Me and The Boys

In Which I'm Reminded of How Uncomfortable Hospital Beds Are

I've been dealing with this somewhat mysterious exericse-induced anaphylaxis diagnosis since June, and its had its ups and downs, and certainly is something I'd rather not be afflicted with, but mostly it's been something I've felt was manageable. The last time I had an outbreak of hives, I got a little down, but did my best to move forward and not dwell on it.

When I went weeks without an incident, I could almost forget that it was even an issue.

But yesterday morning was a very vivid reminder that it is still very much an issue. As I neared the final mile and a half of my run, I felt a very faint itching sensation on my hands. It wasn't quite the same as it usually feels when these reactions happen, though, and at first I wondered if it really was an allergic reaction, or just something that had irritated my skin.

I ran a short while longer, but even though I was still feeling ok, and not all that itchy, I still decided to be safe and stop and take a Benadryl. I hate to take it, since it leaves me feeling sleepy and out of it for the rest of the day, but I was trying to do the smart thing.

I was in this exact scenario two times earlier this year, and did the same thing I did this time - took the Benadryl, and walked the remainder of my route - and both times, as soon as I stopped walking, the hives came out in full force, but after about 15 or 20 minutes, they'd start to subside, and I wouldn't experience any other symptoms.

So I figured that's what would happen this time, too, and I decided to walk the final mile or so. Yes, I could have called Scott, and in retrospect, I should have. But I foolishly didn't want to inconvenience him.

He was home with the kids, and I know what a pain it is to have to corral them all into the car - and it was early in the morning, and they were in the midst of getting ready for school, and since I felt like this was going to end like all the other incidents (me covered in hives, but otherwise ok), I didn't want to mess up the morning routine by making them all come out and rescue me.

I was even worried about how much longer it was going to take me to get home now that I was walking, and feeling bad that I had been out for such a long time, and was figuring out what I could easily put together for the boys' lunches. I still thought this was all going to be over quickly.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. As I kept walking, I felt worse and worse. My stomach was bothering me, I was having trouble catching my breath, and I was feeling lightheaded. At this point, I almost started crying. I didn't want to be going through this. I was so mad, and frustrated, and didn't know quite what to do.

Once I got home, I laid down, hoping that the Benadryl would kick in and I'd feel better, and to some extent, I did - my breathing was fine at this point, and I didn't feel lightheaded anymore, and strangely, there were no hives. And because I was starting to feel better, I held off on using my epi-pen. In retrospect, a foolish decision, but I had never used it before, and it's pretty serious medication, and it's kind of scary to put something like that into your body. 

But although the other symptoms had disappeared, I now found myself laying in bed shivering uncontrollably, even though I was covered in several blankets, and I knew the epi-pen was the only way to fix it.

Unfortunately, even after using it, I still felt kind of lousy. I still had the chills, and felt kind of queasy. I didn't know if it was the effects of the epi-pen I was feeling, or if for some reason it wasn't working, but both Scott and I were sufficiently freaked out and knew it was time to head to the ER.

Within 20 minutes of being there, I was feeling fine, and as it turns out, I was mostly feeling the effects of the medication at that point. But even though it meant spending two hours sitting in a hospital bed hooked up to monitors, I'm glad I went.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing a whole lot of nothing. Between the Benadryl and the fact that the entire episode just completely drained me, I was pretty spent. Not to mention depressed.

I thought I had learned how to live with this, and how to sort of manage it, and it didn't seem like anything terribly scary or threatening.

Now, I'm terrified. I'm scared to run. I'm scared that this is going to happen again. I'm scared that next time Scott won't be around and I'll have to be carted off in an ambulance. I'm scared that I'll be sitting in the ER while someone else picks my kids up from school, and that they'll be terrified about me being sick. I'm scared that it could be even worse next time.

But at the same time as I think of all those things, I also think about how I simply can not stop running. It's who I am, it's what I do, and for every time this happens, there's 30 times that it doesn't.

I'm really struggling, though. Struggling with the fact that something that makes me feel so healthy, and so strong, and at times nearly invincible, also now has the potential to make me feel the exact opposite. And something that I can always count on to relieve stress is now the source of a great deal of stress.

Because of that, I'm no longer satisifed with this being a mystery. I need to do some more digging, and hopefully uncover some more answers - and I'm pretty certain that's going to mean traveling to Boston or elsewhere to see a different doctor. My local allergist just doesn't have experience with this condition, and I need someone who does.

I'm already in the process of collecting names and numbers, and hopefully will have an appointment set up somewhere by the end of the week.

Honestly, I don't know if a second opinion is even going to provide more definitive answers, since everything I've read about this suggests that it isn't very well understood by anyone - but I feel like I've got to at least try.

