Last week greeted us with 5 inches of snow on Wednesday and Thursday, followed by 67 degrees on Saturday and Sunday. Only in Northern Virginia... That being said, it made for a record weekend of running where I logged 12.4 miles for the weekend. And although 3.4 of them were a muddy mess, 9 of them were flawless.
Saturday was one of those days what will live on in my mind forever. It's said that there are moments in life that define us- that are so profound that they almost stop time and everything from that point on has new definition. I had said before that somewhere around mile 5, I became a runner.
I was wrong. Last Saturday, as I caught a glimpse of mile 9, I became a runner- in my heart, in my soul, in my bones.
Now, its one thing to say you're a runner...but to really BE one...that is truly different. I'm finding it's a practice much like yoga that requires so much more than body. It takes a certain conviction within yourself. I've always wanted to BE a runner, but the voice inside me would taunt me with insecurities. "Your lungs are going to quit on you; you'll gasp for air.... just who do you think you are, crazy girl?? AND you want to run a half marathon? Are you nuts??" And I believed that voice. I believed that 13.1 was a far off dream. When I registered for the half marathon in May, it was a fleeting thought that I'd actually make it. Sure, I'd give it my best, but honestly, I wasn't going to be surprised if I didn't make it all the way. I'd take pride in working towards the goal, but secretly kept in my mind that I'd never make it. The voice in my head had me convinced, and I believed it...Until Saturday.
Because on Saturday, I ran 9 miles. Further than I had ever run in my life, and at a decent pace of just over 9 minutes per mile. And strangely, that voice in my head died out at mile 7 and became replaced. Replaced by what? SILENCE. And in that silence, turning the loop of mile 8 and charging onward to mile 9, I became someone new; someone unstoppable. In that silence, I could feel the run in every fiber of my being, every pound of my chest, and every slap of my shoes. It was just me and the pavement.
It was a feeling that was so freeing and new, that even now, the tears stream down my cheeks as I recall the final strides to mile 9. I didn't fully realize it at the time. I thought my tears were simply pride in a new milestone. And in a sense, they were... they still are. But the size of that milestone is more than a number. It's the breaking point of a barrier that I had created for myself so long ago. It's the realization and acknowledgement of a power within me that I didn't know was there. And it was at that moment that I recalled the last words my mother spoke to me:
"You can be anything."
I hope she's smiling at my reply today.
Mummy, I am a runner.
Half crazy, and fully committed,
Jenny
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Sunday, February 24, 2013
A difficult 7, but 7 none the less
Sometimes things sound like such a good idea in my head. And sometimes when those things take shape, you realize how unwise of a choice that really was.
Today's unwise choice?? Taking my sweet husband with me on today's run. I know, that sounds terrible, and I love him dearly, I do... And I'm glad we had that time together this morning. But here's the thing- as a runner, he is far faster than I. Lets call it the 7 inch advantage that he has over me. It's impossible for me to keep at his pace on a healthy day!
And today, was not the healthiest- you see, last night on my run I had an attack and had to stop after mile 2. I'm talking full on, can't catch my breathe, really hot... Attack. In retrospect, I was coughing a ton yesterday, and I hadn't had my usual amount if water. Dumb move to attempt a run. Lesson learned.
Anyway, we set out today to destinations far and wide... And uphill for a mile (idiot!!) for our 7 mile run. (Shh- I told Kevin it was 5 so he'd come.) I started off keeping pace with Kevin and feeling really great. 9:30 am, out on a run with my love, so ready to crush this. And then we hit mile 2 and that blasted hill... And Kevin took off and I realized, oh shoot- I am tired because I've been keeping up with this gazelle. Not good, friends, not good. So I slow, and bless his heart, he asks me what's wrong. Nothing- except I'm not 5'10". I'm 5'3" and trying to keep up!! Duh. My own fault. After that, I started to go more of my own pace, and that helped... But my mojo was already out of sync. I jogged, I walked, I jogged some more... I hacked my lung up- only a tiny bit, an then I jogged some more. I'm sure I didn't look nearly as athletic as I had hoped. Visions of Forrest Gump flooded my mind. But still, I turned that bend, and like the tortoise today, I kept going.
