What I Learned From My First 5k

Let me start by saying I walked the 5k.  Let me follow that up by saying I was doing almost nothing physical before that.

Some of you will remember my last post, the one where I owned my weight (216 lbs.) and said I was ready to do something to change it.

I went to the doctor on May 18th and talked to him about my weight.  I wrote about it on May 20th.  And May 23rd I walked a 5k.  My first ever.

Was it wise to go from almost no activity to a 5k?  Maybe not.  I was hurting a lot afterward.  But I honestly think it was the best way for me.

Why did I do it?  Let me explain.

First, I was motivated by my weight (ugh!).  Second, I had a bit of a rush from knowing some of the meds I was on were likely making me gain weight and I was getting off almost all of them.  (Seriously, being able to blame the meds was a nice lift.)  Third, the last two years we've walked in the Chiari Walk Across America (because my daughter has a Chiari I malformation), and I had walked over two miles both times, and a 5k is 3.1 miles.  So I was pretty sure I could do it, even if I had to take it very slow.  But the biggest reason is because I wanted to so bad!

This 5k was in honor of the daughter of a couple I went to high school with.  She died in an accident when she was just 15 months old.  Her name is Elle and this was the Live wElle 5k.  I'd known about it for three or four years.  I'd wanted to participate in it ever since I heard about it, but I knew I couldn't.  I knew I wasn't ready.  This time I was.  And the title seemed to indicate it was the right one to start with.  I am trying to live well!

It was amazing!

But it was also hard.  And I learned a lot.

Before the race, with three of my kids.

That's me on the right, with the dark blue jacket and gloves.  It was very cold.  I was also wearing my yoga pants (because you have to wear comfortable pants, right?).  I wore my hair down for warmth, and curled it because I knew I'd see people I know there and didn't want to be hideous.  I brought a clip to pull it up as I warmed up.  I figured I'd just tie my jacket around my waist as it got warmer.

Me at the end of the race.

That's me on the left at the end of the race.  That was the only time I jogged, and it was because we were near the finish line.  You have to run across the finish line, right?  Oh, by the way, it's tough to run (or jog) when your feet and legs are numb.  Just sayin'.

Let me tell you what's wrong with this picture.  No matter how cold it is when the race starts - NO JACKET!  Seriously.  I found out I hated walking with something around my waist.  A few blocks is one thing.  Three miles is quite another.  And my clip kept slipping.  Seriously, pull that dang hair up in a ponytail.  No one cares what you look like.  No one.  And don't wear boot cut yoga pants.  Or a t-shirt of material you don't like, even if it's the race shirt.  Or heavy tennis shoes.  (Okay, those were the only tennis shoes I owned, so I really didn't have many other options.)

I was really excited.  I was totally stoked!  I knew I was going to rock this thing.  And then, two blocks after I started, this thought went through my mind, "What the hell have I done?"

Two blocks in.  And I've still got over three miles to go.  There's no way on this earth I'm going to be able to finish.  But, dang it, I spent money on this.  And I want to do this for my friends.  And, seriously, how humiliating would it be to have to be rescued?  So I kept going.

That first mile I thought I was going to die!  Probably not literally, but I thought I might pass out and have to be tended to.  Even though I was being careful and going at my own pace.

But guess what.  I didn't die.  After about a mile, my legs went numb.  And things got easier after that.  When you can't feel your legs and feet, they don't hurt.  Plus, passing that one mile sign is awesome!  Not nearly as awesome as the halfway sign, but still awesome.

Once I hit the halfway point I stepped up my pace.  I was feeling pretty good now.  And, gosh darn it, I was pretty sure I could pass some of those people right in front of me.  I went into the race planning to just walk my speed.  What was comfortable.  Not compete with anyone.  But since I'd paced myself well in the beginning, I had a bit more to give in the second half.  And I could see others slowing down.  And it's just possible my competitive side kicked in.

I picked up my pace and passed many people.  That was cool!

I ended up finishing in 53 minutes and 38.1 seconds.  I was thrilled to have done it under an hour.  Yay me!

