The Still Point

I heard an interview of writer Emily Rapp on the radio back in March.  She was talking about her book, The Still Point of the Turning World.  You can read a review of it here.  The book was about her son, Ronan, who at nine months was diagnosed with Tay Sachs disease.  Tay Sachs is a fatal genetic disorder and its victims usually don’t live past the age of three.  As a mother of an eight-month old at the time, I was drawn to this story.  I immediately requested the book from the library and greedily dove in when I finally got my hands on it. 

Turns out I didn’t care much for the book.  I desperately wanted to hear about this mother’s personal accounts.  What did her son’s regression look like?  How did she care for her child while carrying such a heavy load of grief?  How did their world change?  She wrote about that minimally.  More often, she applied the situation to pieces of literature, like Shelley’s Frankenstein and other works by C.S. Lewis.  Even her title is taken from a T.S. Eliot poem.  The book reminded me of an advanced college essay.  I’m sure it was beautifully written for those who appreciate comparative literature.  I, however, am not a literary type.  I write stream-of-consciousness blogs and say things like “Turns out.”  So I struggled with the book, staring at it as it sat on my nightstand while overdue fines compounded. 

I gave up the battle and returned the book to the library unfinished.  Still, not a day goes by when I don’t think about that story.  Not for the book itself, but for the experience it represented.  The point that forced me to open my mind was how future-oriented parenting is.  Everything we do as parents is for the betterment of our children’s future.  Everything.  We water down their juice so they don’t go crazy in 15 minutes, or so they don’t get cavities, or so they don’t get fat.  We read to them every day to improve their academic achievement.  We limit their screen time so they don’t become zombies.  Ronan wasn’t ever going to go to school.  He would never learn to read.  Everything he did gave him instant gratification and nothing more.  He lived in the moment.  He played blocks not to improve his visual-spatial skills, but because it’s fun as hell to play blocks when you’re a baby. 

I think about this idea a lot.  The idea of now instead of years from now.  It’s really hard to get my head around parenting without considering the future.  When I watch cartoons with my daughter at bedtime instead of reading books to her, the guilt threatens.  But I’ve decided that it’s okay.  It’s how we live in the moment.  And it’s fun as hell to watch cartoons curled up in a blanket with my little girl.  

A Different Kind of Training

It’s time to start training again.  After a year plagued with pregnancy, broken bones, and relocation, it is time to get back to it.  I haven’t trained . . . I mean really trained . . . in about 18 months and Chicago Marathon is looming a mere 4 months down the road.  Sure I’ve been running.  Occasionally.  But right now, I need to train.  Consistently.  Maintaining consistency is the hardest part of running these days. 

For the past couple of months, my runs have been placeholders.  I show up at club and go for a run, but don’t always do the workout.  I’m trying to keep up the routine of running, even if I’m not doing all the work.  On Thursday mornings, the alarm goes off at 4 a.m. so I can get a run in before Chris leaves for work.  I both love and hate these early morning runs.  4 a.m. frigging sucks.  But after peeling myself out of bed, it’s not so bad.  5 minutes into the run, I’m in a good place.  Getting back home at 7 a.m. with 8 miles under my belt is pure elation.  It makes for a very good day. 

What I learned in my placeholder runs is that everything needs to be planned if running is going to fit into my life.  I've found 3 very specific times in my week that work for running:  Monday night with the club, Thursdays crazy early, and Saturday morning with the club again for longer miles.  I have reasons that conflict with every other time you might suggest.  Go ahead.  Test me.  When I say everything has to be planned, I am not kidding.  On Mondays, I bring my running clothes to work, I bring an extra snack to fuel up before club, I bring an extra set of bottles with my breast pump because yes, I am still a nursing mother.  If I drop the ball on Monday morning, there goes my Monday night run and I’m out of luck until Thursday.  Same holds true if I stay up late on Wednesday nights.  4 a.m. comes awfully quick. 

