Me time

Adore/Deplore Seen Through the Lens of Mortal Uncertainty

In the last three weeks a lump in my breast incidentally found in the shower one Sunday morning escalated into a full-blown life or death consideration. Consideration - not situation - because there was never any danger, it turned out, because after a well-woman exam, a couple mammograms, a diagnostic ultrasound and then a double biopsy - those lumps (there'd turn out to be two that needed further examining) were benign as they told me yesterday (and I do mean "they" because that unknown voice who tells you the good news - who is that blessed anonymous angelnurse?). Those tumors, lumps, whatevers would turn out to be completely ineffective when it came to changing my life into what I hoped it wouldn't become...that is to say extended bewilderment, a lingering sense of betrayal (WTF body?!) and mostly, this deep ephemeral grief somewhere between missing something you never had (children, grandchildren) and relief that you never had those things (children, grandchildren) if this were to be the thing - the end-all thing, god have mercy, then making you realize what it is that you want the most that you don't have yet (children, grandchildren).

These strange three weeks sunk me into a mentally useless, space cadet unreality where I couldn't follow through on anything, where I felt unsure of how to feel and needed to check out of my life temporarily so that I could await some news - either way - which would at least give me a goal to work towards. So I have that answer now, the best answer, and looking back on these super strange 3 weeks of my life have helped to put things into perspective. A "Love/Hate" perspective which sounds much nicer as "Adore/Deplore". Let's start with the bad news, shall we?

DEPLORE

1. Feeling so mad at my body. I was so angry at my body - like, how DARE you do this to me, corporeal self, so badly, wrongly representing me in the mortal world?! And right during the last of my peak fertility window, too, nice. So, fuck you, estrogen, seriously, screw you uncontrollable hormones firing and raging through my body (or whatever it is you do in there) - willy nilly producing a nice enough level to let us get pregnant or deciding, nope, this isn't gonna happen and happy almost-35th birthday, you hopeful sucker. Which led me to this next thing...

2. This idea that I might be bitter. I felt very aware that if I was indeed diagnosed with cancer that I could be in danger of some acute bitterness. I hated to think that I would be that sick angry mean person and I spent much time imagining that I wouldn't be. Instead, I'd campaign and fight and be all brave in the face of this; I'd run a marathon against this killer, raise money, that kinda thing. Mostly, though, this whole train of thought gave me so much compassion for anyone fighting a chronic illness - be courageous, get pissed - and you know what? No one should judge your reaction to your own experience. The last thing people with cancer or any wretched, life-threatening diagnosis should be additionally saddled with is the onus of needing to also be a shiny faced hero for others who need them to be brave.

3. Being out of control. There was nothing I could do to speed up the process of finding out what was happening - I couldn't get a faster biopsy appointment, I couldn't do a DIY breast cancer diagnosis, I couldn't decide - yet - how I'd feel if it came back positive, hoping it came back negative and it did, thankfully. For a planner and controller and see-aheader like me, this was the absolute worst part - knowing that there could be this evil interloper, uninvited, squatting in my intimate parts, ruining all my plans while breaking out all their poison at the same time. It was a terrible imagination and the indignation I felt doesn't even begin to describe it.

4. Hateful bumper stickers. Just please please please for the love of anyone who can drive and also read and who might have a chronic illness and need to observe the world loving and understanding each other in their last days, peel those ridiculous stickers off your cars! No one cares that your "dog bites democrats" or that you eat tasty meats (or don't) or piss on Chevys. And, why do you need to advertise your feelings about one of the most personal and emotional decisions a woman might make in her lifetime about her body on your dirty fucking bumper?! Let her have her child or not, it's none of you or your truck's business. Back off!

ADORE

1. Loved ones. In those weeks I was reminded of who loves ya, baby. I never want to bother anyone, yet I hope they somehow know (by magic) that I need some reassurance, some support, without me having to ask for it. I'm very bad at asking for it yet - Flowers from a friend delivered as a total surprise with a card assuring me it'd all be okay one way or another. A couple calls from the across the country and with those, a couple really bad jokes (that I asked for) meant to cheer me up. I love my dorky, sincere, loving friends. Having people that I admire in my professional field hug me and tell me their scare stories, too, relating and caring a lot. My husband trying so hard not to show that he was scared shitless, too, because he didn't want to worry me even more. My mom going with me to the hospital and just knowing she was waiting in the waiting room was so comforting. I loves me my people.