And two weeks later I did another one.  This time I finished in 48 minutes and 43 seconds.  I took almost 5 minutes off my time!  Yay me again!

And this is what I wore for that race.

Much better clothing choices.

New, lighter shoes.  A lot less clothing.  Boy, was that a more enjoyable race!

But the most important thing I learned from that first 5k?  I learned I could do it!

We did it!

Monotasking - Oh my gosh, it's so hard!

I was once talking to a woman who said she admired my ability to multitask so well.  She just didn't work this way.  She was only able to work on one thing at a time, focus on one thing at a time.

Many thoughts went through my mind as she said this:
 - What would it be like to just work on/think about one thing at a time? 
 - I wish I could think about just one thing at a time and shut my brain up a bit. 
 - I bet she could multitask if she worked at it; it's a skill just like anything else and can be learned.
 - How can she get anything done by working on just one thing at a time?

See?  Even in that second that followed her comment my brain was jumping around.

According to my Buddhist meditation DVD, that's called the monkey mind.  It's part of our nature.  And the way to peace is to learn to calm it.

So why is it so hard to focus on just one thing at a time?

I think a big part of it is that our society rewards multitasking.  Many of us struggle with I'm-busier-than-you syndrome.  I know I've bought into this way of thinking.  Busy is good.  Busy is productive.  Busy is something to be proud of and wave around like a flag of accomplishment.

How many times have you written a Facebook post that says "I have to do this and this and this" - which is partly complaining and partly bragging?  How many times have you been talking to someone and done the same thing?  How many times have you heard someone rattle off their list (in the same feigned griping way) and felt like you had to match or top it by complaining of your day?  Or felt like you couldn't talk about your day because you only did one thing or didn't have anything really to do that day?

Seriously, when did having a light schedule come to mean you were lazy?  When did a day of peaceful rest or strolling through the park or reading for hours become something to be ashamed of?  When did doing one thing instead of five things come to mean you were a slacker?  Why is chewing gum and walking considered more intelligent than just walking?

Studies have shown that monotasking is more efficient (but since I can't reference any of them I'm not going to talk about that anymore).

I'm going to talk about the value I see in doing one thing at a time.  Seriously think about it for a minute.  Just.  One.  Thing.

Now, if you're a reader you might do this already.  I know I can't do anything else while I read.  Except laundry.  Or the dishes.  Or run errands and then come back to it.  Each of these interruptions makes our reading less efficient.  It takes us a few minutes to get back into what we're reading.  We lose the cohesiveness of the content.  And if it's a story, we pull ourselves out of the moment the characters are having.  In my mind, that's a less enjoyable story.

All this is to say I believe monotasking is more efficient and more accurate (okay, so I'm going to talk about its efficiency a bit).  If we jump around from thing to thing to thing the power of focus on just that one thing is lost.  There's a rev up factor to most tasks.  If we have to rev up again and again because we did something else in between, it takes that much longer. 

And if we're giving something our full attention it will be more accurate.  Do you think your taxes will be more accurate if you're concentrating on that task alone or if you're having a conversation while you're working on them?  Is your driving safer when you concentrate on that task alone or when you're also texting or talking on the phone or arguing with someone in the car?  Would you like your surgeon to focus just on his task at hand while operating on you or would you like him to also be consulting on another case with another doctor as he cuts into your body?

I believe monotasking allows us to enjoy the full flavor of a moment.  If you glance at the sunset as you drive to the store and note how pretty it is, that's nice.  But if you pull over and take a few moments to just examine the sunset, the multiple shades of multiple colors, the wonder of the earth, the feeling it gives you, isn't that a different experience?  A better experience?  Imagine how this would change your experience at church.  At the temple.  With your spouse.

And that brings me to my next point.  Imagine what it does for the person you're with when you pay full attention to them.  When you're not also playing on whatever device is at hand.  When you're not checking text messages.  When you're not answering calls.  How do they feel when you are just with them, completely?

Imagine the stillness it can bring.  Not just physical stillness, although I would argue some of us need a bit more of that.  But the mental stillness.  The emotional stillness.  The spiritual stillness.  To just be in that moment.

