivalent about the holidays themselves. Having two days off work doesn't bother me at all.

In an effort to improve my attitude I've attempted to increase my level of activities from "lacking" to "low." I'm trying to get in at least a little extra bit of movement each day but my energy level is riding as low as the sun in the winter sky. I've been using my new Wii Fit, more for the entertainment value than the exercise value, and that's gotten me off my posterior most days. I don't think it's intended for a dedicated, hard-core fitness freak but right now my dedication is lost in the holiday mail and my core is flabby so the Wii is doing what needs to be done. It's less mind-numbing than a treadmill, I don't need any special workout clothes (I just start stripping off layers as I get warm and I'm using it barefoot now), and I don't need to even go into a different room.

I've also attempted to correct some of my sloppier eating habits but you wouldn't know that from my tendency to have popcorn, ice cream and wine at night and call it "dinner." I've limited my consumption of holiday crap goodies to no more than one each day, I'm eating healthy lunches and if my evening eating isn't quite what's recommended I'm not going to drive myself crazy about it until January. As long as I'm getting some good nutrition each day I'm sure I'll maintain.

My obsession with sunscreen might be getting slightly out of hand. I don't know why I think I need to wear sunscreen on my legs when they're completely covered with long pants and boots. I've been wearing an SPF 15 moisturizer on my face for years, but now I'm spreading it on my neck and ears too. I've also been hovering around the moisturizer/lotion aisles trying to discover a lightweight, non-oily, non-pore clogging, higher SPF goop to spread on my face but I haven't found anything yet. I like the Neutrogena sunscreen that I use when running but not for all day use on my face. I like the Aveeno Daily Moisturizing Lotion with Menthol for the rest of my body but it doesn't have a sunscreen (and Aveeno seems to be trying to discontinue that particular lotion). I figure I have, at best, a couple of months before it gets warm enough that I'm outside with parts of my limbs uncovered and by then I hope to be fully sun protected.

Meanwhile, even with the sun exposure I was getting before this my Vitamin D levels were low. That was while taking 1000 mg daily. Well, almost daily. I tend to forget my vitamins and supplements on weekends. I doubled the D during the week and I try to remember to take it on weekends. I can see it now: lovely pale skin and rickets. Nice.

Whine whine whine. I told you I was feeling cranky.

Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas Half Marathon Report

Now that I'm not running as many races it seems to take me forever to write up a report. Now that I'm not running much it seems to take me forever to write anything. My life is filled to the brim with uninteresting things that I'm not having a bunch of fun experiencing the first time, let alone reliving them for public consumption. Will that stop me from writing here? Nopers it won't!

Anyhoo. RnR-LV. I registered for that right after I ran the Nike Half Marathon in October. I wanted a relaxing get-away and of course I can't justifying travel without a race involved. So I made my flight reservations, and my hotel reservations at what I thought was a swank Vegas hotel and I signed up for the race. In between that time and last weekend a crapload of stuff came up and I wasn't as excited as I had been. Nonetheless, I had spent the money and decided to hie meself forth. Or something like that.

We all know how excited I get about freezing (thus, moving from Michigan to California right after college graduation). I wasn't happy when Chicago ended up being the freezer of arctic races and I was less happy when I discovered that Vegas was going to be experiencing their first hard freeze of the year. Oh joy. I packed all my warm race stuff and decided what the heck, I'll live.

I got to Vegas in the early evening and checked into my hotel, the name of which I won't say except it rhymes with "Nonte Darlo." I had reserved a 2 queen, non-smoking room on a high floor. I got the high floor, a non-smoking floor. The room had 1 king bed which ended up being a non-issue since I was alone (although I like that second bed because the rooms are usually larger). The biggest issue was the smell. No, not the regular smoky Vegas smell. This was a nasty, overwhelming chemical-floral smell, as if the entire perfume industry had dumped their wares on the carpet. Over and over again. It was vile.

Luckily my window opened - an inch since it was the 31st floor - and there was a strong fan in the room. I managed to clear the worst of the smell out. The only time it smelled good on that floor was, oddly enough, when someone was smoking. Yes, the smoke smelled better than that perfumey miasma. I figured out it was probably something they were cleaning the carpets with. Ew.

That wasn't the only thing wrong with my room at the Lonte Barlo. There were 3 lamps in the room, all set to "dim." Unless I was directly underneath one I couldn't read or knit, or even see very well. The shower faucet slid by itself from "warm" to "scalding" if I didn't keep holding it. The room didn't seem clean. The curtains stuck. The television had hardly any channels. The safe needed a credit card to use it. Internet access was about $20 with the taxes. The worst was there was no coffee pot. Nada. Nor would they provide one. No, said they, call room service and spend $15 for a cuppa. Huh. Good thing the tap water reached scalding levels.