Not my strongest, but still - 7 is 7, and that in itself is something. And, as it turns out, thanks to gazelle boy... It was my fastest 7 to date. 7 miles in 49 minutes... Say what?! Still- I'd prefer not to die. I have time to work to his pace.
Moral of the story??
Go at your happy pace.
Half crazy- and hey, half way there!
Jenny
Today's unwise choice?? Taking my sweet husband with me on today's run. I know, that sounds terrible, and I love him dearly, I do... And I'm glad we had that time together this morning. But here's the thing- as a runner, he is far faster than I. Lets call it the 7 inch advantage that he has over me. It's impossible for me to keep at his pace on a healthy day!
And today, was not the healthiest- you see, last night on my run I had an attack and had to stop after mile 2. I'm talking full on, can't catch my breathe, really hot... Attack. In retrospect, I was coughing a ton yesterday, and I hadn't had my usual amount if water. Dumb move to attempt a run. Lesson learned.
Anyway, we set out today to destinations far and wide... And uphill for a mile (idiot!!) for our 7 mile run. (Shh- I told Kevin it was 5 so he'd come.) I started off keeping pace with Kevin and feeling really great. 9:30 am, out on a run with my love, so ready to crush this. And then we hit mile 2 and that blasted hill... And Kevin took off and I realized, oh shoot- I am tired because I've been keeping up with this gazelle. Not good, friends, not good. So I slow, and bless his heart, he asks me what's wrong. Nothing- except I'm not 5'10". I'm 5'3" and trying to keep up!! Duh. My own fault. After that, I started to go more of my own pace, and that helped... But my mojo was already out of sync. I jogged, I walked, I jogged some more... I hacked my lung up- only a tiny bit, an then I jogged some more. I'm sure I didn't look nearly as athletic as I had hoped. Visions of Forrest Gump flooded my mind. But still, I turned that bend, and like the tortoise today, I kept going.
Not my strongest, but still - 7 is 7, and that in itself is something. And, as it turns out, thanks to gazelle boy... It was my fastest 7 to date. 7 miles in 49 minutes... Say what?! Still- I'd prefer not to die. I have time to work to his pace.
Moral of the story??
Go at your happy pace.
Half crazy- and hey, half way there!
Jenny
Friday, February 1, 2013
98%...and a solid 6
As someone with CF, I always pay really close attention to my PFT's. PFT's, or Pulmonary Function Tests, tell me how my lungs are doing... How much lung function I have been retaining through my illness, the capacity of both my major and minor airways, and how much oxygen is in my blood. To me, they are my grade by which I determine the current state of my health. They can be great, or they can be terrifying...especially if closely monitored after an illness. Maybe it's just me, but with every illness that strains my lungs, I am constantly battling myself and second guessing whether or not I did any lasting damage.
Top it off with the damning statistic that CF patients tend to lose between 2% and 4% lung function each year.
Is it me, or did a collective hush just fall over this blog???
I remember my first appointment and hearing about my PFT's. At 16, I rationalized it like any honor roll student. "96%... That's an A. My lungs are an A. I can live well with a 96%". Then I saw that statistic and realized even if it was only 2% a year... In 10 years, I'd be at a 76%. And I cried. Because I've never in my life been a C student.
It's a funny thing about us A students though... We are determined to keep our A's, and sometimes, they become even better A's.
Today, in that little room of the PFT lab, I solidified to myself what a lot of people have told me for quite some time now.
I am so much stronger than any statistic.
Today, almost exactly 12 years after those initial PFT's, my lung function is a 98%.
And tomorrow, when I celebrate my 98 with a 6 mile run, and my lungs start to scream at mile 4... I will smile and keep pushing because if they are strong enough to be at 98%, then they are strong enough for 6 miles. And who knows, maybe 99 is around that next mile marker.
Half crazy, and completely loving it,
Jenny
Top it off with the damning statistic that CF patients tend to lose between 2% and 4% lung function each year.