I heard a podcast many years ago that has stuck with me.  It was a Quaker woman.  She talked about how the Quakers strive to devote each action to God.  When they are sweeping, they are only sweeping.  And they are doing it for God.

Maybe you have no intention of sweeping for God, but what if all you did was sweep?  What if your brain weren't running all over the place trying to solve the problems of your life?  What if you focused on that moment instead of just rushing through to get to the next chore?  What if you focused on the sound of the broom on the floor?  The feeling of the muscles in your arms and hands maneuvering the broom?  The sight of the cleanliness that emerges as you sweep?  What if you just swept in stillness?

I think even sweeping could be rejuvenating that way.

And that brings me to my final point.  I believe monotasking can be rejuvenating.  I believe it relieves our minds and bodies of the constant back and forth that is so draining.  I believe it lets our muscles relax a bit, both mental and physical.  I believe it's good for us.

And, yes, this was a long way to describe mindfulness.  A powerful way to live life (even just moments).  A way to soothe depression, anxiety, stress, high blood pressure, and many other struggles.  A way to feel more peace.

Because couldn't we all use a little more peace?

But just because I believe it's good for us doesn't mean I'm good at it.  I'm working on it.  I'm still often uncomfortable doing just one thing at a time.  I still find myself listening to an audiobook while cleaning the house.  I still find myself playing solitaire while watching something on Netflix.  I still have trouble calming my monkey mind.  But I'm trying.

Health Update -- Not for the Faint of Heart

I will try to keep this clean, but my story may still make some a bit squeamish.

First, the basics.  I had my annual physical a few weeks ago.  Everything seems okay.  We didn't do blood work yet because I've switched thyroid meds and we'll need to do blood work for that in a couple of months anyway.  In order to spare me a poke, we're doing it all then.

I wanted his feedback on my thoughts about how to proceed regarding my prolapsed uterus.  I wanted to give him my full medical history (since this is my first full physical with this new doctor).  I wanted to give him an overview of my current symptoms, not looking to fix anything but just to give him a whole picture and see if anything worried him.  And I wanted to switch thyroid meds from a synthetic to a natural.

Doctors prefer the synthetic for more accurate dosing control, so it's not always easy to get one to switch you when your numbers are good.  My thyroid numbers have been good for a couple of years, but I still feel horrible.  My gut told me I needed to try something new.  He was a bit reluctant but said if I felt really strongly about it he would be willing to give it a try.  I've been on the new medication for about two and a half weeks.  I don't want to jinx anything, but I have been feeling a bit better on the energy front.  Not great.  And no where near how I used to feel.  But I have been able to do a bunch of work around the house - spring cleaning - that I had wanted to do for a long time but just couldn't make myself do because I was so exhausted.  Any improvement on the energy front is wonderful, so I'll gladly take these baby steps with joy.

After hearing my full medical history (including a headache for eight and a half years) and seeing my list of symptoms he suggested another MRI.  It's been about eight years since I had one and my symptoms certainly warrant it.  I told him I want to wait until we try the new meds for a while and after I have surgery and let my body adjust a bit.  If things are still the same I'll have the MRI then.  Besides, we have a one year waiting period for pre-existing conditions that will end in September.  Perfect timing.

I told him about my uterine prolapse diagnosis from the gynecologist and said that after all my research I wanted to have a complete hysterectomy, including ovaries.  He understood my reasoning and said he would back that decision.  He said I wouldn't have trouble convincing the surgeon to do the hysterectomy but might have trouble with the ovaries. But he also said when I mention two second-degree relatives with cancer (my grandma died of ovarian cancer and my aunt died of breast cancer) he was pretty sure I could persuade him.

I go back in two months for those blood tests.  I promised to have a mammogram at the end of the year.  We're good to go there.  That part was easy.  But then I had my surgical consult.  Ugh.  That wasn't so easy.

Sorry to make this so long, but I want to keep this all one post.

My husband came with me.  I told him he didn't have to, but he wanted to.  In the end I was very glad he did.

We start with the basic preliminary stuff, weight, blood pressure, etc.  The doctor comes in and asks lots of questions about my discomfort and pain.  Does this activity hurt?  Does this one?  What about when you do this?  So many questions about things I hadn't ever thought of.  So far so good.