Yes, this is a race report. I'm getting there. (No wonder it takes me so long to write these things...) Saturday morning I headed over to Mandalay Bay for the expo. It was a typical RnR expo: huge. Lottsa stuff. Packet pickup was quick and easy. This year RnR was giving tech shirts (aww, the last of the big races with crappy white cotton tee shirts has crossed to the bright side). The half marathon shirt was a black short sleeved generously sized (very generously) Sugoi tech shirt. I was astounded when my XXL was tremendous. I'm so used to Nikesizing that I was unprepared for something too big. Whoopsie.


For this race RnR had jumped on the red and black bandwagon that Nike's race-branded clothing had at both Chicago and SF-Women's races and once again I was unable to resist my colors. I only bought a(nother) running hat but now I have 3 red and black running hats from this years' races. Between what was already in the goodie bag and what I picked up at the booths I got a ton of swag including dog treats (that was a first), oil and vinegar (another first), a full box of mac and cheese (yet another first), gel and bars and drink mix and more.


Vegas was busy last weekend. Not only were about 30,000 people there for the race, plus their family and friends (sniff, except for those of us all by their lonesome), it was again the big Rodeo finals (and I don't know the correct name for it, sorry, not a big fan of cows y'know) and also the big NASCAR finals (or some race car thingie, not a big fan of that either). My most amusing times all weekend were wandering around and trying to decide which of the groups a person and their companions belonged to. The cowboys (and cowgirls) were the easiest: big hats, boots, big belt buckles. The runners were wearing sneakers and some piece of race-branded clothing, carrying water. A very few of them also had the big buckles but the ultra-buckles couldn't be confused with the cowboy buckles. The race car fans were the out-of-shape drunks carrying a large beer. Oh No! See RunnerGirl unfairly stereotype people!!

Sunday morning I arose early. The race was starting at 6:15 and I knew it would take me about 20 minutes to walk to the start (I had timed it the day before). I ate my oatmeal, drank my surprisingly good instant Starbucks Via (thanks again Ponte Farlo for no coffee pot), bundled into all my running gear and headed out the door at 5:15 am. Ew smelly hallway.

The thing that saved the day for me was the instant I walked outside I covered my nose and mouth with my buff and left it that way until I started running. I managed to not inhale any of the icy cold air, and lemme tell ya, it was icy cold, about 30 degrees. I joined the throngs heading to the start. I was in corral 23, way at the back. It didn't take me that long to get there so I decided to go into the hotel/casino to stay warm and to go to the bathroom. Being in the very big and typically confusing casino I think I walked for a half hour before I made it to the bathroom and back out again. I exited through a different door than I had entered so I was way up by the front and had to fight my way to the back of the crowd.

RnR was doing a challenge with the elite women and men where the women started about 20 minutes before the rest of the crowd. There was a bunch of stuff that was apparently going on at the front, like entertainers and tigers and such, but we didn't know about that until after the race. We could see part of the fireworks that were going on but the trees in the median strip blocked the best of it. Finally the race started, I think. Because of staggered start times I didn't cross the start line for almost 45 minutes after the gun. Brrr.

The half marathon was run entirely on Las Vegas Blvd. except for a very short loop at the half way turnaround. I've got to say that the road surface was very good; I didn't trip once. Not a single time, and that could be a race record for me. It was both a good route and a bad one. I didn't mind running back and forth but some people were complaining toward the end.

I was surprised by the course support. Although water stops were frequent, by about mile 6 the tables were mostly broken down with only a couple left having water or Cytomax drink. There was Gu at just past mile 9 and when I saw it while wunning the other direction there seemed to be plenty. However by the time I got there, there were literally only a half dozen packets of Roctane left - nothing else, none of the regular Gu. People must have been grabbing handsful as they ran past. I feel bad for people behind me (and yes, there were lots of them) who hadn't brought their own gel and weren't carrying bottles. Let that be a lesson to you kids, even the best organizations sometimes run short. I had my favorite Gu's and Sport Beans with me, plus the freebie Gu that had been in my goodie bag, their new seasonal flavor Gingerbread. I tasted that one and threw it out, preferring my Beans.

