Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
A busy stretch of days has kept me from the blog and many other things. Fortunately, I've kept running. Even last night.
Last night was hot. But it wasn't just the heat. It was also humid, but it wasn't just the humidity. The dew point was extremely high. The air felt like soup. New York Road Runners had a race, but they cancelled it. I hadn't been planning to run it, but it was terrifically hot and miserable - enough to be worried about one's safety - so I went for a run.
C ran with me and was caught in a brief explosion of rain that did nothing to ease the heat. Fortunately, I was still inside the lab listening to the thunder and changing into my shorts at the time.
I am used to sweating this summer. Between my under-adequate air conditioning unit, my record breaking broken AC subway car finding(50%), and the running, I'm usually pretty gross. Plus, this summer is much hotter than the last three. Oddly enough, my running times and temperatures (which I track) do not show this. I assume that this anomaly can be explained by my new 50 minute commute. I'm running even earlier in the morning adjusting temperatures down a degree or two.
Summer Temperatures
Anyway, C and I ran in the park. C will be running with me in Portland. He has already broken the 4 hour barrier. I don't doubt he'll do it again. Anyway, Again, we were running past all the race preparations and all of the volunteers taking down the race preparations. As we kept plugging we noticed more and more runners making off with food and popsicles. And finally when we reach what would have been the finish line we found the treasure. Boxes and boxes of popsicles, intended for the finishers were quickly coming to temperature and were being given away. Not a bad way to refresh yourself mid run.
Not a great way either. But still, the colors were bright, the sugar content was high, and the wooden sticks came with really bad jokes printed on them. All in all, it felt like summer. Which made me remember prettier, less humid runs. Like the pictures of my runs on the beach.
If you are still with me, I'll bring you up to speed on my speed. I look to be mostly on target for a 3:51:59 racing time. Or, I should say, I'm on target as one can be. I've now run two marathons and with that infinite wisdom I've learned that they are hard and can surprise you. Still, I managed to run a half marathon last weekend with decent time and in sub-optimal conditions (stopping every four minutes for traffic lights). It's the fourth from the last point (8:28 pace). The last point was the popsicle run. We stopped to walk and savor.
So get your donations in! Only so many more days. The summer is quickly fading. HOME and Fred's team could really use your help. And I know I do! Check out the marathon donation multiplier. Find out if that is for you! And donate today!
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
I have some really wonderful friends. This was our third Relaxening, and first at the Chesapeake Bay. Each year the days are filled with all sorts of activities like sitting, eating, talking, and otherwise being together. And the nights look much like the days. (Though we keep going to bed earlier and earlier. Adam and I had a race to see who could fall asleep faster during our after-dinner conversation. I'm pretty sure I won.) While lovely, this weekend was far too short. I wanted at least an extra day with each of them. There was far to little time to catch up, to hear, to just be.
Anyway, here are a few pictures to enjoy while you donate monies!
The Bay and the liquid fire sand. The hottest weekend of the year.
We managed to squeeze in a few miles - and I managed to take a few pictures of the running route.
Amazingly I took zero pictures of corn. It seemed like we only ran through corn upon corn.
Eric had trouble lifting the bushel of crabs
We pretended that we would need a few sides.
Midway through. My lips were wrinkly from the old bay. Bourbon helped.
The aftermath. While the rest of us enjoyed the porch, Adam and Amrit cleaned the rest for cakes the next day.
The rental house listed a bit.
I even made it home with some fridge worthy artwork! Becca, whose signature was forged, was the one using my shorts as a tissue. And yet she still managed to be ridiculously cute.
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
Just came back in from a run. Why, eight miles, thank you!
As a little rain doesn't stop a marathon it is best to keep at the runs even in drippy weather. A hurricane did stop the marathon a few years ago, but this was just a bit drizzly today. Still it was enough to keep most people from the park.
Exactly a year ago it wasn't raining. Also, I was in Chicago running and meeting seniors through H.O.M.E.
Usually, as I walk up to the park from my house I see many many runners and tons of bicyclists already zipping past. Today, there wasn't anyone. in fact I was completely alone until well after I left the northern most section. The Harlem Hill area is usually the emptiest place of the park (the hill is real) but that means I'm usually running with lots of other people. I counted 6 runner and bicyclist in my first 12 minutes of running. It was surreal to have so much space.
It wasn't a great run as my digestive failings made themselves known (is the title a double entendre?), I dropped my sweat rag, and my shoe came untied. But I grabbed the miles and that is the important part.