Now, I'll step out, you take off everything from the waist down, cover with the drape, and we'll do an exam.

I'm sure there are women who don't hate pelvic exams.  I'm even sure there are some who get off on it.  But for most women a pelvic exam is something we know we have to do and we just try to endure.  Just get it done quick.  Honestly, trying to be elsewhere mentally as it's happening.

A regular pelvic exam isn't usually painful.  At least for me it isn't.  Uncomfortable, to be sure.  But not painful.  This wasn't a regular pelvic exam.

This exam was more extensive (my husband later said something to the effect of the doctor being in up to his elbows).  Instead of the typical two or three minutes of poking and swabbing, it was ten or fifteen minutes of pushing and reaching and pressing internally and externally.  (There was a nurse in the room that I paid no attention to.  My husband said he looked over at her during the exam and she was squirming and looked uncomfortable and pained just watching it.)  It hurt.  A lot.  And everyone in that room knew it was hurting me a lot, even if I tried to be still and wait it out.  The doctor even apologized a couple of times when I jumped.  It wasn't too long after it started that my pain became evident and my husband came and stood beside me and held my hand.  I'm so grateful for that; it helped get me through.

Eventually the doctor had all the information he needed from the exam.  He said he would step out, I could get dressed, and then he'd come back and talk to me.

He left.  I got dressed while standing on very weakened legs.  And I cried.  It hurt so much.  More than anything but labor.  It just hurt so much.

He came in.  We talked.  He did quickly agree to the hysterectomy and balk at the ovaries.  He told me all the reasons the medical community would suggest I keep them.  I told him I'd done my research and gave him my reasons for getting rid of them.  He said he would back that decision.  He said he couldn't guarantee that the surgery would relieve my pain.  Even after all the exams it's possible my pain isn't coming from my uterus and ovaries.  But he also said women tend to have a very good sense about this and it's best to trust them on it.  (That earned him a lot of points with me.)  He said my uterine prolapse isn't as bad as the lady who examined me before had said, but it can vary from day to day depending on how much I've been on my feet.  But he also said that with the amount of pain I've had and since I'd tried pain medications and hormone treatments already with no success, even without the uterine prolapse a hysterectomy might be advised.

I need to have a bladder test to see if I am a candidate for a bladder sling (you'll have to look that up; this is too long already).  Then we will schedule my surgery.  I will have a complete hysterectomy including ovaries.  It will be performed laparoscopically (with robot assistance) and delivered vaginally.  The recovery is two to six weeks (small stuff at two weeks, full activity at six).  I will stay one night in the hospital.

The day of and day after the exam, my pain was excruciating.  So bad I had trouble walking and was brought to tears more than once.  My pain used to come and go, but I am hurting all the time now.  I am cancelling a lot of plans because I hurt too much.  I am taking pain pills to get through the most important things (like my daughter's college graduation, yay!), but then I pay a price the next day.  Rebound headache from over-the-counter pain meds is tough.  Rebound headache from prescription pain meds is awful.  So I have to be very selective about what I take and when. 

I've missed most of my son's track season.  I missed the big party for the neighborhood's seventieth birthday that I'd been anticipating for months.  I missed my friend's fiftieth birthday party.  And so many other things I wanted to attend.  I'm just so ready for this to be over.

I understand things could be tough after surgery.  I know my body will go through a shock and might not adjust well to the lack of hormones.  I know I will hurt a lot as I recover from the surgery.  But I am so ready to trade the pain and problems I have now for the ones I may have in the future.  I'm just so ready to feel like I'm on the road to recovery.

Beginning to CREATE

This is the year.  2014 is the year I begin to create the world I need.  The world of peace for my heart and mind.  This is the year I figure out what I want and how to make it happen.  With my heart and mind and body, it will. -- These are the words that create the border of my vision canvas. 

My word for 2014 is CREATE (explained here). 

My year got off to kind of a rough start.  Horrendous headache that won't break for a couple of weeks.  Nasty anxiety.  And the ever present struggle to figure out when to medicate and when to wait it out.  Knowing there will be drawbacks in either case.

