Marathons and Cancers #3
Today I am grateful for the peace in silence and for cooler temperatures and needed precipitation.
After the WhistleStop Marathon, Darcy and I decided to continue marathoning. In 2006, we decided to keep it local and run the Twin Cities Marathon in October. Cancer decided to make another appearance too.
This time, it was my sister Mary Jo, diagnosed with breast cancer in August. By the time we ran Marathon #3, she was done with surgery and taking oral medication for treatment. The sense of security initially smashed with Zita's diagnosis was further smashed. Who would be next?
Somewhere in this time I also had an abnormal mammogram. It isn't entirely unusual to get called back for another look after a mammogram, but it hadn't happened to me before. I got the all-clear relief, and also continued motivation to stay healthy and active.
The Twin Cities Marathon was my fastest to that point, and still is. I trained hard and ran hard, cramping up and having to walk a full mile late in the marathon. Yet, it was still my fastest. I was running for Mary Jo and Zita and being chased by my own fear of cancer. I was running for many reasons, health and hope high on the list.
I felt some guilt that is hard to describe, but if you have two sisters with a BC diagnosis and you have been spared, it goes with the territory.
After running the Portland Marathon in October of 2007 and the Brookings Marathon in early May of 2008, I found out what it was like to be the one getting the cancer diagnosis. In late May, I was the one told I had BC. Darcy and I had already registered to run the Twin Cities Marathon again that fall. It became a casualty of cancer and chemo. We were grateful we had already run in Brookings, because we were trying to keep a string of at least one marathon a year going.
When we ran in the rain in Brookings, I had already had a breast MRI and was awaiting results. It seemed strange to be running with the possibility that there was cancer in my body. And the fear that accompanied awaiting the results had questions like "Will this be my last marathon?" going through my mind.
So instead of running Twin Cities that fall, I got used to no hair and a combination of chemo drugs and pre-meds that left me feeling really crummy on a few days, and mostly run-down and not myself on many other days. I continued to run when I felt up to it and it was a saving grace for sure. I also got time to consider what my final surgery option would be.
The plan to keep running factored into that decision and I chose bilateral mastectomies without reconstruction. Though not an easy decision at all, in simple terms it came down to this: I wanted the best chance to keep running and running comfortably.
Nothing would replace my God-given pair, so I might as well use the pairs I was left with--my arms and legs, my eyes, ears, lungs.
I was fortunate to return to running in early 2009. I recall my first flat-chested post-op run in mid-January with my sister Ruth on the Las Vegas Strip. My sisters and I had gathered there to celebrate our sister Ann's 50th birthday. Then Darcy and I set our sights on a special fall marathon.
After the WhistleStop Marathon, Darcy and I decided to continue marathoning. In 2006, we decided to keep it local and run the Twin Cities Marathon in October. Cancer decided to make another appearance too.
This time, it was my sister Mary Jo, diagnosed with breast cancer in August. By the time we ran Marathon #3, she was done with surgery and taking oral medication for treatment. The sense of security initially smashed with Zita's diagnosis was further smashed. Who would be next?
Somewhere in this time I also had an abnormal mammogram. It isn't entirely unusual to get called back for another look after a mammogram, but it hadn't happened to me before. I got the all-clear relief, and also continued motivation to stay healthy and active.
The Twin Cities Marathon was my fastest to that point, and still is. I trained hard and ran hard, cramping up and having to walk a full mile late in the marathon. Yet, it was still my fastest. I was running for Mary Jo and Zita and being chased by my own fear of cancer. I was running for many reasons, health and hope high on the list.
I felt some guilt that is hard to describe, but if you have two sisters with a BC diagnosis and you have been spared, it goes with the territory.
After running the Portland Marathon in October of 2007 and the Brookings Marathon in early May of 2008, I found out what it was like to be the one getting the cancer diagnosis. In late May, I was the one told I had BC. Darcy and I had already registered to run the Twin Cities Marathon again that fall. It became a casualty of cancer and chemo. We were grateful we had already run in Brookings, because we were trying to keep a string of at least one marathon a year going.
When we ran in the rain in Brookings, I had already had a breast MRI and was awaiting results. It seemed strange to be running with the possibility that there was cancer in my body. And the fear that accompanied awaiting the results had questions like "Will this be my last marathon?" going through my mind.
So instead of running Twin Cities that fall, I got used to no hair and a combination of chemo drugs and pre-meds that left me feeling really crummy on a few days, and mostly run-down and not myself on many other days. I continued to run when I felt up to it and it was a saving grace for sure. I also got time to consider what my final surgery option would be.
The plan to keep running factored into that decision and I chose bilateral mastectomies without reconstruction. Though not an easy decision at all, in simple terms it came down to this: I wanted the best chance to keep running and running comfortably.
Nothing would replace my God-given pair, so I might as well use the pairs I was left with--my arms and legs, my eyes, ears, lungs.
I was fortunate to return to running in early 2009. I recall my first flat-chested post-op run in mid-January with my sister Ruth on the Las Vegas Strip. My sisters and I had gathered there to celebrate our sister Ann's 50th birthday. Then Darcy and I set our sights on a special fall marathon.
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