Not a steed, but a Tassahara!

Labor Day Weekend  training required a Saturday’s trek of 15 miles, and my walking-partner, Anne and I chose the Norman Shores Drive neighborhoods for the morning: beautiful homes, of varying ages, sizes and style, some with million dollar views, gave us plenty to look at and the first 11.5 miles went by virtually effortlessly. A break to meet some friends at McAlister’s Deli for lunch, followed by the final 3.5 miles, completed at Jetton Park – the path through the woods is 1.4 miles x 2 came to more than the 15 that was required; the path through the woods is also completely in the shade – wonderful when the temperature is 91 degrees, and there isn’t a breeze.  After finishing, I headed home for a neighborhood BBQ – a cold shower was just what the dr. ordered. As I dressed for the party, I noticed what looked like bruises on the calves of my legs.  It didn’t hurt to touch them, but it looked like all of the blood vessels had burst – can you say UGLY?? After some googling, the best I could come up with is something called “Golfer’s Vasculitis” – strikes long distance walkers, (not cyclists or runners) women more than men, over 50, when the temperature is over 90. No treatment, just time, leg elevation, and cool compresses, oh and, no walking!  

By Sunday, both legs looked less “angry” (my mom loved that expression), but a burning sensation had started under the skin, like someone was holding a lit match to the area. Unfortunately, staying put and catering to it was not possible. Sunday’s mileage was 11 miles and I set out early in the Sailview Neighborhood in Denver. My plan of attack was that I would walk 8 miles, break for breakfast, and then finish the last 3. (I always need a plan – A, B, & C when possible – let’s just say I like to believe I am in control ;-)   Set out at 7 a.m., with my camelback lumbar pack, banana, sunflower seeds, and lance peanut butter crackers – the stuff that dreams are made ofJ  ¾ of a mile into the 11, I realized that putting ice in your camelback is NOT a good idea – ice melts, condensation forms, and butts get wet! One mile into the walk, the clouds cleared out, and the sun rose higher in the sky, and with it, the heat. This was going to be a LONG morning. Every turn seemed to bring a hill to climb, and at 5 miles, I decided that I had done enough, I could head back to the car, no one would know!  It was at that point that my cell rang and “daddoo” came up on the screen (a/k/a Steve). After a brief conversation, my walk continued.  Shortly thereafter, I could hear a bicycle coming up behind me, and I thought: “Really? with this road as big as it is, you have to ride right up on my butt?”  Then I turned to see the culprit, and there he was –– my hero, my husband.  He brought his company, his support, AND a water bottle filled with Diet Coke and jingly ice!!  OMG, people! It was exactly what the dr. ordered, and the morning turned around.  Believe it or not, he walked the last two miles with me, pushing his bicycle along the way.  My knight in shining armor, not on a steed, but a Gary Fisher Tassahara bicycle!

Walking through the seasons . . .

When I started this training, just 17 weeks ago, it was the tail end of spring. The pansies planted last fall were fading, and begonias, geraniums and petunias were taking their place. Then came the summer of 2012 – the hottest on record – and miles were logged, in over 100 degree weather. HOT, HOT, HOT and humid, as well.  Who knew sweat could burn so much when it lands in your eyes?!  Tried to keep to the sidewalks, as the heat from the asphalt seemed to take its toll on the feet. Sunburn was the norm, and staying hydrated was a challenge.  My hair went from reddish brown to blonde in a matter of weeks; lawns changed from lush green to brown. Neighborhood pools once loud with the laughter of children grew quieter as preparations for back-to-school began and  last minute vacations were squeezed in.

Yesterday, with only 47 days left 'til THE Walk, I found myself crunching through the first dropped leaves of fall. Acorns lined the pathways of Jetton, and I noticed that some leaves have already started to turn. Fall has always been my favorite season – the crisp air, the changing leaf colors, memories of Steve & my first few dates which included car trips out east on Long Island, especially beautiful this time of year;  and since we moved to the lake, the reflection of the foliage in the lake is unmatched! 

Sunday morning's temperature was perfect for walking, and there was a gentle breeze that kept the bugs away – all in all, a great morning to fit 6 miles in before church. So glad I won’t have to walk through winter!  J

Long time, no blog...

