Dithering

I thought that I might share a pre-run post this morning. I'm supposed to be doing 20 miles and I'm in a complete 'dither'. I can't decide where to run. I had fully intended to head to the Phoenix Park (mapped out and all) but, from what I am reading, Dublin is already in the throes of big preparations for the Queen's visit and I think I'll stay clear of that. So ... I'm back on-line revisiting my plans. I'll get my twenty miles in alright, but not sure where?

I recognise procrastination and paralysis when I see it. To be fair, it's not the running has me spinning slightly this morning. Ok. To quote Café-Java brother "Get a grip!" 

In the meantime, here's a short poem that I came across in The Runner's Literary Companion. It's a simple idea, but it has helped in its own way with the long runs:

Strategy for a Marathon
by Marnie Muelle
I will start
when the gun goes off.
I will run
for five miles.
Feeling good,
I will run
to the tenth mile.
At the tenth
I will say,
"Only three more
to the halfway."
At the halfway mark,
13.1 miles,
I will know
fifteen is in reach.
At fifteen miles
I will say,
"You've run twenty before,
keep going."
At twenty
I will say,
"Run home."

Another Appointment

It's been another week of going in and out of the city to doctor's appointments. Thursday I had an appointment with a rheumatologist. I had never seen a rheumatologist before and was curious to see how it was going to go, not quite sure why I was seeing him either if truth be told. Rheumatologists typically see patients with inflammatory conditions such as lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, crohn's and chronic fatigue syndrome...and they prescribe lots and lots of remicade, so inflammatory condition, remicade, I suppose I fit the bill! I also get a sense from Pulmo Doc that he does not feel experienced enough with remicade to oversee its administration.

I did not expect though to have to tell my history all over again in such detail. I had presumed that Pulmo Doc would have laid the groundwork for me. Pulmo Doc had sent Rheumy a note about my visit with him, but copies of previous imaging, CTs, MRIs, previous bloodwork were not to be found. Too bad because Rheumy was very particular about details that I didn't quite have in my hand or head. "What did the report say for your very first CT scan, did you have parenchymal lung involvement or lymph node involvement?" I believed the answer to be "yes" to both but couldn't definitively say so and as someone who really values precision and details I was driving myself (and Rheumy) crazy. Oh well. Somehow, we got through it, all 50 minutes of it. Rheumy's bedside manner wasn't the best and it didn't help that he had an accent that I had to concentrate hard on to decipher, but that's okay I can cope with that and doctors don't intimidate me. As the appointment was winding down I asked Rheumy if he saw a lot of sarcoidosis patients like me and I got a vague answer. "We see sarcoidosis patients here". I asked again, "But have you specifically seen and followed a lot of sarcoidosis patients?" I wasn't trying to challenge him, honest, I just needed to get a sense of how well he understands the disease and appreciates its complexities. I wanted him to talk to me instead of firing questions at me. I wanted to get a sense of his personal views on sarcoidosis as a disease. The answer I got was the same. "We see sarcoidosis patients here". Okay, it was time to pull back. Then he said something that really got me. "We just need to see more" "More sarcoid patients?" I asked. "No. More of you. We need to see how you are going to respond to treatment, see how your disease will manifest itself, before we can make any judgements because, you know, these pains you have in your legs, they could be caused by depression." I looked at him with shock. "Are you questioning that with me?" "Well, yes, I am, sometimes...." His voice trailed away, his eyes got shifty.

The sarcoidosis patient's (chronic disease patient's) nightmare! The doctor who questions your symptoms....

I hardly know what to say to this. You see, I know what depression looks like. I have looked it straight in the eye. I also know what this disease looks like. I've lived with it for at least nine years.