Is it me, or did a collective hush just fall over this blog???
I remember my first appointment and hearing about my PFT's. At 16, I rationalized it like any honor roll student. "96%... That's an A. My lungs are an A. I can live well with a 96%". Then I saw that statistic and realized even if it was only 2% a year... In 10 years, I'd be at a 76%. And I cried. Because I've never in my life been a C student.
It's a funny thing about us A students though... We are determined to keep our A's, and sometimes, they become even better A's.
Today, in that little room of the PFT lab, I solidified to myself what a lot of people have told me for quite some time now.
I am so much stronger than any statistic.
Today, almost exactly 12 years after those initial PFT's, my lung function is a 98%.
And tomorrow, when I celebrate my 98 with a 6 mile run, and my lungs start to scream at mile 4... I will smile and keep pushing because if they are strong enough to be at 98%, then they are strong enough for 6 miles. And who knows, maybe 99 is around that next mile marker.
Half crazy, and completely loving it,
Jenny
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Minor Setbacks
Well, training hasn't gone so well this past week. We'll call it minor set backs... But I am still charging ahead as best as I can.
I'm currently battling the CF dynamic infection duo. Upper respitory infection combined with sinus infection. In other words, this girl can't breathe. Currently combating this with my usual Cipro and
Colisthine but running more than 3 miles is proving to be a challenge. Hopefully by mid next week, I can crank it up again. Such is life when you have CF- a constant flip flop between triumphs and tiny setbacks.
Next week, I venture to PA to see my team of specialists who will tell me my current stats for lung function, as well as provide me with tools I'll need to properly fuel myself during this training process and the half marathon itself. My biggest concern?? Maintaining my constantly dwindling salt levels. I'm sure they'll help me figure out the best course of action.
As a side note, yes, I am returning to my care team at Hershey rather than the team at Hopkins- they may be #1 in the nation, but they just weren't the right fit for me. Sometimes you have to recollect yourself and find what's most important to you in order to receive your best care. Many may not understand this change, and that's okay- you don't have to. For me, this is the right move.
Until I'm back in full force, I'll keep breathing easy each step of the way.
I remain, half crazy...
Jenny
I'm currently battling the CF dynamic infection duo. Upper respitory infection combined with sinus infection. In other words, this girl can't breathe. Currently combating this with my usual Cipro and
Colisthine but running more than 3 miles is proving to be a challenge. Hopefully by mid next week, I can crank it up again. Such is life when you have CF- a constant flip flop between triumphs and tiny setbacks.
Next week, I venture to PA to see my team of specialists who will tell me my current stats for lung function, as well as provide me with tools I'll need to properly fuel myself during this training process and the half marathon itself. My biggest concern?? Maintaining my constantly dwindling salt levels. I'm sure they'll help me figure out the best course of action.
As a side note, yes, I am returning to my care team at Hershey rather than the team at Hopkins- they may be #1 in the nation, but they just weren't the right fit for me. Sometimes you have to recollect yourself and find what's most important to you in order to receive your best care. Many may not understand this change, and that's okay- you don't have to. For me, this is the right move.
Until I'm back in full force, I'll keep breathing easy each step of the way.
I remain, half crazy...
Jenny
Saturday, January 5, 2013
4 months and counting...
4 months. My date with destiny is exactly 4 months away. To say I am amped up, is an understatement. I use to be someone that ran, for a while, and then after a few miles... I decided to only run if something was chasing me. Now, my inner drive is chasing me- pushing and propelling me forward towards 13.1. It shall be mine... sweet victory shall be mine.
That being said, no one in their right mind enters this without a plan of attack. My plan of attack is to follow the plan my sister in law ( a true marathoner!) follows when she is training. It was a little intimidating to see it all there in black and white, I'll admit. BUT, ya know what- one day at a time... one goal at a time.
I'm hovering between 4 and 6 miles currently...Some days it's 4, some days it's 6, but most days it's just shy of 5. It's cold- CF lungs hate cold. I'm learning that when my lungs scream, if I keep pushing through, they'll shut up after a bit. It's getting past that point of screaming that sometimes takes will power. And so, while I am following "the plan", here are my own personal little goal milestones.
