Saturday Long Day

Is it too much information to share that today my nipples got chafed?  I've only heard and read about this phenomenon. Until today, right around mile 5 out of the 9 mile training run.  My right nipple started stinging.  I have one of those fancy Nike running shirts with moisture wicking material. A lot of good it did.  Ouch.  I pulled it off and ran shirtless the rest of the way home.  I needed to work on my tan anyways.  I found some great running trails finally.  I wove up Santa Fe, to Ave. Sarmiento, past the Zoo, up Ave Valentin Alsina, around the Lago de Regates and back again.  This probably means nothing to you if you haven't been to Buenos Aires, much less tried to run here.  It was fantastic though because I didn't feel like a total freak. There were lots of bikers and runners and the weather was perfect! I clipped along at a nine minute per mile pace.  Not too shabby for coming down off the flu, or whatever it was that I had.  I tried to converse in Spanish with one of the local runners, which went okay except it's hard to understand Argentine Spanish.  Me: "Me gusta mucho el parque, es muy lindo!  Argentine runner "Grancho courtche bueno sha le caya quando espinache de caminata a la busha de calla?" Me: "Oh, that's a question, uhhhh crap!" This went on for about three miles until I pretended to be too tired and out of breath to speak.  What can I say...I tried.  I was just relieved to be back on my training schedule, running again and not laying around all feverish.  I'm looking forward to going home now, 10 days is a long time to be gone.  I miss my little Max and my little Judy.  I had a dream that I when I saw Max, he acted all cool and detached. Which made him all the more adorable.  I am crazy about that kid.

Through the zoo

Despite feeling like crap, I forced myself to run today. I felt awful yesterday, and worse the day before! So the way I looked at it, this was my best day yet. I was getting worried too. Wednesday I was supposed to run 4 miles, Thursday 5. I had already fallen behind by 9 miles! So I rolled out of bed, er...couch. The couch is my bed here in Buenos Aires. It took awhile to get motivated. Once I laced up my shoes, I knew this was really happening. I ran down Arenales, tried to enter the park and the gate was locked. Ran around the park, by the zoo, looped up and ran around some other bigger park, came back thinking I was almost done. I still had another mile to go. So I ran through the busy streets. Pedestrians are just as dangerous as cars. Nobody was watching where they went. I finally had enough and cashed in my chips at 4 miles.
I've had several donations for my cause. Thank you to Chris Soule, Adrian Hoyle, Joe and Lisa Troncale, Danny Shorago, and Shay Mendes, who says "Kick cancers ass"

I'm running 9 miles tomorrow, so come back and read the exciting tale of that adventure!

Buenos Aires, No Bueno for running

8:15 in Buenos Aires

Que Lindo!

I didn't come to Buenos Aires to run.  I came here to dance with The Patricia Rincon Dance Collective. However,  I brought my running stuff with me and am determined to continue my marathon training.  This morning I woke at 7:00 am, stretched out my tired, jet lagged, body.  I felt like crap.  The recycled airline oxygen always sets my allergies off.  Thankfully, Justin (one of the dancers) gave me a benadryl last night.  Totally knocked me out.    Anyways, got out the door, started running down the street, in the direction of the botanical gardens.  Once I got there to the park, the gate was closed.  Not open until 8:00 am, at this point it was 7:45.  Today's workout was 5 miles at an aerobic pace.  Which means 70 to 80% effort.  I tried running through the busy downtown street.  Between the never-ending traffic lights and incessant allergies, I realized I was not going to be doing any 7 minute miles today.  I managed to run an average of 9 miles a minute, despite the treacherous cobblestone terrain and dog crap everywhere.  I know it sounds like I'm complaining. Believe me, I'm happy to be here.  I'm looking forward to the empanada's, the cortados, and the matambre.  Speaking of food, we had a nice dinner last night, prepared by yours truly.  Argentine pasta, really fresh with broccoli, mushrooms, artichokes, spinach and garlic.  The dancers all had wine too.  None for me though, thanks. 
Getting back to my run,I did manage to finish the run through the botanical gardens, which were beautiful with cats roaming everywhere and clean, clear running paths.  I was proud of myself for hitting it early, but I can see now that I'm going to have to wait until the parks open because personally, I would rather not get ran over by a bus! Bacan!