So here I am busting my chops through gale-force* winds and rain, and the donations are just barely dribbling in. But I don't want you to feel guilty. I want you to do something today! How about you support low-income seniors through H.O.M.E.! Even small donations can make enormous quality of life improvements in their lives. Home repairs that otherwise would go unfixed can make each day more wonderful and can keep these seniors independent longer (which if you like numbers, keeps long term costs down). Or maybe you'd like to put your monies towards cancer research with Fred's Team. I wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for discoveries fueled by dollars. And now I can plan on getting old and gray and needing safe housing too.
Sign up with my Donation Calculator so I know you are planning on giving, or better yet, donate today!
*I just found out that gale is a descriptor, or measurement of wind i.e., moderate gale, whole gale, and my favorite, "Fresh gale:" 39-46 mph.
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
It's a throw-back Thursday (as the kids used to say) to a year when I wasn't so tired. Enjoy this blog post from over two years ago. I resisted the urge to correct misspellings and find better phrasing. Perhaps that was a mistake. But I doubt it. Either way I was too tired to fix it.
(July 8th, 2014)
During one of my frequent visits to the doctor I noticed an ad in the waiting room. A support group entitled Dating and Disclosure was meeting that very week and in the building I work in. How could I pass this up? Back in high school I invented the sexy locker lean. Take my word for it - and don't look into it - I did really well. But in my more immediate past, things have slowed down a bit. Maybe I could stand to pick up a few pointers.
Actually, I was more interested in the disclosure aspect. From the very beginning disclosing my diagnosis was difficult. I wanted to tell my parents when they were together, but of course when my mother picked up the phone my father was out. I can usually bounce and deflect with ease, but the first words out of her mouth asked about what the doctor had said. I could have done it better.
The week I learned of my diagnosis was filled with hospital visits and phone calls. It was overwhelming. I told my parents to ban phone calls from friends and family. I didn’t want to be rude, but I needed time to figure out what was going on, what I was thinking, how I was feeling. I could have done it better. When I found out that the cancer wouldn't take me out of this world in a couple of months, but rather I was expected to make a full recovery - and only in a matter of months - I decided to not tell people that I didn't think I would see during treatment. I would avoid disclosure.
Avoiding disclosure didn’t work. I’d end up seeing someone. “You shaved your head!” “Yes, I did – well no, um – sort of, yes, well, just not intentionally.” I could have done it better.
I left my desk and took the elevator to the lobby. I found the little room where a few people had already gathered. There was a lot of condensation on the pitcher of water on the table. We soon introduced ourselves telling as little or as much as we felt comfortable. I was younger than everyone else, maybe by as much as 20 years. It was mostly women.
We did discuss disclosure. It was decided that there was no ‘right’ time to tell a date, or, for that matter, a friend. You can and should take your time and disclose when you were ready. However, it was decided that the first date is most definitely not the right time. But past that we mostly talked about other things, deeper things.
It seemed that most in the room were afraid. Dating at 30 is one thing. Dating at 50 is probably another. Dating at 50 when you are covered in scars and missing a breast or ovaries, and have no energy or hair, is daunting. Each person seemed to have a very similar concern. They were afraid of being turned down because they were sick. When the facilitator asked why they thought this would happen, all were in agreement. If the tables were turned they would never want to date someone who had their condition. They wanted someone who was healthy. How could anyone go in for someone who was sick? Who could love them?
It was clear that they hated the cancers that had taken so much from them. But I wonder if some of that hate had gotten mixed up. The cancer may have abated in their bodies yet it was strong in their minds. Could the cancer have become such a part of their identity that they saw themselves, and not just the cancer, as broken and despised?
The facilitator steered the conversation towards a message of encouragement. She wanted us to know that anyone who would be turned off by someone who is sick isn’t worth our time. She wanted us to know that we would get turned down but it would be OK. She wanted us to know that we could do this. She wanted us to know that it would be worth it, that we were worth it.
I’m not sure how much of her words sunk in. The benefit may have come from the other group members. Each one seemed to realize that the other people around the table were valuable and worthwhile. They listened and encouraged and noted how silly it was to worry about having short hair, extra scars, or needing a bit of help. “If he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t deserve you.”
It seemed strange to me that they could see the insecurities in their neighbors for what they were yet they couldn’t see their own. They were convinced that they were unworthy of love. It seemed strange to me. Yet I think I do this in my own way from time to time.
I don’t have any visible scars, unless you count the small dent in my gums where cottage cheese gathers. But in other ways I am more similar to my co-survivors. I see my own failings and find myself wondering if I’m made for a relationship, if I’m worthy of love. And my problem is worse than a physical scar.
I can – if I choose – inflict a lot of pain. I can kill, but it is a death by a million paper cuts. I can wound in tiny ways, in inconspicuous ways, such that I can always claim innocence. I can drain all the joy and pleasure from life if I want. In short, I am selfish. I don’t like this about myself. I hate it even.