And in the meantime, I can't brush this off anymore. I can't worry about inconveniencing anyone if I need to be picked up in the middle of a run. I can't worry about the effects of the epi-pen. I'm not very good at asking for help, but I need to get over that, because it was made abundantly clear to me yesterday that this is not something I can fool around with.

This all may sound kind of dramatic and over the top - and when I go out and run and race and everything's fine, it's easy to think that I'm being overly dramatic. But the potential is out there for me to go into anaphylactic shock, and, well, that's pretty damn dramatic.

So, I'm on the hunt for answers, and I'm attempting to come to terms with all of this.

And I'm going for a run tomorrow, and hoping it's an uneventful one.

A Blustery Day, and A New PR - Newport Half, Triple Crown Finale

Sunday's weather forecast called for "breezy" conditions. That was the understatement of the year.

I could hear the wind howling as soon as I woke up, and I knew it was going to make for an interesting morning.

Luckily it wasn't a cold wind - temps were in the 50s. Not hot, but certainly warm enough. But the wind. Yikes!

As I got ready, I reminded myself that I just needed to go out and run the best race I could, and if the wind slowed me down a little, so be it. It was something that was out of my control, so there was no use in getting all worked up over it.

I was a little disappointed it was so cloudy, though - I had been hoping to see the sunrise as I drove over the bridge. Instead, it was still dark when I pulled into town just before 7am. I had no problems parking and catching the shuttle bus, and was at the start line shortly after 7 - plenty of time to check my bag, wait in line forever at the porta-potties, and get in a quick warmup.

I headed over to the start at 7:45, and got a spot right in between the 7- and 8-minute pace signs - exactly where I wanted to be. The street the race starts on proved to be rather narrow, as we were quickly jammed in like sardines.

The combined field for the half and full (which start together) was about 5,000, I think, and I'm pretty sure that's about the same size as Hartford was last year, but I do not remember feeling anywhere near as claustrophobic at Hartford as I did in Newport yesterday morning.

And I knew that claustrophobic feeling was going to give way to a very, very congested start, with much dodging and weaving during the first mile in an attempt to find clear space in which to run.

And when the race finally began (a good 5 or 10 minutes late, and with no gun to signal the start - or at least not one that I could hear ???), that was in fact the case. I knew that, for once, I was in no danger of going out too fast - I couldn't have even if I wanted to. I doged, I weaved, and I ran soooo much slower than I wanted to be running.

But I didn't get stressed out. I figured that holding back now would turn out to be a good thing later on.

That being said, I wasn't terribly happy when I saw mile 1 beep at 7:54, and now that the field had finally spread out enough that I was able to really run, I ended up running mile 2 in 7:11. Probably a bit too fast, but I knew I wasn't going to keep that up, so I wasn't worried about picking it up too much for that one mile. And I really couldn't help it - I had a lot of pent-up energy from not being able to run the way I wanted for the first mile.

We had now gone through town and were heading out towards Fort Adams State Park, and up to this point, the wind hadn't been too much of a factor. It was windy in spots, to be sure, but it wasn't constant, so I didn't feel like I was struggling. In fact, I felt pretty good, and was resisting the urge to check my watch. I had checked it a bit after running mile 2 so quickly, and I now seemed to be settling into a pace in the range of 7:20 - 7:30, and it was feeling great, so I figured I'd stick with it.

When we hit Fort Adams, the wind became much more of an issue. It seemed to be coming from all directions at once, and the short loop we did through the park also included some small inclines, so that little stretch was somewhat challenging.

Miles 3 - 6 went pretty smoothly, though - 7:26, 7:25, 7:23, 7:23.

Then came mile 7. This was the part of the course that turns around a bend and leads up to a long ocean stretch. It's beautiful and scenic, but it's also completely exposed, which meant that when we came around that bend, it honestly felt like walking into a wall. And it was a wall. Of wind.

I am not exaggerating when I say that for most of mile 7, I was struggling just to stay upright. I honestly felt like I was in danger of being knocked over by the wind. It was that strong.

I also stopped during that mile to eat my gel and drink some water, and some of the water got blown out of my cup. Seriously. It was insane.

I managed to drink what was left, and sucked down the Gu before the wind ripped that out of my hands. As I chugged along, fighting the wind, I just reminded myself that I was already halfway done (and the first 6 miles had seemed to pass very quickly).  And I also told myself that eventually, we'd go around another bed and this wind would be at our backs.

That bend didn't come soon enough, but it did come. And when it did, I felt like I was suddenly running along a conveyor belt. Mile 7 - 7:31. Ugh. Miles 8 and 9 - 7:11. 7:13. Thank you, tailwind!

