Long run with some differences

I managed the second long run yesterday, choosing the canal and the afternoon rather than suburbs and morning.  I do not have a definitive account of pace or even distance because the GPS-based app on my phone, which I use to measure these things, closed unexpectedly.  I am pretty sure that I did the best part of ten miles - five miles out and five miles in. There were a number of other differences to yesterday's run. I chose to leave off the thermal top I wear under my t-shirt and felt more comfortable; over distance one gets quite warm.  I also consumed one of those energy gel packs about half-way through my run. While preparing for my last half-marathon I learned that consuming glucose, about 40 minutes into any run that is longer than an hour, will enhance endurance. It does! I don't like energy drinks, preferring plain water to keep hydrated.  However, I do find that the injection of sugar (glucose sweets, gel pack or whatever) does help. Apparently, we begin to burn fat at some stage in our long runs, to do that efficently our system needs some glucose or carbohydrate too.  Whatever the science, I find it does help; I do not feel so depleted by the end of the run. The gel is disgusting though. It was like 7up in the form of toothpaste. Not good! It was also expensive at €2 for one little pack. Jelly sweets will do until the distance really increases.  One final difference to yesterday's run was the ground. It began with a soft tarmacadam surface and then became a mud path. This, of course, was easier on the limbs but required concentration so as not to fall and was a bit cold and wet.  After the first two or three splashes up my legs, I took little notice, but the white runners are no longer white! That's the end of this week's running which reached the grand total of 20 miles. Last weekend, I managed a cross-training stint of 2 hours with a walk, but that's unlikely this weekend. We're off down South to celebrate today the generation coming after us and, tomorrow, to remember the generation that went before us. Have a good weekend!

Memories

Today I travelled to Denver, probably for the last time. How strange it seems. To get here requires a three and a half hour journey by car to the airport in Phoenix and then a one hour and fifty minute plane ride and then a forty-five minute taxi ride. It adds up to a long day! I will meet with my doctor tomorrow morning, and have a chest x-ray and pulmonary function testing, a test that measures, among other things, lung capacity and how quickly one exchanges oxygen for carbon dioxide. The latter is the more important disease indicator for sarcoidosis as a slower rate of exchange indicates deep tissue congestion/inflammation.

I am filled with memories of my many visits here over the last three and a half years. I have witnessed Denver in every season. So many memories are flooding back....

Slow

I was slow to leave my bed this morning, slow to find fresh running gear, slow to realise that the porridge was not cooking because I forgot to turn on the cooker at the mains. I was so, so tired. The tiredness has been building over the last two or three days, so I was not surprised that it had come home to roost.  It was the kind of morning where I bargain before leaving the bed: I'll just listen to the news, the weather forecast, the traffic report and so on.  Needless to say, I am later leaving the house, the traffic is more congested, my run starts later, I am anxious about getting to my desk. Short as today's run was (3 miles), I stopped and started, distracted by my i-pod more than anything else. There was a song I wanted to listen to, but it kept shuffling on to the next song.  Anyway, the end result was ... you guessed it ... my run was slow. I either paid the price for the gallop on the later stage of  yesterday's run or the continuous training is beginning to take its toll. It's ok. I take pride from the fact that I did it and I take comfort from the realisation that tomorrow is a day of rest from running. 
Before I finish, in anticipation of Valentine's weekend, I would like to share the song that distracted me during this morning's run. It's from Imelda May's latest album Mayhem. I love her and I love this song, Kentish Town Waltz. The rhythm and tune are quite nostalgic, almost what your (my) aunts would sing after a drink or two, but just listen to the lyrics. I heard the artist speak in a radio interview about her parents, how they inspired her and, in particular, this song.  It speaks volumes about loving and relating and living ... and frees us from the tyranny of perfection.  Apt for today's dismal run perhaps.  http://www.muzu.tv/imeldamay/kentish-town-waltz-music-video/824748?country=ie&locale=en
Hope you like it.

I just ran a marathon

Reading Etty's last post is not easy for me. I knew that you had gone for an earlier infusion, and were not responding as quickly as you would expect, but I did not realise that you had increased neuro symptoms.  I am glad you are going to Denver this week.    If I were to be honest, it puts me in a slight panic which I have learned over the years to rationalise away with some kind of trust in medicine and doctors.  We talk too, just a little, around the edge perhaps, of the scary bits.  At times, the patient can become the comforter!
And I think of your wonderful husband.
It’s not as if Etty and I have always been close. I think as young ones at home, we irritated one another. There are 4 years between us, by the way.   I don’t really remember her to be born or much about her as a baby. Many of those moments come from pictures or the home movies Dad used to make.  One of my earliest memories specifically about Etty was when she was about 3, maybe 4, and we were still living in a housing estate in Cork city. There was a family down the road from us that intrigued me.  They went to a different school from us and I always had the vague sense that they were kind of ‘intellectual’ or something. I’m quite certain that I didn’t use that word, but I had a sense that they took the learning thing and school seriously. Perhaps, my parents can explain the origins of that notion. This is a child’s perception, you understand.  Anyway, I remember being allowed to take Etty with me to play in that family’s garden.  She had a gorgeous teddy bear coat in red and white, the kind with little pretend ears on the hood. I was so proud. I can still feel her little hand, pudgy with baby fat, in mine. I am sure I was all gushing protectivness, relishing my role as big sister for that little walk. Knowing children, it probably all fell apart once I got stuck into playing!  It took college years before our relationship has become more of a friendship ... more about that another time.
I apologise for the mixed pronouns in the above paragraphs, it’s not always clear how to go.
Anyway, I just ran a marathon ... over the last 8 days! I did my 5 mile run today in idyllic conditions (cold, bright and sunny) bringing my total mileage on this programme to 27. I have so far to go though - 8 days to run a distance I hope to do in 4 to 5 hours in June. It puts it in perspective.
I was on a slightly different route today which, for no particular reason, I ran in the opposite direction, along the East side first. It worked well. This was supposed to be a pace run, but I did not really up the tempo until half way through.  The slight climb out of the city and some mad readings on my heart monitor, kept me a little slower. Before any of you get excited about my heart monitor (Dad, this is to you especially!), it is an old, basic model.  I was also passing by a number of science buildings for the initial phase of the run and may have been picking up on esoteric devices in the vicinity. My ability to breathe lightly and easily, the absence of a pain in my chest, the regular pink/flesh colour of my extremities and a general sense of well being all reassured me that I was not having a heart attack!  And I was singing again. I did open up from the top of Kilmacud though and it was great fun.  By the way, not only was the Millenium Spire visible from the top of my route, but so too were a number of churches in the city and I could clearly see the hills beyond. I really want to know which church (assuming that it is a church) has the green dome.  And the world has clearly tilted or spun (or both) a degree or so in the last week. As I left home at 06.36 this morning, driving East, the light was already seeping through the sky.

