Enter Night

Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence.... ~ Helen Keller

Success! I ran somewhere around 38 miles, half at night, and I was not eaten by bears, ripped apart by coyotes, kidnapped by drunken teenagers, or killed by an axe-wielding madman. Yay!

Although I tried to play it off as just another challenge, I was really quite scared. I bought a whistle, put fresh batteries in my headlamp, had plenty of nutrition, extra clothing layers, charged my cell phone, and remembered my trail maps. I had mapped out a route and told Ron what trails I would be on before I left. I did my best to prepare, but eventually I just had to do it.

The first part of my route was on trails that were new to me. They were steep and tough, but so beautiful! Long sections were definitely not runnable, requiring scrambling on all fours. I worried about how slow my pace was because of this - it was going to be a very long night.



I changed course as I went. I'd come to an intersection and just like the look of a different trail. I would pull out my map and figure out a new route, and then call Ron to let him know. (see, Mom - and Lauren, I really was paying attention to safety!)

The location of the sun in the sky was constantly on my mind. As it hung heavy on the horizon like ripe fruit, I kept checking my GPS watch to see how far I had gone. I knew I was only halfway through my run - that was the plan, after all. But I couldn't help checking and wishing I were further along.

My original idea was to wind around and end up on trails near my house after dark. I know those trails really well, so felt fairly confident that I could be on them without getting lost. This park is around 52,000 acres, with over 200 miles of trails, so there's a lot of territory in which to get lost. With the sun approaching it's bed, I found myself on another trail section that was new to me. It was a big, wide trail that was some sort of old carriage road which led out to a road just 5 miles from my house. It was uneven and hilly, but wide enough that I knew I wouldn't get off. Another route change! I would stay here and run the 12 miles back and forth a couple of times, and then out to the road and home.

Light fades, darkness follows. Now I was getting into the meat of this run. I added layers and put on my headlamp. And I called Ron to let him know where I was.

I felt awkward and unsteady during twilight, as though my eyes and my mind were reluctant to let go of the light. My pulse quickened. But as the darkness progressed, I regained my balance. My focus narrowed as the night deepened. The moon would not rise until much later, so it was completely black. All I saw was the few feet illuminated by my headlamp. I could see the trees and bushes close to the trail, but nothing beyond. I could hear water off to the side. But I was engrossed by the puddle of light leading me forward.

At first, to combat my nervousness, I made a lot of noise - a lot! I shouted encouragement to myself. I gave a friendly toot on my whistle. I sang. I sang Amazing Grace, over and over and over. I sang some James Brown. Inexplicably, I sang the Star-Spangled Banner. I don't know why that popped into my head, but it stuck with me through the night. And I would like to point out that the Star-Spangled Banner is not an easy song to belt out while running. I apologize to anyone out in the woods that night. I didn't hear anyone else, and no one shouted at me to shut up, so maybe I wasn't really disturbing the peace. As I got more comfortable with the dark, I made less noise. Once in a while I would stop to look up. Stunning! It was a perfectly clear night.

Time passes differently during the night. We usually don't have the same time constraints as during our over-scheduled days; the expanse of hours can simply unfold before us. And running at night is equally different. Miles slid past my feet, but I wasn't aware of them in the same way I am during daylight runs. My world narrowed to the light in front of me. I couldn't really pick out a clear path through the rocks, I just had to trust my feet. I kept a steady rhythm and let my feet react to the surface. Interestingly, I only stumbled once, and my pace was remarkably steady and fast.

One of the things I love about long distance running is the meditative aspect of it. That's one of the reasons I don't run with an Mp3 player. It's partly a safety issue, but I like the time alone with my thoughts, the chance to let my mind run free. This is greatly heightened after dark. There are even fewer distractions - just 3 feet in front of me and the rhythm of my feet. It's forced focus on only the present.

Of course, it was not all sunshine and cupcakes on my nighttime run. I had little panics. Like when I discovered the trail didn't come out where I thought it would. I suddenly found myself running across a dam...A dam? What dam? There's no dam on my map. Where the hell am I? Why isn't this the road?!? I took some deep breaths (and cursed), and realized I was at the bottom of a reservoir. There was some pumping station that wasn't shown on the map. But a pumping station means there's a road that goes out to the county road.

The moon was just cresting the hills as I made it out to the road for the final 5 miles home. As I ran along the road, the few street lights looked so big and bright above me.