2. Aliveness. It's more that just existing in a room with your heart beating. I really realized that it's about wind in your hair, muscles aching, sun on your skin, laughing really hard, getting drunk and holy shit! seeing the Northern Lights at 3am in the middle of the wilderness around a campfire and just being beyond pleased that you (randomly, maybe) put yourself in the right place, at the right time to experience something that you never could have planned or expected and therefore, happened to blow your own mind. It's about moving and getting out and pushing beyond what you think you can do - especially when you think you can't do it. I'd never run five miles in a row until a couple weeks ago when I ran five miles in a row. There I did it, I can do it, I did it in a nondescript afternoon at the Y. I'm totally alive.

3. Building compassion. I didn't know what to think or what to expect and because I was so checked out mentally (a coping mechanism), so I'd drive around and (despite those upsetting bumper stickers) I was aware of the others in the shops, the market, in their cars and in the world who were perhaps going through some hard times. Usually I am pretty unforgiving of weakness - get over it and get on with your life is kind of my mantra - because people get so wrapped up in their little lives, their little hurts and then they lose all perspective of the really big awfulness in the world, how good they actually have it and then they're driving around little Anchorage. Alaska feeling sorry for themselves. (I MAY have done that for a couple minutes at one point...)

4. Not losing perspective. Last Friday I was taking my own advice that I often give to those friends and loved ones who are going through a shit time - "be nice to yourself," I say to them, "take care of yourself." So I got my nails did and then afterwards, I went shopping for some new cute clothes all the while thinking that I was "being nice to me" and enjoy this, self, this is great! Except then I got stuck in traffic and I felt anxious even though I drive this gorgeous Lexus SUV which, on this day, was filled with my new purchases (from Forever 21, let's qualify this, it wasn't a Nordstrom shopping spree) and my pretty, colorful nails and, being me, I'm listening to NPR - death and desperation in the Middle East, foreclosure and homelessness in middle America - and there is NO WAY that I am feeling like I can truly enjoy this indulgent afternoon when there's all this other stuff... Fuck. So, despite my bad language (which is quite apropos in certain situations, I know because I have a degree in this shit from UC Berkeley), I just drive and pray for everyone else who is having such a WAY WORSE time than I could ever imagine from the insides of my leather-appointed, fully-gassed up vehicle. Dear god, I don't even know what to say except please give those people a little respite, a bit of comfort, let them find some hope in their shitty days and know that they'll live and things will get better. And thank you for my life and good fortune right now - it's not lost on me one bit, I totally recognize that I can get a burrito from any of number of places right at this drive-through instant.

5. The colors! When the nurse called and said "all benign" I blinked hard a few times and then saw everything all around so much brighter. It's the truth - yellows were brighter, reds deeper, blues richer, oranges warmer - all the colors around me were more beautiful, so much more than I was seeing only moments before. I instantly felt happier, lighter. It's so so so good to be alive and well.

2 shots from the Coastal Trail

 

Quail Eggs on Fish Eggs

Must remember that's a lot of sushi deliciousness despite all the raw eggy-ness...

Magical Eklutna Weekend

Sunset over Lake Eklutna

I'd write something more about this extraordinary camping trip this past weekend but I've just washed my face and then applied vitamin E oil under my eyes, getting a major portion IN my right eye, so now I can't really see awesomely to type so, in this case, I will let the photos speak for themselves (thanks to Matt Bobo's real-camera-that-doesn't-also-take-phone-calls!).

P.S. What's not seen here that we saw there: Northern Lights dancing over the mountains like green streaky barely-there phantoms at 2am; a young black bear on the mountain bike trail on Saturday on our way to a glacier; a little hawk perched on a log just outside our campsite; the awesome tarp shelter we erected to keep the rain at bay.

Cowboy Matt!

Jim & me on the trail, pulling little back of bike trailers called BOBs with all our gear (there was a double rainbow visible for a couple miles of the ride - just one stripe seen here)

Next day, riding past our campsite to the end of the trail to hike up to the glacier. Here, paused on a bridge spanning the Eklutna River.

Me and Matt looking super sexy at the end of a little hike (dig that teeny bottle of Jack Daniels in the corner!)

Let's Go Camping (Finally)!

Tomorrow we'll load up bike trailers and backpacks and cycle out for our first camping trip of the summer. It's mid-August, practically Autumn, and we're just now getting out to camp for the weekend.

