December 7, 2011
HALF MARATHON AND WEEKEND THOUGHTS
Mentally this whole process has done a world of good for me. You often feel alone and separated with these diseases(even with the great support I receive). I cannot describe the feeling of seeing all weekend people with different orange Team Challenge t-shirts, jackets, hats, ect. and realizing that all of these people were working together to the same goal that you were of finding a cure for Crohn's and ulcerative colitis. These people could be from Oregon, Minnesota, Florida or New York, it did not matter, when you saw each other you would smile or give a friendly wave or hello. You really felt connected to something that was bigger than yourself. It was quite humbling and inspiring at the same time. It made me feel like, I am not alone. There is a lot of other people who struggle with this on a daily basis and are trying to do something about it. This really came thru at the pasta dinner on Saturday night.
To get to the pasta dinner hosted by the CCFA, we had to pass between a long gantlet on either side of cheering people. These were all of the coaches, mentors and CCFA staff from the different Team Challenge groups around the country. It was embarrassing at the start, because I do not handle unbridled affection and praise directed toward me in a loud and crazy way well, but after making it down the lane some I found myself relaxing and realizing that these people really do understand and they want me to feel that passion and excitement. It made me think of all those times when I could not do what I wanted. From not being able to do things because I had to be near a bathroom every 15 minutes, to leaving events early because of terrible cramps and abdominal pain, to fearing while in public that hopefully I would not have to use the restroom or feeling like I had let people down because of canceling plans or missing work or not being able to do things with your wife or daughter because you were to weak and sick. I think it hit me right there. This is even more important than I realized it would be (and I thought it would be special). I am doing something to make this better, if not for me, then for future generations. I need to keep fighting the good fight.
Sunday finally came, race day! Amanda and I took it easy and rested. It was tough with the half-marathon not being until the night. I just wanted to get started. I felt myself getting more nervous as the hours passed counting down till when we were suppose to meet the team down in the lobby. I never got this nervous before any soccer game I played in, what was going on. Many thoughts going thru my head - was not training much the last month because I was sick going to hurt me much? What would happen if I had to stop a lot for bathroom breaks? Was my seton from my last surgery going to rub to much and bleed or soak through my bandage? But you know what happened, Amanda helped out. She was getting ready in the bathroom and went to walk back into the room and slipped on some water on the floor and crashed down to the ground landing on her knee on the hard tile. Any questions I was having stopped, as I started to worry about her and hoping she had not hurt herself to much and hoping it would not cause her problems in the race, which thankfully did not.
We made it to our coral, which was already filling up with people an hour before the start of the half marathon. I was ready just to get started, hated just standing around waiting and knowing once it started we would have another 20-30 minutes before we would even get up to the start line. It was cold out, but at least with all of the people around created got amount of warmth and wind break. By now the sun had gone down and the senses were on overload with the flashing lights of the strip, laser beams shooting out from various stages and rock n roll music filling the air. Finally, the countdown begun and the first wave of people was released and we slowly started moving towards the start to begin our adventure.
One good side effect on the pit stop, was that a lot of the runners had passed by now and the crowd had thinned out a little. I picked up the pace and soon spotted Amanda about 5 minutes down the road. Both relieved of our pit stop we continued forward down the strip. Looking behind us, all you saw still was a mass of people, so that calmed me that our stop had not killed us in being able to finish the race in the allotted time, but I still wanted to finish as close as possible to 4 hours and I thought that was probably in real danger. However, the goal all along for both of us was to finish the race no matter what. Physically, I was feeling good - no fatigue (yet), not a lot of pain from the seton (yet) and no muscle pain (yet). Amanda was doing great as well, plugged into her music and moving forward knowing each step we were closer to the finish line. We passed the Stratosphere and headed towards "Old Downtown Vegas" and Freemont Street. This portion was a lot different than the strip, with hardly any spectators lining the route or bands playing. Their was an erie quiet, even with all the people moving down the course. We passed Freemont Street and turned a corner and our Team Challenge manager, Danielle, was there with a group of people cheering us on. It was a definite lift.
That was a really awesome thing about Team Challenge, was that they had different cheer groups located all over the course. Every time they saw your orange Team Challenge singlets they started cheering, telling you were doing great, keep going. Just another example how it made you feel you were part of something bigger. Those cheers helped keep pushing Amanda and I forward.
We got back on course and Amanda said she felt a rain drop. I said it couldn't be, the forecast had no rain in it. I told her it probably was just some sweat, but a few minutes later it started to drizzle. At this point I just saw it as another test. We were tired, sore, hungry and now cold and wet. It was not going to stop us now. Our coach passed us again, jogging by a shaking his head about the rain, he could not believe it either. Our pace had slowed, but now it was all about finishing. Even with all of our stops, I looked at my watch and we were still going to be close to the 4 hour mark. We were back on the strip, but now the other side of the road had opened back up for traffic and we made our way down. I could see the Mandalay Bay Hotel now and knew the finish was up there.
Everything on the strip is distorted because of the size. Something that looks real close is actually a lot further away. As we hit the last mile, Koach Karl, met back up with us and walked for a little and then peeled off and told us congrats, so that we could enjoy our moment together. I could now see the finish. One more turn and a short walk to cross the finish line. As we crossed, I did not feel tired, sore or hungry for that moment, just a big smile and an incredible sense of satisfaction. We had done it! Although this disease makes you feel alone, Amanda has always been there and seen the many ups and downs. She is my rock, and I love her for that. She never waivers in her support, so it was fitting that we crossed together (something she will always remind me of now, is in our official times she crossed 1 second faster than I did). Our official time was 4 hours and 6 minutes, not bad at all. We were not even in last place. In fact there were some 7,000-8,000 people that did not even finish the half marathon.
After crossing the finish line we made our way slowly to the safe zone. We did not receive our medals for finishing because they had run out. I read online that the shortage was caused by full marathoners switching over to the half marathon and they had a medal shipment shortage of 6,000 medals. We are suppose to get ours in the mail, which I hope they follow thru on. In the safe zone, we got our mylar blanket, water, power bars and bagels. We then had to make our way to the Team Challenge tent to check in and receive our 13.1 miles pin. My family was able to meet up with us there, they had got stuck inside the Mandalay Bay and the mass of people from the race, it was a mess. We then decided to walk around to the front of the hotel, to miss the area they just came thru, which turned to be a great decision. We finally made it up to our room for our hot shower and then met our team out for some drinks and food. It was surprising we could either move with our muscles aching at this point, but we had did it.
Looking back now, it was a draining weekend, as my body is still getting back to "normal". So many people that had done the Team Challenge program said it was a life changing event and they are right. I just did something to fight this horrible disease, something proactive. This disease has knocked me down and I know it will continue to knock me down in the future, it is the nature of the disease, but of the same time I will continue to live me life in the best way possible. I will do it for myself, Amanda, Rowan and my family and friends. Seeing all these people this weekend let me know that I am not alone. This disease sucks, but we are doing what we can to make it better. I thank all of you who supported and donated to us. You are making a difference in my life and millions of others. Until then I will continue to battle, so that Crohn's disease does not define me. Thank you.
*I updated the picture section, so check that out to see other pictures from the weekend*
Mark
December 5, 2011
Race Day: Done and done!
It's one thing to do something you never thought you could do just to prove to yourself that you CAN do it. It's another thing to do that with the knowledge that you've been part of making a difference in the lives of people you love and people across the country who suffer each day with a disease for which there is no cure. I sit here sore, tired, still a bit cold, and rather overwhelmed with a number of feelings...the biggest of which is gratitude.
But first, let's talk about the race. Koach Karl advised us all to take it easy on Sunday, rest up before the start time. So, Mark and I basically hung out, watched a movie (Fright Night remake, which ironically takes place in Vegas), ate lunch, checked email, and got increasingly anxious as the day wore on. I hate waiting. *grins* We both were just ready to get going!
We started to gear up around 3ish -- we were told to meet down in the lobby at 4:30. The full marathon started at 4:00 and the half at 5:30, but they released each 'corral' in waves, so we didn't actually start until about 6. To avoid standing and waiting outside for all of that time, they wanted us to conserve our heat and energy and meet a bit later. Which meant...more waiting.
Preparing to participate in a marathon -- at night, in the desert, in December -- for the first time was interesting as far as dressing is concerned. Long pants or shorts? Two layers or three? Gloves? Hat? What do I want to have to carry? What if I'm cold? Hot? I ended up in long pants, long sleeved dry-fit shirt, and a zip up dry-fit jacket under my singlet. Mark opted for shorts (and later regretted it a bit, but survived), one long-sleeved dry-fit shirt under his singlet. We both wore gloves, he wore a dry-fit hat, and I had my ear...thingy.
We had race packs with a water bottle and "secret compartment" where we kept our GU fuel chews and chapstick, plus I had some Halls (still haven't stopped coughing) and my list of names (which are still intact!). It was extra weight, but now that it's all over, I'm so glad we had that water.
