The Path Back: Found.

And so it came to pass that I had lost my mojo.  Somewhere along the path, my heel problem kept me firmly planted in my house.  My running shoes hung up on the outside hook, instead of sitting next to my bed, waiting for me to fly into them each morning.  I wrote and wrote about it.  I wanted to run.  I really did.  But, I didn’t have the energy to really commit to a race.  I had to drop out of the NIKE run.  I couldn’t run.

I started to think I might never run …really run, again.

I decided to try the 40 day challenge:  working out…doing anything for 40 days.  30 minutes of exercise.  It was that simple.  Because writing about it again and again wasn’t helping.  I’m on day 23 today.  Here’s where I found my mojo:


  • In my back yard.  In the pool.  Swimming for 30 minutes.  Laps.  Going down to that diving board and doing pull ups.  When I would forget that I needed to do my 30 minutes, I jumped in right there and just…swam.


  • The Nike Training Club App for iPhone.  This app kicks ass.  Really keeps me going.  Love that I get to watch a video, it keeps track of my workouts, I can share on Facebook, and I can put my playlists with the workouts.

  • Foursquare.  It’s ridiculous, really.  Check in.  Tell your friends where you are.  Get mayorships.  Badges.  Well…I am really motivated to get my gym’s mayorship.  So, yeah.  I go a lot.  Gotta see if my mojo was there as well.  And, it was.
  • Weight lifting.  11 years ago, I started a program with EAS.  I still use that same upper body workout.  I do the elliptical.   I do abs.  I just. do…anything that will keep me moving for 30 minutes.
  • Running.  And, finally, I ran.  Only 20 miles the whole month.  But.  I did run.  And I finally got up to 4 miles.  Without stopping.  I stopped beating myself up for “man, you used to run a lot, and you’ve run 4 marathons” mentality.
I didn’t start over.  I started again.  I can’t wait to see my progress at the end of the 40 days.  I know this.  There are many paths to finding my mojo.  I had to take responsibility and find it.
Happy August!

I Should Probably Write About This.

Last year when I was 50, my doctor said I needed a colonoscopy.  She gave me a pass for a year.  This year, I had a scare earlier in January, and my doctor said you are getting that.  ASAP.

Let me tell you.  It’s not so bad.  The procedure.  It’s everything before it.

  • You turn 50.  Everyone asks if you’ve had it.  You put it off.  My doctor said, “Yeah, everyone puts it off until they hear of a friend who has colon cancer.  Then they run off to schedule the procedure.”
  • I had the marathon.  I put it off.  Until April.
  • You get the liquid.  It’s a gallon of liquid.  And, you have to drink it every 10 minutes.  I thought for some reason I’d be cleaned out asap.  (for lack of a better term).  It doesn’t happen like that.  You drink. And drink. And drink.
  • For 2 hours you drink, and then finally…finally…there ya go.
  • The next 2 hours are the worst because you drink, sit, drink, sit, etc. Repeat.  (Got the picture?)

All night. Like having the flu.  But you are so damned grateful not to be drinking anymore, you don’t care.

  • Surgery
  • Little tiny vein stick for the drugs.
  • Conscious sedation, my ass.  I was given Demerol, and I was NOT conscious.  This is a post for another time, but this sober alcoholic will never EVER have Demerol again, because it woke the beast up.  Just a little bit.  For a whole weekend.

Is it that bad? No.  Just the drink. 

The best part? When you’re told you have no cancer, no polyps, and don’t have to come back for 10 years.  A colonoscopy might be bad, but I’m sure colorectal cancer is worse.

Screening For Your Life

I was looking for a blog topic.  Hadn’t a thought in my head for days.  I have been running, but just simply pounding out the miles.  One after the other…and that gets, well…mundane after awhile.

Then, I got some scary news.

I had my annual checkup with my OB-GYN a few weeks ago, and she recommended all the usual tests, including the dreaded colonoscopy.  I balked, I begged.  Then she looked at me and said,

Everyone complains about this test.  But, in a few years someone you know will call you and say they have colon cancer, and you will call in an urgent need to get the screening.  It’s up to you: Colon Cancer, or a colonoscopy.

I was a little embarrassed. I think of myself as fairly bright, yet I wasn’t willing to have the inconvenience of that test right in the middle of training for the LA Marathon.

So, today I get these results, which could be as minute as hemorroids, or a large as cancer.  That had me nervous.   The doctor called yesterday, and left this message, “Please call us.”  Today, they said, “you need to call your regular physician.”  Which I did, who then referred me to the OB-GYN to fax the results to a specialist.  All of this took several hours, phone trees, voicemails.  The upshot?  I have an appointment on the 13th.  With a specialist.

In the meantime, I’ve gone to the wall…In my mind’s eye, I’ve lost my hair, I’m dying…and then I’m brought right back to earth, because I have no answers, and I have no diagnosis…

The only thing I could think about was to urge, no BEG you, my dear readers to get your annual physicals with your doctors completed.  And, tell the truth.  As a 50 year old, you will screen for

  • colon/rectal cancer
  • sexually transmitted diseases (yes, still at 50)…and TELL THE TRUTH
  • breast cancer (and you can learn how to do a breast self exam)
  • cervical cancer

More than anything, keep your eyes.  Wide Open.

Dying of embarrassment, or just dying?


Here’s the story.  Today, we were playing Steal The Bacon Basketball…about the most benign game a PE teacher can play.   Literally, I’m standing there calling out numbers.  No movement on my part, no real heart rate increase.  I look around for my G2 Gatorade drink, and it’s gone.  I’m playing for awhile…no, calling out numbers for awhile, and then my heart starts to hurt, right on the left side of my chest.  For five minutes, I have a sharp, acute pain that I can’t rub out, or get to go away.


Finally, I go to the office, see the Health clerk, who calls 911, who calls the Fire Dept., who calls the EMTs.  They walk in, I start crying.  I was embarrassed more than anything because I don’t want to be a drama queen.  On the other hand, I didn’t want to die either, and wonder if I could have gotten help, would I have been okay?  So, I’m weighing this dilemma:  being embarrassed, or falling over with 4th graders who are arguing anyway about who made the first basket.  So, how do you really know if you’ve just been stressed out, or if you are really in critical danger? 


They take my blood pressure.  It’s up.  For maybe the first time in my life.  I have stellar BP, and always have had, even when I weighed 250 (yes, right before birth).  Then they said my heart rate was low.  The EMT asked me what exercise I did, and I told her I started running in October.  She said in runners, the good thing is that we have low heart rates.  I think she said “WE”.  I think this means that she thinks I’m a runner.


I’m a runner.  Slow.  But, I’m a runner.  Then my Husker GF informs me that I don’t really run enough to have a good heart rate.  She is still mad at me for edging her out in the 12K, when she yelled “BITCH!” as I elbowed her in the chute.  I didn’t mean to, I just get that way at the end.  So now, she is just taunting me.  I love her to death, so I’ll forgive her for not letting me have a few moments of running pride.


So, four hours later, I have a clean bill of health.  EKG, blood, all normal.  I’m good.


Just wish I knew where my G2 was.