Legs of Lead

Last weekend, I decided to join the local chapter of The Lymphoma Society, The San Diego Team in Training.  I went to the six mile run, signed up, went to a mini expo, had a quick breakfast with some of the runners and made my way back home.  Where I received the terrible news that my father in law was quickly fading away from the Lymphoma he had been battling all summer.  He had only a few days left.   I should say that Charlie Bauerlein was an exceptional man, loved by many.  I wanted to run in the Carlsbad Marathon, raising money for cancer, on his behalf and have him cheer me on.   It was clear that was not going to happen.  On Monday, September 12th, Charlie finished his marathon.  Tomorrow is the funeral. 

I've been thinking a lot about why I run.  I used to run when I was a kid, all the way through high school, and then I stopped.  Last year, I went out and bought a pair of discount running shoes and gasped up the hill near my house.  It was pathetic.  I don't think I ran more than half a mile and I was done.  Then I slowly ticked away the miles, and now I'm training for my first marathon.  You've got your standard answer, mumbling something about endorphins....but there has to be something more.  Running is painful.  It's hard work and often people just don't get it.  I realized tonight while I was running six miles that it's the pushback.  The pushback is challenging the limitations of our body.  It's reaching out and pushing on our physicality so hard that it pushes back, and we feel it consciously.  We hear our inner voice saying, this is too hard, I can't do this.  And we push back.  Then, it gets really good.  You find the power outside of yourself, after your body is spent, to keep going and finish the race or the run or whatever it is.  It makes perfect sense to me.  This connects to Charlie's story, because for three months, he battled cancer hard.  He resisted the urge to give in.  He pushed back.  Until he came to the end of his race.  With dignity, he finished.  I want to share something my sister in law,  Annie wrote:

Dad’s Last Day

Dad's passing was one of the most incredible moments some of us have ever witnessed. The moment (and the entire day) was truly a holy one. I know it changed me forever.

Dad had been longing to leave this earth so badly for the past two days. He sat my sister Gretchen down on Saturday and he talked about how he couldn’t do it anymore…he was done. It was too hard to go on and he didn’t have good quality of life. After that he went downhill fast. Friday night he had been eating soup and talking, Monday he couldn’t walk, talk, eat…he lay in bed with clouded eyes, thin, pale….on his way out…he simply wanted out.

Around noon time on Monday, the day Dad died, my niece Amy and I got out a songbook called Rise Up Singing - and the guitar - and we sang song after song, softly, at Dad’s side. We did that for hours. It was such an honor to do this for Dad. Some of the songs we sang were Angel Band, I’ll Fly Away, Those Were the Days, It is Well with my Soul, Amazing Grace, Softly and Tenderly, Close Your Eyes, All the Pretty Little Horses, even Kumbaya…..many were Dad’s favorite songs….Dad loved music…Some of the grandkids sat around listening, holding Dad’s hand, talking to Dad…it was a peaceful day of waiting, but so hard to watch Dad in the state he was in.

At around 5:45 p.m., the grandkids went out for pizza, and I got the urge to go to Dad’s side and I just started talking to him. Little did I know these were going to be his last moments on Earth.

This is what I told dear Dad:

1.       There is no one like you…….they don’t make them like you anymore…when you walk into a room, you light up the room with your magnetic personality…you have the most amazing personality…you are so funny and full of humor and life... there are good people but then there are great people, and Dad you are truly one of the great people of the world…we will never forget you…we will think of you every day.

2.       You always cared about other people, Dad. You made this world a better place.  Remember the Vietnamese family you helped to get settled here in America? Your life made a huge difference in this world. You cared about the poor…you always helped people….you made friends with strangers and asked about their lives…you lived such a rich life….we are going to laugh more than cry at your memorial service, it’s going to be a celebration of your life…there were over 800 visits on your web-site…you have so many friends and fans…there is not going to be enough room at the memorial service…it’s going to be packed - we might as well rent the Spectrum! You are so popular! Thank you for all you did for others…. there were things you did that we don’t even know about…good and great things you did for others…we will pass on to others how you taught us to care…

3.       Dad, you always said that things happen for a reason, and the lessons we learned from your suffering from this cancer was your last gift to us. We are so glad you didn’t just pass away from a heart attack because we got to spend so much time with you this summer taking care of you….making peace with you… saying goodbye…your suffering taught us all a huge lesson…that life is so short and so precious…that we must live every minute to the fullest…as if it were our last… to help others, to see the world, to listen to music, to not sit in front of the television! I told him we would pass this lesson on to our kids and to others…