Meeting up with the team downstairs midst the thousands of other team meetings was an experience, especially with getting pictures taken and trying to look more excited than nervous. Mark was better at that than me.
Mark's family came down to see us off and they looked happy and proud -- almost made me cry right there. I was so happy they were there for him (and me, but mostly him) and were able to share this experience. He has a wonderfully supportive family. Much of what we've been through with this disease would have been so much harder without their help and support. I gave my phone/camera to Mark's sister, Kelli, to see if she could take a shot of the crowd, but it was just impossible. It's so hard to accurately articulate the sheer amount of people there. I've never seen anything like it. We could watch the wave starts on the giant Mandalay Bay screen as we stood in our corral and waited our turn and it was just a surge of humanity.
We were led down to our corral and at first I wasn't cold. The sun started to go down around 4:25, but standing in that crowd, all of those people pressed around, we were rather sheltered from the wind and cold. It was in the low forties at the start and dropped from there. They had a pre-show with interviews and local celebrities. Vegas (or maybe just marathons in general?) was a prime showcase for all of the interesting ways people's minds work. There were all kinds of people in all kinds of dress there.
I counted at least 6 bride-groom pairs (we're talking fancy white dress + tux, bouquet, veil...) who were going to be married during the run (we passed several chapels willing to do the honors). There were innumerable tu-tus, faerie wings, sparkling/flashing lights, bizarre hats, not to mention Elvises (Elvi?), plus Marilyn Monroe and JFK...just to name a few. In the opening ceremony, Casey Abrams from American Idol (who was totally lost on me because I never watch AI and had no idea who he was) and Cheap Trick (whee!) played sets, and all along the route there were local bands set up to play (it was a Rock 'n Roll marathon, after all).
Just before they started to countdown to the first wave, Mike McCready played the National Anthem ala Jimmy Hendrix -- that was very cool -- and then bam! It was starting. It took us about 30 mins to get up to the starting line, but once we did, all the advise about 'not getting swept up' and 'start slow to finish strong' jammed in to my head. We were good, started out at a decent clip, estimating a 15 minute mile.
But it was like walking in a pin-ball machine. The runners passed us on either side -- some even going between us, which wasn't easy, because at the start, Mark and I were walking close -- and though they seemed to try not to, they smacked into us repeatedly. I mean, there were 44K people there -- it was impossible not to get hit if you weren't moving at the same speed as the crowd.
First 3 miles were a sensory assault: lights from the strip (standing on Las Vegas Blvd is one way to get the full effect of all the casinos that are here) and noise of the crowd (both the runners and the spectators) and the rock music all crashed into us, but we just looked at each other and grinned. We were doing this!
We had to stop around mile 4 for a potty break (we were both well-hydrated, and there's no way we were going 9 more miles like that) and as a result, the runners (thankfully) left us behind. It was much easier going from that point forward. We passed every casino/hotel -- even some that were closed -- and I saw the place where I got my first tattoo back in 1997 (was in Vegas for the NFR). Water stops were basically destroyed by the time we got to them -- the street was littered with copious amounts of crushed cups and GU refuel packs. But they always had water -- might have been at the very last table, but they had it, and they reached out to hand it to us. I was glad for my bottle of water when I saw those destroyed stations, but I ran out of that 3/4 of the way through and had need of the water from the last table in the station.
There were several groups of Team Challenge supporters (coaches, mentors) at different points along the way and it didn't matter if we weren't from their particular geographic team, they saw our singlet and cheered us on. It was fantastic -- and really made us feel like we were truly a part of something.
When we left the Stratosphere behind, it got quieter. And darker. Around mile 6, we made a turn into an older part of Las Vegas, heading toward Fremont St. Back in the turns of that path, there were no bands and the lights were further between. At one point I looked up and saw an eerie sight: thousands of people around me, walking at a decent clip, but walking, with ambient light the only thing illuminating us. If I hadn't had my earbuds in, my own pace-setting music keeping me company, I imagine I could have heard their footfalls. It's possible I've seen too many movies because that sight was oddly...spooky.
But, then we hit Fremont and the half-way point and suddenly, we were 'on our way back.' At this point, I was cold, but also sweating, so I wasn't freezing. If that makes any sense. Mark was doing good, he said, and we kept on. Koach Karl found us about mile 9 and walked with us a bit, his presence encouraging us to pick up our pace -- we'd slowed to about a 17 minute mile just out of weariness. I'd also been getting Charlie Horses in my left calf and tried to step differently so that I could stretch it out on the go, but man those hurt.
Around mile 10, Mark had to stop and change his bandage -- the exertion always makes him bleed more -- and Koach Karl went on ahead. I was feeling myself start to tighten up -- my hips, my hamstrings, even my lower back. It wasn't pain so much as a teeth-clenching ache that made me want to whimper with each step...but then I thought of Mark walking, despite his bandage. Walking with the very disease we were raising money to help find treatments for. I saw all the people around me still moving forward. I thought of all the inspirational vids and movie clips that a good friend sent me to keep me moving forward. And I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Making it happen. Getting closer.
Then, it started raining.
About mile 11, we felt the beginnings of it and pretty soon my face was damp. I glanced over at Mark with a you have got to be kidding me look and saw him grinning back at me, shaking his head. He said that was pretty much the only time he regretted not having long pants on. With the rain came a significant drop in temperature. Koach Karl passed us laughing that it was raining -- that man was all over the course, checking up on each of our Team. We passed the Stratosphere once more and I started to believe we could survive this. I was hurting by that time -- hurting to the point of fantasizing about asking one of the many police men along the way to give me a ride to the finish in his cruiser.
Around mile 12, Koach Karl hooked back up with us, talking mostly to Mark. I focused on my iPod music and keeping moving. Mark took my hand and held it tight and I felt stronger. Koach Karl razzed me that he was pretty sure any woman who'd had a baby could do a half marathon. I told him this was nothing like having a baby and he said that it (meaning labor) looked pretty easy to him. In my (good-natured) indignation, I forgot that my legs hurt so bad. I told him to say more things that made me want to yell at him because it was starting to make me feel better.
He left us when we drew closer to the finish line, letting us have that moment for ourselves. And that's exactly what it was -- all the support we've received, all the people pulling for us, all the donations that were given, even his family coming out to be there with him -- for 5 seconds it all faded and the only people crossing that line, holding tightly to each other's hands, were Mark and I.
We finished in 4 hours and 6 mins. And 27 names were right there with us, tucked safely in my secret compartment.
The minute we crossed the line, we started walking slower, and began shivering. Visibly shaking. The temp had dropped down into the mid-30's and our sweat was making us cold, too. We were supposed to get a medal when we crossed, but (believe it or not) they ran out. We'll get one later, we were assured. I'm not worried. I know we did this. I have the sore muscles to prove it. *grins* They handed us Mylar blankets, which I tucked my shivering body inside immediately, took our picture, and then sent us on our way to check in at the Team Challenge tent. On our way, we passed tables with food and I had what was possibly the best bagel in the entire world.
We met up with his family at the tent and hobbled back into the hotel for a hot shower. I haven't been that cold in a long time. My legs hurt, my feet hurt, and I just wanted to sit down (though, I knew if I did, I wouldn't want to get back up again). One hot hot hot shower later, we headed back down to Ri Ra's Irish Pub where we met up with the team and got our first beer free. I was grateful for the beer (and the gesture) but was more interested in food. We were both starving!
Talking to our other Team members, we found out some who ran actually finished in 2 hours -- one in 1 hr, 50 mins! Others were around the 3 and 3.5 hour mark. Phenomenal. Just wonderful efforts all around. Mark and I said we'd finish in 4 hours, and we did just that. Finish.
With some food in our bellies, we hobbled slowly back to our room and I soaked my feet in ice water 'cause ouch. This morning, Mark says he's sore, but he's moving with a lot more grace than me. My legs hurt. I am walking like I'm 90 with a double hip replacement. But oddly enough, the feeling like I've been hit by a truck isn't there. Yes, I hurt, but I did this! It's done! We finished, in the time we said, right in step with each other, hand-in-hand.
The plane ride home -- or rather, getting up and walking out of that plane when we get back to Kansas City -- should be interesting. I can feel myself stiffening up while I sit here typing this.
I was told that once you finish a half marathon for the first time, you either can't wait to do another or you never want to do one again. I'm in the latter category. But I'm so happy to have been part of this whole organization. I'm so proud of my amazing husband and what he overcame to say he walked a half marathon. No matter what happens with his Crohn's disease and all the pain and heartache that goes with it, he did this. It can't control everything. He looked it in the eye and said, I have you -- you don't have me.
I'm sure he'll have some things to say about what this was like for him, but for me? Walking this marathon was a tremendously moving experience (no pun intended) -- I would have never thought I could do something like this. I went into this because of him, but I finished because of me.