At times I see this and wonder how I could be worthy of love. Would it not be better to avoid relationship? Would it not be better to avoid the eventuality of inflicting pain? But that is not a way to live life. Furthermore, it might only be another lie to hide another truth. I am afraid of relationship. I am afraid because I will be revealed to be just another human constantly making mistakes, constantly needing to be forgiven, constantly needing love, and still only learning to love. This is truly what I do not want to disclose.
If I had been quicker with my thoughts, if I had been brave enough to share my fears, I think I know what the ladies would have said. Between smiles and laughs, I would have heard that I am still worth it. I would have heard that I am valuable. I would have heard that while I have my own real scars and flaws, I am yet worthy of love. Worthy of love: it's a wonderful truth. Worthy - and this is a 30 year old that just bought more underwear because he didn't do the laundry!
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
I woke up in terror and smacking my lips. Looking through
the window I collected my thoughts and took the glass from the table. A few
sips and the dark sky and I turned back into the couch.
This summer is hot, far hotter than past years. I am going
by feel as my charts show another story. After each run I mark the pace,
mileage, and temperature. And last year was significantly warmer. At least,
according to my charts. But I think I’ve found the modifying variable. My
commute increased by 1100%. I wake and run earlier now.
This year my bedroom is also much farther from the living
room and the living room window unit faithfully (when used) pumping in cold
air. And last year I didn’t have a roommate so committed to “natural” living. I
came home from work at 10pm this week and it was 90 degrees in my bedroom
instead of the usual 87. Now after brushing my teeth I take my pillow and sheet
and camp out under the fan in the living room.
Running outside the city. Who could have bad dreams with beautiful mornings like this?
Perhaps it is the heat. Or maybe it’s something I ate. It
could even be something more mysterious, but I’ve been having some rather
terrifying dreams on the couch. In the dreams, some vivid and lifelike, others
more surreal, I see scenes of death and sorrow, pain and sadness. But worst of
all, the pain comes directly from my happiness and joy. As an example, in one I
have called a dinner celebration together with all my friends. But the night
ends in savage death.
Looking at them together, while the stories and details are
very different, the consistent theme is that my happiness kills those around
me. My joy turns to death. Everything I touch turns wrong.
This is a bit ironic given the ending of the last blog post.
I don’t know what these dreams mean, if they mean anything.
They are probably just a bit of poorly digested food. My digestive track has
its share of problems. But now that I’ve had a few such dreams, all identical
in theme, I have to wonder.
Lately at work I feel as if everything is going rather
poorly. I took this postdoc – this gamble of years – knowing that the odds were
against me. But if you can’t bet on yourself then who will? And still, anything
can change, of course. My work could start working and results could be
exciting. But I’ve done this work long enough to start reading the signs. And I
am seeing the signs of failure.
Failure isn’t bad, of course. But I doubt anyone who has
done it really enjoys the process. Perhaps that is what is weighing on my mind.
After a long day, on my commute home, I look back over what I did at work and I
often see all my poor choices. I have felt many times that every choice I make
is wrong. That feeling often bleeds out into the commute itself. But that is
not fair. There truly is no right choice between the bus and the subway.
So maybe in my dream I am working through my feelings that
all of my choices are toxic. But then why is it my friends who suffer and die
in my dreams? And why is disaster born out of moments of true joy? For that is
the hardest part.
In short I don’t know.
In the most vivid dream, the one with scary reality, I woke after
I fell apart under the weight of sorrow and was committed to an insane asylum. It
was my joy that had killed and it utterly broke me. In the one last night I was
screaming, screaming in terror and impotence as I saw from far above my friends
shot and bleeding out. There was no justice and could be none. It was the
police who were shooting. Yet I was the ultimate cause of their death. And I
was unable to save them. All I could do was scream. The words in my mouth were
a paraphrase, “Oh that God would come down.” But in the dream they meant, “why
won’t God come down.”
I woke up with the words still ringing in my ears and
smacked my dry mouth. With a few sips and the dark sky I turned back to the
couch. I wondered about the dream. I wondered at my fear of joy. And I wondered
at the heat.
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
It's Friday! We have lab meetings each Friday. It is my turn. I presented two months ago. And I have nothing new to show. My student accomplished a bunch, but I will let her present in two weeks. And while I repeated a few experiments to add to my numbers, that isn't really anything worth telling.
About every time I've set about getting ready to present I feel as if I haven't done anything. But then I go about getting my work together and soon enough I realize I have a lot. And I need to think about what exactly to present and what will need to be left out. This time it didn't happen. So I am going to present ideas. Ideas for experiments. But only ideas. I wonder if the boss will notice.