By February 1st- Maintain 6 miles
Run a 10K in early February, be at 8 Miles by end of Feb.
Mid March- Run a 10 miler
End of March- Hopefully maintain around 11 miles.
Spend all of April hitting my last 2 miles...I hear they are the ones that kill ya.
May 5th, 2013- My Day of Victory.
Today...I bought new shoes and made an appointment for PFT's, so I can check my current lung function. Then, I did some interval training. I figure, that's a good start.
Here's to half- crazy.
Jenn
That being said, no one in their right mind enters this without a plan of attack. My plan of attack is to follow the plan my sister in law ( a true marathoner!) follows when she is training. It was a little intimidating to see it all there in black and white, I'll admit. BUT, ya know what- one day at a time... one goal at a time.
I'm hovering between 4 and 6 miles currently...Some days it's 4, some days it's 6, but most days it's just shy of 5. It's cold- CF lungs hate cold. I'm learning that when my lungs scream, if I keep pushing through, they'll shut up after a bit. It's getting past that point of screaming that sometimes takes will power. And so, while I am following "the plan", here are my own personal little goal milestones.
By February 1st- Maintain 6 miles
Run a 10K in early February, be at 8 Miles by end of Feb.
Mid March- Run a 10 miler
End of March- Hopefully maintain around 11 miles.
Spend all of April hitting my last 2 miles...I hear they are the ones that kill ya.
May 5th, 2013- My Day of Victory.
Today...I bought new shoes and made an appointment for PFT's, so I can check my current lung function. Then, I did some interval training. I figure, that's a good start.
Here's to half- crazy.
Jenn
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Battling balance
This seems to be my constant battle... Balancing all of the aspects of my life without something going by the wayside. Between work, family, chores, and that thing called sleep... Where is the ME time? When can I fit in a workout when I barely fit in lunch?? Hell, if we're really honest, I'm lucky if I get to P between 7:45 and 3:45.
Yet somehow, I'm suppose to have time for all of it. Like wonder woman. So lets break it down and look logically at my day. And I realize there are others that have it far worse, but this is my blog, and right now we're focusing on me. So there. And yes, I did just blow raspberries!
Gosh- that took so much time. I probably could have done jumping jacks or something. Anyway...
5am- wake up. Yep, it's early and you are probably thinking "why the heck are you up at 5?! 2 words- curly hair. Shower, hair, an actual human breakfast, pack lunches, kiss husband, 30 minutes of chest percussion therapy, shoes, keys, go.
7am- out the door
7:40 - 12:30 crazy teacher lady
12:30 - 1:00 apparently I eat lunch at this time... It's more like "confirm information with principal, complete task assigned , respond to emails, woof down lunch in 6 minutes flat, go pick up kids- ah shit, I didn't P.
1:00 - 3:45 crazy teacher lady
4:10- the time I'm suppose to leave...
5:00 or 5:30- the time I really leave.
6:00- home sweet home to make dinner and eat
7:00- dinner over
9:30- bed, if I make it that long.
So you see... Here's the balance issue- by the time I am home and have eaten dinner, I have 2.5 hours to relax with my husband before bed. Not including any chores, workouts, or work that I've brought home with me.
Something's gotta give.
Suggestions?
Half crazy...
J
Yet somehow, I'm suppose to have time for all of it. Like wonder woman. So lets break it down and look logically at my day. And I realize there are others that have it far worse, but this is my blog, and right now we're focusing on me. So there. And yes, I did just blow raspberries!
Gosh- that took so much time. I probably could have done jumping jacks or something. Anyway...
5am- wake up. Yep, it's early and you are probably thinking "why the heck are you up at 5?! 2 words- curly hair. Shower, hair, an actual human breakfast, pack lunches, kiss husband, 30 minutes of chest percussion therapy, shoes, keys, go.