-- Amanda
But first, let's talk about the race. Koach Karl advised us all to take it easy on Sunday, rest up before the start time. So, Mark and I basically hung out, watched a movie (Fright Night remake, which ironically takes place in Vegas), ate lunch, checked email, and got increasingly anxious as the day wore on. I hate waiting. *grins* We both were just ready to get going!
We started to gear up around 3ish -- we were told to meet down in the lobby at 4:30. The full marathon started at 4:00 and the half at 5:30, but they released each 'corral' in waves, so we didn't actually start until about 6. To avoid standing and waiting outside for all of that time, they wanted us to conserve our heat and energy and meet a bit later. Which meant...more waiting.
Preparing to participate in a marathon -- at night, in the desert, in December -- for the first time was interesting as far as dressing is concerned. Long pants or shorts? Two layers or three? Gloves? Hat? What do I want to have to carry? What if I'm cold? Hot? I ended up in long pants, long sleeved dry-fit shirt, and a zip up dry-fit jacket under my singlet. Mark opted for shorts (and later regretted it a bit, but survived), one long-sleeved dry-fit shirt under his singlet. We both wore gloves, he wore a dry-fit hat, and I had my ear...thingy.
We had race packs with a water bottle and "secret compartment" where we kept our GU fuel chews and chapstick, plus I had some Halls (still haven't stopped coughing) and my list of names (which are still intact!). It was extra weight, but now that it's all over, I'm so glad we had that water.
Meeting up with the team downstairs midst the thousands of other team meetings was an experience, especially with getting pictures taken and trying to look more excited than nervous. Mark was better at that than me.
We were led down to our corral and at first I wasn't cold. The sun started to go down around 4:25, but standing in that crowd, all of those people pressed around, we were rather sheltered from the wind and cold. It was in the low forties at the start and dropped from there. They had a pre-show with interviews and local celebrities. Vegas (or maybe just marathons in general?) was a prime showcase for all of the interesting ways people's minds work. There were all kinds of people in all kinds of dress there.
I counted at least 6 bride-groom pairs (we're talking fancy white dress + tux, bouquet, veil...) who were going to be married during the run (we passed several chapels willing to do the honors). There were innumerable tu-tus, faerie wings, sparkling/flashing lights, bizarre hats, not to mention Elvises (Elvi?), plus Marilyn Monroe and JFK...just to name a few. In the opening ceremony, Casey Abrams from American Idol (who was totally lost on me because I never watch AI and had no idea who he was) and Cheap Trick (whee!) played sets, and all along the route there were local bands set up to play (it was a Rock 'n Roll marathon, after all).
Just before they started to countdown to the first wave, Mike McCready played the National Anthem ala Jimmy Hendrix -- that was very cool -- and then bam! It was starting. It took us about 30 mins to get up to the starting line, but once we did, all the advise about 'not getting swept up' and 'start slow to finish strong' jammed in to my head. We were good, started out at a decent clip, estimating a 15 minute mile.
But it was like walking in a pin-ball machine. The runners passed us on either side -- some even going between us, which wasn't easy, because at the start, Mark and I were walking close -- and though they seemed to try not to, they smacked into us repeatedly. I mean, there were 44K people there -- it was impossible not to get hit if you weren't moving at the same speed as the crowd.
First 3 miles were a sensory assault: lights from the strip (standing on Las Vegas Blvd is one way to get the full effect of all the casinos that are here) and noise of the crowd (both the runners and the spectators) and the rock music all crashed into us, but we just looked at each other and grinned. We were doing this!
We had to stop around mile 4 for a potty break (we were both well-hydrated, and there's no way we were going 9 more miles like that) and as a result, the runners (thankfully) left us behind. It was much easier going from that point forward. We passed every casino/hotel -- even some that were closed -- and I saw the place where I got my first tattoo back in 1997 (was in Vegas for the NFR). Water stops were basically destroyed by the time we got to them -- the street was littered with copious amounts of crushed cups and GU refuel packs. But they always had water -- might have been at the very last table, but they had it, and they reached out to hand it to us. I was glad for my bottle of water when I saw those destroyed stations, but I ran out of that 3/4 of the way through and had need of the water from the last table in the station.
There were several groups of Team Challenge supporters (coaches, mentors) at different points along the way and it didn't matter if we weren't from their particular geographic team, they saw our singlet and cheered us on. It was fantastic -- and really made us feel like we were truly a part of something.
When we left the Stratosphere behind, it got quieter. And darker. Around mile 6, we made a turn into an older part of Las Vegas, heading toward Fremont St. Back in the turns of that path, there were no bands and the lights were further between. At one point I looked up and saw an eerie sight: thousands of people around me, walking at a decent clip, but walking, with ambient light the only thing illuminating us. If I hadn't had my earbuds in, my own pace-setting music keeping me company, I imagine I could have heard their footfalls. It's possible I've seen too many movies because that sight was oddly...spooky.
But, then we hit Fremont and the half-way point and suddenly, we were 'on our way back.' At this point, I was cold, but also sweating, so I wasn't freezing. If that makes any sense. Mark was doing good, he said, and we kept on. Koach Karl found us about mile 9 and walked with us a bit, his presence encouraging us to pick up our pace -- we'd slowed to about a 17 minute mile just out of weariness. I'd also been getting Charlie Horses in my left calf and tried to step differently so that I could stretch it out on the go, but man those hurt.
Around mile 10, Mark had to stop and change his bandage -- the exertion always makes him bleed more -- and Koach Karl went on ahead. I was feeling myself start to tighten up -- my hips, my hamstrings, even my lower back. It wasn't pain so much as a teeth-clenching ache that made me want to whimper with each step...but then I thought of Mark walking, despite his bandage. Walking with the very disease we were raising money to help find treatments for. I saw all the people around me still moving forward. I thought of all the inspirational vids and movie clips that a good friend sent me to keep me moving forward. And I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Making it happen. Getting closer.
Then, it started raining.
About mile 11, we felt the beginnings of it and pretty soon my face was damp. I glanced over at Mark with a you have got to be kidding me look and saw him grinning back at me, shaking his head. He said that was pretty much the only time he regretted not having long pants on. With the rain came a significant drop in temperature. Koach Karl passed us laughing that it was raining -- that man was all over the course, checking up on each of our Team. We passed the Stratosphere once more and I started to believe we could survive this. I was hurting by that time -- hurting to the point of fantasizing about asking one of the many police men along the way to give me a ride to the finish in his cruiser.
Around mile 12, Koach Karl hooked back up with us, talking mostly to Mark. I focused on my iPod music and keeping moving. Mark took my hand and held it tight and I felt stronger. Koach Karl razzed me that he was pretty sure any woman who'd had a baby could do a half marathon. I told him this was nothing like having a baby and he said that it (meaning labor) looked pretty easy to him. In my (good-natured) indignation, I forgot that my legs hurt so bad. I told him to say more things that made me want to yell at him because it was starting to make me feel better.
He left us when we drew closer to the finish line, letting us have that moment for ourselves. And that's exactly what it was -- all the support we've received, all the people pulling for us, all the donations that were given, even his family coming out to be there with him -- for 5 seconds it all faded and the only people crossing that line, holding tightly to each other's hands, were Mark and I.
We finished in 4 hours and 6 mins. And 27 names were right there with us, tucked safely in my secret compartment.
The minute we crossed the line, we started walking slower, and began shivering. Visibly shaking. The temp had dropped down into the mid-30's and our sweat was making us cold, too. We were supposed to get a medal when we crossed, but (believe it or not) they ran out. We'll get one later, we were assured. I'm not worried. I know we did this. I have the sore muscles to prove it. *grins* They handed us Mylar blankets, which I tucked my shivering body inside immediately, took our picture, and then sent us on our way to check in at the Team Challenge tent. On our way, we passed tables with food and I had what was possibly the best bagel in the entire world.
We met up with his family at the tent and hobbled back into the hotel for a hot shower. I haven't been that cold in a long time. My legs hurt, my feet hurt, and I just wanted to sit down (though, I knew if I did, I wouldn't want to get back up again). One hot hot hot shower later, we headed back down to Ri Ra's Irish Pub where we met up with the team and got our first beer free. I was grateful for the beer (and the gesture) but was more interested in food. We were both starving!
Talking to our other Team members, we found out some who ran actually finished in 2 hours -- one in 1 hr, 50 mins! Others were around the 3 and 3.5 hour mark. Phenomenal. Just wonderful efforts all around. Mark and I said we'd finish in 4 hours, and we did just that. Finish.
With some food in our bellies, we hobbled slowly back to our room and I soaked my feet in ice water 'cause ouch. This morning, Mark says he's sore, but he's moving with a lot more grace than me. My legs hurt. I am walking like I'm 90 with a double hip replacement. But oddly enough, the feeling like I've been hit by a truck isn't there. Yes, I hurt, but I did this! It's done! We finished, in the time we said, right in step with each other, hand-in-hand.