That last bit is a joke. Of course she will notice.
This is not lab meeting. But I will still look just as zoned out.
J. gave me a few more pictures from the Survivorship celebration. I suppose you could tell. I had to look him up, but I'm sure you all remember Scott Hamilton. I found a video of him doing a backflip on ice-skates, his signature move. And it was pretty cool. Still, it felt like Sloan Kettering was digging rather deep to find a celebrity. He won gold in the olympics. But it was the year I was born. Still, I mentioned his name to someone at work and was overheard by another coworker who went ecstatic. So perhaps I just wasn't the target audience.
Very humorous, exceptional speaker, and all around short guy.
But Scott wasn't there because of his celebrity (heyday or not). He was there for his attitude surrounding his cancer diagnosis. Cancer didn't stop Scott. He embraced the challenge and kept moving, kept living, and his attitude is inspiring and infectious. He has been raising money for cancer research for years. He has been spending his time encouraging and supporting. I hope I can grow up a bit more to be like him. Just taller.
That evening of "celebration" got me thinking. I can tend towards the pessimistic side. I haven't completely shaken my childhood nickname of Eeyore, "If it is a good day, which I doubt." I find myself unconsciously looking for the worst to happen, seeing the hard things, or the annoying things, like noticing how much of my work doesn't work, and how little I've accomplished in the last two months, and even the last few years. I don't know how to focus on the good things without feeling like I'm pretending everything is cheery. I don't know how to keep everything in perspective.
But it is not for lack of good examples. At the celebration there was a wall to pin notes of happiness and excitement and celebration. And standing there I thought of someone I knew and loved who had cancer and yet kept things in perspective. I remembered his infectious enjoyment. I remembered his desire to support and encourage. I remembered his grill and cigars and his "I was saving this for a big win, but today will have to do" attitude. And I wanted to live into that even if just a little bit. So I left my note.
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
I'm cooking dinner and realizing that I touch my eyes and nose far more than I should. Far more than I should while cooking. And far more than I should at any time, frankly. You'd think I'd learn to handle jalapeños. But no. This is my future.
I like the New York city bus system. Well, not really. Like is far too strong a word. But after getting trapped on the subway in the morning for what seemed like hours and then jumping into an oven car in the evening, I need another option. So yes, I love the bus system. And each time that it stops and lets another super slow senior citizen climb aboard I try to refocus my impatience into gratefulness that there is a public transit system you can use even if stairs prove difficult - which is often the case for seniors.
Last year I wrote about H.O.M.E.'s bussing service that provides transportation services to grocery stores and pharmacies. And I will probably tell you about that again soon. It is a great service. But it is only one of many that H.O.M.E. provides for some of Chicago's most vulnerable residents. Right now I want to tell you about their home repair services.
I am not particularly handy. My last "repair" was more of a destroy job. In fact, that is exactly what it was. I was dripping with sweat as it was a sticky 97 degrees in my apartment. Fed up with the heat and the window bars that blocked the installation of my window unit I pulled out my trusty hacksaw. Trusty isn't the right word as I had never used it before (not handy, remember). After about 30 minutes, some serious cramping, and a peppering of bad words, I had successfully cut through the ten bars. Home improved. All that was left was to explain it to the landlord.
Cross Promotional Synergy.
Yet, past such destructive improvements I have to rely on the help of professionals. And professionals cost money. And here lies the problem for many low-income senior citizens. They do not have the resources to keep up with the ever increasing maintenance costs of their homes. Serious issues are left unaddressed. Having the furnace go out during winter is a real emergency. Not being able to fit safety bars in the bathroom is dangerous.
H.O.M.E.'s upkeep and repair services is available to those who have an income below the federal poverty level. As you can imagine, paying full price for a repairman isn't on the table when you are just keeping afloat. In fact, 68% of H.O.M.E.'s clients said that they would have had to go without the repairs if H.O.M.E. had not provided them.
At the moment there is so much demand for service that H.O.M.E. has a four month waiting list. They prioritize "emergency repairs" which often center around plumbing issues as these can often become extensive problems if left unattended. Even with the long waits the request keep coming in because for most of their clients there are just no other options.
Sometimes when a company realizes they have you - when demand is super high - their customer service goes down hill. Time Warner Cable, if you think this is a veiled reference to you, you're wrong. There is no veil. And while the "professional" "handy" man my landlord hires probably costs a ridiculous amount his work is almost as good as mine. When the front door started drooping so much that the dead bolt wouldn't lock he didn't rehang the door. Instead, he took a hammer and chisel and beat a new hole into the frame. Home improved indeed.
