Leap of Faith

Today, I ran my last long run before the taper: 20 miles. That's pretty far, and yet race day requires another 6.2 miles. You never run more than 20 miles in most marathon programs. You just have to hope that you can run the extra 10K on race day. For those of you who have run a 10K, you know that it is nothing to sneeze at. So when you put your toes on the start line of the marathon, you’re taking a leap of faith.

In addition to the problem of not running the full distance before the big day, anything can go wrong. Shin splints can take you out at mile 7. A cramp at mile 10. Achilles tendonitis at mile 16. Hitting the wall at 17. The body is a fickle thing that can break down or trip up at any point. So much is out of your control, left to the fates or luck or karma or God.

The problem with knowing your body's limitations is that it can choke you up. Why take even one step if your body might give out halfway through? During every long run (every run, really), I reach a point where I want to stop. Surprisingly, this point often comes not when I'm in severe pain, but when I begin to question what my body--what I--can do. I worry that I won't be able to finish mile 20 if I'm sore at mile 5, or, even more foolishly, I begin to believe that if I might not make my goal pace, I shouldn't run at all. Instead of focusing on what I can do and what I might be able to do, I fret, I worry, I shut down. Usually, it's not the running itself that is the problem, even at mile 18 or 19; it's my mind, my attitude.

I wish I could offer a quick and easy fix for such mental roadblocks, but I don't have one. What keeps me running during these "What if?" moments is, well, the running itself. One foot in front of the other. I can only prove my doubting heart wrong by making my body work, by running when I worry that I can't keep running, which gives me faith that I can meet my goals. When I line up at the start line on race day, I know that I have to have faith in my training and in my body; in the words of another doubter, "the readiness is all." I know that I have to leave the rest of the business up to the luck of race day. If I'm going to get hurt, I'm going to get hurt. If I'm going to hit the wall at mile 17, I'm going to hit the wall. I'll just have to deal with it when it happens, instead of wasting precious energy worrying about what might happen. I know it's easier said than done, but it's the only way for me to move forward when I'm in pain or afraid I might fail.

If you're noticing a pattern in these blogs, you might guess what's about to come next. This is the point in the post where I show how important my mom's influence has been in my life. As you might imagine, I learned this coping mechanism from my mom. Just as she has pity parties, she sometimes lets her fears about future physical damage and suffering interfere with her generally positive attitude. But what is truly remarkable is her ability to live in the now, to face each moment as a moment. This perspective gives her control over her disease, rather than the other way around. She knows that each moment of our lives is a leap of faith. We never know what lurks around the corner; we never know what obstacle will leap into our paths--or which ones we will put there ourselves. So what else is there to do but to fully be in the moment? (And, yes, I just split an infinitive and went all zen in one sentence--it was worth it).

There have been times--recently--that she woke up unable to move, paralyzed by the disease. Of course she panicked and despaired, but then she moved. She focused on her little fingers, willing them to wiggle, and when they did, the rest of her body moved, too.With only three weeks to go and very little distance to run before the big day, I hope to hold on to her example. I hope to keep moving my legs despite any pain or fear of what might happen in the nearly four hours of running. Like her, I hope to have faith in myself and to live in the moment.

Goal!!!

The weekly report is in from Guthy-Jackson. Drumroll, please....

$1,402.20!!!!!

With the over $200 raised by Tulaloo, we have once again met our goal. So the only thing to do now is to raise the goal, right? Can we do $2000? I think so!

It's amazing how generous people can be, but honestly, I'm not surprised. My mom is an amazing woman who has touched many lives. I know that donors are responding to her model of generosity and compassion. Please consider making a donation to this cause if you haven't had a chance to do so. We're only three weeks away from the big day, and my legs are itching to go the distance! I have the last and longest long run on Sunday--20 miles! With your support, those miles are going to fly by. (Do I sound like NPR yet?)

In case you forgot, here's how:

There are two ways to donate to the Foundation. One is through a written check mailed directly to the Foundation at All Greater Good Foundation, 8910 University Center Lane, Suite 725, San Diego, CA, 92122. The other is to visit the website at www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/about-us/donate/ and to make a donation through PayPal. Be sure to write a note or memo letting them know that the donation is in honor of Patti Lellock, so that we know how much money we have raised. I myself have donated online, and it is easy and secure.

You can also support the cause by purchasing notecards from Tulaloo at http://tulaloo.blogspot.com/2011/02/world-we-live-in-devics-disease.html. All proceeds between now and March 20th will be donated to Guthy-Jackson.

Guest Post: Patti Lellock, my mom

When my delightful, thoughtful daughter asked me to be a 'guest speaker' on her blog, I wasn't sure what I would like to convey to her followers. When I think of NMO - the disease - so many things flood my mind. When I'm feeling well, I'm optimistic and grateful for what this disease has given me this past 3 1/2 years. When I'm not feeling my best, I become frustrated, saddened and at times even angry. It's been quite a roller coaster ride - the only difference is, this ride doesn't end.

