In a Year

It's been one year since I started the full court press to reverse and quiet my Multiple Sclerosis. Looking back on the few, sporadic posts I get a bit embarrassed, but at the same time I'm glad I have at least a bit of a record for what's been a difficult year.

Of the things I didn't spend much time writing about but that I remember well are the little deals I made regarding my health, and my ability to live a fulfilling life. These are goals that seem quaint now, but they are worth remembering. I'm not spiritual by any means, and I don't pray, but the wish that came to mind most often was being able to keep up with our kids.

We have a nine-year-old daughter and a 6-year-old son, and while they aren't into team sports they love swimming, running, cycling and generally goofing off. During my first exacerbation I brought our son to a trail race, and when we participated in the one mile fun run I found myself dropped by him after a quarter mile. He was weaving in and out of a pack of runners on a dusty trail, and in a moment he vanished ahead of me. I naturally panicked, and luckily for me he eventually slowed down and stopped on the side of the trail. We all have the dream where we're on the sideline while everyone else is on the field, and this felt very much that way.

This was hard stuff to swallow, and a year later I'm happy to report it doesn't enter my mind. They run me ragged, but I'm able to keep up with them. As a matter of fact they just walked in from an early release day, so it's time to grab a swim with them instead of thinking about all this. Stay well.

Demos

Hey there readers,
Thought some of you out there might like hearing what the band I'm in is up to, so here's a link to some of the demos we are working on for our debut album.

Still running, still living, and at the moment I'm looking forward to a nice vacation with the family to Northern Arizona over the next few days.

Demos

Race

The past few weeks have seen a small glimmer of hope on the running front. Here's a glimpse of the log on Daily Mile:

I'm digging the consistency, and more importantly I'm enjoying a higher level of energy than I've had for the past 16 months or so. With this in mind, I tested the legs and the psyche with a 10K on Sunday.

The Sun Run is pancake flat and generally fast, and people generally spread out quickly, all of which make it a good comeback race. I'm still pretty uncoordinated, and downhills and tight crowds stress me out a bit and slow me down. I'll spare the boring race report and just give the splits: 6:01, 6:24, 6:29, 6:27, 6:28, 6:27, 1:17 for 39:34 and a 6:22 average.

Somehow I managed to eke out a 2nd place for my age group (the only good part about turning 40), and I ended up 28th overall. I was shooting for sub-40 and was expecting to miss, so it was a pleasant surprise to see the clock as I neared the finish line. Even better, I felt like I was racing the whole way, and the fact that I was more than five minutes off my best time never crossed my mind.

Trouble in the Locker Room

"So how do you like those socks?"

I flinch when he asks this, as he's violating my own personal locker room code of ethics with both his proximity to me and his volume. My nickname for him is "Cross-Fit Guy", so you can pretty much imagine him without any further description. I don't particularly care for him, especially after listening to him complaining loudly to the gym attendant (a sweet, soft-spoken guy) about someone spending too long hanging upside-down from the same gym contraption he wanted to do his 500 dips on. If our two elementary school-age kids can solve their problems without tattling, I think Cross-Fit Guy can do the same. I say I like the socks while I pull them off and I silently hope to god we're done here. We're not.

"Those are the only socks that don't get soaking wet when I run two to three hours", he says. "Oh really? That's a long time to be running," I say. In a moment of weakness I throw him a bone. "So, do you run marathons?"

As he blathers on about several endurance accomplishments I make a mental note to henceforth keep my earbuds in until I'm undressed and on the way to the shower. Thankfully he doesn't even bother asking if I run.

I hope my years of blogging are something more than the locker room ramblings of Cross-Fit Man, and that the experiences I share from time to time these days can offer something of value. When I think back on the post-race mope-fests and Tuesday morning quarterbacking in some of my posts I'm reminded of what a small, perfect bubble I lived in.