Perhaps you would think that H.O.M.E. could fall into these traps. But they have not. They are not in this business for the money. They aren't even here for the glory and fame. They want to provide vulnerable, low-income seniors in their city with safe and secure homes to live in. It is that simple. They are here to help others. And that philosophy permeates their culture at all levels. As one of their clients said, "They are trustworthy. I feel freedom when H.O.M.E. comes in to work for me."
Will you partner with H.O.M.E.? These services cost money and H.O.M.E. runs on donations, donations like yours and mine. Without our help H.O.M.E. would not be able to keep going. Make a big difference in someone's life, donate today! Or choose to use the donation multiplier and make it even bigger! Don't forget to write in "marathon" in the "note" section.
To read real stories about real clients served by H.O.M.E.'s upkeep and repair read this entry of their blog!
PS. With a great post title like this you were probably thinking this was about my knees and shins. Boy were you wrong. That said, I think I need to find some ice, do some stretches and go to bed. Sleeping is my favorite repair.
PPS. I feel "freedom" when our handyman is around the apartment. Yes, I feel just how free I am to listen to his jolly, and loud, Christmas music in July. So free.
We lay on our backs, looking at the ceiling and wondering what God had wrought when he made life so sad. - On the Road
L'Éternel dit à Caïn: Où est ton frère Abel? - Genèse
Her phone is probably off. It is late there. I am sure she will check in when she can. Things are chaotic and busy. I am sure it is only that. I am sure. (Edit: She checked in at 4am!)
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
As I need a distraction and the milk, slowly turning to yogurt in my oven, doesn't provide much of a show I will write more silly nothings. Plus it has been a while since I've updated you on my running. And who doesn't love graphs?
First the good news! The donations are coming in. You surprise me each year. In case you haven't donated yet, consider it today. you don't want to miss out. Right now Fred's Team is edging out H.O.M.E. with 53% of the donations. Combined, you've raised 5.1% of our goal! This is a great start.
And now for other good news. The running is going well. I've avoided injury. I'm stretching a bit better than in the past. I exfoliated my toes by running on the beach a few weeks ago. And I'm enjoying each run - even on days like today where I had to swim through the moist air.
Lately I've been reading up on acoustic waves for a project at work. Applying my kindergarten level of knowledge and understanding the the graph below I'd say that the amplitude is increasing in my training paces. A higher amplitude means, of course, that there is more energy in a wave. This is obviously true for my running too. Or at least it feels like it.
The training plan I'm on has many types of running days. Some runs are to be done at marathon pace (in the future I'll mark these on the graph). Some are to be run at a more conversational pace (minor gasping aloud). And some are to be run with with intentional variations in speed. I'm not sure what all that means - for me or for waves - but I'm putting my trust into the online coach.
I know most of you are holding off on donating so that you can use the Marathon Donation Multiplier, see link above. And while it may be hard to estimate my race day running pace from the above chart, this second one might be a bit more useful. Below I've plotted my runs by month, distance, and speed. As July bleeds into August and September quickly follows you will see the miles lengthen and hopefully the runs quicken.
Lastly, just in case you think I'm slacking off compared with bygone years, here you can see my miles from my two previous marathon training sessions. I think I'll be setting a July record this year. As long as I don't injure myself! I think I'm going to PR in Portland. The question is, for you donation multiplier player, by how much!
Another great day to donate! Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
Check out who had the pleasure of taking a picture with me recently. None other than Craig Thompson, President and CEO of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center.
Montell and a few of the other Ouray 11. She has the dark helmet. I have the uncombed hair.
And when she left and everyone else had forgotten about me and was busily crowding the food tables I wandered around and found the photo table and begin to take a few photos which I may use with some repetition during my fundraising. But as I need to pump myself Up for my next run I'll include this one right here.
I'm coming for you.
Lastly, if any of you have made it this far and are interested in what I was supposed to say in my speech here is the text:
My name is Andrew. I am a scientist. I work across the
street in the hospital’s research facility. I’m studying the cerebellum – the
hindbrain element that enables us to run and dance and do all sorts of
important things – and am hoping to find things that will lead to better
treatments, cures and one day even prevent the tumors that sometimes form in
the cerebellum.
I am also a survivor.
Less than a year after starting my fellowship at the hospital
I became a patient. One day I was walking through the halls of the hospital to
a lecture. And the very next day I was in the same hallways, now in a bed,
watching the lights and ceiling tiles float past.
When diagnosed I was surprised, afraid, anxious, confused,
and everything moved far too fast. And When
my doctor Alison Moskowitz had finished carefully, and clearly, and thoroughly explaining
my diagnosis, and my treatment plan and the first steps to take, I paused, and
said, “Wait, do I have cancer?” She graciously started over.