The wind was still blowing for the rest of the race, but the effects were moderated somewhat as we finished the last of the ocean stretch and headed back towards town. We ran past the mansions, and I kept thinking about how amazingly flat this course was compared to Jamestown and Zooma. It was so refreshing to not be constantly climbing hills! I was feeling tired, but it was very different from the kind of tired you feel in a really hilly race.

Miles 10 and 11 passed pretty uneventfully - 7:23, 7:26.

As we ran past the mansions and made our way back toward the beach, I could remember so vividly running that stretch 4 years ago in the full marathon, and I thought about how at that time, I was running more than 2 minutes per mile slower than I was running right now. So unbelievable to think about how hard I've worked and how far I've come since then : )

With that in mind, I thought I'd try to pick it up a bit for mile 12, but only got down to 7:22.

But after that, all bets were off. I was getting really tired, I wanted to just be done, and as I attempted to do the math in my head, I was pretty sure that I could actually pull off a PR. So I pulled out all the stops and ran as fast as I could, without so much as a single glance at my watch for the final 1.1 miles.

And oh my god, it sucked. I knew I was close to the finish, but it seemed painfully far away.

Then finally I was heading down the big hill we climbed at the start, and then back into the beach parking lot. And then, I was still running. And still running. And still running some more, along the length of the ENTIRE beach!  The whole time, I just kept thinking 'My god, how long IS this beach anyway?????'

As I fought for every last step of that final .1 miles, I watched the full marathon runners veering off to the right to continue on out of the parking lot, and I was so, so happy that I was not one of them.

Then finally, finally, the finish line was there, and as I sprinted across, it read 37:28!!!!

Complete and utter exhiliration, and complete and utter exhaustion. Two signs of a well-run race.

After I caught my breath, I checked my splits on my watch and saw that I had run mile 13 in 6:52, and the final (never-ending) .1 at 6:49 pace. No wonder it hurt so bad.

I knew I wasn't in contention for any awards at this race, and for the first time in quite a while, I actually didn't have any friends who had run, so I didn't hang around long.

I got my Triple Crown medal and goody bag (which was one of the best goody bags I've ever gotten - tons of great energy gels and bars) and shirt, and grabbed a quick bite to eat, and then I was off, basking in the glow of a great race and a 30-second PR.

I loved participating in this Triple Crown series this year. I think it's a great concept, and I'm pretty sure I'll be signing up for next year's. Focusing on the half-marathon distance this year has been a great experience for me, and has definitely taught me to maintain what are - for me, anyway - some pretty fast paces over a long distance, which has really boosted my confidence for Boston.

And I was very happy with the organization for all three races, and for the Triple Crown series itself - great communication from the race organizers, good support on the course, and nice courses, too. I don't know how many people participated this year, but I have a feeling the numbers will grow with next year's series.

And speaking of numbers -

1:37:27

7:27 pace

5 of 503 in my age group !!!!!!!!!!!!

23 of 1991 females

149 of 3300 overall

And, I noted as I was running that I crossed the 10-mile mark at just over 1:14 - a full two minutes faster than I ran the 10 miles at the Blessing a few months ago. I'll definitely be looking for a big PR at that race next year!!!

First things first, though - a little recovery, a few more track workouts, and then on to Philly to close out the year in style - running 13.1, and then cheering on all my friends who are running 26.2!!!!

Triple Crown Finale, Anaphylaxis Update, and More Boston Blathering

When I signed up for the Triple Crown series last spring, I decided that the Newport half-marathon was going to be my big race for the year. I was going to spend my summer and early fall working toward what I thought, at the time, was a blazing fast sub-1:40.

And then several weeks ahead of schedule, I went and ran a 1:38; which of course I was thrilled with, but which definitely left me wondering what I should now be aiming for in Newport. 

In the end, I decided not to really aim for anything. That was my 'plan' going into Jamestown, and going into Zooma, and it panned out very, very well, so I see no reason to change it.

That's not to say that I'm not racing, though. I still see this as my biggest effort of the year, and I want to make sure that when I cross that finish line, I have emptied the tank completely. As always, it will be interesting to see what that equates to on the race clock.

I'm excited to get out and race again, too. I have had so much fun racing all these half-marathons this year, and each one has been a slightly different experience, and each one has taught me something new.

In New Bedford, I learned how much it sucks when you pick up the pace too much too soon; in Providence, I learned how awesome it is to pace someone. In Jamestown, I learned that I am much better at pacing myself than I thought I was. In Cape Cod, I learned that I can run 13.1 miles at a 7:29 pace! Can't wait to see what I learn this weekend in Newport : )

Hopefully I won't be learning anything new about my mysterious anaphylaxis episodes. I returned to the allergist and described the Labor Day reaction to him, and in addition to making it clear to me that the 'sense of impending doom' that I felt that night is not just a feeling - it really is impending doom, and that's my signal to use the epi-pen.