So what happened? Work, work, work. And, training for triathlons. Not a lot of time off. Then this thing where he took weekends that I couldn't get away for and vice versa; family and friend parties, entertaining guests, traveling... Next the leaves started to drop onto the front lawn and the kids we know are buying school supplies, oh, and it's getting dark at 10pm. It could be out last chance - gotta go gotta go!

I'm looking forward to the time together, outside, no cell phone connection (at least there wasn't last time we were in this spot). Riding the 10 miles out to the spot (with gear) is going to be a cinch for me this time after all the mileage I've put in over the summer (over 300 miles since June 1!) and that will be such a difference from the first time I did this trip and couldn't sit down (or stop complaining) for two days. (That was a lot of parentheticals.)

Also - last couple of times we went to this spot? Bear sightings. However, the upside of camping this late in the season is that those bears have a lot of food to eat right now - berries, fish - so I don't think they'll be after our chicken pitas or box of wine.

It's getting sunnier

Spinning in the Moment

I sometimes make decisions in my half-sleep, determining what I will or won't do. It's that in between space of consciousness where what is really bothering or exciting me bubbles to the top. Often it takes a slowed-down brain, a near loss of time-spatial reasoning, to realize what it is that presently matters.

Last night I thought I'd do a loop of Anchorage on my bike the next day - Campbell Creek trail to Coastal Trail to Chester Creek trail and back home again - longer than I've ridden before. Also, I was thinking about working in New York for some reason, perhaps because I was supposed to a few years ago before my life took a different path.

I fell into full-sleep and dreamed that Tina Fey called me and our conversation went like this:

Tina Fey: ....
Me: "Hello? Hello? Is this Tina Fey?"
TF: "Yah, hey."
Me: "Tina Fey!"
TF: "Hey, so I'm calling because the NBC producers specifically requested you and I have to be the one to say that for some reason I don't know why it has to be me. I have shit to do."
Me: "Wha- I don't understand?"
TF (impatient): "Will. You. Work. For. Me."
Me (stammering): "Uh, I mean, yes, but doing what? Me? Okay...wait, I have to talk to my husband. Can I call you back?"
TF: "Yeah, yeah but hurry up."
Me: "Okay!"
TF: "Great then bye."
Me: "Bye Tina Fey! I love you. I mean, love you like a friend! I mean, I love your work!"

So, continuing in this dream I talk to my husband who is surprisingly open to moving to NY so I can work for Tina Fey (doing what I'm not certain). We say that we'll do it for three years and then come back to Alaska. He's excited to check out the finance world in NYC and it all totally makes sense. Next I call Kari and tell her guess what we're moving up the block in Brooklyn and she's super stoked. I am very happy about all of this. The end.

I woke up this morning and realized that, indeed, Tina Fey has not called me to come work for her. However, my half-dream desire of doing a big loop through Anchorage was still quite within my reach.

This afternoon it was 30 miles on the bike and it was sunny, zipping past creeks, forests, then the ocean, other people cycling, walking, running, ducks... My music blasting in my ears. The thing about riding for a long time listening to music, spinning up hills, speeding down hills, hollering out "on your left!" before passing people up ahead, remembering to keep my pedals parallel to the ground around corners so as not to catch on the ground, adjusting on the saddle, pushing my ear buds in just a little better, clicking through time, distance, speed on my bike computer, taking in the trees, flowers, water, sky, planes taking off and landing, skipping that one song I'm tired of hearing, shoving my phone/ipod back in my chest pocket, remembering to enjoy because this is beautiful - epic even, smelling the bitter-sweet almost-rotten Alaska flora - all of this just takes over everything else that I could worry about, feel scared over, try to control; mutes any thoughts of being anywhere else. This is completely living in the moment - a very nice, but rare, place that I sometimes like to visit.

At home again I showered, put on jeans and a tank top and makeup, drank a beer, read a new magazine on the back porch (with an article about people in NY paying $32 for one 45 minute spinning class) with a cat sitting on my tired legs, very content and also, conscious that all these little things were probably some of the best parts of being alive so soak it up.

It felt good to ride in the sun for so long today. For free. It felt good to hug my husband when he got home from work, my fatigued body flexing, stretching upwards to match his height. It felt good to cut up potatoes and to select and defrost salmon that we caught to grill for dinner. It felt good to be warm and barefoot on the back porch while he grilled, sun blazing behind him so that I couldn't see him for the bright backlight, but could imagine anyway what it was his face looked like while I heard his voice, like a half-dream chock-full of what I most care about.