I guess I’m not the only one who has felt that way, or has
had such trouble “hearing,” or at least “getting.” But there was something else said that first night. And at
the moment I am afraid it is still rather unique.
After getting it, and thinking of everyone I knew that had
had cancer, I asked the only important question I could think of, “How much
time do I have?”
And here is what was unique.
She replied, “No. You misunderstand. We are going to cure
you.”
Some time later, after my treatment concluded, I discussed
this moment with the other participants in the weekly support group. It was, we
decided, a moment of whiplash. Obviously good whiplash, but none-the-less it
felt like crashing and there was lots of confusion even in its hopefulness.
I think about this often. Across the street with our
hypothesis and experiments, chemicals and calculator, lectures and seminars
we are trying to do just this. We are trying to give more and more people –
everyone – this whiplash. Or at least until even the bite of the word cancer is
forgotten.
So, here I am, a "survivor." But I don’t see myself that way.
Perhaps because, compared with others, I was touched so lightly – the survivor
guilt doesn’t allow it. Or maybe because I don’t feel wiser, or more generous,
or less worried about the vagaries of life – these wonderful gift others have
reported after a brush with mortality. I’m still just me.
No I am not a survivor. I wasn’t cured to be a survivor. I
was cured so that I could be just me.
So let me end by telling you a story that pleased me.
During my last round of chemothereapy I took Neulasta. The most painful drug I have ever taken. I guess I never had bone pain before. I now know what "to
writhe" means. But it kept me healthy. I heard it was developed at the hospital.
In fact, it was discovered in a lab on the floor where I worked – and further, Dr
Malcom Moore was still around. So a few days later I stopped by work and found
him outside of his office. I told him I had just taken his drug. I thanked
him. And he smiled. And then we both smiled.
Today is a great day to donate. Two marathons and two charities! Let's raise a combined $6,500 for cancer research through Fred's Team and low-income seniors with Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.)!
I understand why Cain's face fell. Farming is hard work. Or it would be if I stuck at it for more than a few hours. Fortunately, I only had to play at being a farmer. Here are a few pictures I took when I was supposed to be weeding and picking and otherwise actually working. If you want to get a bit of dirt under your fingernails and feel connected to the earth, your food, and all that grows under the sun, then visit Bare Bottom Farms.
The laborers entering the garden.
The farmer and his tomato.
Grapes. Not really part of the farm, but I like how they are growing on rebar.
Cole Slaw, Big Mama, and Pig. Recycling unsold vegetables into pork.
It's all work on the farm until someone falls into the river.
Guarding the farm with the biggest tongue I've ever seen.
Produce.
More Produce
Even more produce
Work doesn't stop just because the sun goes down.
Squash get a cooling bath before being sent to CSA members.
Let's raise $6,500 for Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.) and cancer research with Fred's Team. You can decide where you want to give! (More info in the pages at the top or in the drop down box on the mobile version.) Donate to HOME today! Donate to Fred's Team today!
I just had a good run and topped it off with Kodiak Power Cakes. The cakes, which I had not heard of before, were part of the "man crate" which I received in grateful token of my best man duties a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps the gifts should have been witheld since I could barely produce the ring, my one job outside of standing still (which I did just fine). But it was already given.
From Kodiak Power Cakes website:
Power cakes are not for the faint-hearted, but for those who, like the frontiersmen exploring and settling untamed wilderness, required nutrition, vitality and taste.
Not the most inclusive language I've ever seen on a pre-made box of pancake mix. I would think "frontiersperson" would work just as well, or even "anylocationperson." Especially, as when they are dripping with syrup and butter even the most faint-hearted, or "delicate" or soft soled urbanite would find these pleasant. Anyway, this wild, strong-hearted, wilderness taming, rough and tumble New York City explorer man was all out of homemade yogurt so he mixed up a batch. Yum.
That's a pat of un-tamed vitality on those cakes!
Have you donated to H.O.M.E. or Fred's Team yet? I highly recommend it!
Did you know that the scientific research you support with Fred's Team makes a real difference in the lives of many patients - patients like me? I had the pleasure of meeting a few survivors this week - or more like a few hundred. It is amazing the strides that we have made in treating and curing many types of cancers. I can hardly believe that I would have been dead for two years now if it hadn't had been for research done at hospitals like Sloan Kettering. And here I am eating ridiculous pancakes and enjoying the blue sky of a new day. Give today! There are still far too many diagnoses that are not good. You will be making a big difference in someone's life. That's a pretty good way to start a Friday!
