Running For My Life - Racing Chemo

When asked to write this running blog, I thought it would be fun to share the love of running, the camaraderie and the joy it brings to people.   I’ve met some cool people, attended some great events and hopefully conveyed that to my readers via my writing.  But when my life took a hard left turn with a diagnosis of Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in April 2009, I started a journal of my own experiences, chronicling the good, the bad and....the ugly. So, over the next few weeks, I hope you’ll let me share my story of a sometimes hard, sometimes funny journey, and how I used running and the lessons it taught me to make sense of it all. You can read from the beginning here: Part One,

Mid-November 2009

I’m in a common room today with three other people.  It has all the benefits of the private room (wi-fi, snacks, etc.), but no TV.  But I’m smart and bring my computer with some movies and TV shows. My mom came with me today and sits through the doctor ‘pre-approval’ process to ask a few questions. I always try to bring someone with me during this time, to help track on my questions and be sure we get all the information.  Dr. Persky tells me my blood levels are on the rise and the platelets look good.  I’m still run-down, but this is encouraging.  He measures my tumor by feel, pressing on my abdomen and estimates it at 8 cm – it was originally 11 cm, so this is great news.  Woo hoo!

I feel 100 times better today than I did last time, although they did start me off slowly on Rituxin because of the reaction I had last time.  But by the end I was on full-speed ahead and would be green-lighted for round three.  From the time I’m in the treatment pod, I have a needle in my vein and am connected to a drug-dripping machine.  Thankfully they are mobile and I move around a bit to chat with the other patients.  I challenge a few of them to a race around the pod, ‘for money’.  It gets a laugh and I smile.

It does help to think of my chemo treatment as a ‘race’.  In high school and college I ran a variety of distances (800, 1500, 3000, 5000, etc).  Each race had a different strategy; in fact each lap of a race had a strategy.  ‘Get out fast in lap 1’, ‘extend your separation in lap 3’, ‘save some juice for the last lap’, etc. Thinking about this, I realize my chemotherapy is a six-lap 'race'.  I just completed lap two, positioning myself to make a move.  This gets my competitive fire up and I decide I’m going to kick chemo’s ass.

The week of treatment follows the similar pattern to last time, but I’m ready for it this time with some medicine and foods I like.  I find that I’m craving foods that I haven’t in some time – tomatoes (which I eat like apples), grilled vegetables, etc. But unfortunately there are whole other groups that if I even think about, I get nauseous. So long turkey sandwiches, good bye bananas, I’ll miss you.  But this craving isn’t always good as I’ve found a renewed interest in Jack in the Box sausage croissants.  They are little nuggets of manna from heaven.

I continue to ‘feel thick’ during the weeks after chemo, but I’m managing the physical effects fairly well by listening to my body and taking some prescribed medications.  However my emotions are out of whack. I’m a lot more liable to swing from one end of the spectrum to another.  Songs, movies, commercials and pictures can make me tear up in a second, I am a crying machine.  Man, I cry a lot.


Thanksgiving Weekend 2009

I went to The Workout Group for the first time in a few months to coordinate the teams for the Thanksgiving Cross Country Classic.  Our group always enters several different teams to compete for the team title and coveted bragging rights.  My team, The Slow Old Goats will not have a shot at the title, but we are savvy smack talkers and will come away with stories of how great we could have been.

I’m having a hard time talking to the group as my voice is very hoarse from all the drugs and Prednisone.  With my drawn face and obvious hair loss (despite a hat), it’s clear something is wrong, but not everyone knows.  One of the WOG members sends me a Facebook email later that evening:

Tim-

I hope it’s okay that I ask this...
Are you okay?

XXXXXXX

Crap. I know they are trying to be a friend, but this reinforces the fact that, not only am I sick, I LOOK sick.  I get on the web and look at side-effects for chemo, especially the physical changes.  It just leads me down the road of statistics and survival rates, not very encouraging.  I vow not to look at these sites again…

Thanksgiving Day 2009

It’s been 10 days since my last treatment, typically the ‘nadir’, or low-point of my blood levels.  So it’s no surprise that I run horribly slow at the Thanksgiving Day Race.  Breathing is difficult and legs still heavy.  Some of my friends offer to run with me, but they basically would be walking.  I find myself running the course with an 8^th grader at Orange Grove Middle School.  He asks how long I’ve been training for this race.  “28 years, how about you?” I say.  “Two-weeks”, he replies.  We run together and he wants to walk but I tell him there is no walking during a race, encouraging him to continue on, which we do slowly.  Towards the finish he is dog-tired and wants to walk.  But I tell him no, we have to finish strong, and “look good for the ladies” while running across the finish line.  He sprints ahead of me, beating me by a few seconds.  I email his coach later that day, a friend of mine from high school, telling him to get the kid out for track.  I find out later that my 8^th grade friend is now well on his way to a rewarding running career.

November 28, 2009

Facebook has provided me with an avenue to reconnect not only with friends, but old teammates and competitors from high school and college.  So when I’m invited to an ‘old-timers’ reunion in Tucson, I’m all in.  I try gamely to run the 2-mile course but couldn’t finish as my legs were super heavy.  Andy Chase, an old friend and competitor from Sahuaro H.S., makes my day though. He has edited an old video tape copy of the 1984 State Cross Country Championship with awesome footage of us and our old friends and teammates.  We marvel at our skinny selves and lament how long it’s been since we were fast.  1992 United States Olympian in the steeplechase, Danny Lopez, makes an appearance in the video and we laugh because we used to beat him a long, long time ago. Overall, it was just a great day.

But what I didn’t know, this was the last day I would run during my treatment.

The next entry is here.