He also diagnosed me with Idiopathic Anaphylaxis, which is just a fancy way of saying that my body is freaking out on totally random occasions for no apparent reason.

It's a very unsatisfying diagnosis, but I basically agree with it - I don't really feel that there is a trigger, aside from (sometimes) running. I've been keeping a very detailed food journal, and after I had another post-run outbreak of hives yesterday (no impending doom this time - just itchiness), I looked back at my journal and saw nothing at all out of the ordinary.

I'm frustrated, and mystified, and annoyed, but also not really sure what else I can do at this point, besides bring my epi-pen everywhere I go and hope for the best. 

And I'm doing my best to try not to dwell on it too much. The days that I have a reaction are kind of crappy. It puts me in a funk, which is then exacerbated by the fact that I also get completely loopy from the Benadryl that I have to take to get the hives under control.

But after a good night's sleep, I attempt to just put the whole thing behind me as best I can. People live with far worse issues than this, and I have to remember that and keep it all in perspective, and keep moving forward. 

And on the theme of moving forward - every day that goes by, I get more excited to start training for Boston. Seeing all the Facebook posts from friends who just ran or are about to run their fall marathons, and seeing all the updates about the Hartford marathon, and remembering all the excitement and anticipation I was feeling at this time last year......  I'm experiencing a little bit of marathon envy, which I think is a good thing - it means I've had enough of a break. I definitely feel ready to tackle a tough training plan again, and to get a little more serious and purposeful with my runs. 

That enthusiasm will undoubtedly fade after about 10 weeks or so, but then it will return tenfold as April 15 draws closer. I fully intend to race Boston, but I also fully intend to enjoy and savor every second of it. I feel pretty confident that I could requalify to run it again in 2014, but if I have the choice, I'd much rather come back and run Gansett again.

Maybe I'll run Boston another time, too, but in case I don't, I plan to soak up the experience completely - starting with the 16 weeks of training. Eight weeks and counting..... !!!!!

Teachers

People often comment on how Carmine acts so much older than his age, and I always explain that he has two older brothers from whom he is learning everything - the good and the bad.

For example, they've taught him:

- how to scream. He is a champion screamer. Sure, he probably could have figured this one out by himself, but their instruction has brought his screaming abilities to a whole new level.

- that farting and burping is funny. No, not just funny - it's rolling-around-on-the-floor hysterical.

- how to smack someone on the butt. Cute and funny when he does it to them. Not so cute and funny if he decides to do it to a stranger in the grocery store. (Hasn't happened yet, but I'm on the alert every time we're in public).

- that playing with toys almost always involves some form of fighting, smashing, crashing, or throwing. Oh, and screaming, too.

- that one must never walk anywhere. One must always run, jump, skip, hop, or stomp. All while screaming.

- how to shake his booty, while singing "shake your booty." This one, I have to admit, is actually pretty funny.

- to open his mouth while eating, so he can show everyone his half-chewed food. This is almost as hysterical as burping.

- what appears to be a special brotherly code that says that one brother must never walk past the other without punching, poking, kicking, bumping, or otherwise disturbing him. This completely unnecessary bodily contact is then immediately reciprocated, and almost always turns into either a fight or a round of wrestling. And sometimes as a bonus, you get some screaming, too.

On the flip side, they've also taught him -

- that even though burping and farting is hysterical, your giggling should always be followed by "excuse me."

- how to ride a scooter (at 2 1/2!!!).

- how to play catch.

- how to say "Thanks Mommy!!!" when handed a drink or snack.

- how to make sand castles and splash in the waves and chase seagulls at the beach.

- how to get in and out of his carseat by himself (and have almost taught him how to buckle himself in!)

- how to clear his plate and put it in the dishwasher after he's done eating. (Hopefully he'll soon learn how to do this without spilling stuff all over the floor between the table and the dishwasher. He still gets an 'A' for effort, though.)

Most importantly, though, they've taught him that he's a super fun little kid who his big brothers completely adore (even though he drives them crazy sometimes).

I know Gabe and Dante will always look out for each other, but I also know that both of them are always going to be especially protective of Carmine.

When the three of them really get each other going, their combined craziness can push me right over the edge.

But they can also make me laugh like nothing else can.

Way back when, before we had any kids at all, I used to hope we'd have a little girl at some point, but when I see my three little guys together now, I am so happy that we didn't.

Gabe said it best about two years ago, when I was filming a video clip of Carmine doing something funny. We were all sitting at the kitchen table laughing hysterically, and Carmine, having no idea whatsoever what was so funny, was laughing right along with us.

In between fits of giggles, Gabe paused and sighed and said "It's really fun having a baby brother."

He may not be a baby anymore, but that's ok, because he just gets more and more fun : )