Let's raise $6,500 for Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.) and cancer research with Fred's Team. You can decide where you want to give! (More info in the pages at the top or in the drop down box on the mobile version.) Donate to HOME today! Donate to Fred's Team today!
Another busy week is quickly wrapping up. I am working on a few posts one about seniors and one about cancer research. Surprise. But in the mean time I better give you another running update.
I know many of you are straining, foaming even, like an untrained dog on a leash to sign up to use the Donation Multiplier this year when giving to H.O.M.E. and Fred's Team. And all you are waiting for is more information on my speed, training regiment, caloric intake, and lower intestinal fortitude. So here is the next update.
Cumulative miles since the beginning of training. I'm not running 100 at once. I knew you were worried.
The running is plugging along. I'm going to update you next week with the training plan and the biologics and scientific information underlying it (hint: its called practice). But for the time being you can see my paces here. Perhaps you notice the one standing out. I didn't find a motorcycle or accidentally teleport. I just went to the track and did some speed work, 4x800s. Delightful.
I'm still taking in lots of calories, most from yogurt. Is there anything better in the morning than yogurt and grape nuts? I might have to have an entire post dedicated to the glories of grape nuts. I don't think they are either grapes or nuts, but they have the consistency of gravel and the attractive brown color of, well brown. Breakfast is still my favorite meal of the day. Oh, and obscene amounts of coffee takes care of all fortitude issues. What a wonderful thing.
Below is a picture of me from tuesday. Just a boring, regular Tuesday. Find out what I was up to, and soon, right here on the blog!
Photo courtesy of Mariel Montell Jordan RauerNigro.
Let's raise $6,500 for Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.) and cancer research with Fred's Team. You can decide where you want to give! (More info in the pages at the top or in the drop down box on the mobile version.) Donate to HOME today! Donate to Fred's Team today!
I think my plan of “fewer posts yet higher quality” may be
backfiring. This was to reduce stress, manage guilt, and eliminate boring
navel-gazing dribble, all while increasing donations and entertaining the
masses.
My usual lack of time combined with very flexible deadlines
is not a working combination. This might become the summer of fewer posts of higher quality.
I have a few pages of loosely fleshed out ideas. Many seemed
promising, even beautiful, in my head. But they kept turning a bit too dark, or
a bit too private or a bit too something else. One should write like their
parents are dead. But I have far too many “parents” and far too little courage.
Still, I cleaned my room and ironed a few shirts last night so
the very last of the excuses are gone. Here is one shot from the hip.
The plane landed and I texted my arrival. Unfortunately,
though my brief appearance had been planned for months, my grandmother’s social
calendar was tight. I would have to wait. She was, though she wouldn’t use the
term, on a date.
Howard was introducing her to his daughter over lunch. It
seems to me like a big move. She protested all such talk when my aunt teased
her about it. Though when the two of us were alone she talked about him, their lunch,
and his apartment and then deftly segued away by asking, “Are you dating
anyone?”
I know what Howard sees in her. She is witheringly smart, outgoing,
and charming. And she has the most beautiful hair.
My grandfather was named Howard too. As my uncle pointed
out, she won’t even need to change the towels. It is all rather funny, and wonderful.
What is dating like at 93? Much
like it ever is, I suppose.
We sat in her apartment and talked. I’m not sure for how
long, but we covered all the important bits, solved all the world’s problems,
as we say. It made me think of – and I’m embarrassed to say – the little
hobbits, sitting in their small rooms, talking of little things while the wide
world, full of big and important players, turns.
The parting came, and it was abrupt and quick and full of
real life and there was only a small moment to pause in the doorway. But in that
moment I saw and felt all the memories of her and my grandfather, the places,
the smells, the little dogwood tree in front of Summit Drive. And I knew this
could be my last visit. And I knew no words for such a thing. And there were so
many things left unsaid and so many questions left unasked anyway. And then we
were out and the rush of time came strongly.
Later, while sitting in my overly warm hotel room in
Columbus, I thought of some of the questions I wanted to ask my grandmother.
When my uncle died three years ago I regretted that I didn’t ask him what it
was like to live in the shadow of death. I spent a beautiful day with him and
my Aunt towards the end. At one point we all discussed my Aunts future plans
for herself after he died. What must that have been like? Yes, we can all die
at anytime, but what is it like to see with eyes of immediate surety? I suppose
I have the same question for my grandmother though at a different scale. For
while she may have years still to go, no time is promised. Does she still see
death in the same way as she did when she was 80, 70, 60?
I’m not afraid to die.
Sometimes it finds me fast asleep,
And wakes me where I lie,
I’m not afraid to die.