The plane ride home -- or rather, getting up and walking out of that plane when we get back to Kansas City -- should be interesting. I can feel myself stiffening up while I sit here typing this.
I was told that once you finish a half marathon for the first time, you either can't wait to do another or you never want to do one again. I'm in the latter category. But I'm so happy to have been part of this whole organization. I'm so proud of my amazing husband and what he overcame to say he walked a half marathon. No matter what happens with his Crohn's disease and all the pain and heartache that goes with it, he did this. It can't control everything. He looked it in the eye and said, I have you -- you don't have me.
I'm sure he'll have some things to say about what this was like for him, but for me? Walking this marathon was a tremendously moving experience (no pun intended) -- I would have never thought I could do something like this. I went into this because of him, but I finished because of me.
-- Amanda
December 4, 2011
Day 2? Two Words: Event. Filled.
What a full day -- it ended well, but we were BUSY. And the events ran the gamut from mundane to worrisome to moving to thrilling.
Because we'd planned to do a Vegas-y thing tonight, Mark and I had to hustle over from Mandalay Bay to The MGM Grand to pick up show tickets. That was a hike. I considered it our pre-race-day work out. We returned in time to meet up with his fam and jump on the waiting shuttles to head over to the convention center and the Race Expo.
Remember how I said we were warned it was "a bit crazy?" Yeah. Understatement. We got there as close to opening as the (slightly misguided) shuttle driver could get us and we emerged into a crush of people. The VIP line to register for Team Challenge was already snaking around the back of the registration area a bit. But, the people in charge got on it quickly and moved through the line checking registrations and IDs so all we had to do when we got to the front is get our packet.
If, like me, you are clueless, this particular packet included our numbers (Mark = 19219, Amanda = 19214), pins for attaching said numbers to our race singlet, and dohickies (no clue what they're really called) that we loop on our shoes so that we can be tracked and timed. We then moved stage right and picked up our swag bag and free Rock 'n Roll Marathon T-shirt. The swag bag included a head-lamp light that we could wear if we wanted to since this is a night race (and could perhaps be used for spelunking in the future), fliers and coupons for the weekend (nothing we'll probably take advantage of), and some GU 'fuel' pieces (looked like fruit snacks, but are for a quick re-charge).
We met up with Mark's family, did a brief turn through some of the expo, but soon tired of the massive amounts of people. Plus, I was hungry. And Mark knew that a hungry Amanda = a grouchy Amanda, so we left, walked to the Venetian with hopes to eat on the "canal." Due to the surplus population, however, there was a bit of a wait, so we went to a food court and got what was probably the best tasting piece of pizza I've ever had. Or I was just really hungry.
Unfortunately, before we could head back to relax for a little bit before the Pasta Dinner, we had a small medical mishap. Mark's mom passed out -- due to dehydration, according to the EMTs -- and it was a little scary for a minute there. Luckily, we had two nurses with us (Mark's sister and aunt) and directly behind us was an off-duty EMT. I'm not ashamed to admit that it rattled me. I moved tables out of the way and made room for the people who could actually help her, then got her water and pretty much ordered the casino security guy to get her a wheelchair (so she didn't have to walk through the casino to the taxi stand) once the EMTs cleared her.
I was shaking, but Mark was a rock. He was right beside her and he was quiet and calm and pulled together in a way that I have always admired him for. His mom is a trouper, boy. The EMTs said all her vitals were normal and said that she needed to hydrate (we pushed water on her roughly every 5 minutes after that), so despite feeling tired, she pulled herself together and made it to both the Pasta Dinner and the show later, ignoring our suggestions that she could do otherwise.
And I wonder where he gets his stubborn streak from.
I'd been told the Pasta Dinner was a pretty significant event for those who fund-raised and trained during the last 15 weeks, and they weren't wrong. On our way down to the convention center, each team wore their individual Team Challenge T-shirts.
We all walked through a gauntlet of cheering, whooping, well-wishing, and encouragement. It was organized chaos that left me with a slightly bewildered, slightly embarrassed, and all together overwhelmed smile on my face. After going through a buffet of -- wait for it -- pasta dishes (I know, you're shocked), they began a program where different speakers got up to share results of the fund raising and the number of people participating in Team Challenge this year.
I lost track of the number of teams (though each team was called out and given a chance to cheer), but there are roughly 1,300 Team Challenge peeps participating in the half marathon. That cumulative team raised 4.5 million dollars. Million. The amount of good those funds will be able to do for CCFA and those afflicted with IBD is phenomenal. The hosts provided awards to the top 10 fund raisers nationwide (lowest being roughly $12K, highest at $50K), and then Mike McCready, lead guitarist for Pearl Jam -- who is going to be participating in the race this year and has been living with Crohn's disease for many years -- gave an award to a woman who has now participated in 11 Team Challenge events, raising money, being a coach and a mentor, and generally promoting the heck out of this organization.
The most moving speech, though, was that of a 7th grader named Abba who had been diagnosed when she was in 2nd grade. She was poised, articulate, and wise beyond her years. She broke my heart and encouraged me all at once. We also found out that the Senate just recently approved December 1-7 as 'Crohn's & Colitis Awareness Week,' and as they said, awareness means funds, funds mean research, and research means more treatments and, hopefully, a cure -- so that kids like Abba don't have to suffer the way I know she has in her short life.
After a brief meeting and team pic, we met back up with Mark's family and cabbed it over to The MGM Grand for the Cirque du Soleil show, Ka. As all Vegas shows are, this one was amazing. The theater looked like the inside of Zion from The Matrix and the impossible feats these athletes performed (all to some very stirring music and following a -- mostly understandable -- storyline) were incredible. Mark's family headed back, but he and I hoofed it to New York for a late-night snack and then took the tram back to our hotel.
Tomorrow is a sleep-in, take it easy, try not to get nervous day. We are to meet up with the team, in our gear, at 4:30. Our 'corral' is 19, so our wave will probably start around 5:30. And...four short hours later? This will all be but a happy memory and we'll be able to nurse our sore muscles. Wish us luck!
-- Amanda
Because we'd planned to do a Vegas-y thing tonight, Mark and I had to hustle over from Mandalay Bay to The MGM Grand to pick up show tickets. That was a hike. I considered it our pre-race-day work out. We returned in time to meet up with his fam and jump on the waiting shuttles to head over to the convention center and the Race Expo.
Remember how I said we were warned it was "a bit crazy?" Yeah. Understatement. We got there as close to opening as the (slightly misguided) shuttle driver could get us and we emerged into a crush of people. The VIP line to register for Team Challenge was already snaking around the back of the registration area a bit. But, the people in charge got on it quickly and moved through the line checking registrations and IDs so all we had to do when we got to the front is get our packet.
If, like me, you are clueless, this particular packet included our numbers (Mark = 19219, Amanda = 19214), pins for attaching said numbers to our race singlet, and dohickies (no clue what they're really called) that we loop on our shoes so that we can be tracked and timed. We then moved stage right and picked up our swag bag and free Rock 'n Roll Marathon T-shirt. The swag bag included a head-lamp light that we could wear if we wanted to since this is a night race (and could perhaps be used for spelunking in the future), fliers and coupons for the weekend (nothing we'll probably take advantage of), and some GU 'fuel' pieces (looked like fruit snacks, but are for a quick re-charge).
We met up with Mark's family, did a brief turn through some of the expo, but soon tired of the massive amounts of people. Plus, I was hungry. And Mark knew that a hungry Amanda = a grouchy Amanda, so we left, walked to the Venetian with hopes to eat on the "canal." Due to the surplus population, however, there was a bit of a wait, so we went to a food court and got what was probably the best tasting piece of pizza I've ever had. Or I was just really hungry.
Unfortunately, before we could head back to relax for a little bit before the Pasta Dinner, we had a small medical mishap. Mark's mom passed out -- due to dehydration, according to the EMTs -- and it was a little scary for a minute there. Luckily, we had two nurses with us (Mark's sister and aunt) and directly behind us was an off-duty EMT. I'm not ashamed to admit that it rattled me. I moved tables out of the way and made room for the people who could actually help her, then got her water and pretty much ordered the casino security guy to get her a wheelchair (so she didn't have to walk through the casino to the taxi stand) once the EMTs cleared her.
I was shaking, but Mark was a rock. He was right beside her and he was quiet and calm and pulled together in a way that I have always admired him for. His mom is a trouper, boy. The EMTs said all her vitals were normal and said that she needed to hydrate (we pushed water on her roughly every 5 minutes after that), so despite feeling tired, she pulled herself together and made it to both the Pasta Dinner and the show later, ignoring our suggestions that she could do otherwise.
And I wonder where he gets his stubborn streak from.
I'd been told the Pasta Dinner was a pretty significant event for those who fund-raised and trained during the last 15 weeks, and they weren't wrong. On our way down to the convention center, each team wore their individual Team Challenge T-shirts.
