running with the pack

What's on my mind? What an interesting question... really, what isn't on my mind at any given time. This spring, my main thoughts revolved around running. I was over-zealous back in January and agreed with a friend to sign up for the 10K in the Fargo Marathon. It honestly seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course I'd dedicate hours to running each week to ensure I did a good job. But as time went on, reality started sinking in...

I'm a horrible runner. I'm slow, sweaty and seem to never improve. That frustrates me greatly. I should be good at it, I want to be good at it, but I'm really just not. I'm not a 'natural' athlete, but I can move without falling down most days. So, why in the world can't I be a runner?

Of course, I promised myself I would put so much time into it. Because as a mother who works full-time, has two crazy boys, and an inability to say no to any extras, I always have a ton of spare time in the first place. And besides, life always goes according to plan and nothing unexpected ever happens. What was I thinking? I know better than that. But still, I'd really like to be in the race...

I voiced my irritation to my doctor at my appointment in March, "look at the weight I've gained in the last year!" and "I'm trying, but why can't I get in better shape!" I really like my OB/GYN, she's the one who delivered my babies and she's easy to talk to like a friend. She smiled at me, "why can't you be happy with yourself? You've been through so much in a couple years; cut yourself some slack sometimes." That's maybe why I like her so much. She's a much more upbeat visit than the appointments I have with my oncologist.

Yep, that's right...my cancer doctor. One of the hardest lessons I received is how life is a journey, and not always about the race. It was almost three years ago now; I was thirty-one when I threw up in the clinic parking lot after hearing the words ‘you have cancer’. I was diagnosed with an early stage, but aggressive ovarian cancer. So two surgeries, several CT scans, many appointments and hundreds of blood draws and tests later...here I am.

I like my oncologist just fine too, but the visits are a depressing reminder all the time. I make the trek to the University of MN Women's Cancer Center in Minneapolis just for the office visit. With questions and advice like "are you able to keep up with day-to-day functions?" or "I'd like to hold off on the chemo as long as possible because the chance of recurrence is so great and your cancer is a resistant one"...it's hard to be really pumped up for the appointment.

At least my oncologist never made the comment "with proper care, you should live well into your 40s"; that was the geneticist. As much as I didn’t like that statement, I didn’t like thinking about the alternatives to it either [would I NOT live well into my 40s, would I live poorly past my 40s, etc, etc, etc]. I went ahead and did the testing for cancer genes this spring. Part of this is what sidetracked my good intentions to become a runner. I didn't realize how this would be such an emotional drain for me. I wanted to take a break from the running and wasn’t sure I wanted to even try being in the race anymore. Happily, my tests revealed I show no known disposition to cancer. I cried with relief. I'm tired of cancer. I am tired of thinking about it. I'm tired of worrying about it. But, I'm not tired of talking about it; in fact, it seems I've just started. Oddly, I was embarrassed to tell people I had cancer, especially ovarian cancer. The young breast cancer group...they've got support. I mean, who doesn't like boobs? Their pink ribbons are all over the place. But the ovarian group...not so much. I joined several online support communities since I couldn't find a local young ovarian cancer support group. It's probably best I haven't connected face-to-face...everyone [except for one] I've connected with since my diagnosis has since died. So I quit looking for support that way. It was getting tougher to feel sorry for myself when these people kept dying on me.

what’s on your mind?

I've distanced myself from the cancer crowd, and yet at the same time let myself admit my fear more openly. It's only recently that I can openly say 'when I had cancer', or 'my tumor-marker levels are awesome' or another reference to my cancer without blushing, clamming up and shutting down. In reality, a lot of my fear is in being inadequate. Cancer indicates something wrong, with me and my body. My worries of not measuring up aren't in my ability to survive cancer, it's in my ability to live life the way I want, with my family. I've proven to be way ahead of the race in ovarian cancer, and a race I am winning. A race I’m going to win MY way. Back to the 10K race in May…I was nervous, a little lost and not completely convinced I wanted to be there when I fell in with the crowd on that rainy morning. I started towards the back of the pack with a slow steady pace. After about the 2nd mile marker I realized I was enjoying myself and the crowd around me. I kept my pace through the entire 6 miles and loved the crowd and the quiet at the same time. In hindsight, I wished I would have pushed myself harder and gotten a better time. But I’d been so worried if I pushed too hard, I’d end up walking or even worse…not finishing.

I’ve since run another 10K in June and I improved my time greatly. I wasn’t so worried about how I’d do or how I’d look. I really just wanted to hit that goal of improving my time and run with the crowd again. I had an appointment with my oncologist at the University of MN the next morning and I couldn’t wait to tell her about my running 10Ks [in addition to keeping up with daily functions!].

I’m signing up for another race or two this fall, so I need to start preparing. I really want to be a runner. A good one too. I know I’ll never be fast, but I’d like to hold my own in the race. I don't want to cut myself some slack. That seems like just admitting I'm flawed and I just hate that idea. After all, I’m a mother who works full-time, has two crazy boys and an inability to say no to any extras. I don’t have time to be flawed. So, I guess I'll keep trotting down the road, trying to enjoy the journey...and doing my best to run with the pack during the race.

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