At this point Dad had his final “Moment of Clarity” …he opened his eyes (as wide as he could) from the blue/gray slits that they had been to about ¾ way open…which was a lot for him…then I noticed Dad had a tear in his eye. I knew he was hearing me. “I’m so happy you are opening your eyes!” I said to Dad…”We know that this body is not who you really are and that there is a sharp mind and wonderful personality inside there. This cancer is ruining your body but not your spirit!” Then I called my sisters to come in quickly, that Dad was opening his eyes wide…so the sisters came in to be with Dad…

(3. contd.)...... Dad, you sacrificed you own life for our mom, especially these last five years. You were Mom’s knight in shining armor, OUR knight in shining armor… after Heidi and Judy took Mom to Wisconsin this summer, we finally realized how incredibly hard it was taking care of Mom. You did an amazingly great job taking care of Mom. It was a physically and emotionally difficult, demanding job…we don’t know how you did that all these years…..you laid down your life for our Mom……thank you for taking such good care of our beautiful Mom…..you dressed her…took her places…made sure she was okay every day. All the letters you wrote to us about mom… we will keep those letters forever…you were always so thoughtful about letting us know how Mom was doing…

4. Dad we are all so proud of the fight you put up this summer. You shouldn’t be ashamed that you are letting go, you gave it such a hard, hard fight, and we are all so very proud of you.

Four of us sisters were holding Dad’s hand, touching him gently, tears streaming down our cheeks, putting a washcloth to his forehead….

5. Lisa then told Dad that he meant so much to so many people. How the cousins all spoke so highly of Dad …how he always took a personal interest in their lives…was always thinking and asking of them… …how he really cared for and took an interest in the lives of others. She told Dad how much he meant to many people, from the Veterans for Peace to Catholic Peace Fellowship to Catholic Worker….he touched the lives of countless people….all the letters and cards he had received this summer was a testimony to Dad’s love for his fellow man…..Gretchen thanked Dad for teaching us all about the Lord… and teaching us to hold hands around the dinner table and pray every night…and that we all still do that with our own families. Lisa added how Dad used to read to us from “The Daily Bread” when it was not necessarily a popular thing for Catholics to do…

At this point Dad’s breathing changed, he began to take shorter breaths….Gretchen whispered, “I think this is it…” and we all stood around Dad holding on to him, stroking his arms and face, telling him it was okay to let go. We prayed “Dear Jesus please open your arms wide and take our Dad into your arms into heaven! Take care of him and show him around…take him to see Uncle Tom!”  We told Dad it was okay to let go…just let go Dad…..let go…..

Then suddenly Dad shifted his focus to something beyond our heads…something far off into the distance…we knew he was on his way into the next world, so we sang him off to heaven. We sang Amazing Grace and It is Well With My Soul and Be Not Afraid with tears running down our cheeks, hugging Dad. He finally let go and breathed his last breath, a quiet breath, and we sobbed over his body for a long time. We kissed and hugged Dad, and hugged each other…..and rejoiced in his life and in the incredible way he passed away. We shared that Dad was now free of pain…that he has a new body in heaven, he is drinking a beer from an endless tap and eating the cheese steak he wanted - but never got to have - during his last months… He is with his Mom and Dad and brother and all of his old friends now. 

Since my sister Judy was coming in from California the coroners let us keep Dad’s body in the living room for a few hours so Judy could say goodbye to Dad when she arrived. So, as crazy as this may sound, we had what I think is called an “Irish Wake.” We sat around Dad’s body and sang Those Were the Days and told stories of Dad….we laughed and cried…drank wine and beer…..it was really beautiful. Then the coroners came & took Dad away as we sang Amazing Grace, and we all followed Dad out to the car and waved goodbye.

We thank God for the beautiful way that Dad passed into his eternal life.

We thank God for the wonderful life of our dear Dad.

After I read this, I wiped the tears from my face, took an aspirin for the pain in my feet and legs, and thought about how much I was looking forward to my 8 mile run on Saturday.  I will be running for Charlie, but also for the pushback.  I want to find the power outside of myself to do great things.  To channel God's power through my very limiting body.  Wish me luck, and oh yeah, make a donation!