Much has taken place since the last time I blogged about my training…much has remained the same.

I’m still walking – less than 8 weeks  til the BIG EVENT. It’s still hot, I’m still trying out belly packs, back packs, water bottles, camelbacks, road snacks ; still need one more pair of sneakers to break in before the real thing; sun visor vs. floppy hat vs. cotton hat vs. low profile cap; body glide vs. Vaseline; compression shorts or running shorts; one pair of socks, or two; short sleeves, no sleeves; water or sports drinks.  Definitely, water!  After a week of not feeling well, with flu-like symptoms, I discovered that I am allergic to sports drinks – Who knew???  My left foot developed a nasty case of Athlete’s foot and one HUGE blister that developed between the third and fourth toe on my left foot. Made walking painful to say the least, but remembering the mantra of our old Scout troop, that is, “if there’s no blood, it doesn’t count” I sucked it up and kept putting one foot in front of the other. What a sight I must have been as I limped my way through the Birkdale neighborhood for my 8 mile walk. The good news?  (there’s always good news) – favoring the left foot helped build the muscle in my right thigh into a force to be reckoned with!  Just about the time my foot started to heal, I threw my back out – wish I had an exciting story to tell, but actually, I went under my desk to unplug a copier and couldn’t stand up!

Thanks to some TLC, rest, and lots of ice, three days later I was able to walk 14 miles, slowly.

More good news -- with lots of help from family and friends, (thank you, family & friends) I made the goal of $2300, so that’s no longer an issue (fyi – if you don’t make goal, you don’t walk, it’s just that simple).  Hotel arrangements have been made (no, I’m not camping, although the pink tents were certainly tempting), airline tickets have been purchased, and two recommended phone conferences have been completed. 

Only 53 days until the “3 day” – what will I do with all that free time??

Anastasia isn't the only one with an Inner Goddess --

Last weekend was a milestone – 16 miles in two days – I know, a far cry from 60 in 3, but still, a milestone 9 weeks into training.  Saturday’s goal of 10 miles greatly concerned me:  would my feet hold out, should I do it all at once – that would be 3 hours and 20 minutes; OR should I take a break like I would on the actual Walk; where should it be done?  hills?  heat?  where are those gel inserts? how much water to bring? All this to say -- Saturday loomed large and scary! 

Saturday morning dawned overcast – Yippee!! – I gathered my gear and headed out to a nearby neighborhood where the bulk of the 10 miles could be done; a good mixture of hills and level walking. A little more than two hours later, 7.25 miles were completed. Time for a short breakfast break with husband followed by the resumption of the last of the miles. Officially 11 miles were completed that morning AND I was still able to stand upright, and form complete sentences.  I’d like to say I returned home, cleaned the house, did the laundry, washed the car, weeded the gardens and whipped up an amazing dinner, but I can’t. I returned home, donned my bathing suit, and floated the afternoon away, resting my weary feet and feeling relieved that it was behind me.

After a restless night, 6 a.m. came too soon, and it was time for another 6 miles. To say I didn’t want to do it is an understatement.  I mentally wrestled with blowing it off, but I proceeded to my “comfortable” neighborhood and set out for the 6 miles . . . and that’s when it all went bad.  ½ a mile in, my left knee started to throb; at 1 mile, my right ankle gave out, enough to make me limp. At the 1-1/2 mile mark, the sun came out, in all its glory, and with it, the heat!  The usual sights and sounds of the neighborhood that have always lifted my spirits and spurred me on were nowhere to be seen – not a deer, not a rabbit, not even the loud, smiling, old man that breaks my reverie every morning. 