My plan for the race was to wun my normal 9:1 until at least past the turnaround, hopefully to at least mile 8 (which was as far as I had trained), and then see how I felt. I ran straight out for the first mile and a half and unless the course was mismarked I unintentionally kicked ass. I still think that first mile was short. I wore my Nike+ for amusement value and it said I only ran about 12.25 miles total. Huh. Have to calibrate that thing. I convinced myself to stick with 9:1 for the entire race, mostly because it was cold and I wanted to finish while there was still beer left at the end. Nope, didn't make sense to me either.

Once the sun came out it "warmed" up to the high 30's, but when we turned around it had started clouding over and I discovered I'd been running with a tail wind. I had taken off my jacket at about mile 4 and I put it back on at about mile 10. The gloves and ear warmers were removed at about mile 5 and I didn't need them again until after the race.

It was crowded the entire time I was out there, which was almost 3 hours because although I felt like I was wunning my little legs off, I was going slow as frozen molasses. Again. I did a lot of zigging and zagging and because I was there for fun, and was only running 13.1 miles, I didn't really care. I had decided that I would enjoy the race simply because I was able to run it - I was healthy enough to run, I was monetarily capable of a weekend getaway, I could drop all of my responsibilities for a couple of days. Enjoy it I did. I was grateful that I could do it. Freezing air, crowded course and all.

At the finish they draped the big medal around my neck and gave me a bottle of water. I wandered until I found the space blankets, which are now generic "Rock 'n' Roll Race Series" blankets (guess they have to save money somehow with so many races now). There were tables full of plain bagels and bananas and oranges, pretzels and some energy bars. We were able to have our pictures taken either alone, or with a frozen showgirl. Very funny, they looked miserable standing there in their outfits trying to smile while some smelly stranger crowded next to them. Yes, I had my picture taken with one. Then I tried to track down the beer tent because I guess I wasn't cold enough.

(I just bought a new camera so hopefully this is the last of the crappy pix)

After wandering in circles I found that beer tent. I didn't need to dig out my bracelet showing I was over 21 (frozen face wrinkles were all I need to prove my age) and I was handed my can - yes, an entire can - of MGD 64. Hey, it's almost water, right? I was rehydrating! Vegas being Vegas, I was able to walk back to my hotel with beer in hand and it was far enough that I had finished the beer long before I reached the Ronte Garlo.

Also Vegas being Vegas, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the squads of running Elvi. Why is it that all impersonators dress as Fat Old Elvis instead of Hot Young Elvis? It's not like any of them can sing like him. There were also many couples who married, or remarried, while on the course (at about mile 3.5) and ran wearing wedding apparel. Always something interesting to see during a race!

Would I do it again? Yeah, probably. It's still a good excuse to get out of Dodge, it's an easy course, a cheapish trip. Although I love small races, there's something to be said for the large corporate ones too.

Will I travel by myself again? Yeah, probably. Among other things I discovered that you shouldn't go out for sushi meals alone (7 bites and you're done. Literally. Then what?) and that they'll put Amy in a corner. I never felt weird, didn't feel lonely (cell phone!), didn't have time to get bored.

Now I have to figure out what I can race next. Right now it feels good slacking off a bit, giving myself an excuse to let my leg heal without taking the chance of ripping stitches. This won't last long, I like having plans (even if I end up canceling them) and a schedule to follow. If you have any suggestions for a race, let me know!

"I need to remove a bit more"

Last week I had my annual appointment with my dermatologist. I've been having yearly full skin checks for about 10 years. Before that, for several years, the skin checks were twice annually. That was because about 15 years ago we found my first basal cell carcinoma. The day my doctor called me back to her office and gave me the diagnosis I was crushed. All I heard was "you have skin cancer" and the rest of the discussion sounded to me, and I remembered as "lalalalalalalala."

I finally absorbed the fact that my days as a sun bunny were over, that I had a skin disease that was harmful and dangerous but probably wouldn't kill, disable or disfigure me. About two years later I found my second basal cell carcinoma and redoubled my sunscreening efforts.

From that point on I learned my skin very well. I had found both carcinomas and my doc was surprised each time that they were indeed not benign. There were none of the usual ABCDE signs (A=asymmetry, B=border, C=color, D-diameter, E=elevation), they both looked more like pimples that wouldn't go away. I'm a very mole-y person, especially my multi-sunburned back.

In the intervening years I had several spots that I had my doc remove, several sliced and even more frozen. I'd gotten a bit slack about the "annual" part of the visit and had stretched things to about 18 months this time. I'm careful with sunscreen, I wear a hat with a brim when I run, but I'm still outside for long periods of time. Because I run so slowly my long morning runs often go until mid-day in full sunlight.