I lost track of the number of teams (though each team was called out and given a chance to cheer), but there are roughly 1,300 Team Challenge peeps participating in the half marathon. That cumulative team raised 4.5 million dollars. Million. The amount of good those funds will be able to do for CCFA and those afflicted with IBD is phenomenal. The hosts provided awards to the top 10 fund raisers nationwide (lowest being roughly $12K, highest at $50K), and then Mike McCready, lead guitarist for Pearl Jam -- who is going to be participating in the race this year and has been living with Crohn's disease for many years -- gave an award to a woman who has now participated in 11 Team Challenge events, raising money, being a coach and a mentor, and generally promoting the heck out of this organization.
The most moving speech, though, was that of a 7th grader named Abba who had been diagnosed when she was in 2nd grade. She was poised, articulate, and wise beyond her years. She broke my heart and encouraged me all at once. We also found out that the Senate just recently approved December 1-7 as 'Crohn's & Colitis Awareness Week,' and as they said, awareness means funds, funds mean research, and research means more treatments and, hopefully, a cure -- so that kids like Abba don't have to suffer the way I know she has in her short life.
After a brief meeting and team pic, we met back up with Mark's family and cabbed it over to The MGM Grand for the Cirque du Soleil show, Ka. As all Vegas shows are, this one was amazing. The theater looked like the inside of Zion from The Matrix and the impossible feats these athletes performed (all to some very stirring music and following a -- mostly understandable -- storyline) were incredible. Mark's family headed back, but he and I hoofed it to New York for a late-night snack and then took the tram back to our hotel.
Tomorrow is a sleep-in, take it easy, try not to get nervous day. We are to meet up with the team, in our gear, at 4:30. Our 'corral' is 19, so our wave will probably start around 5:30. And...four short hours later? This will all be but a happy memory and we'll be able to nurse our sore muscles. Wish us luck!
December 3, 2011
We're Heeeeerrreee
We arrived last night on a full Frontier flight. I've never been on a flight with so many people important to me. I'm a bit of a nervous flier (those of you who know me personally know I was definitely humming 'Metallica') and to have my husband, his mom, his sister, and one of his aunts on the same plane while our daughter was back home had me squarely to the left of anxious.
But we arrived just fine, got our bags and, along with the 15 others from Team Challenge who were on the same flight, boarded a shuttle for the hotel. There's not much out there that looks quite like Las Vegas at night. Lights lights lights and more lights. Mark and I were here in January for my birthday, but this trip has a completely different feel to it. I feel lucky, punk. *wink*
Might have something to do with getting to go to an Irish Pub for a late dinner the first night.
We tried to 'sleep in' this morning, but our bodies woke us at 7am local time (which, I guess, technically is sleeping in when you account for time zones) and now we're going to get dressed and head out to get breakfast (read: COFFEE), pick up water and cough drops (I can't seem to stop hacking...yipe) and then off to the Race Expo where we'll collect...race...things.
I've never done anything like this before, so I have no idea what to expect, but we've been told the Expo is "a bit crazy." Well, with 44K people in this marathon, all having to go through the Expo to get registered, get their number, get their little dohicky that goes on your shoe so that you can be tracked, and visit the booths and vendors available with race...stuff...well, yeah. I think crazy might be an understatement.
I don't really do crowds all that well, but since Rowan isn't with us (and hence the fear of losing her to the masses won't be there) I'm sure I'll do better. And I'm kind of excited to see what this is like. Meanwhile, so far Mark is feeling good, and that reassures me. Just need to get through tomorrow!
It's a busy weekend in Vegas. In addition to the race (which is closing down Las Vegas Blvd, aka, "The Strip" from 3pm to 10:30pm) there is also the National Finals Rodeo (which I attended back in the '90's once and is crazy in and of itself) and a NASCAR race. Good God, Ya'll.
We also decided to do one Vegas-y thing, so we're going to a Cirque du Soleil show called Ka tonight. I'll letcha know how it goes. Until then, it's time for some race gear!
-- Amanda
But we arrived just fine, got our bags and, along with the 15 others from Team Challenge who were on the same flight, boarded a shuttle for the hotel. There's not much out there that looks quite like Las Vegas at night. Lights lights lights and more lights. Mark and I were here in January for my birthday, but this trip has a completely different feel to it. I feel lucky, punk. *wink*
Might have something to do with getting to go to an Irish Pub for a late dinner the first night.
We tried to 'sleep in' this morning, but our bodies woke us at 7am local time (which, I guess, technically is sleeping in when you account for time zones) and now we're going to get dressed and head out to get breakfast (read: COFFEE), pick up water and cough drops (I can't seem to stop hacking...yipe) and then off to the Race Expo where we'll collect...race...things.
I've never done anything like this before, so I have no idea what to expect, but we've been told the Expo is "a bit crazy." Well, with 44K people in this marathon, all having to go through the Expo to get registered, get their number, get their little dohicky that goes on your shoe so that you can be tracked, and visit the booths and vendors available with race...stuff...well, yeah. I think crazy might be an understatement.
I don't really do crowds all that well, but since Rowan isn't with us (and hence the fear of losing her to the masses won't be there) I'm sure I'll do better. And I'm kind of excited to see what this is like. Meanwhile, so far Mark is feeling good, and that reassures me. Just need to get through tomorrow!
It's a busy weekend in Vegas. In addition to the race (which is closing down Las Vegas Blvd, aka, "The Strip" from 3pm to 10:30pm) there is also the National Finals Rodeo (which I attended back in the '90's once and is crazy in and of itself) and a NASCAR race. Good God, Ya'll.
We also decided to do one Vegas-y thing, so we're going to a Cirque du Soleil show called Ka tonight. I'll letcha know how it goes. Until then, it's time for some race gear!
-- Amanda
December 2, 2011
There You Are
One thing I've learned in the 12 years I've known Mark is that as a result of having Crohn's and Ulcerative Colitis, you find yourself living a rather solitary life. By the nature of the disease, things like vacations, dinners out, shopping trips, movies, even visits to friend's houses are limited because you are constantly dealing with pain, bleeding, frequent bathroom trips, and/or limited menu options.
Mark and I work around it; we've found ways of enjoying a life that accommodates such things. We have 'date night' at home quite often (LOVE Red Box and Applebees Carside to Go). We pad vacations to allow for days of sickness. We see friends together on special occasions (or I go without him and 'report back').
The thing is, with all of that 'accommodating' we both began to feel very much alone in our individual struggles with this disease. No one really got what it was like. They tried, they sympathized, but they couldn't truly understand. Personally, part of me was truly thankful for that -- there are things about this disease I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy -- and part of me was a bit resentful of it. There were no words I could use that would help even my closest friends understand what living with IBD (either as the sufferer or the witness) is like.
Then, about 16 weeks ago, we signed up with Team Challenge for this marathon. We did so to have some kind of control over the uncontrollable. To take a personal stand, each for our own reasons. To prove to ourselves and to each other that we could do this and it would mean something. To raise money so that Mark could find hope now that he's at the end of the medicine spectrum, and that if Rowan should ever (God forbid) have to deal with something similar, there would be advancements in treatment.
But we found something else along the way. People. Friends. Loved ones who deal with IBD in one form or another. People who contributed to our fundraising efforts often shared the reasons why they were doing so -- and not all were because of us. Many reasons stemmed from a brother or sister, a mother or father, a friend or companion who deals or dealt with the same pain and frustration, the same solitude as we have.
Statistics can be staggering. Knowing that 1.4 million Americans suffer from this disease can make an impact. Knowing that your friend's mother deals with it actually affects you. I've collected 27 names of people who deal with Crohn's or UC on some level. These names simultaneously make me sad and give me a sense of kinship, of connection.
There you are. You're out there. You know. You feel this. We're not alone, even when we're by ourselves.
I'm taking you all with me, you 27 names. I putting you in the secret pocket in my running clothes and you're going to walk each one of those 13.1 miles with me, crossing that finish line to say that IBD will not control your life. You are not your disease. And your partner, spouse, friend, family who lives with it right along side of you has reason to hope.
I have reason to hope.
Rafael Block
Millie Tollesen
Jeff Campbell
Cindy Campbell
Linda Seide
Mike Harris
Alice Cillo
John Sheehee
Debbie Dinardo
Rhonda Sheffield
Mandy's friend, Dawn
Stacie Bergwerff
Amanda Huyck
Harrigan's friends/family: Dylan, Lois, and Bill
Fraser
Kimmer's friend, Will
Colby Harrell
Samantha Knapp
Brian O'Connor
George T.
Trish McAllister
Sherry Banker
Jeff Wilson
Erika Weidenhof Hoffman
David Sarussi
There are so many more of you out there, but know that we are all running/walking for you, for this cause, for this purpose. Sunday night, in Vegas, I'll be walking (quickly) and I'll know that there you are, too.
-- Amanda
Mark and I work around it; we've found ways of enjoying a life that accommodates such things. We have 'date night' at home quite often (LOVE Red Box and Applebees Carside to Go). We pad vacations to allow for days of sickness. We see friends together on special occasions (or I go without him and 'report back').