Let's roll, Tia

Grease Monkey vs. Moose

There were yellow leaves on the lawn today and the weather was so beautiful - forecasted to be beautiful for the next week in fact - and I felt this sense of urgency (summersummersummer, get out in it right now!) and also grief (oh my god it's almost over, how can that be?!).

So I decided to do a very summery activity: wash my car in the driveway. But it ended up going way beyond just a wash. Like many tasks I embark upon, it quickly became an OCD quest for perfection - not one spot or streak left. Then when the outside was done I decided to do the inside - Armor All, leather conditioner, vacuum - even shined the tires. Two hours later it gleamed like the top of the friggin Chrysler Building.

Next stop on the grease monkey tour - putting my bike back together. To travel to Juneau and back for the triathlon meant taking my bicycle apart to fit into a box, so up it went on a table in the garage to be reassembled. My fingers turned black and greasy in the process, but I feel super cool knowing how to put that baby together. Which came in handy because later...

...I was nearly home after a gorgeous 20 mile ride today - to the ocean and back - when my chain came off, so I had to do a little mechanical duty right there on the trail, again getting all dirty and greasy. But yeah, I totally fixed it.

On the ride today I went past a number of parks that were filled with people barbecuing, hanging out. There were lots of kids out playing, of course, and I especially noticed how little ones are completely oblivious to their surroundings. I don't mean that critically like they should be more aware, I mean it quite literally - kids under maybe 7-8 truly do not have a sense of what is outside of their immediate selves. I knew that from somewhat of a familiarity with developmental stages but seeing them just walk right out into the bike path in front of runners or cyclists proved this. It's probably why kids freely dance and jump and play in public and why adults do not - they don't realize that anyone else might be around.

You know what other group is oblivious to cyclists coming on the trail? Moose, that's who. This time there was a youngish one right at the base of a steep hill, just munching away. I stopped and circled back, waiting for it to move on. When I turned around there were these two men on bikes who were so inebriated that they didn't even realize there was a moose maybe 30 feet in front of us. They split to let me pass through and I commented, "Just waiting for the moose..." And they said, "Oh, dude, there's a moose," and just started pedaling like crazy, passing right behind its hindquarters. The moose didn't seem to notice so I went, too, but kept looking behind me thinking how it might want to chase me down the trail and bite my shirt and also, I have a very active imagination.

I think all my grease monkeying around made me feel kinda tough. Like, I dare you, moose, just try and follow me and bite my shirt.

Makeup Sports vs. No Makeup Sports

Both of them beautiful.

I made an observation the other evening while we were watching the Olympics. The women's sports seem to break down into those in which the athletes wear makeup and do their hair, and those in which they do not. So, we, of course started tracking, "Makeup sport!" and "No makeup sport, see?"

Those sports featuring lip gloss and mascara don't just categorize by the sweaty or wet vs. not as sweaty or wet sports like you might think; it's nothing so simple. For instance - water polo: no makeup, synchronized swimming: makeup. I thought it had something to do with an artistic performance angle as in gymnastics and synchronized swimming, but then the similarly heavy makeup seen in track blew that theory away.

Does it have to do with the length of time an athlete is performing? The longer you play, the more you'd sweat it off? Not so much - both soccer and basketball players can be seen wearing eyeliner, but not all of them. Then, in those briefly performed sports that favor the larger, big, women who yell like maniacs as they heave there's still no uniformity - weightlifters aren't wearing makeup but shotputters are (at least the USA women are).

I just dunno.

Here's My First Triathlon Story

After 12 weeks of training I completed my first triathlon this past weekend in Juneau. It was a little bit of a disaster, a learning experience, scary, fun and ultimately, the fulfillment of a personal goal - however ungraceful or slow. I woke up Saturday morning at 5:30 feeling pretty good, with the adrenaline already pumping. BFF Sarah made me coffee and oatmeal, then Jim and I left for the race to check in. The rest until the race started is kind of a blur - right up until the point when the starting signal went off and 100 people started to swim in a freezing cold lake.

Here are my post-race thoughts:

1. When's the next one? I will definitely do another triathlon. All the books, websites and discussion boards I read while training said that you'll know immediately after the first one if you'll do another one. My thought after finishing with a dismal 2:14 time? "Well, that's a pretty low baseline. I can only improve from there."  Then I started thinking about winning my age group in the same race next year. I can do it, too. Before then, though, it's the Gold Nugget triathlon in the spring - an all-women's event that looks like so much fun!