So to bring myself back to my center and to a more rational and productive state of mind this is what I need to do:

1. Respect Rheumy's desire to see more of me so he can figure this out
2. Remind myself that he hasn't lived this with me as my physician for nine or more years so he has a lot of catching up to do
3. Strive to be an even better communicator with my physicians
4. Remember that this is a complex, evasive, disease that is a mastery of mimicry
5. Renew my commitment to raise awareness for this disease and advocate for more funding for research

I also need to take heart that I have heard through the grapevine that the Pulmonary Division of the particular major medical center/hospital that I go to for my care is very interested in creating a Sarcoidosis Center/Clinic such as I experienced at National Jewish Hospital in Denver. To do that they need to develop a core set of physicians across various specialties that have developed a sensitivity and appreciation for and experience in the complexities and nuances of sarcoidosis. I believe from my conversations with Pulmo Doc that he is very aware of and sensitive to this. Afterall, he was very particular about making sure I saw one particular cardiologist, whom I will see in a few weeks and he wanted to take some time to think carefully about which opthalmologist he would recommend. So maybe, just maybe, in some small way I can make a difference...

Thoughtful Clouds

You could almost hear the loud 'suck' as I detached myself from today's preoccupations to go out and run. (Imagine the sound a suction cup makes as you separate it from the surface to which it is firmly attached.)  Although I have returned not quite so high as last evening, I am still the better for having stepped back from my books and papers.



It's a relief to stop concentrated thinking and just let my mind wander.  It takes awhile. It doesn't always happen, but a lot of the time, something shifts in my brain as I run. I return to some kind of centre and am better able, as it were, for the challenges or, indeed, to relax and let them go until tomorrow.  Murakami talks about something similar, comparing his thoughts to clouds.  "The thoughts that occur to me while I'm running are like clouds in the sky. Clouds of all different sizes. They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky as always. The clouds are mere guests in the sky that pass away and vanish, leaving behind the sky (p.17)."  

  


A final thought, the Eurovision semi-finals are my background noise as I write this blog this evening. Did ye know that our Etty partook in a Eurovision final when she was a music student? Yip! She and her choir were an interval act in the 1993 Millstreet Eurovision. I wonder how many of ye knew that?

 



























Gift

I am just in, having barely, barely made it out the door. My run was squeezed between other preoccupations, just ordinary work, living preoccupations. I ran the local route, twice; it is serving me well in these busy, fumbling along, living-in-my-head days.

I am just in, glowing, invigorated, blood flowing, less uptight and wanting to pay homage to some deity or other for discovering the joy of running. 

This evening, it feels like gift. If I could share it, I would. 

Listing to the End

That title is probably a bit premature, but it has a certain truth.

Today I just did one of the three five-mile runs prescribed for this week in advance of the long twenty-mile run on Saturday next. It was just ordinary, no great drama. I did two laps of the local route, which is not as detested as it was. Now that I know precisely two laps gives me what I need for five miles, I am content. It is also fitting in well with my work routine. I am relieved to feel more sprightly again, a suggestion that recovery from the long, long route of April 30th has happened. I managed to run the five miles (8km) in less than 6minutes per kilometre.

It's less than four weeks to the marathon. From next week, the miles begin to reduce. Isn't time the funniest of things? It was hard to imagine that I would write 'four weeks' when I first wrote 'Eighteen weeks to go', but it happens. The event that once seemed so distant will come along. What's peculiar is that I don't have a sense of how far I have come, maybe occasionally. It just all seems normal. I think that's good, perhaps, perhaps, dare I say it, a sign that the programme has worked. Even the doing of the marathon seems normalish, but maybe it's too soon to have nerves about it. I have other hurdles to face yet.

I have reached the point of planning the day itself. I haven't quite got all the details together, but I have started to make a mental list. I find lists very reassuring. Here is a glimpse into the list as it begins to take shape.  There isn't really an order of importance.

• Ordered t-shirts for supporters from Customprint.ie.
• Booked finger food in the Flying Enterprise for those around on the day -please come along!
• Had our charity included in the marathon's list of charities (see link below)
• Contacted Irish Lung Foundation with photos and news (as requested)
• Thinking about final notice to friends, family and colleagues of fundraising through text and e-mail (?)
• Attend coffee morning organised by Mairéad and Dad in Ballinhassig on May 28th (Thanks!)
• Think about/Talk about pace for the day (sums, and honesty with self, required here)
• Watch diary for work and social commitments in coming weeks ... yes, need to be boring here!
• Read up about pre-race eating habits again ...
• Continue to break in new shoes (had to buy another pair of ASICS Kayano)
• Make sure favourite running shorts are washed and ready for the day
• Consider when I will register
• Study the route again, begin to imagine
• Purchase favourite energy bars (need some for Saturday, now that I think about it)
• Try to keep sleep patterns even
• Keep up yoga at home (not attending class this session). Yes, the post-run stretching is slipping off the radar
• Have I done enough to fundraise, raise awareness?
• Keep on top of those work deadlines so I am happy and relaxed on the day (and there's a whole other list for that).