It’s been about two weeks since I’ve been out on a run.  I’ve been tied up with packing and moving.  (On a side note, if you can avoid moving when you have small children, I recommend it. We can’t keep up with Daughter’s pace of unpacking and Son puts everything he can reach into his mouth!  Bad combination.)  Up until that point, I was doing a fairly good job juggling work, kids, and running.  The monkey wrench of moving tripped me up, though.  Something had to fall and it wasn’t going to be my awesome job or my loving family.  Now that we’re a little settled in our new digs, I’m ready to start fresh again.  Chicago Marathon is coming up and I’m eager to take on this challenge.  However, training will look very different this time around than it did for my previous 3 marathons.  Training is more than running.  Every decision I can make to improve my performance at Chicago will be weighed carefully.  Little things qualify for training, like how much water I drink.  Choosing to skip dessert – that’s training.  Getting to bed a decent hour, getting the dishes washed and keeping the house clean to make life easier on the rest of my family when I’m out running, being present when I’m with my kids to alleviate the inevitable guilt I feel while I’m away.  This is all training.  It’s a new kind of training.  I haven’t perfected it yet.  It’s pretty damn hard, really.  But it’s still the beginning.  I want all these things in my life and I’m ready to try.  What else is there to do? 

I didn’t run a single step today.  But I did fill up my water bottle 6 times.  I got a 3 minute ab workout in before work.  I skipped dessert.  I did the dishes.  I got a good amount of walking in.  I gave Daughter a bath and had great conversations with her.  I crawled around with Son on the floor and giggled with him.  Add it all up and it was a very good day of training.  

Battles Won & Lost

When I taught summer camps at Como Zoo in 2003, I befriended one of the interns.  Rachel and I became fast friends and were a good match in our young single days.  We did all kinds of girly things together:  movies, shopping, dinners out.  I’d say our most successful outing was a Bruce Springsteen concert.  He was performing a one man show at the Northrup Auditorium.  To this day, it’s still the best show I’ve ever seen . . . by leaps and bounds.   

Rachel dated Ross for the whole time we have been friends.  They married in 2004 and danced their first dance to The Luckiest by Ben Folds.   It was a beautiful celebration.  As they started their new life together, they met the challenges of making ends meet.  Rachel was in graduate school and worked as much as she could.  Ross worked second shift and got home in the wee hours of the morning.  The time they had to spend together was extremely limited.  Even so, they made it work and they were very happy in their relationship.  The little time they could spend together was treasured.

Rachel and Ross

In January 2011, at the age of 35, Ross was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia.   It was right at the time that this happy couple was planning to start a family.  As cancer does, it ebbed and flowed.  It got bad and then it got a lot better.   Cancer is such a trickster.  It gives the false hope of overcoming the disease and then it strikes back even worse.  It’s a horror story that you can never escape once you’re afflicted.   Even in remission, it changes the way you live and it always makes you wonder if, how, and when it’s going to attack next. 

Ross was in remission for a while.   He suffered bone loss from his treatments that would be a permanent hardship in his life, but the disease itself was gone.  Or so we thought.  Last fall, things got bad again and the recommended course of action was a bone marrow transplant.  Thankfully a match was found and Ross received the transplant in January.  As of today, he’s been in the hospital for over two months in preparation for the transplant and then recovering from it.  During that time, Rachel had medical issues of her own that required surgical attention.  The stress in their life was compounding.  You can imagine getting by on one income and accumulating infinite medical bills.  To add to that, Rachel recently started a new job and has not yet worked there long enough to be eligible for FMLA time off.   Not only was her husband critically ill, but she had to keep working to maintain the medical benefits. 

Hanging out at the hospital

Then last week happened.  Last week, Ross was admitted to the ICU because his kidneys were failing and he wasn’t breathing well.  He was put on a ventilator and started dialysis, all while trying to replenish his white blood cell count.  It got really bad and Rachel thought she might lose Ross.  We all thought she might.  Here is a post she shared with close friends: 

Day 3 ICU: Ross will have dialysis again today. His weight was 240lbs (normally 185lbs) He was able to get his weight down to 230 with dialysis. The extra weight off will make breathing a little better and hopefully help lungs overall too. He is using 65% oxygen which is better than the 100% he was using on Monday. He had a feeding tube put in yesterday so he can get better nutrition. He is on an anti-viral for a virus that is still in his bone marrow. There are 5 different teams of doctors working on him, and overall the gist is that the Primary is the BMT- his cells need to work on growing (which is hard- his white blood cells are not getting higher, they are getting lower) and beating this disease, and helping his body function and the Secondary is his lungs and kidneys. He has a extremely rough, tough, ugly road ahead of him. These past few and next few days will ultimately determine his survival, which is scary as hell. He cannot talk due to the intubation, and only opens his eyes for a few seconds a couple times a day. (he is on pain meds to help sedate him) This is something no one can prepare you for. I am fearful of losing my beloved at any second, yet am creating ITunes lists to play for him in the room, praying, watching Hulu tv, sleeping in a chair in his room every night and staying by his side. Please pray and support us! Sincerely, Rachel

Ross fighting as hard as ever

As of today, Ross is improving.  He had several days of uncertainty followed by a boom in his white blood cell growth.  His tube was removed and Ross continues to recover and even communicate with his wife and family. 