So I had all these glorious ideas and then watched day after day go by without being able to fulfill them. But not entirely.

I've been able to tangle some.  Finish a couple of projects.  One of which is my vision canvas (like a vision board, but tweaked for my purposes).  Just pigment pen with pencil shading on a 9"x12" watercolor paper.

So, even though I never use photos on my blog, today I will.  And probably more in the future.  At a minimum I plan to create a sketchbook tab for my tangles.

Here's the first one I'm sharing.  My vision canvas:

It started with the word CREATE, because that's what it's all about.  Then I drew a string with some loops (in pencil, later erased).  I used this to add more words.  Not necessarily all things I will accomplish this year.  More like shades of words to color the idea.  There are more defining words in the ribbon.  In case you can't read them all they are as follows:  peace, stability, strength, refuge, dragonflies, healing, haven, space, calm, wellness, sanctuary, satisfaction, fortitude, oasis, happiness, gargoyles, garden, structure, dragons, wholeness, atonement, shelter, freedom, health, joy, self, focus, safety, divinity, dreams, escape, order.  Then I tangled in the various spaces and shaded with pencil.

I'm very new to this art form, Zentangle.  I started about a week before Thanksgiving.  So far, I am loving it.  And I love that I am learning something new.  Learning is always energizing for me emotionally.

In addition to tangling, I have found other ways to incorporate CREATE into my days, even when I'm down.  I have tweeted a quotation about creating every day.  And I have questioned myself more.  Because figuring out what I want is an elemental part of creating.

When I woke up last Sunday and began hoping for a good day at church I stopped myself.  I spent a few moments asking myself what I wanted my experience at church to be.  I focused my thoughts and heart that direction.  I prayed for assistance.  It changed my day.

I've done this a few times since.  For different events.  For me, I haven't been able to define my whole day with one choice yet.  But I can define different experiences and activities, or moments, throughout the day.  I think part of this is because I haven't been well.  I think it's also because I'm learning to use new mental muscles.  Anytime I learn something new, it takes time to become skilled at it.

Onward and upward.  More creating to do.  I'm finally starting to feel a bit better.  Ready to tackle my little corner of the world.

I leave you with my favorite tangled work so far.  It's a piece I created for a friend.  The only guideline he gave me was free flowing, kind of like The Grateful Dead.  He wants it colored, so I will be water coloring it.  For now, this is it (9"x9" on watercolor paper):

I hope you're all finding wonderful ways to experience 2014.

**********

Since I'm new to photos on my blog, please let me know if there are display problems for you and what platform you're using to view my blog.

Why Doesn't the World Stop?

The first funeral I remember attending was for a baby. I was fourteen. It was my cousin's baby. I hadn't met the baby and wasn't close to this cousin. But that funeral has stuck with me.

Before the funeral started there was a family prayer in another room. I was there. I heard them pray for the parents and family. I heard them pray for the babysitter, who had found the baby in the crib. Not breathing. Crib death. And I remember the sound my cousin made when they closed the coffin. A tiny gasp escaped her. The sound of her heart breaking.

I cried throughout the funeral. Not because I would miss this baby; I probably wouldn't have seen her more than once or twice in her lifetime. I cried because of the overwhelming pain in the room. So many people. So devastated.

I'd missed school to attend the funeral. My mom offered to let me skip the rest of the day, but I had classes that I shouldn't miss. So I went back to school.

And I didn't understand.

Why was everyone walking around like there was nothing wrong? Did they not understand that a tragedy had occurred? It seemed so irreverent. How could they be so heartless? People giggling, are you kidding me? Nothing in the rest of the world had changed.

Why? Why didn't the world stop? Something so horrific had happened. A tiny, innocent child had died and no one cared. The world didn't care. It was difficult for me to process.

And later that day I noticed myself talking with friends and laughing. I felt horrible! How could I just move on? How could I feel better when my cousin was so terribly sad? What a horrible person I was.