2. The horrible swim. Oh god, open water swimming. I just totally choked in the lake. Literally. Maybe 25 yards into it I felt like I couldn't breathe. I stopped and tread water and was just in a panic. I watched everyone pass me swimming normal freestyle - at a pace that I can easily do in the pool - and it exacerbated the feeling of desperation because I was falling so far behind already - all I could think was shitshitshit. A volunteer in the water helped me with some breathing exercises. She said you don't have to keep going and I started to cry, "I have to! I have all these people watching me and I can't just quit!" Like I said, a disaster. So, I kept going, doing backstroke, and got to the midway buoy and thought, "Okay, just get back now." I was still struggling to breathe and had to stop a few more times to calm down. Another very calming volunteer on a paddleboard said, "I could never do what you're doing, you're awesome!" And I thought are you kidding me, lady, this is the worst. But then I remembered - just finish, Sarah, just get to the end. So I finished - never once breathing normally with my face in the water. It was SO AWFUL, especially ironic that it was so bad being a former swimmer. I got out of the water and walked to transition and tried to put it behind me.

3. It's not just me. On the flight home I was reading my "First Triathlons" book, a collection of stories about triathletes' first competitions. I was surprised (or maybe not?) to read story after story about those on their first time out choking in the water exactly like I did. Apparently it's a pretty common thing, there's always one or two in each race. One guy (now a professional) even swam back to the start and then gathering himself, continued on. I'm glad there's hope for me.

4. From zero to...35ish. It's a little absurd to go from not really exercising to doing a 15.5 mile race three months later. But then again, having that looming on the calendar is a great motivation to exercise regularly. Plus, why not?

5. Le tour. There were three bikes left in transition when I arrived there after the disastrous swim - including mine. That means everyone else already left. I took some inhaler puffs, assured my mom I was going to be okay, and set off on the bike - soaking wet and trying to shut down those thoughts of doubt from the water. My bike computer didn't work which was too bad because I had no idea of my pace. I felt strong the whole way though. The best part of the bike was being able to see and hear my friends and family cheering for me - passing me waving and hollering in cars, clapping for me at the 6-mile turnaround, or stationed just a bit ahead waiting for me to come up a hill near the end which was so awesome!

6. Swallowing pride. The whole endeavor was a SERIOUS test to my vanity - no makeup, skintight spandex, near drowning, competing as a newbie, being almost last... One of the hardest parts, though, was arriving back into transition to rack my bike and start the 3-mile run only to see so many others already finished, milling around the area and not realizing that I was coming through, still in the game. That sucked. So again I had I turn off my pride and tell myself to just finish, Sarah, just get to the end. So I started to run...and then quickly switched to a brisk walk.

7. Walking and cheering. My pinkie toes were asleep after the bike and my legs were just shot. Interestingly enough I noted that it wasn't my quads - the cycling muscles - that hurt, it was my calves and shins that were just DONE a mile into the run. I walked as fast as I could, jogged the downhills, and cheered cheered cheered for all the people going the other way. They cheered for me, too. The only way I could take the focus off my shin splints and aching calves was to thank all the volunteers on the course and to cheer for others. I finally came up that last hill and they announced my name a couple times, I crossed the finish line and hugged all my family and friends, SO glad to be done.

8. I need to learn how to run. My legs ached so bad on the run because I haven't been training at my "lactate threshhold" - meaning, I need to keep running past when it starts to hurt. I've just never been a runner, ever ever, so this part is difficult. I do see it as a challenge, though, and I'll work on it until I can run three miles like it's a walk in the park. I've read about some running clinics and I think that will help me a lot, to learn a better technique.

9. Losing to win. I'm still fairly overweight and while I just forged ahead in a sport that favors the lithe if not tiny framed, I know that losing more pounds will make me swifter and will certainly make the run so much easier. So I'll keep at it, even though it feels frustrating to work out so much and not look like the fit person I feel like on the inside. I think I gained weight while training, just feeling so hungry after workouts that I ate too much. I just read an article in the NY Times today about how exercise doesn't really contribute at all to weight loss - it's really about restricting calorie intake. So I need to figure out how to restrict calories while still feeling fueled for exercise so I'm not dragging all this extra weight around when I'm trying to race!

10. Reaching out. I'd like to start training with some other people. Maybe a group ride here or there, one swim practice a week and then definitely joining a running club. I trained totally in a vacuum this whole time (except for a couple lake swims during which I didn't really get to speak to anyone), so I'd like to have that experience of feeling like a team, having a coach and learning from others how to improve.

 

Enjoying a leisurely post-race walk at the glacier

Owen sittin' in a tree...