My neighbors were all tucked safely in their houses. Running along my driveway, I shined my headlamp around, looking off to the sides. There in the dark was a pair of eyes watching me. Not deer. Deer would have moved off, and the eyes were more forward facing. It could have been a coyote or fox, or possibly a young bear. I could see nothing of its shape, only it's eyes. This watcher was not afraid of me. This watcher silently observed my homecoming and let me pass. As I unlocked my door and turned on the lights, I wondered how many other eyes, unseen by me, had quietly watched as a ran past.

Julie

 

Exit Light - Facing Fear

As promised in my last post, pretty much every Daily Tip lately has been about fears and how to face them.

Because today is the day. Today I face mine...well some of mine. Today I'm doing a 40+ mile long run that will go into the night. What am I afraid of? Running 40+ miles. Running alone in the woods in the dark. Bears. Coyotes. Stupid people (it is Saturday, and people often do such stupid things on weekends).

Everyone (including me) says to face your fears, but how? Yesterday's Daily Tip was Step out of your comfort zone. I wrote that because it seems like such a good map for how to face fears.

Step out of your comfort zone. Don't abandon your comfort zone! Just take one step. The idea is to bite off manageable pieces to chew. If you stuff the whole thing in your mouth you're likely to choke. Give yourself little tastes.

Our comfort zones are good; they are where we are comfortable. They are where we know what we're doing. They are where we know we can succeed. They are also relatively safe. We can handle ourselves in our comfort zones, so we are less likely to get hurt.

But, of course, if we stay there forever, we stagnate. If we want to improve, we must step outside that zone.

And that step into the unknown is scary. In taking that step, we must face our fears - walk toward what scares us.

Just remember that fear exists for a reason. Fear is a physiological reaction to a threat (remember Fight or Flight?). Fear is designed to keep you safe. Ignoring it completely would be foolish. Instead, look carefully at it. Break it down into smaller components. Develop the skills you need to tackle each of those smaller components.

In my case, I have a 100-mile race coming up, which right now is seeming like the stupidest thing I've ever attempted. I'm quite scared. But I'm not hiding from that fear. I've broken it down into skills and tasks that I can manage and improve over time.

One of those things is building up mileage - each week increasing my long runs a little more. I'm not abandoning my fear of whether I'm capable of running long distances; I'm gradually building up to it.

Another task is getting more comfortable running in the dark. I will have to run all night in the race. It's better to get a little taste of that, both physically and mentally, before the race.

So today and tonight, I'll be chewing on pieces of my fear. I'm making a reasonable jump up in mileage. And I'm timing the run so that I'll have several hours in the dark. Each piece is manageable. Nothing is overwhelming. It's still scary, but not so overwhelming that I'm hiding in my closet.

The only way fears fade is to face them. And then act, but act reasonably.

Julie

p.s. I'll post on my progress periodically on Facebook & Twitter.

Fear & Posting

I just got this week's workout schedule from my running coach - he's got me down for a 40-mile OVERNIGHT run!

OK, I think it's probably time to announce my next little adventure....

In just over a month (oh my, can it really be that close?), I'll be attempting a 100-mile race. That's crazy! I know. There's an ultra-running event in my hometown of Pekin, Il. After I finished the North Face Bear Mountain 50-mile race last year, a friend of mine from Pekin started talking to me about the Potowatomi 100. 

I don't know how I let myself get talked into this. It seemed like a crazy but fun challenge. I had run 2 50-mile races, so why not push myself a little further?

Now, it just seems crazy.

And this week's 40-mile overnight really scares me. I understand why my coach wants me to do this. I'll have to run all night in the race, so better to try it out in training first. But I am SCARED!

Therefore, the Life-Cise Daily Tip today was about fear - Focus on your next step and fear will begin to fade.

Some of you may have noticed already that often the Daily Tips are as much reminders to myself as anyone. So, just a warning: I suspect that there will be a lot of tips about fear this week.

Julie

(BTW, you can sign up for the Daily Tips & Life-Cise Newsletter here)

Brrrrrr! (But It Might Help)

Last week there was an interesting study about cold water baths which I posted on the Life-Cise News Page. In recent years, athletes have been using cold water or ice baths after exercise, and this practice has been trickling down to regular folks. But there's been little serious research on this, so a team from the University of Ulster set out to find out what's behind this trend.

This is an idea that's particularly interesting to me with all the hard training I've been doing - last year, as I trained for my 1st 50-Mile race, then my second 50-Miler; and now as I'm training pretty aggressively for my next adventure. I also thought a few of you (Tonya, Marlene, Jennifer, Scott...) would be equally interested.

Now, we're not talking about responding to an injury. For that, you should all know about R.I.C.E (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation). This study is looking at the practice of routine cold water baths after a workout.