My doc has pictures of many of my moles so that she can compare from year to year. When I went in this year I had a few spots that I was concerned with and she decided that one spot we'd been watching for many years looked darker. So I had 3 spots frozen (and lemme tell you, freezing a very large mole on your spine hurts like a bitch) and 2 excised. The slices were on my face near the hairline (the doc thought it was just a cyst but I thought it was ugly) and above my left knee (the mole that looked darker). The doc warned me that the lab she was sending them to requested additional tissue about 10% of the time and I shouldn't worry if I had to return.

So I wasn't worried when she called me Friday and told me to come back and have the knee mole re-excised. She said she'd have to put in a stitch or two and I wouldn't be able to be active for a couple of days. She didn't say, and I didn't ask, whether the lab had given any diagnosis. I had a big weekend ahead of me and I just assumed that everything was ok. In my wildest thoughts I felt it could be another basal cell. Maybe, if horrible things were wrong, it could be a squamous cell carcinoma. But I was pretty confident that everything was fine. Because apparently I also believe in unicorns and pink puppies and rainbows with pots of gold at their ends.

I've been going to this same dermatologist for probably more than 2 decades and I know her, she knows me. So when I was there today and the first thing she did was pause, and look at me, I knew something was wrong. She told me that the diagnosis was "evolving melanoma in situ" and paused again. She started explaining, showed me the lab report and I asked if I could get a copy of the report because after "melanoma" all I was hearing was "lalalalalalala" and all I could think was "I have cancer."

My doc showed me pictures of cross-sectioned skin depicting the different parts and layers, and explained the type of melanoma ("I have cancer"). She talked of the Clark levels, where mine is Level 1 ("I have cancer"), she spoke of stages, where my is actually 0 ("I have cancer"). She told me about the treatment, which was cutting that bad boy away ("I have cancer") and spoke of prognosis, which was that once it was cut away, there was only about a 2% chance that it would reoccur in that spot ("I have cancer").

I had an odd reaction, freaked out and buzzed and focused and nauseous and very calm on top of it all ("I have cancer). I started talking too much, asking lots of questions (most of which I forgot all the answers to), babbling about this that and the other thing. Meanwhile the doc prepped my leg, I lay back and pretended that I was doing A-Ok ("I have cancer").

When she was done I had a long vertical purple line on my leg, held together on the inside with 3 stitches (she used extra strong thread since I'm a runner) and 8 stitches on the outside. She placed a nice dressing on it, taped it all together and I was good to go. I got verbal and written instructions of care and was told repeatedly to call her if I had any questions or problems ("I have cancer"). I was told I can shower tomorrow and can run when then tight wound feels like it won't split.

I made my followup appointment, went to my car and started crying. The same thing that I had done so long ago when I got my basal cell diagnosis. I went back to work and obviously couldn't focus very well. I went to my mom's house to get her mail (which the post office didn't deliver even though my mail-hold specified delivery today). I went into her house, checked a few things, went to leave and couldn't find my car keys. I looked all over for them ("yes, I looked there" "I looked there too" "of course I looked there, six times!") and an hour later gave it up. I had that little temporary key the dealer gives you and tells you not to use in the ignition and I used it anyway. I needed to get home.

Eight hours later I'm feeling a little more focused and a little less freaked out. Thanks to Mr. Google I know that if I had to get melanoma, I got the best type. Chances are very good that every little bit was chopped off today and it won't return. The odds are in favor of my getting more somewhere else, at some later date. But I know my skin, my doc knows my skin, and we'll keep on top of it. Right now I know intellectually, and I'm trying to feel in my heart and my nerves, that "I HAD cancer."

Evolving Melanoma in Situ

I'm ... speechless. Kids, use sunscreen.

Bittersweet weekend

The news was expected but still painful. Saturday morning while I was at the Rock 'n' Roll Las Vegas expo picking up my race packet, I received word that our friend Raji had passed away from cancer. Raji was a powerful, compassionate, funny, talented woman. She was an avid supporter of the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's Team in Training, not only being a Triple Crown recipient, a mentor and captain but a coach also. She was one of our running knitters who participated in our (at one time) frequent Stitch n Bitch parties. I will miss Raji's luminous smile, her energy, her enthusiasm. Claudia has a lovely tribute to Raji on her blog; please go look.

On Sunday I thought of all the races in which Raji participated. I'll never have her speed or her grace but I carried with me the memory of her joy of running and I smiled while I ran.

(I stole this picture from Claudia)