Guilty

I've been quiet these past few days. It has been a time of laying low, resting, sleeping. I had a burst of energy on Friday last and cleaned the house again, preparing optimistically for the possibility of more house showings. It wasn't just any type of cleaning either. It was that deep cleaning that requires, among other things, a jar of vinegar and a toothbrush to try to get rid of hard water buildup in the bathrooms and kitchen. I didn't quit until 7:30 that night when freshly cleaned and shiny floors completed my cleaning blitz. I was happy, satisfied and even remarked to Hubby that perhaps this latest sarcoid fog I've been under is lifting. We smiled happily at each other at the promising thought.

Saturday and Sunday were quite different though. Gone was the burst of energy. I was reminded again of the conclusion that I have come to over the years that when in an active sarcoid phase there is a limit to the amount of energy one can "spend" before needing to rest and replenish again. I picture my energy as sitting in two beautiful clay pots resting on an old fashioned weighing scales that demands to be kept balanced all the time. Energy taken out or spent needs to be counterbalanced with restorative practices, sleep, rest, quiet, so that energy can be returned again, thus balancing the pots.

This latest active sarcoid phase has surprised my doctor and I. In March of 2010 I started a new medicine regime that requires IV infusions every 4-6 weeks. It was a bit of a desperate measure at the time and one undertaken after much deliberation and weighing of benefit versus risk on the part of my doctors as this medicine carries some pretty hefty longterm side effects. Overall it has worked marvellously well. It took some time to arrive at the optimal dosage and even though the symptoms never fully abated, I was definitely feeling much better than I had in years. Over Christmas I started to develop more sarcoid symptoms, an irritating dry cough, increased breathlessness, daily low grade fevers, aches, a tiredness that was hard to shake, increased tingling on the left side of my face and fingers and a slight tremor in my hands. I consulted my doctor, an internist in the area that has seen me through a lot of things. We talked about stress and anxiety and the possibility that an increase in both as a result of our upcoming move may be triggering something. "Do you really think that stress is a contributing factor?" I asked him. "Most definitely yes" he replied, "I strongly believe that our emotional, psychological and spiritual health greatly affect how our bodies handle chronic disease." We came up with a plan to bring my next infusion forward by a week and make some other medication adjustments. They haven't worked...at least not yet, but this week I will travel to Denver for the last time to meet with my doctor there and see what she might suggest.

In the meantime I am left with this nagging thought about the interconnectedness of chronic disease and emotional/spiritual health. I have to chase away, once again, the guilty feelings that this is something that I have drawn on myself. Am I not working hard enough at healing any emotional/spiritual issues I may have? I take on massive loads of guilt when I think about the effect this may be having on my family. (It doesn't help when I remember an experience I had with a native Apache seer many years ago, a story that I shall save for another time.) I have been down this slippery slope before. It is a difficult one and to climb up out of it again I need to remind myself about compassion, and compassion for self. I could write so much more about this, but I am tired!

On a bright note though, I did get to go in the recording studio a little this weekend. The band I have played with over the years, Houseblend, wants to lay some tracks down before I leave. We've only been talking about doing this for about five years or so and, as always is the case, it is my pending move that has finally motivated us to actually do it. I'll keep you posted....

17 Weeks to go

The tide was out in Dublin Bay and the seagulls were in as I crossed through the high point, literally and figuratively, of my run this morning. I love the view from Deer Park. The Spire on O'Connell street was still bright, the rest of the city a bit lost in the grey cloud of the early morning. The view sweeps right out over the Bay as far as Howth Head, with the Ringsend towers marking the horizon somewhere in between. The Atlantic has reclaimed her rights, with a loud assertive ongoing roar, over the climate of this little island! Another gale blows this morning. It was a short run at 3miles (5K), I kept it slow by singing quietly to myself. I do not have Etty's talents for music, my singing is best kept quiet! 
My primary distraction on this morning's run was the plethora of election posters, battered and bruised following the weekend's storm.  Oh the puns, the puns ... readers look away now, perhaps.  There were those fallen to the bottom of the pole (I warned you!), those who have already folded(!), those still standing upright, gazing confidently, willing to weather any storm. Should I mention those thrown together in a premature coalition and the few flapping, noisy but invisible?  Some are barely clinging on while others are lying covered in mud, never to regain their former glory. I could go on, but shall spare you, presuming the journalist wags of our country will have had similar thoughts.
I do have one question though, who is ETIHW?