The idea is that ice or cold water can reduce muscle soreness after a workout and help reduce any inflammation caused by the workout. Anecdotally, I can tell you that I have done this to great effect. I routinely stand in a cold shower for several minutes after a long run. I have found that I have much less feet/ankle/shin/knee discomfort after running 20+ miles when I do this.

The researchers found that there is some truth to what I have experienced. They looked at 17 studies (but only 14 were really useful) on the practice. They found that cold water/ice baths did reduce muscle soreness over the next 4 days by 15-20%.

The problem is that there was no consensus among the studies on how long, how cold, or how often. And each of the studies only compared cold water baths to doing nothing, not to any other treatment, like warm water, stretching, or massage.

So, cold water baths do reduce muscle soreness after a workout. But would a nice, comfy, warm bath or massage work just as well?

Another problem with the studies is that they only looked at fairly elite athletes. These were all people working out at a very high level. Would this treatment be equally effective in ordinary, casual exercisers?

And most importantly, would it be safe? Athletes, who's bodies are trained to operate pretty well under great stress, might react quite differently than the average person. Could the stress from cold water be detrimental to the health of someone not so strong?

Good questions that I (and the Ulster researchers) hope will be answered in further study.

Until then, I will continue to take my ice baths because I've found them useful. I will also cautiously recommend it (as I have already to a couple of you) in certain circumstances.

There's often a tendency for ideas and practices that have some truth to get blown up in significance, suddenly becoming the greatest answer to all problems. It's always important to do your research and find out the truth.

So far, the science indicates that cold baths can help. But there continue to be a lot of unknowns.

If you've had a hard workout, it might be worth experimenting. Come to your own conclusions for your own body.

And let me know what you find out.

Julie

Speak Up!

Earlier this week, many of my Iowa friends from Above & Beyond Cancer joined the American Cancer Society at the Iowa State Capitol for a "Day of Advocacy". I want to thank all who went out for taking time out of their busy schedules to raise their voices for what they consider important. We're all busy people; it takes effort to do more than just sit at home and complain. That's why people - politicians, business owners, and non-profits - start to pay attention when enough people stand up.

And that leads me into a follow-up to my recent post on the loss of some of our online cancer community. It's really just a continuation to what I said about keeping up the work that Rachel, Susan, and so many others have done. This will also serve as my commentary on recent events and decisions in the cancer non-profit world.

Let's face it, money talks. Where you put your money matters. If you give your hard-earned money to an organization, make sure their priorities are similar to yours. If you don't agree with how they are spending money, don't give them any. Find an organization who's goals are more to your liking. But here's the thing - make sure they know why you've pulled your support! Call them, email, or write a letter.

If research is the most important thing to you, look for an organization that supports research. In spite of other great work, if an organization doesn't fund or stops funding research, don't give them your money if research is what you care about the most. If preventing cancer is an important issue for you, look for groups devoted to programs and research in that area. Or simply encourage friends and family to stop smoking and exercise - two of the best ways to reduce risk of cancer and many other health issues. Better yet, take someone you care about to the gym or on a walk; it will be good for both of you. If affordable screening and ongoing care is your priority, or patient support.... You get the idea.

All this information is available - or it should be. All you have to do is look. What percentage of donations go to programs that matter to you? If information is not readily available, that should be a red flag for you. Don't just look at the pretty, feel-good slogans. Do your homework. Think about what really matters and act on it.

The same is true for that other all-too-scarce commodity: your time. If you volunteer to raise money or show up for some function, make sure it's for something that is important. Don't show up for the car wash or walk just because it makes you feel like you're doing something. We all want to feel good, but if the group doesn't really support your priorities, don't waste your time. Spend your precious time helping some group that aligns more with your priorities.

Finally, you can influence programs and people by raising your voice. Stand up and say what you think. Tell the people running the organizations and businesses what matters to you. Encourage others to do the same. Stand up and tell your elected officials about your priorities.

With so many larger forces at work, it can feel like our voices are never heard. But if enough of us say it or shout it, I like to think we will be heard. It may be naive, but I still believe that if we stand together and say what we think, we can make a difference. It takes action and awareness. It's not enough to just give support to anyone saying they fight cancer. That's not good enough. They must tell us specifically how they fight or how they support survivors or how they prevent. And if they don't, don't support them. There are so many organizations doing good work; a little work on your part will lead you to the best one for your priorities.

Julie

Inspiration Is Everywhere

What (or who) inspires you?