7am- out the door
7:40 - 12:30 crazy teacher lady
12:30 - 1:00 apparently I eat lunch at this time... It's more like "confirm information with principal, complete task assigned , respond to emails, woof down lunch in 6 minutes flat, go pick up kids- ah shit, I didn't P.
1:00 - 3:45 crazy teacher lady
4:10- the time I'm suppose to leave...
5:00 or 5:30- the time I really leave.
6:00- home sweet home to make dinner and eat
7:00- dinner over
9:30- bed, if I make it that long.
So you see... Here's the balance issue- by the time I am home and have eaten dinner, I have 2.5 hours to relax with my husband before bed. Not including any chores, workouts, or work that I've brought home with me.
Something's gotta give.
Suggestions?
Half crazy...
J
Thursday, December 6, 2012
A bit about me, and how this whole thing started...
Hey there! I'm Jenny, and if you're reading this, you may already know me as "Just a Modern Day Martha". And while that is a huge aspect of my life, and so much of who I am... I am a girl with another quest- my quest is for the glory of 13.1.
Before we get to that though, there are some things you should know, dear readers. First off, you might be wondering, "What the hell is a CFer?" Great question- A CFer is someone with Cystic Fibrosis. I won't go into too much detail, because it can be rather lengthy and complicated, and we while we have time for that, it's not really important that you know ALL the nitty gritty. So, here's the basics. It's a genetic disorder that you're born with, and most people that have CF are diagnosed at a very young age... key word, MOST... we'll get to that in a minute though. With Cystic Fibrosis, or CF as we all affectionately call it, you have an excess build up of thick mucus that coats the lungs- it makes breathing difficult, makes me more susceptible to infections and illnesses, and basically means that whatever gets in my lungs has a rather difficult time making it back out without a great deal of effort, and coughing. My lung function is slightly more limited than that of your average person. I cough, at least a bit, every day. The other parts of CF that play a role in my day to day life are that I do not have enzymes in my pancreas that function to give me nutrients from food- that being said, I have to eat a ton and take tons of medicine every time I do. It sounds like way more of a pain than it really is- you get use to it. Being a CF also means that I don't retain salt- our bodies work differently, and all the salt escapes with our sweat- I'm delicious in the summer time! Kidding, kind of. Anyway, that means that I have to keep myself hydrated, and electrolytes in check. It also means that distance running is frowned upon for CFer's by many... Thankfully, I don't listen to that nonsense.
Let's go back to that MOST. Most people with CF are diagnosed at birth, at a few months old, or at a few years old. It's usually pretty stinking obvious. Apparently, I like to be special though, because I was not fully diagnosed until the ripe old age of 16. Yeh- talk about a frisbee to the forehead on that one! Although it was somewhat life changing at the time, and a little frightening to know that I missed 16 years of crucial care and proper treatment from a team of specialists, I can honestly look back now and be 100% grateful for those skipped 16 years. Why? Because they showed me what I am capable of... and when you know what you are capable of, you go past the limits and expectations that others have set for someone with your "limits". You see, by the time I was diagnosed, I was already extremely active- Gymnastics, dance, theater, music, and running were already part of my life. You want to tell me that I can't do it? Watch me prove you wrong. I had already done more than what doctors said was normal, and my lungs... my lungs that went 16 years without treatment or therapy, were that much healthier because of it.
Still, some challenged what I could do and it lit a fire within me. I'll never forget that first moment when I felt it- It was right after my diagnosis. My high school PE teacher got a little overly cautious with me, and wouldn't let me participate as much in class because he was worried about me. Keep in mind, this is the same teacher that told me I should go out for track the year before. After 3 classes, I got a little miffed, so when we went to the weight room for P.E., I hopped on the treadmill, cranked the speed up to 8 and the incline up to 7, and started truckin' it. After a mile at that pace, he stopped begging me to slow down. After mile 3, he started clapping. Crazy? Perhaps. Determined to do what I've been told is impossible for "someone like me"? You bet your ass I'm going to crush that barrier.
Fast Forward 11 years, and here I am. 5th grade teacher, fitness consultant for Beachbody, Inc., Girls On the Run coach, and now on a quest for 13.1.