The thing is, with all of that 'accommodating' we both began to feel very much alone in our individual struggles with this disease. No one really got what it was like. They tried, they sympathized, but they couldn't truly understand. Personally, part of me was truly thankful for that -- there are things about this disease I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy -- and part of me was a bit resentful of it. There were no words I could use that would help even my closest friends understand what living with IBD (either as the sufferer or the witness) is like.
Then, about 16 weeks ago, we signed up with Team Challenge for this marathon. We did so to have some kind of control over the uncontrollable. To take a personal stand, each for our own reasons. To prove to ourselves and to each other that we could do this and it would mean something. To raise money so that Mark could find hope now that he's at the end of the medicine spectrum, and that if Rowan should ever (God forbid) have to deal with something similar, there would be advancements in treatment.
But we found something else along the way. People. Friends. Loved ones who deal with IBD in one form or another. People who contributed to our fundraising efforts often shared the reasons why they were doing so -- and not all were because of us. Many reasons stemmed from a brother or sister, a mother or father, a friend or companion who deals or dealt with the same pain and frustration, the same solitude as we have.
Statistics can be staggering. Knowing that 1.4 million Americans suffer from this disease can make an impact. Knowing that your friend's mother deals with it actually affects you. I've collected 27 names of people who deal with Crohn's or UC on some level. These names simultaneously make me sad and give me a sense of kinship, of connection.
There you are. You're out there. You know. You feel this. We're not alone, even when we're by ourselves.
I'm taking you all with me, you 27 names. I putting you in the secret pocket in my running clothes and you're going to walk each one of those 13.1 miles with me, crossing that finish line to say that IBD will not control your life. You are not your disease. And your partner, spouse, friend, family who lives with it right along side of you has reason to hope.
I have reason to hope.
Rafael Block
Millie Tollesen
Jeff Campbell
Cindy Campbell
Linda Seide
Mike Harris
Alice Cillo
John Sheehee
Debbie Dinardo
Rhonda Sheffield
Mandy's friend, Dawn
Stacie Bergwerff
Amanda Huyck
Harrigan's friends/family: Dylan, Lois, and Bill
Fraser
Kimmer's friend, Will
Colby Harrell
Samantha Knapp
Brian O'Connor
George T.
Trish McAllister
Sherry Banker
Jeff Wilson
Erika Weidenhof Hoffman
David Sarussi
There are so many more of you out there, but know that we are all running/walking for you, for this cause, for this purpose. Sunday night, in Vegas, I'll be walking (quickly) and I'll know that there you are, too.
-- Amanda
November 30, 2011
IT'S ALMOST HERE!
It has been a very therapeutic process and I cannot imagine how I will feel this weekend. I am looking forward to the pasta dinner hosted by the CCFA on Saturday night that brings together all of the Team Challenge teams from across the United States. It is suppose to be a very emotional and moving experience. Then on Sunday night, with my lovely wife and teammates we will hit the strip to finish the half-marathon. Even before the race, we are all winners due to all of the generous donations to the CCFA. These are crucial in helping us find new treatments and hopefully one day a cure. I hope my daughter, Rowan, never has to worry about either of these dreadful diseases. Our Kansas City Team Challenge group has done great so far and raised over $54,000 for the CCFA. Thanks again for all of the support, I will never be able to express how grateful I really am.
Mark
November 27, 2011
One Week
It's hard to believe that this time next week we'll be getting revved up, geared up, and psyched up to walk the marathon. We received the itinerary for the weekend and it looks like there will be a good amount of free time -- I kinda keep forgetting that we'll be in Las Vegas for this. There will be things to do outside of walking 13.1 miles.
Friday = arrive in the evening, free time for dinner
Saturday = free time in morning, Race Expo in afternoon (get all our race gear), Team Challenge Pasta Dinner in evening (testimonials, encouragement, and guest speakers)
Sunday = free time in morning, meet at starting line at 4pm, race at 5pm (have to be done in 4 hours), after race shenanigans
Monday = free time in morning (aka nursing sore muscles), flight home in evening
I'm anxious. And excited, but mostly anxious. Not just about the race; about all of it. Training, prep, travel, logistics. I've always been really good at worrying.
Since the 10 mile training, neither of us have walked further. I mean we've done the shorter distances, but we missed the 12 mile trek last weekend. About two weeks ago, Mark got really sick with a virus. A compromised immune system is part of the deal with the drugs available to treat Crohn's. It took him out of the game for a full week; the week after, while no longer suffering from a raging fever, he had zero energy. Just enough to get him through the day, basically.
When he's sick like that, I play multiple roles -- mom, wife, nurse, employee. The last thing on my mind was training. Then, as luck would have it, I got a version of his virus and couldn't go five steps without hacking up a lung. This weekend is the first one in two weeks where we've both been back on our feet...and we've got one week we left before the big day.
So! This week, I'm paying particular attention to the time I have available to train -- even if it's just 3 miles Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. No matter what, I will finish this marathon. And I'm carrying over 20 names across that finish line with me. I'll post an entry with those names closer to race day.
Mark's mom, sister, and an aunt are traveling out to Vegas to support him. My mom, bless her, is traveling out here to watch Rowan. This week will include, among other things, pulling together suggestions for activities and directions for locations around town Mom's never been to on her own before. I'm anxious about all of us being away from Rowan, and about Rowan and Mom being alone for those days. I'm anxious about Mark traveling: that always results in him getting sick and/or a flare up; the gamble is just if it will happen during or after the trip itself.
And I'm anxious about the fact that there are over 44,000 people in this marathon. That's a LOT of people.
Really, when it comes down to it? The only thing I'm not anxious about is walking the marathon. Which is odd, really, because that's what I keep talking about: finishing 13.1 miles. The thing is, I know I can do it. I know I can. I might feel like I've been hit by a truck afterwards. I might hobble to the plane the next day. I may cry when it's all over (let's face it, I probably will).
But I can do this.
I can do it with my husband, for my husband, and because of my husband. I can do it because he's doing it -- after all he's been through in his life and in this last month, he's doing it.
I'm proud to be part of this event. Proud that we made this decision to raise the money we've raised and take on this challenge one step at a time. Proud that my husband has something he can say he's doing (and did) that actively helped find a cure for this awful disease.
And I can safely say this will most likely be a once in a lifetime event. At least for me. *smiles*
Mark and I will be updating our blog as we get to Vegas and go through the events of the weekend. If you stay tuned, you can be part of the action with us. Or you can just read up after the fact. We have the support of some amazing people who put us $1,000 over our goal (a goal that was incredibly daunting when we first started out) and because of them, I know we won't fail, no matter what the outcome of next Sunday is. We won't fail because we've already brought that much money to the cause.
In one week, all this training and preparation and anxiety will be a happy memory, but the funds we raised -- because of you guys -- will keep on working. Even if we come in last, I kinda feel like we already won.
-- Amanda
Friday = arrive in the evening, free time for dinner
Saturday = free time in morning, Race Expo in afternoon (get all our race gear), Team Challenge Pasta Dinner in evening (testimonials, encouragement, and guest speakers)
Sunday = free time in morning, meet at starting line at 4pm, race at 5pm (have to be done in 4 hours), after race shenanigans
Monday = free time in morning (aka nursing sore muscles), flight home in evening
I'm anxious. And excited, but mostly anxious. Not just about the race; about all of it. Training, prep, travel, logistics. I've always been really good at worrying.
Since the 10 mile training, neither of us have walked further. I mean we've done the shorter distances, but we missed the 12 mile trek last weekend. About two weeks ago, Mark got really sick with a virus. A compromised immune system is part of the deal with the drugs available to treat Crohn's. It took him out of the game for a full week; the week after, while no longer suffering from a raging fever, he had zero energy. Just enough to get him through the day, basically.
When he's sick like that, I play multiple roles -- mom, wife, nurse, employee. The last thing on my mind was training. Then, as luck would have it, I got a version of his virus and couldn't go five steps without hacking up a lung. This weekend is the first one in two weeks where we've both been back on our feet...and we've got one week we left before the big day.
So! This week, I'm paying particular attention to the time I have available to train -- even if it's just 3 miles Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. No matter what, I will finish this marathon. And I'm carrying over 20 names across that finish line with me. I'll post an entry with those names closer to race day.
Mark's mom, sister, and an aunt are traveling out to Vegas to support him. My mom, bless her, is traveling out here to watch Rowan. This week will include, among other things, pulling together suggestions for activities and directions for locations around town Mom's never been to on her own before. I'm anxious about all of us being away from Rowan, and about Rowan and Mom being alone for those days. I'm anxious about Mark traveling: that always results in him getting sick and/or a flare up; the gamble is just if it will happen during or after the trip itself.
And I'm anxious about the fact that there are over 44,000 people in this marathon. That's a LOT of people.