My way of supporting them is sharing their story with you.  You can read about Ross and Rachel’s journey at their caring bridge site:  http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/rossproctor/journal/2/createdAt/asc

If you’re inclined to help them out, here is a donation page:

http://www.giveforward.com/teamrossletskickcancer

I can say now that I’m confident in Ross’s survival.  He has a long, long journey of recovery ahead of him, but Rachel and Ross are fighters.  They will do everything possible to get back to a normal life. 

    

I wish I could say the same for my uncle.  As I type, my uncle is losing his battle with cancer back in Kenosha.   Last Friday, the nurses gave him a day or two to live.  He received his last rights from the priest and has had friends and neighbors stopping in to say goodbye.  He’s holding on longer than we all expected, but he won’t make it long enough to see another spring.  Like so many before him, he is going through the last dance of cancer. 

I thought of my uncle on my run last weekend.  I came upon the Mississippi River and I wondered if he was alive still.  There is bound to be some lag between when it happens and when I find out about it since I’m not there.  Crossing the river felt momentous and I thought maybe he had crossed over as well.  But that wasn’t the case.   I keep expecting that I will just know when it happens . . . that the air will shift or an image of him will flare through my conscience. 

The night before my Aunt Silvanna died, a woman that was identical to her in shape, voice, and mannerisms visited my work.  The resemblance was unbelievable.  I talked to her for a long time – mostly because she reminded me of the healthy version of Silvanna.  The Silvanna of my youth.    

While I keep waiting to feel Uncle’s passing, I don’t want him to go.  I already miss him.  I hope he finds peace in his last few hours.  With everything I have, I wish him peace.   

Bob's Grandview

There’s this bar in Kenosha on 39^th Avenue.  It’s a real dive bar that is classic Kenosha and it’s one of my favorite places in town.  The physical bar takes up 90% of the establishment.  They serve Old Style in a can for dirt cheap.  It makes me very happy. 

I love this bar because it’s where my cousins get together whenever we’re all in town.  It doesn’t happen too often, but for family weddings and that sort of thing, we pack the place.  It’s good fun to spend time with my cousins.  It reminds me of my youth and I laugh more with them then I do in any other group of people. 

We were introduced to the bar by my uncle.  Back when I was little, Grandma & Grandpa’s was the gathering place for my 12 aunts and uncles, my 15 cousins, and my immediate family.  Uncle used to leave Grandma & Grandpa’s house a little early on Friday nights so he could go out to the bar.  I couldn’t imagine what kind of place he would be going to when I was a grade-schooler.  Bars were a mystery back then.  And drinking was something my extended family rarely did. 

Since he has a son who is exactly my age, Uncle experienced first-hand most of my major youth events:  CCD classes, first communion, birthday parties, working at church festivals, 9^th grade dance, high school football, graduation, and tons more.  When I came of age, he welcomed me into the splendor of Bob’s Grandview.  I didn’t have the know-it-all to appreciate its dive-y-ness as a 21 year old college student.  But now I take comfort in its coziness and familiarity.  It feels a bit like home. 

I want to thank my uncle for introducing me to the finer things:  Good company.  Cheap beer.  The voicing of opinions.  He won’t be joining me on my next trip to Bob’s.  But his legacy will live on in my heart.   Always.  

Single Track

Trail running really puts me out of my comfort zone.  I don’t have a lot of experience with it and I have a high fear of falling.  When I run, I have a tendency to keep my feet really low, close to the pavement.  Trail running requires more lifting of the foot.  It’s something I have to think about constantly when I’m on the trails because it doesn’t come naturally. And I get distracted VERY easily.  So, I trip a lot.  Despite that, I was motivated to check out trails this weekend. 

My motivation comes from my new job at a nature center in Elm Creek Park Reserve.  I want to feel more closely connected to the park so I wanted to get out and explore some of the trails further away from the nature center.  With the help of another runner, I managed to convince my Minneapolis running club to check out Elm Creek, some 35 driving minutes northwest of our usual meeting spot.  The other runner put together a plan to run the entire course on a single track trail.  There were many loop options, so we had the option of running 3 miles or up to 11 miles without repeating any of the route.  For those of you who don’t know, single track pretty much means single file.  The course was actually a mountain bike course.  Lots of ups and downs and turns and variety.  No two steps were alike.  It’s as mentally challenging as it is physically. 