Yesterday I shared a link to a funny story with Kiera about Ben Gibbard's Runner's World interview. "I started to look at what I do for a living through the lens of doing a marathon. The marathon was the most difficult thing I've done in my life. To get through that, it made me realize I can get through anything. It really did shift something in my brain, flipped a switch I didn't even realize was there. Whenever someone I know says, "I could never do that." I think: That's exactly what I thought!"

Like most runners, I get what Mr. Gibbard is saying, but I also find it pretty quaint. Being in the N.I.C.U. with your second-born soon immediately after delivery is more difficult than a marathon, so is carrying your daughter into the doctors office with a full-body rash and swollen legs (Henoch-Schonlein Purpura), or watching her suffer partial short-term paralysis and blindness after a scorpion sting while in the emergency room waiting for the anti-venom. The three ring circus of getting Multiple Sclerosis and going through the steps, procedures and tests in order to receive the diagnosis is harder still.

Running is a choice, plain and simple. It's always an Elective in life's course load, and as such anything one does with it can't be compared to the challenges life can pile on you.

For years Kiera would argue with me when I called a racer courageous. I think I probably copped the phrase from Phil Liggett's Tour de France commentary, and for some reason it stuck. She was right and I was wrong. An athlete can have perseverance, but courage is overdoing it.

Overcoming Multiple Sclerosis takes courage. Sometimes I have it, and often I don't. I do have the courage of my convictions, or the template I follow in dealing with this, and I can honestly say I feel like I'm succeeding. It hasn't been easy getting to this point, and it takes work to stay here.

Running is a necessary part of this template, and I feel like I'm finally making a bit of progress in this arena. Brooks extended my tenure as a Project I.D. Member, which was very kind of them, and I plan on competing in as many of my Running Club's Grand Prix events as time will allow. Mystery Coach thankfully keeps an eye on me, and I'm going back to the very basic lessons of Arthur Lydiard and trying to get myself as good a base of running as I can maintain before hopefully transitioning to faster training. Stay tuned.

The point that is often missed in the Lydiard System

Arthur was notice worldwide after Peter Snell's, Murray Halberg's and Barry Magee's performances at the 1960 Olympics. Before that point he spent a good part of 15 years developing his system using himself as the subject. What he learned from these years as much to do with the nervous system as it did with the cardio-respiratory system and muscular systems.

Arthur's earlier (pre 1964) talks and writings referenced the nervous system as much or more than the cardio-respiratory or muscular systems. With quotes like "I have found the marathon training not only increased efficiency of the cardio-respiratory system more quickly but also had a more beneficial effect on the nervous system", "We all know we have to be racing fit to win championships but if we were to race and do fast work continually , the strain would eventually wear down our condition so that we become jaded mentally and physically" and finally "Train don't strain"

One point I watch for as a coach is how well runners follow the "train don't strain" advice. During the Marathon conditioning phase I love to see post that say "I don't feel like I'm training", "My legs just floated along" and "Just drifted along for two hours". They all indicated that the mind is not using valuable willpower that will be needed during the speed phase. Running and recovery have become a habit with no though given to pushing things (like pace and recovery).

The nervous system only has to be gradually stressed over 3-6 weeks and left to recover for 2-4 to achieve a top performance. I see runners push too long with too many long runs or hard speed workouts and they end up as Arthur said "Leaving it on the training track".

So for the coming year make sure that during the Marathon training phase you use your willpower to roll out the door then switch to turning off the willpower and make that run an enjoyable experience that you'll want to visit again the next day.

Have a Happy and successful New Year.

Mystery Coach

Clean Slate

Since the diagnosis in March there's been a blurry dividing line separating "before" and "after". Do I count the first onset of obvious symptoms, like when Lhermitte's Sign crept up on me in September of 2010 while my wife and I were on a trip to Portland for our 10th Anniversary, or do I go back further to earlier episodes, like when both feet started going numb at work six months earlier than that? I could go back even further, when short spells of fatigue would hit me late in the day, even though I was handling a light training load?