Really, when it comes down to it? The only thing I'm not anxious about is walking the marathon. Which is odd, really, because that's what I keep talking about: finishing 13.1 miles. The thing is, I know I can do it. I know I can. I might feel like I've been hit by a truck afterwards. I might hobble to the plane the next day. I may cry when it's all over (let's face it, I probably will).
But I can do this.
I can do it with my husband, for my husband, and because of my husband. I can do it because he's doing it -- after all he's been through in his life and in this last month, he's doing it.
I'm proud to be part of this event. Proud that we made this decision to raise the money we've raised and take on this challenge one step at a time. Proud that my husband has something he can say he's doing (and did) that actively helped find a cure for this awful disease.
And I can safely say this will most likely be a once in a lifetime event. At least for me. *smiles*
Mark and I will be updating our blog as we get to Vegas and go through the events of the weekend. If you stay tuned, you can be part of the action with us. Or you can just read up after the fact. We have the support of some amazing people who put us $1,000 over our goal (a goal that was incredibly daunting when we first started out) and because of them, I know we won't fail, no matter what the outcome of next Sunday is. We won't fail because we've already brought that much money to the cause.
In one week, all this training and preparation and anxiety will be a happy memory, but the funds we raised -- because of you guys -- will keep on working. Even if we come in last, I kinda feel like we already won.
-- Amanda
November 15, 2011
DETOUR
I started noticing some signs on Saturday, and by Sunday my throat was raw and sore and had on and off fevers. Made it into the doctor on Monday, and was told most likely it was Strep and began treatment for that. Hoping the antibiotics kick in soon because I have been quite miserable. As a result my training over the weekend and so far this week as been put on hold. I am still confident that I will be able to complete the half marathon. This is just another small detour in completing this goal. Hopefully this is just me getting the sickness out of my body before Las Vegas. Think positive, right?
Mark
November 7, 2011
WE DID IT! THANK YOU!
Countries we received donations from:
1) United States
2) Australia
3) England
4) Canada
5) Israel
States we received donations from:
1) California
2) Indiana
3) Utah
4) Kansas
5) Nebraska
6) Pennsylvania
7) Virginia
8) South Carolina
9) Illinois
10) New Jersey
11) Minnesota
12) Iowa
13) Michigan
14) Texas
15) Florida
16) Colorado
17) Georgia
18) North Carolina
19) Missouri
20) Arkansas
November 6, 2011
At least my eyelashes didn't hurt (aka 10 miles down)
Yesterday, Mark and I completed the longest training distance yet: 10 miles.
I was dreading it a bit, the whole week prior. I was convinced I would throw up or cry or something equally as embarrassing (I didn't throw up...but there were tears).
We decided to do this one with the team as it was a long one; our good friends who live in the Kansas City area let us stay overnight at their house so we'd be closer and they'd be able to watch Rowan. They have a little girl her same age, so we thought that would be a good deal both ways. We failed to take into account the inability of a five-year-old to easily acclimate to new surroundings. While she wanted to sleep in her friend's room, Rowan was not used to the quiet darkness her friend slept best in (she's always slept with music and a nightlight of stars).
About 12:30am, we woke up to her tragic tears and brought her into the guest room to sleep between us -- and as anyone with a child will tell you, that was not a restful sleep. Mark and I rose at 6am, neither having slept more than 3 hours, tops. But, we were committed, so after reassuring Rowan, crossing our fingers, and muttering a few prayers that she stayed in her room and quiet until our hosts got up, we left for the training site.
It was cold, ya'll. Kansas is notoriously windy and at 7am it's still dark. Dark, 43 degrees, and windy...I was ready to get going just to warm up. My left knee and right hip had vehemently protested movement after our 6 mile session, so I was a bit worried. I stretched...but clearly not enough. The route was throughout areas of downtown Kansas City that I'd never seen in the daylight, let alone at 7am.
It took us 1.5 miles one direction and back, then 2 miles another direction and back, then the original 1.5 miles and back, totaling 10. It was fairly flat, though each section had us going under overpasses, littered with broken bottles, trash, and shopping carts, and prompting images of every Criminal Minds and CSI I've ever seen. Being a fan of Supernatural didn't help matters much, either. I just stayed close to Mark and every time we were passed by one of our teammates, I made sure they were at least in pairs -- or close to another group of pairs.
Not sure what I would have done were they alone, but it made me feel better to check.
As we finished the first 3 miles, it had gotten light enough that my eyes were playing tricks on me -- the time of day when fire hydrants looked like small kids, and a ball of blowing trash looks like a sprinting cat. Me = vivid imagination. I wasn't tired, though. It has started to amaze me how easily I'm now able to walk 3 miles. My shin muscles sang a bit with the exertion, but they weren't acutely painful as they'd been in the past.
At the first checkpoint, Mark and I tried the gel packs provided, intended to refuel the runner (I have no idea if they made a difference, to be honest -- and they're definitely an acquired taste), and it was clear we were the caboose in this train. There are others who have said they're going to be walking, but the rest of the team who showed up to the training session were all runners.
Let them run. Run, team, run. Mark's Crohn's couldn't take more than the brisk walk we were managing and my body would have rebelled long ago. I know when people think 'marathon' they think 'ran a' but we will be walking. Proudly. It's not about when we finish, it's simply about finishing.
The second leg was tougher because Koach Karl decided to throw a hill into a mostly flat course. And by 'hill' I mean '90 degree angle that had been miraculously paved.' We were trekking up an isosceles triangle, I kid you not. I couldn't make it to the top. My body was shaking from the inside out. Mark kept going and I just watched him, feeling ashamed that my healthy body couldn't do what his diseased one could.
Then he stopped. He turned around and I saw his face was splotchy and he was shaking his head. I felt a surge of selfish relief: he hadn't been able to crest it either. The seton had been rubbing a bit even before we got to the hill and when he got back to me he said it hurt too bad. That's when the tears came. Relief, worry, weariness, who knows. I wasn't sobbing. It was just brief omgIcan'tbelievewe'redoingthis tears that I banished quickly, but he noticed.
As we made our way back down the hill, he said I needed to not psyche myself out so much. I need to tell myself that I could do this -- because I was doing this. I didn't answer, knowing that I'd already told myself, 'If I can do 10 miles, then I can do 12. If I can do 12, then 13.1 will be nothing.' I had to finish this walk to find the light inside me to meet this promise we'd made to ourselves and to so many other people.
By the time we began the 3rd leg, it was daylight, and I was dragging. I'd already played through story scenarios, written prologues and various scenes in my head, and thought through Rowan's Christmas list. I was reaching the edge of this push and I could feel it. When he called back to me -- he was about two lengths ahead that last leg -- that we had hit 8 miles I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. I did neither, just pushed on.
I sit in wonder of those who do this all the time. Those who run 10 miles before many of us get up in the morning. Those whose bodies feel good when they finish. I am not one of those people. Maybe I would be if I kept this up, but I'm not now. I know there are those who can and do push themselves well beyond this effort, but this was hard for me.
It was hard and I was doing it. I used that as my fuel to the end.
We finished in 2 hours and 53 minutes. Not cresting that hill meant we actually finished 9.90 miles (according to his runtracker app on his phone), but I'm counting it.
When we finished, I hurt. Everything hurt. From the joints in my toes to my lower back, but especially my left knee and right hip. My hands were swollen (not sure why, but they swell up on walks longer than 3 miles), my neck ached. Only my eyelashes were spared. We kept the rest of the day as normal as possible -- taking Rowan to lunch for being such a good girl, doing a little window shopping -- but when we got home I felt like I'd been hit by a truck.
Mark kept saying he was sore when I asked, but he acted normal. I suppose he's had to deal with so many varying levels of pain this was just a shuffle into the mix. Ulceritive Colitis wrapped intense pain around his torso. Surgery left him without pain meds for 12 hours. Crohn's cramping is visibly painful, and with the abscesses and seton..., being sore after a 10 mile walk was just something he dealt with. And he did so with grace, as he does everything else.
I am both humbled by and built up by him, every day.
We all slept better last night. I think we learned our lesson: what we saved in driving distance was negated by lack of sleep. I think for the 12 mile training we'll stick close to home and enlist Grandma's help with Rowan. Then maybe bring the munchkin with us on the last training before the marathon.
It's getting closer. And somehow, I'm still here. I can't not be. There are currently 21 names on the list I'm carrying with me through the marathon. 21 people who suffer from this disease and can't do what we're doing. 21 people who need the treatments and cure this money can bring. 21 people...plus Mark.
*stretches sore knee*
-- Amanda
I was dreading it a bit, the whole week prior. I was convinced I would throw up or cry or something equally as embarrassing (I didn't throw up...but there were tears).
We decided to do this one with the team as it was a long one; our good friends who live in the Kansas City area let us stay overnight at their house so we'd be closer and they'd be able to watch Rowan. They have a little girl her same age, so we thought that would be a good deal both ways. We failed to take into account the inability of a five-year-old to easily acclimate to new surroundings. While she wanted to sleep in her friend's room, Rowan was not used to the quiet darkness her friend slept best in (she's always slept with music and a nightlight of stars).