I learned a lot on Sunday morning, the least of which is I HATE blue Gatorade!  More importantly, I learned that I had grossly underestimated the rigors of this training –  the physical aspect I had anticipated, but not the mental and spiritual; never even gave those a thought.  Think about it…how often do you have 3+ hours all to yourself and your thoughts? It’s been cathartic in some ways:  plenty of time to think through issues, talk things through in my head, reason things out.  Time to appreciate God’s world and talk to him about this and that.  In other ways, it’s sometimes monotonous and you can’t run (or walk) away from your thoughts!  Sunday morning was not a good morning mentally – I was tired from Saturday’s walk, and a restless night, and there were time restraints since I needed to be at church by 10:15. Readers of Shades of Grey will definitely understand me when I say that my Inner Goddess was working overtime Sunday morning, and not in a good way!  She pushed every negative button I had – it’s too early, it’s too hot, the sweat is burning my eyes, this shirt is too tight, who picked out this Gatorade flavor, how many hills do I have to climb? what possessed me to sign-up to do this? wouldn’t it be easier if I were 40 lbs. lighter? I could be home, reading the paper, and eating breakfast;  I don’t even like the color pink! Now…bear with me because this might get a bit bumpy for some of you …at some point as the walk wore on to 2 miles, another voice sounded in my head, a whisper really, that grew louder as it repeatedly said: “You misunderstood Him. He knows you can’t do this, and you know it too!”  With every word, my steps became heavier and my breathing became more labored.  I had turned on my ipod earlier in the walk, but the music of K-Love that I usually found uplifting now grated on my nerves, and the voice in my head seemed to be drowning out the songs of encouragement.  I could feel myself spiraling down, panicking on the inside and at the corner of East Berkley and Natalie Commons Drive, I finally stopped and proceeded to burst into tears. Every doubt I had had, before I made the decision to do the SGK, and since, surfaced and overwhelmed me.  In an effort to pull myself together, I took a drink, started to do some stretches, and realized I was momentarily disoriented. I tried to get my bearings but the houses around me seemed to draw away from me into the distance and I suddenly felt cold, and very alone.  As the tears continued to fall, I did the only thing I could think of doing -- I started to pray – not the silent, in-your-head kind, but the out-loud, look-up -to -the -sky kind, and my feet started moving, one foot in front of the other. A Baptist friend of mine has told me for the past 18 years to be sure to “pray specifically” so I did – PLEASE help me move my feet, PLEASE help me get to the next block, PLEASE help me up this next hill, PLEASE hide the sun, PLEASE STAY WITH ME.  At one point, I looked up, and ahead of me was a steep incline, the steepest of all, and I made a deal with myself: if I conquered the hill, I could head back to the car with whatever mileage total that was and be done.

 I took the challenge, and proceeded to start the climb, noticing  a cat sitting on the side of the road. As I drew closer, the cat was momentarily distracted by my approach, and the rat it had captured was able to escape – happy rat, not so much, cat.  It watched me walk up the rest of the hill, AND as I passed it on the way back down. Now, if you know me, you know I don’t like cats – long story that involved a filthy house, babysitting, and an Attack Siamese (insert *shudder* here) – so no surprise that I was actually happy for the rat, but I can honestly say that this cat had the most evil eyes I’ve ever seen. Was so glad when I turned the corner and was no longer in its line of sight.  Finally, I reached my car – two hours; 6 miles done! 

In the 9 weeks of training that has passed, this was the most difficult day of all – physically and mentally.  I had so many questions swirling in my head – had the 9 weeks caught up to me? was it the 10 miles the day before? was it just because my head wasn’t in the game that morning? was it the heat? not enough hydration?  Maybe it was a combination of all of these things.  I couldn’t wait to get home, change, head to church and put the day behind me .

As I drove the 30 minutes to church, the morning played out in my mind, and left me very unsettled. While it wasn’t pretty, I did complete the 6 miles, so what was the problem?  I’d rest up on Monday and re-group, physically and mentally. But, something was nagging at me.  Church obligations were handled, and I lucked out – I’d be able to hear pChris’ message.  That would certainly help settle my mind and get my head on straight. And, it didn’t disappoint. It also shed light on what was bothering me.  To put it plain and simple, I felt “under attack” that morning -- spiritually!  How can I explain this?  There are definite benefits from this training, over and above the obvious, and one of them is that my faith journey has been ramped up.  With more time away from electronics, with only myself for company, I’ve done more thinking about my relationship with God, more praying to Him, and more listening to His Word.  On this particular morning however, my aches, pains, sweat and frustration distracted me; wallowing in the negative, my usual conversation with God didn’t happen. For the past 9 weeks, I knew that I wasn’t alone on the street; that He was walking with me on this training, every step of the way. Not Sunday though; I felt alone in every way, before my feet had even touched the pavement.  And worse, I felt that something else had stepped in in His place; something dark, cold, and ugly.  The voice in my head was not friend, but foe, and it left me drained, frightened and confused. Every button of self-doubt and negativism was pushed that morning, expertly.  It took me several days of replaying the morning in my head to try to make sense of it. The few people that I have confided in didn’t know quite what to make of it – while they didn’t say I was delusional, a couple suggested that it was a perfect storm wherein exhaustion, lack of hydration, too much sun, high humidity, and lack of mental focus all played a part. Almost a week later, I maintain that while all of the above certainly didn’t help, there was something more sinister at work that morning.     Psalm 119:105