Fast forward twenty years. My marriage is in shambles. My health is failing. I am in therapy, borderline suicidal. I am self-injuring and taking sedatives just to make it through each day. And my boss, who is one of my best friends and a therapist, keeps giving me more work. I am dying inside. My heart is breaking. I can barely get out of bed. He knows this. Why won't he give me a break? Doesn't he understand that I just want to rest? I just want to stop. I just want to not exist for a while.

Yes, he understands all of that. And he knows me. He knows that isn't healthy for me. He tells me that he knows he's giving me more and it's hard, but he worries that if he doesn't I will disconnect from the world. I will sink so far into a depression that I might not come out. He is doing this to help me. Because he loves me and worries about me. It's his way of trying to protect me.

That happened about seven years ago. It was the worst time of my life. But I got through it. The world kept spinning and I had to go on. My friend was right. There is power in continuing. I had time to heal, but I also had something to keep me connected to the world.  To keep me moving forward.

The world doesn't stop. Everything just keeps on going. And I have come to believe that's an incredible gift. It is unhealthy for us to just give up and quit. Take a break and take time to mourn, of course. I am not saying that's not important. But we must keep going or we die. Maybe not our bodies, but our hearts and souls.

If we stop at the point of the most intense pain then that is where we will live. We will be forever in a hell of our own making. We didn't chose the tragedy, but we choose whether or not to sit and stare at it for the rest of our lives. And if the world didn't keep going on around us, if we didn't still have obligations to meet and people to take care of, it would be too easy to just sit in our pain. Forever.

Noticing Progress

I want to be perfect.  I want to have all the answers.  I want to be able to do anything and everything all the time.  Be everything my family and friends want me to be.  Is that really so much to ask?

Of course it is, and it sounds ridiculous.  But time and again those are the standards I judge myself by.

I walk through my house and notice everything that needs to be done.  I notice the mess.  I notice things that are broken.  I notice what I've never really liked about the house that I still haven't changed.  And I feel bad.  I feel like I am not enough because it's not all perfect.  Right now!

I wake up and start moving at the beginning of the day.  From the moment I start to stir, I feel tired.  So tired.  As I get moving I notice how much my head hurts.  Maybe I notice how dizzy I am or how blurry my vision is.  And how little motivation I have to do anything.  I try to get my kids up and off to school, getting irritated and grumpy in the process.  And I feel like a failure because I lose my cool and snap at them.  I want to be the mom that's happy all the time and participates in everything they do.  I want to be at every event.  I want to play with them and study with them and help them when they are sad.  Every time!

But I can't.

I am a problem solver by nature.  My mind is constantly working to fix things:  physical, emotional, spiritual, psychological -- and all the other "al" words.  Which serves me well much of the time.  But it also holds me back and causes me pain.

We can only truly focus on one thing at a time.  Sometimes we fool ourselves into believing that we are multi-tasking, but we're not really.  Our brain isn't paying attention to lots of things at once.  It's swapping out attention from one thing to another, sometimes so fast that we don't realize that's what is happening. 

Why does the inability of our brains to multi-task matter?  Because if we are looking at the problems we are not seeing the successes.  This is a major struggle for me.

I see the messy house.  I don't see the six trailer-loads of stuff I cleaned out and gave to charity or the five trailer-loads that went to the dump.  I don't see all the things I gave away to family and friends.  I don't see all the free things that were offered to me that I politely refused to keep from bringing more stuff into my life.  I see that my life isn't spartan and pristine, not that it's so much better and more peaceful.

I see how tired I am.  I don't see all the doctor's visits, therapy visits, prescriptions, tests, lifestyle changes, and progress I've made.  I don't see that I used to go to bed for days, semi-sedated just to face another day full of pain.  I don't see those months on end when I didn't leave my house except for church.  I don't see those times when I was so depressed that I scared my husband.  Or those times when my mental state was so bad that I sliced my own arms open.  I don't see that these things aren't true anymore.  I overlook the fact that I've checked back into life.  I don't see that I am doing so much, so many things.  I only see all the things I want to do but can't.

Not today.  Today I see progress.  I am not all I want to be.  My life is not all I want it to be.  But I have done so much and come so far.  And that's what I'm going to focus on today.