I've been thinking about that question since I came back from my long run on Friday. I was coming out of the woods at the top of my street. My neighbor was just coming up the hill, finishing her walk with her dog. She and I had chatted a couple days before as she was walking her dog and I was running up and down our hill, doing hill repeats. We had talked about how nice it was to see someone else out enjoying the outdoors. When I told her on Friday that I was just finishing a 22-mile run in the woods, she shouted out that I was her inspiration.

And that got me thinking.

I actually find her an inspiration. She doesn't walk fast or particularly far, but she walks just about every day. I'm sure if she were asked, she would simply say the dog needs to go out. However, she has a large fenced in part of her yard, so the dog doesn't have to walk the hill. But every day she and her dog walk to the bottom of our hill and back up. Mind you, that's no small achievement - we have a long, steep hill. Cold, rain, sun...it doesn't matter. She walks the hill.

When I still lived in the city, there was a morbidly obese man who came to the pool at my gym. A lot of people would look at him like he was some freak, somehow terribly out of place at a gym. I imagine he must have been very self-conscious. But in spite of any discomfort, he came to the pool almost every day. He wore shorts and a huge T-shirt. He would lower himself into the shallow end and start walking.

On my recent Kilimanjaro climb with Above & Beyond Cancer I was inspired daily by my teammates. Often, I was most inspired by the slowest or weakest in our group. I marveled at their persistence. I gleefully watched as they would stumble into camp with the help of teammates, exhausted, but determined to continue another day.

I love the underdogs! I love the guys who overcome their fears, who persist in spite of every difficulty. Yes, strong trained athletes can be impressive, but it's the ordinary Joe overcoming obstacles that inspires me. It's the person who manages to lose and keep off 5 pounds by balancing healthier food choices with a bit more exercise. It's the one who runs his first race even though he knows he'll probably finish last - and then signs up for another race. It's the woman who walks to work. It's my neighbor.

Inspiration is everywhere if you stay open to it. Where does your inspiration come from?

Julie

A Few Sad Goodbyes

At the top of Kilimanjaro, we raised prayer flags and took part in a Relay for Life. We celebrated life and remembered those lost to cancer.

I had carried just one prayer flag up the mountain - for Chez. There are far too many I've known from my decade of survival who I did remember, but only one flag that I flew. Cheryl was on my mind as I flew to Africa; she had gone into hospice shortly before I left. I had said my goodbyes and knew it was unlikely she would greet the news of our summit.

Cheryl and I had met here, on this blog. She became a regular reader, emailed asking exercise advice, signed up for my Daily Tips, and in the process became my friend. I tried to help her figure out ways to retain some range of motion as her cancer spread, and to strengthen the muscles that were still functional in an effort to keep her mobility and independence. And for me she was a constant source of encouragement whenever I began to doubt if what I was trying to do mattered.

She was thoughtful and caring. She was always honest. I admired her grace in the face of great pain. She seemed to delight in the natural beauty that surrounded her.

I carried her in my pack as I climbed. I thought she would enjoy the view from the top of Africa, flying over the glacier. After our climb, she came on safari with me. I carried her each day as I ventured into the bush.

I miss her presence here and in my email box. I wish her family comfort and peace.

There were two more notable losses this week in the online breast cancer community. Rachel Cheetham Moro, of the Cancer Culture Chronicles; and Susan Niebur, @WhyMommy at Toddler Planet died yesterday. They were both strong, witty, outspoken and tireless advocates in the community. They argued for more research, better and more meaningful support for survivors, and more funding/attention/support for metastatic disease.

Why did they spend so much time writing and talking about metastatic disease? Because that's what kills us. Cancer in breast tissue doesn't kill us. Cancer that spreads from our breasts to other body parts does. And yet, a shockingly small amount of attention is given to METS by some of the larger and more powerful cancer organizations. A small percent of funding goes to research for met. disease, and yet that's what kills us.

Their voices will be greatly missed. But, as another blogger said earlier today, there will be others to take their place. Yes, sadly, that's true. There will be no shortage of new recruits to our ranks.

I think maybe the best tribute to them would be to continue their work.

If we believe that a larger portion of the money raised by any organization should be spent on research rather than yet another awareness campaign, we must demand it. If we believe an organization should pay attention not only to the nervous "newbies", but to our sisters living with METS, we must demand it. If we think cancer organizations should offer the kind of support that really matters to us - the survivors - and not just to their large corporate sponsors, we must demand it. If we believe that our elected officials can and should do more to ensure that everyone has access to good and timely care if something is discovered in a scan, we must demand it. 


We must demand it.


Rest in peace, ladies. I will miss you all. And peace to your families.

Julie