You're wrong, Mr. President!

Over the course of the past 8-1/2 weeks, I’ve met some very interesting people…under the age of 12!  It seems that capitalism is alive and well in the little town of Denver.  Several days ago, as I huffed and puffed my way up a hill in a nearby neighborhood, I saw a young man of 12 or so who had set up shop on the sidewalk in front of his home. As I passed, he called out to me: “Ma’am, would you like to buy some of my stuff?”  Now, who can resist a sales pitch like that?  I crossed the street and explained that I didn’t have any cash on me, but that I would come back when I was done walking. I’m sure he was disappointed, but I was afraid if I had stopped at that point, I would have chosen to ditch the last two miles and help him sell.   When I passed him the second time, I smiled, waved and kept on truckin’.  I have to tell you that it was 8:30 in the morning, and the temperature was already climbing through the 90’s.  His “kiosk” was on a quiet side road, and in fact, in the 2 hours I walked the area, only 3 cars had passed by.  All this to say that I don’t think there was any chance of him running out of inventory.

By 9, I was back at my car, and the hunt was on for cash.  If only the young entrepreneur took debit cards!  I had a $20 bill – as much as I wanted to support an up and coming capitalist, I didn’t need to support him to the tune of $20 …so I drove to the nearby Wilco, bought a soda, and got change of a $20. Would he have tired of waiting for customers? Who could blame him? He was probably in the air conditioning playing the latest video game!  I was wrong. As I pulled up in front of the house next door, I saw that he was not only still at his post, he had added a large umbrella over his table.  Would love to know what the neighbor adjusting his sprinkler was thinking as my overheated, pink-clad body climbed out of my car.  As I approached the table, the young man recognized me and a look of surprise came over his face.  I reminded him that I had said I’d be back, and asked him to show me what he had to sell – wallets, made out of colorful duct tape was the item of the day – different colors, prints, shapes – bill holders, change holders; he also had a couple of duct-tape bracelets.  His friends informed me that everything was $1.00 apiece.  I chose two wallets and handed him a $5.00 bill, telling him to “keep the change.”  (love that line from Home Alone when Macaulay Culkin says – “keep the change, you filthy animal!” but I digress…)    The look on that young man’s face was priceless as he stammered  – “Thanks a lot, Ma’am!”   I may have imagined it, but I think his two friends looked at him with newfound respect.  As I drove away, he waved, smiling ear to ear, then ran towards his house – I wondered if he was going to let his mom know of his windfall!! 

I thought about that boy throughout the day, and since and the memory of that morning brings a smile to my face every time.  I should have asked him his name; I should have asked him what he was earning the money for. When most children his age were probably still in bed, or watching cartoons, or surfing the net, this young man was doing something constructive with his time and energy. Whatever he made that day in the way of sales, was because of HIS hard work and diligence . . . just sayin’! 

What happens on a 5 mile walk when it's overcast?

. . . a lot less squinting, and drinking, and SWEATING!!

What a pleasant 5 miles it was this morning. I planned on walking at 6:30 a.m. but overslept and didn't get out on the road until 8:10.  It was overcast and they were calling for intermittent showers. Quite a difference from the 95+ degree days we've been having since this training began 8 weeks ago.  That's right, 8 weeks have gone by, only 15-1/2 to go till the BIG weekend.  Have raised $1200 so far; $1100 to go and hopefully I'll make it because I'd hate to have gone through all of this training and then not be allowed to walk. I know, I know -- I'm benefitting healthwise, both physically and mentally,  but still....