-Gillian Welch
Less, morbidly, though perhaps more terrifying, I would love
to know what letting go of control is like. One lives their entire adult life
independently, supporting themselves, supporting others. How do you transition
to accepting help? How do you transition to being dependent? How do you do that
graciously? How do you do that at all?
But I didn’t ask.
If you love someone that is a senior, or plan on being a
senior in the future, please donate in his or her honor today to H.O.M.E.(Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly)! H.O.M.E. provides
safe, comfortable, and affordable housing for low-income seniors in Chicago.
Many of their residents would have no other options. Additionally, H.O.M.E.
provides vital repairs and other services to keep seniors safely independent in
their own homes longer! The more seniors I meet the more I want to support
H.O.M.E. I had no clue how limited the housing options are for some of our most
vulnerable citizens.
Let's raise $6,500 for Housing Opportunities and Maintenance for the Elderly (H.O.M.E.) and cancer research with Fred's Team. You can decide where you want to give! (More info in the pages at the top or in the drop down box on the mobile version.) Donate to HOME today! Donate to Fred's Team today!
I ran my first tempo run of the training plan. I'm not sure what the direct benefit is, but I guess I'll trust the experts. A tempo run starts and ends at a slow pace but builds (still slowly) to a full sprint right in the middle. This morning called for a 30 minute tempo run.
I took a few days off as I was traveling, was in south Georgia (where it is hot), and wore myself out last Saturday enjoying a Tabata exercise. I didn't know I could be so sore. There were little muscles (very little) that were screaming. And why was it so bad three days after the workout?
As promised the first running data (to help you make your donation multiplier wagers). An 8:51 pace needed to be under 3:52 for the marathon. Solo and friend runs included. Some are un-timed as I forget watches.
I feel like I am perpetually late to the party. As I started getting into the running many of my friends were losing interest. I mentioned the Tabata program to friends to find out they all knew of it. And as to my well documented yogurt making habits (batch in the oven now), everyone made it, and gave up on it in the '70s. Will I always be behind?
Tabata, for the one other person who didn't know, is a high intensity interval training (HIIT) program. My surprise Tabata program started after an 8 mile run and included a 15 minute warm up of jumping rope and running an agility ladder. The first set of intervals was 20 seconds of pull-ups, alternating with 20 seconds of pushups. The combination was repeated four times. Then it was weighted sit-ups and crunches perched on top of a ball. Finally, I threw around a kettle ball and did kettle ball lunges. This was followed by a cool down of more agility ladder and jump rope with some stair sprints too. If I exercised like that all the time then things would be different. I just might.
Anyway, I give two thumbs way up to the Tabata program and coach Craig who had a garden hose ready to wash away vomit. Now that's a full service gym.
I get a lot of "memories" from Facebook. Many of the people that populate my feed re-share, when prompted, their old photos. And now that Facebook has been around for what must be eons in internet years, the old photos are sometimes actually old. Recently I was surprised to see one of my own photos offered for repost that was nine years old. But more recently I am nudged by Facebook's loving algorithm to "remember" and repost all of those links to direct you here that I used this time last year, and the year before that.
These prompts jogged my brain and I even enjoyed some of the memories. Pleasant ones came to me like returning from a long Saturday run and enjoying a pot of coffee, a smoothie, and an ice bath. Or visiting H.O.M.E. last July and meeting seniors whose lives have been changed through your generous support. I also remembered a bit of the work, where I ran home each day to work on the second job/blog over lunch and then again over dinner and straight on until bed. But mostly, I didn't have memories upon seeing these reminders. All I had was the same thought with each new prompt, "Oh $#@%! I'm behind!"
All that to say, it is a new marathon/fundraising season and I'm excited! I hope you soon will be too.
This year I'm shaking things up a bit. I'm running two marathons back to back. Or close enough for me to count as back to back. I'm running the Portland Marathon out in Oregon in October and then returning to the NYC Marathon in November!
I'm also making changes on the fundraising side. Since I'm running multiple marathons I thought we could raise monies for multiple organizations. Reprising my favorites I'll be running for H.O.M.E. and Fred's Team this year - and I will be telling you about other great groups along the way.
Lastly I'm working up a calculator so that we can raise monies based on my finish time. The faster I run the more you give! Sounds like the perfect motivation to keep me logging the required miles. There will even be an optional bonus multiplier if I crack the mythical 3hrs and 52 minutes target I've been hunting down. I'll keep you up-to-date with my paces and miles. If you like numbers it will be really exciting. So many Charts!
All of that is coming soon. In the mean time check out a few of the old posts from past years in the "best of" pages at the top and visit H.O.M.E. and Fred's Team (find the links above) to brush up on the wonderful work that they are doing.