13.1 miles, that is... a half marathon. In May. I somehow got the notion that it would be a great idea to join my sister in law for her first marathon back in the saddle after having a baby. I figured, if she can do 26.2 only 7 months after having a baby, that I could surely do 13.1... right?
So, it starts here- December 6, 2012. I completed my registration, and there's no turning back. I'm at 5 miles with 8.1 to go. I hear it's that last .1 that really kills you.
Gotta run!
Jenny
Before we get to that though, there are some things you should know, dear readers. First off, you might be wondering, "What the hell is a CFer?" Great question- A CFer is someone with Cystic Fibrosis. I won't go into too much detail, because it can be rather lengthy and complicated, and we while we have time for that, it's not really important that you know ALL the nitty gritty. So, here's the basics. It's a genetic disorder that you're born with, and most people that have CF are diagnosed at a very young age... key word, MOST... we'll get to that in a minute though. With Cystic Fibrosis, or CF as we all affectionately call it, you have an excess build up of thick mucus that coats the lungs- it makes breathing difficult, makes me more susceptible to infections and illnesses, and basically means that whatever gets in my lungs has a rather difficult time making it back out without a great deal of effort, and coughing. My lung function is slightly more limited than that of your average person. I cough, at least a bit, every day. The other parts of CF that play a role in my day to day life are that I do not have enzymes in my pancreas that function to give me nutrients from food- that being said, I have to eat a ton and take tons of medicine every time I do. It sounds like way more of a pain than it really is- you get use to it. Being a CF also means that I don't retain salt- our bodies work differently, and all the salt escapes with our sweat- I'm delicious in the summer time! Kidding, kind of. Anyway, that means that I have to keep myself hydrated, and electrolytes in check. It also means that distance running is frowned upon for CFer's by many... Thankfully, I don't listen to that nonsense.
Let's go back to that MOST. Most people with CF are diagnosed at birth, at a few months old, or at a few years old. It's usually pretty stinking obvious. Apparently, I like to be special though, because I was not fully diagnosed until the ripe old age of 16. Yeh- talk about a frisbee to the forehead on that one! Although it was somewhat life changing at the time, and a little frightening to know that I missed 16 years of crucial care and proper treatment from a team of specialists, I can honestly look back now and be 100% grateful for those skipped 16 years. Why? Because they showed me what I am capable of... and when you know what you are capable of, you go past the limits and expectations that others have set for someone with your "limits". You see, by the time I was diagnosed, I was already extremely active- Gymnastics, dance, theater, music, and running were already part of my life. You want to tell me that I can't do it? Watch me prove you wrong. I had already done more than what doctors said was normal, and my lungs... my lungs that went 16 years without treatment or therapy, were that much healthier because of it.
Still, some challenged what I could do and it lit a fire within me. I'll never forget that first moment when I felt it- It was right after my diagnosis. My high school PE teacher got a little overly cautious with me, and wouldn't let me participate as much in class because he was worried about me. Keep in mind, this is the same teacher that told me I should go out for track the year before. After 3 classes, I got a little miffed, so when we went to the weight room for P.E., I hopped on the treadmill, cranked the speed up to 8 and the incline up to 7, and started truckin' it. After a mile at that pace, he stopped begging me to slow down. After mile 3, he started clapping. Crazy? Perhaps. Determined to do what I've been told is impossible for "someone like me"? You bet your ass I'm going to crush that barrier.
Fast Forward 11 years, and here I am. 5th grade teacher, fitness consultant for Beachbody, Inc., Girls On the Run coach, and now on a quest for 13.1.
13.1 miles, that is... a half marathon. In May. I somehow got the notion that it would be a great idea to join my sister in law for her first marathon back in the saddle after having a baby. I figured, if she can do 26.2 only 7 months after having a baby, that I could surely do 13.1... right?
So, it starts here- December 6, 2012. I completed my registration, and there's no turning back. I'm at 5 miles with 8.1 to go. I hear it's that last .1 that really kills you.
Gotta run!
Jenny
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