In addition to the sunless sky, the humidity was low, and there was a slight breeze -- not to sound like a weatherman, but I can't begin to tell you how excited I was that that glowing orb was not out!!  The birds seemed happier, the dogs had more pep in their step, and the old man that walks his golden wasn't having as difficult a time breathing as he normally does.  I ate my two peanut butter crackers (that's all I can eat that early in the morning), drank a bit of Gatorade (it really does keep the swelling down), and finished  5.65 miles in one hour, 43 minutes -- not bad at all!  Hoping Saturday morning is overcast as well -- 8 miles is on the schedule. Wish me luck!

When the going gets tough, the tough get .... WALKING!

The last twelve hours have not been the easiest here in overcast Denver, NC.  After hitting the pillows at 10 pm last night (very early for me, I'm usually just getting started) I awoke at 12:15 a.m. because I heard something strange outside. Checked if the muskrat was on the turtle float eating his clams (long story that I'll  save for another day) -- he wasn't, in case you're wondering, and proceeded to try to get back to sleep. Maggie (our golden) had other plans, however. Apparently a storm was moving in, and dogs' hearing being what it is, she heard it LONG before we did. The panting started at about 1-ish, as did the obligatory paw rubbing (she has a foot fetish, what can I say?!) By 2:30, the thunder, lightning and rain was at full pitch and I gave up trying to sleep and moved into the room that has a trifecta of uses -- Christopher's bedroom / Steve's office / the Guest Room. Maggie likes to hide during a storm under his newly created desk (also another story for another day) but only if she is kept company. Being fully awake now, I did what any fully awake person would do at 2:30 in the morning -- check my email (c'mon, you know you would).  That is how I found out that my brother-in-law Rich had suffered another stroke (his third in all, since February).  My sister had tried to reach me by phone, but upon not getting me (cause I was asleep), sent an email. After replying  to her, and sending out a prayer request to the wonderful folks at New Beginnings Moravian Church and some friends, I proceeded to do research on recurring strokes -- the causes, and the treatments. At approximately 3:30, Steve joined us and I brought him up-to-date on Rich's stroke.  By 4:30, the worst of the storm had passed and we moved back to our bed; Maggie had other ideas however, so the panting continued for quite some time. I think I fell asleep about 7:15 and woke at 8:15 thinking I had dreamt the whole stroke thing, and that Rich was fine. Shortly thereafter, my sister called to catch me up on the details. What could I do but listen!  No words of wisdom, no clever sayings, no helpful suggestions, AND I'm 700 miles away!  If you have relatives that live a distance from you, you understand how frustrating it is to be so far away! Went through this back in January when my dad took ill, and it nearly drove me crazy.
If you know me at all, you know I am a fixer -- that's what I do, I fix things for people -- all sorts of things, but considering I do not have a medical degree, and the law frowns upon practicing medicine without it, other than doing internet research, there isn't a whole lot I can do for my family from this distance. Now, please don't tell me that God is in control...I know that, but I was raised Catholic and our mantra was "God helps those who help themselves" the idea being that you do what you can and THEN God steps in (at least that's how I always interpreted it until the good people of various protestant faiths enlightened me). So.... I did what I've done my whole life when faced with a frustrating, worrisome situation -- I made a meal, in this case, Breakfast!  Eating is good for the soul -- someone said that, not sure who, but who am I to argue with a saying that has stood the test of time? (I think it may have been someone in my Italian-Irish-American family) Then I cleaned a bit (just a bit, mind you), and pondered my next move.  That's when I came up with another saying that I heard growing up ----- When the going gets tough, the tough get . . . . WALKING . . . three + miles. Did it solve anything for my family -- not a thing, but I did get my training in for the day, got rid of some of my frustration, AND was able to watch "What Not to Wear" from beginning to end!  Don't you just love that show?  Please keep Rich and my sis in your prayers. Oh, and just so you know...everytime I see Maggie looking comfortable and dozing off today, I nudge her awake -- you know what they say about payback!