I found myself in a similar mindset to Monday night’s run . . . the one where I was concerned about running alone in the dark so I ran about as fast as I could to keep up with the group.  With single track, we all run in a line.  If I didn’t go fast enough, there would be a pile up.  Once again, I had to run faster than physically comfortable to be mentally comfortable in the group.  I tried to keep myself in the front half of our group of 15.  I didn’t want to feel like I was falling behind.  I was pushing hard and I could definitely feel it.   This might sound strange, but I’m not used to my legs being tired when I run.  On the trails, they’re stepping sideways, hopping over rocks and roots, ducking under branches, and Oh the hills!  Trail running is truly a different sport from road running. 

While I was running I kept having the frantic mindset of, “I can’t keep up!  I can’t keep up!  I’m going to fall!”  But at some point, I decided to conquer the mental game.  I changed my thinking to, “I can do this.  I AM doing this.  So what if I fall.”  On I trucked.  Turning right.  Turning left.  Ducking down.  Stepping over.    Swinging around tree trunks.  Over and over.  I eventually made it to the 8 mile turn around and felt a huge sense of relief.  What a workout!  I expected many of us would be heading back at this point, but it was only me and my friend Matt.  Things got a lot quieter as a pack of two.  We had a peaceful run back to the trailhead through the prairie and forest.  When I caught sight of the parking lot, I thought, “Already?”  Trail miles have the tendency to sneak by faster than you would realize.  At that moment, I wished I had pushed myself a little further outside of my comfort zone to finish the 11 mile loop.  It wasn’t until I stepped off of the trail that I realized I still had a lot more in me.  Those kinds of moments are both welcome and frustrating.  Welcome because I’m getting stronger.  That’s a glorious feeling in itself.  Frustrating because I missed out on a harder workout, especially because opportunities for me to run are unpredictable.  Now I know for next time.  I’ve got more in me than I think. 

I was grateful for the run.  Grateful to run with Coach Mitch again after his injury.  (I hadn’t seen him much lately.)  Grateful to be part of the pack again.  Grateful that the other runner had experience on these trails and had planned everything out.  Grateful to have Matt run with me back to the trailhead.  But mostly, grateful for pushing myself out of my comfort zone and gaining the confidence that comes whenever I do that.  

And I didn’t even fall.  

The Hardest Decisions

My parents came into town last week.  Their plan is to stay with us through Sunday and we are so grateful for the help.  It means we can do things like sleep through the 2 a.m. feeding while my mom takes care of it.  It means we don’t have to be up at the crack of dawn with Daughter because my dad is an early riser. 

When I realized the advantage of having extra adults around, I immediately thought of running.  In the last several weeks, my running has been sparse.  I’ve been trying to nail down my family’s work-daycare-commuting-bedtime routine before trying to fit running back into my life.  (I can’t help but think about how ridiculous it seems that we would have a routine.  We are soooooo far away from that.)  Unless there are extra adults in my household, running is rarely an option.   

I took a few minutes on Sunday to plan a week of workouts since we had the help this week:  Leave work a little early on Monday so I can run with the club; go to body pump Tuesday morning while Daughter is at preschool (didn’t have to bring the baby with me); enjoy Halloween on Wednesday with my family; run in the afternoon on Thursday; and then catch up with the club again on Saturday morning.  It seemed easy enough and completely realistic.

And then came Monday, a whirlwind day at work.  The kind of day that offers a 5 minute lunch and 5 minutes to pump.  I didn’t leave work as early as I was hoping and raced home as best as I could in rush hour traffic.  (The drive home is almost an hour.)  I really wanted to run and I was anxious to meet the club.  My motivation was high. 

Until I walked in the door and picked up my baby boy.  How could I turn around and leave him again when I’d been gone all day?  And for something as selfish as running.  I was immediately overwhelmed with emotions.  Sad about not spending the day with him.  Conflicted about being a working mom.  But most of all, frustrated that I can’t fit all the things I want into my life.  So damn frustrated. 

I went upstairs to pump, but while I was up there, I decided that it would be ridiculous to run.  My family needs me.  My baby will only be little for a short while.  Chris got home and I talked it through with him.  I told him I can’t win, but I should err on the side of my family.  I will be upset no matter what I choose.  I imagined the tears streaking down my face while I was out running because I wasn’t home with my family.  At the same time I imagined being crabby and miserable because I missed a run yet again. 