OK, folks. That's it for tonight. I'm going to finish up before I work myself into a lather. Maybe, writing a list at 9pm is not so wise. 

Keep well!

Cantering on the Curragh

Wearing my Irish Lung Foundation t-shirt

Today was good fun! We headed to the Curragh in  Co. Kildare to run the twelve miles required for this weekend's long run. I deliberately put it off until today, needing a  little more recovery time from last weekend. It was ok. I wasn't exactly at my fastest, but after at about the seven-mile mark I began to get into a more comfortable pace. I really did enjoy galloping around the open spaces of our nation's principal army base and training centre, opposite the race course and surrounded by extremely large sheep! No.1 was fascinated by the size of the sheep, I can't claim this observation!



The Plains of the Curragh



The Curragh is visible on the main route (M7/8) that runs between Dublin and Cork. It is a an open plain in the middle of the country with gentle undulating mounds. On one side of the road, you have a racecourse and on the other you have the plain and, hidden behind trees, are tops of buildings suggesting the presence of the army base camp. In truth, I know nothing about what is here, what is its function or otherwise. All I can tell you is that I have frequently seen people running on paths beaten in the grass and thought it might be a good place to try a run. We left the M7 at junction 12, parked shortly after we passed over the cattle grid and I took off running South. After about two - two/half miles I came to the boundaries and had to swing left, still on a path, but through gorse bushes. There is an interesting history attached to the gorse bushes around the Curragh. According to Wikepedia, in the nineteenth century, these gorse bushes sheltered prostitutes who frequented the camps and were known locally as wrens! I didn't see any such birds today! Instead I was amazed to come out behind the buildings that I mentioned earlier, and to discover a village on my right. I was also running parallel to a horse training track marked out by wood chippings. I tried running on the wood chippings, but they were too soft. This side of the buildings was also wide open plain. I kept wide of it, until I eventually met a road leading to Athy on my right and, by my estimation, back to the car on my left.  My navigational skills have improved from last week. This indeed was my return route, through the village that seems to host army families. I could see regular terraced houses complete with Satellite dishes, a local Centra, a church, a tall building which is a fire station and so on, all sheltered by trees. On my right a UN tank marked the entrance to the Military Museum. I was fascinated. It was like a 1950s village, a set for the British series Dad's Army. To complete the picture, a platoon (?) of soldiers and I crossed paths at a junction. They looked like they were marching to the mess for their dinner. Despite their polite stop at the junction, I decided to run around the back of them! I did not fancy shaking my booty in front of a company of soldiers, no matter how orderly they were!

I continued through the little village and sure enough realised I was heading straight for the car. It gave me just over six miles. At that stage, I met No.1 who was equally enjoying the novelty and open spaces of the Curragh. We trotted along together for awhile, wondering where the various roads went, who were the people on horses coming towards us and so on.  Soon I had to trot on again, this time I was heading North of the car, then swinging East, then South, so that once again I was back on the original section of my run but this time closer to the trees and buildings ... and the sheep. I came across a dead lamb and, later, a dead adult sheep. What a pity ...  I don't really like lamb or mutton!?



Sporting a Jedward hairdo and my t-shirt!



I was really enjoying the wind on my back now, stepped onto a tarmacadam road and left 'rip' for a bit, setting my sights on a telephone pole ahead of me. I really enjoyed that bit of sprinting. Soon I was back at the Southern perimeter, I turned around and plodded, cantered and so on, in a playful manner until my twelve miles were complete. I really enjoyed the freedom of it. You could do any combination or make any pattern you liked out there. The only disadvantage was the wind which, I imagine, would be a constant companion. Still, I could see myself using it again, particularly for some interval training where you could 'zig zag' your way up along the open plains.