The truth is it doesn't matter. Reconstructing these past episodes might be good for establishing a timeline for my neurologist, but it's not good for me. I don't want to turn this blog into Rotten Tomatoes, but I just saw the movie 50/50, which took me right back to my diagnosis and the difficult months before and after. I was sick to my stomach during the scene where the main character receives his devastating diagnosis (his doctor had the same bedside manner as mine), and I don't think I'll ever be comfortable watching any movie where a character gets and MRI. It was a good movie, but it reaffirmed that while these things happen, it doesn't serve me to dwell on them.

This leaves me with enjoying the present and looking forward to the future, which brings me to a more hopeful dividing line. As of July 20 of this year I am officially a Masters runner. This is a line that everyone who lives long enough crosses, and in my case it brings with it less baggage than the onset of an illness.

I honestly have no idea how my performances at age 40 and beyond will compare to my younger years, and if I do this right I won't care. The point is, I woke up a little over a week ago wanting to train again, and that's enough for now.

The Robber

Saw The Robber last night and really enjoyed it.



I'd characterize it as an existentialist drama with the added bonus of some great chase scenes, which focuses on the life, choices and relationships of an ex-con bank robber who also happens to be an elite marathoner. I don't want to give anything away, but ultimately the main character finds life tepid and uninspiring (and quite frankly unworthy of his attention) except for the moments where he is running either towards or away from something. He seems detached and disengaged from the things that seem to make most of us tick (our goals, relationships/friendships, jobs, etcetera).

At one point during an intense chase scene I found myself conflicted as far as whether or not I should even root for the runner, as I felt his desired outcome in that moment would ring as hollow in his psyche as the opposite result. In the end I stayed on his side, as I felt an unsettling connection to his utter dis-connect from life in general.

I'm not proud of this. In fact, it's something I'm actively working on, though it's hard to quantify how much (if any) progress I've made. Part of the problem stems from my own hang-ups about how I feel people think about me/treat me since the diagnosis. As I've said before, feeling that people pity me is probably the worst part about choosing to make my diagnosis public, and for that reason alone I often wish I could put those words back in the bottle.

I realize that this assumption of pity is something I manufacture and project most of the time, and it doesn't give enough credit to those around me. But until I can truly stop feeling sorry for myself, I don't think I'll be able to stop projecting those feelings when others interact with me.

What's most frustrating is the realization that this is the mentality of a victim, which is something I need to dispense with as quickly as possible. Recent dreams illustrate this, where I find myself in the passenger seat of a car while someone close to me is driving. In the dream despite my best efforts I can't stop the driver from acting with negligence, and the end result leaves me feeling both guilty and powerless. Part of this comes from my own inability to separate small flare-ups in symptoms with the course (god I hate that word) of the disease, which leaves me feeling a bit at the mercy of something I can't control. This is no attitude to bring to overcoming a chronic illness.

This frame of mind is difficult to break out of. I end up withdrawing, not calling people, wincing when I receive a call, and generally taking myself out of circulation. The anxiety led me to removing my birthday from Facebook as it neared, which my wife quite understandably found ridiculous. I couldn't bear the thought of people at their computers seeing my name in the sidebar with the little birthday present icon, wondering what to write to someone in my situation. The thought that someone would post out of some heavy-shouldered obligation or worse yet pity made me miss out on possibly reconnecting with both old and more recent friends, and it's easy to see how this behavior can sever the already frayed lines of communication in my life

The Robber is an appropriate title for the movie for more than the obvious descriptive element. The character robs himself of the potential joy of fully realizing and engaging in life, and he robs those who work on his behalf and care about him from the emotional connection they want to share with him.

I'm no robber, or at least I don't want to be.
------------------------------------------------------------

For those wondering about my general welfare and health, things have generally improved since my last post. While the heat and humidity make running over 5-6 miles difficult right now, I'm having good luck with weights, swimming and Pilates along with the very occasional bike ride. The exercise along with the diet (Vegan plus fish along with Omega 3, Vitamin D and B complex) leave me feeling good, and while I still have lingering numbness and lax coordination on my left side, it's much better than it was in the first half of this year. As always, thanks for reading.