About 12:30am, we woke up to her tragic tears and brought her into the guest room to sleep between us -- and as anyone with a child will tell you, that was not a restful sleep. Mark and I rose at 6am, neither having slept more than 3 hours, tops. But, we were committed, so after reassuring Rowan, crossing our fingers, and muttering a few prayers that she stayed in her room and quiet until our hosts got up, we left for the training site.
It was cold, ya'll. Kansas is notoriously windy and at 7am it's still dark. Dark, 43 degrees, and windy...I was ready to get going just to warm up. My left knee and right hip had vehemently protested movement after our 6 mile session, so I was a bit worried. I stretched...but clearly not enough. The route was throughout areas of downtown Kansas City that I'd never seen in the daylight, let alone at 7am.
It took us 1.5 miles one direction and back, then 2 miles another direction and back, then the original 1.5 miles and back, totaling 10. It was fairly flat, though each section had us going under overpasses, littered with broken bottles, trash, and shopping carts, and prompting images of every Criminal Minds and CSI I've ever seen. Being a fan of Supernatural didn't help matters much, either. I just stayed close to Mark and every time we were passed by one of our teammates, I made sure they were at least in pairs -- or close to another group of pairs.
Not sure what I would have done were they alone, but it made me feel better to check.
As we finished the first 3 miles, it had gotten light enough that my eyes were playing tricks on me -- the time of day when fire hydrants looked like small kids, and a ball of blowing trash looks like a sprinting cat. Me = vivid imagination. I wasn't tired, though. It has started to amaze me how easily I'm now able to walk 3 miles. My shin muscles sang a bit with the exertion, but they weren't acutely painful as they'd been in the past.
At the first checkpoint, Mark and I tried the gel packs provided, intended to refuel the runner (I have no idea if they made a difference, to be honest -- and they're definitely an acquired taste), and it was clear we were the caboose in this train. There are others who have said they're going to be walking, but the rest of the team who showed up to the training session were all runners.
Let them run. Run, team, run. Mark's Crohn's couldn't take more than the brisk walk we were managing and my body would have rebelled long ago. I know when people think 'marathon' they think 'ran a' but we will be walking. Proudly. It's not about when we finish, it's simply about finishing.
The second leg was tougher because Koach Karl decided to throw a hill into a mostly flat course. And by 'hill' I mean '90 degree angle that had been miraculously paved.' We were trekking up an isosceles triangle, I kid you not. I couldn't make it to the top. My body was shaking from the inside out. Mark kept going and I just watched him, feeling ashamed that my healthy body couldn't do what his diseased one could.
Then he stopped. He turned around and I saw his face was splotchy and he was shaking his head. I felt a surge of selfish relief: he hadn't been able to crest it either. The seton had been rubbing a bit even before we got to the hill and when he got back to me he said it hurt too bad. That's when the tears came. Relief, worry, weariness, who knows. I wasn't sobbing. It was just brief omgIcan'tbelievewe'redoingthis tears that I banished quickly, but he noticed.
As we made our way back down the hill, he said I needed to not psyche myself out so much. I need to tell myself that I could do this -- because I was doing this. I didn't answer, knowing that I'd already told myself, 'If I can do 10 miles, then I can do 12. If I can do 12, then 13.1 will be nothing.' I had to finish this walk to find the light inside me to meet this promise we'd made to ourselves and to so many other people.
By the time we began the 3rd leg, it was daylight, and I was dragging. I'd already played through story scenarios, written prologues and various scenes in my head, and thought through Rowan's Christmas list. I was reaching the edge of this push and I could feel it. When he called back to me -- he was about two lengths ahead that last leg -- that we had hit 8 miles I couldn't decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. I did neither, just pushed on.
I sit in wonder of those who do this all the time. Those who run 10 miles before many of us get up in the morning. Those whose bodies feel good when they finish. I am not one of those people. Maybe I would be if I kept this up, but I'm not now. I know there are those who can and do push themselves well beyond this effort, but this was hard for me.
It was hard and I was doing it. I used that as my fuel to the end.
We finished in 2 hours and 53 minutes. Not cresting that hill meant we actually finished 9.90 miles (according to his runtracker app on his phone), but I'm counting it.
When we finished, I hurt. Everything hurt. From the joints in my toes to my lower back, but especially my left knee and right hip. My hands were swollen (not sure why, but they swell up on walks longer than 3 miles), my neck ached. Only my eyelashes were spared. We kept the rest of the day as normal as possible -- taking Rowan to lunch for being such a good girl, doing a little window shopping -- but when we got home I felt like I'd been hit by a truck.
Mark kept saying he was sore when I asked, but he acted normal. I suppose he's had to deal with so many varying levels of pain this was just a shuffle into the mix. Ulceritive Colitis wrapped intense pain around his torso. Surgery left him without pain meds for 12 hours. Crohn's cramping is visibly painful, and with the abscesses and seton..., being sore after a 10 mile walk was just something he dealt with. And he did so with grace, as he does everything else.
I am both humbled by and built up by him, every day.
We all slept better last night. I think we learned our lesson: what we saved in driving distance was negated by lack of sleep. I think for the 12 mile training we'll stick close to home and enlist Grandma's help with Rowan. Then maybe bring the munchkin with us on the last training before the marathon.
It's getting closer. And somehow, I'm still here. I can't not be. There are currently 21 names on the list I'm carrying with me through the marathon. 21 people who suffer from this disease and can't do what we're doing. 21 people who need the treatments and cure this money can bring. 21 people...plus Mark.
*stretches sore knee*
-- Amanda
October 27, 2011
Get back on the horse!
Look at the pretty!
This. This is one of the reasons I've missed two weeks of training. Two weeks, people.
October was insane with travel -- especially for one who is accustomed to working from home every day, all day. New Jersey for a week at the beginning of the month; mid-month it was 4 days in San Jose, followed by two days home and then 4 days in Phoenix with Rowan to visit a dear friend.
Whirl. Wind.
Work trips were necessary, friend trip was needed, but the end result is that I missed two weeks of training. I am now at DefCon 3. With roughly 40(ish) days left to train before the marathon, I am planning to simply pick up where the training schedule indicates and work through it, hoping for the best.
I never really had a time to beat (other than the 4 hour limit, I suppose); I just want to finish. Mark has been doing amazing. Riding out the pain of migraines, dealing with Crohn's flare-ups, and handling things while I've been away, he's still managed to work in training sessions. He's my inspiration -- not just for participating in this marathon, but for not sinking into a pile of tears when I look at my work load, travel schedule, and completion times.
I almost had to travel again in November, but am oddly thankful for a work load that actually prevents me from doing so. So, I have November to get back on the horse, so to speak, and get my body as ready as I can be for this effort.
Also? I have some letters to write. I've depended largely on email to reach out to people about considering donating; I need to take pen in hand (more or less) and see if there are still a few souls out in my family who might want to participate in this fundraising effort before November 16th.
I need Hermione's Time Turner, I think....
-- Amanda
October 24, 2011
8 MILES
Sunday, I went with my mom and sister and we did the scheduled 8 mile walk for our training. Amanda and Rowan were out of town visiting a friend. I decided to do some trails out by Clinton Lake which slowed down our overall time, but was beautiful scenery and not just a standard path. I was a little nervous, since my Crohn's symptoms had prevented me from doing the scheduled walks during the week, but everything went great and even did not feel to bad afterward. Mom and Kelli did great as well. It is so great to have their support and I look forward to them being in Las Vegas with us. Kelli is even signing up as a normal half marathon participant to do it as well. So proud of her!
7.76 miles (2:33:06, 19:44 average minutes per mile)
I know that is a little short of 8 miles, but with the up and down nature of the trails, I am convinced we did more than 8 miles and my GPS was off. :-)
Mark
7.76 miles (2:33:06, 19:44 average minutes per mile)
I know that is a little short of 8 miles, but with the up and down nature of the trails, I am convinced we did more than 8 miles and my GPS was off. :-)
Mark
October 17, 2011
PAIN IN THE HEAD
This past weekend was big, as Amanda and I signed our re-commitment papers for Team Challenge. Through our generous family and friends, we have nearly raised $6,000 for the CCFA. We still have until the 16th of November to meet our fundraising goal of $7,200. We were able to get to Kansas City on Saturday morning and train with the team for the first time in a while. Rowan spent the night at Grandma's house, so that we could get up and leave Lawrence at 6:00 AM to get to Kansas City by 7:00 AM for the training walk. It was only a four mile walk this past weekend. However, this coming Saturday calls for a eight mile walk. Here was the past weeks stats:
1.74 miles (26:54, 15:27 average minute/mile)
4.10 miles (1:11:12, 17:24 average minute/mile)
Mark
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