In the end, I decided to run, since I had planned on it.  As much as I didn’t want to, I was going to follow through with my plan.  In that moment, I hated myself for it.  It’s the age old dilemma of parents.  Where do you draw the line between doing what’s best for yourself vs. doing what’s best for your kids?  If you have an answer, I’d love to hear it. 

So off to running club I went.  I got there a few minutes late and ended up following some of my old pace group, a group I haven’t run with in ages because I’m a lot slower than them these days.  What’s not-so-fun about running club this time of year is that it’s dark.  I very soon realized that if I couldn’t keep up with them, I’d be running alone in the dark.  So I hauled ass.  I ran with Bruce for a while and listened to him talking with another runner.  I, however, was unable to speak.  I was sucking wind the whole time.  My entire warm-up was a crazy fast pick-up.  But I did it.  I stuck with the group.   When we got to the Tyrol hill loops, I took off ahead of the group while they were getting situated.  I figured they would be passing me very shortly, so my plan was to prolong that.  What ended up happening was unexpected.  I ended up running alone in the dark AHEAD of my group.  I can’t explain why they didn’t catch me.  I suspect they were all running extra slow for my benefit, but they denied this.  I ended up running all three loops alone and I loved it.  I was running.  I wasn’t getting passed.  I felt great.  Euphoric, even.  I can easily say it was my best run of the year because the improvement was tangible.   I’m running faster than I did a couple weeks ago.  It was awesome. 

I was still flying high on endorphins when I got home.  When I walked through the door, though, I fell all the way down from that high.  It was 7:30 and Baby was already in bed for the night.  In the entire day, I spent less than an hour with him.  My heart broke immediately.  How could I be so selfish?  How is this ever going to work?

I still don’t know how to make it work.  I’ll get my workouts in when I can here or there, but there will be no routine to speak of for a long while.  Not while sleep is so unpredictable for all of us.  I never even got to tell Chris about my awesome run or how I kept up with my old pace group.  When he reads it here, it’ll be the first time he hears about it.  Life is still pretty hectic for us.  We’re doing okay, but a lot of the time, I feel like we’re just barely getting by. 

And the one take-away thought I’m keeping with me from Monday’s experience:  Working moms can’t have it all.  We just can’t.  Something has to give at all times, whether it’s the quality of our work or the quality of time spent with our family.  And that doesn’t even include time for ourselves.  Time for running.  Time for having a date with our husbands.  Or even time to tell partners about our days.  

It's Okay

I have a new mantra:

“It’s okay.” 

I tell this to myself this at least a hundred times a day and it calms me down.  At least for a second.

When I forget to restock the diaper bag and the only thing Baby has after his blowout is a clean diaper and some of Daughter’s socks to wear as pants . . .

It’s okay.

When I try to get to bed immediately after Daughter’s bedtime so I can get 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep before Baby wakes up, but then remember that Baby is out of clean bibs and laundry can’t wait, and the sink is still full of dishes and Daughter needs a nice family photo to bring to school tomorrow and Crap!  I haven’t pumped yet and there are no clean bottles . . .

It’s okay.

When it’s the first day back at work at a facility I’ve never worked at before and I miss Baby like crazy and it’s the same day my mom is having surgery . . .

It’s okay.

When I can’t get out for the walk around the lake that I was really hoping to get in since it was such a nice day out . . .

It’s okay.

When I keep running out of time to eat because all of the sudden I’ve become a soccer mom . . .

It’s okay. 

When the weight doesn’t come off as fast as I was hoping, but at least it’s coming off . . .

It’s okay. 

When the guilt weighs me down as I race out the door to get to running club, leaving Chris alone with the kids at their neediest time of day . . .

It’s okay. 

When I realize just how much time and work it will take to run well again . . .

It’s okay. 

When I can’t find the time to get rid of the dead plants that have been sitting on the counter for 2 months, or to pick up the mound of clothes that have accumulated on my desk chair, or to send in the registration form for the MNA conference, or to order birth announcements, or reply to that email . . .

It’s okay. 

When I do find a block of free time and just stare at the TV instead of crossing anything off my to-do list . . .

It’s okay. 

When I wake up exhausted at 4 in the morning and realize I won’t get a chance to rest until after Daughter’s bedtime . . .

It’s okay. 

When I realize I’m just barely getting by, but also happier than I’ve ever been in my life . . .

It’s okay.