I could share with you all of the positive things that having a crazy, unpredictable, incurable, life-threatening disease brings. It has made me stronger, more grateful, compassionate, spiritual, aware, and appreciative of everything and everyone in my life. And it truly has. Or, I could tell you about all of the negatives. The many long days and nights I spend alone with my pain. The questions and anger when I make it through one battle after another only to be knocked down once again making it more difficult each time to rise. The thoughts of despair not being in control of my life. The frustrations of my body not able to do what my mind still can. The sadness knowing I most likely will leave this life missing so much of my children and granddaughter's lives.

But instead I've decided what I would like to implore to you all is this - touch your arms, your legs. Appreciate what they do for you every single day. Take time to do what you can, what you love, while you can. Someday might not be soon enough.Teach yourself to fully embrace your being and truly appreciate it. Open your eyes wide so that you can see the miracles that surround you. Show your love often and unabashedly to those you love. As difficult and unpleasant as it may be - realize that there will most certainly be physical obstacles one day in your life - this realization will make you thankful for what your body is now and when that day comes you won't have to wish you would have appreciated it. Look directly into the eyes and smile at those on your path that need canes, walkers, wheelchairs and know that they are people just like you - they just need a little help to move through their lives. Do what you can for others with unconditional love - that's what life is all about. In the end - it honestly doesn't matter what you have materially - only what you have in your heart and your legacy you leave behind.

I would ask you to visit the Guthy-Jackson site and read about the remarkable couple, Victoria Jackson and Bill Guthy, and the amazing strides they have taken to not only find a cure for their daughter, but for all of us suffering from this devastating disease. Although at times I have myself the best pity parties, complete with cake, I feel blessed that I was stricken with NMO at a time in which the disease is more understood, when there are improved treatments provided and testing to establish a positive diagnosis. It's a very rare disease with so many in the medical community that don't even know it exists. Yet I had an angel with me when I became blind to guide me to someone who did know and treated me quickly so that my vision was restored. I've also lived a full life and have seen my children become loving, compassionate adults striving to make a difference in the world. NMO knows no age boundaries. There are young children and young adults also suffering, fighting and ultimately losing their battle to this dreadful disease.

I am so blessed to have been held up and held onto through this struggle with my caring, supportive and compassionate family and friends. With my deepest appreciation to Jacy (I've gotten through many painful medical procedures remembering the words she told me one day long ago in the summer rain - you can do anything for 15 minutes); to Slade, my philosophical son who provides me with bright outlooks to the painful questions I present to him; to my husband, Rod, who rides the roller coaster night and day with me; and to all of you who have lovingly supported me and now Jacy and the NMO community - thank you.

Love, Patti

Stronger

I don't usually post two entries in one day, but my mom's post is such an inspiration that I couldn't resist sharing my refreshed spirit. The pity party is over. Motivated by mom and by the support of my friend, Jess, whose stationery company will donate all proceeds on its notecards to Guthy-Jackson (see below), I have renewed energy and commitment. I ran 5 miles at just about BQ goal pace today (8:23 per mile). I've also decided that I will still try to qualify at Steamtown in October, even though the qualifying time will be harder. If I don't make it, well, as my mom told me while I was whining about my last roadblock, "Just think how much you've already accomplished while going for your goal." It's kind of embarrassing to admit that I whine about such minor setbacks to my mom, who has her own much more challenging struggles to face. Her encouraging response is further evidence of her strength of character and her concern for others, despite her own problems.

Not that she doesn't have her own well-deserved pity parties (as she admits in her post). She recently had yet another setback in her goal to go back to work, which of course was a disappointment. Despite her frustration, she told me, "I'm going to fill my mind with art instead of sorrow." This poetic sentiment reflects a recurring theme in my mom's life; it seems as though she always bounces back from setbacks by turning to art. For example, she takes these amazing photographs, tweaks them with digital imaging software, and writes beautiful poetry to accompany them. Then, she shares her art with others. Like an alchemist, she transmutes the dark matter of pain and suffering into gold, making the world more lovely. She draws upon her suffering to be stronger, and the work she creates inspires others to live better.

Like my mom's art, music has the ability to move me and to make me move. A good beat or a well-timed lyric helps me overcome the desire to quit or to slow down. One of my favorite lines is from Kanye West's "Stronger": "Now that that don't kill me...Can only make me stronger." The driving beat coupled with the motivational words forms a catalyst (two chemical metaphors in one post!) that propels me forward even in my worst running moments. For that reason, I strategically placed it in my marathon playlist at mile 16, the point where I know I tend to falter. It is at our lowest points that we most need inspiration, and art and music are wonderful sources of it.

So this week, I'm calling for support in the form of art. I encourage you to support our cause in one (or more!) of the following ways:

1. Submit a motivational song that I can add to my marathon day playlist. I will think of you when I hear the song and draw on your positive energy when I'm slogging through the miles.

2. Purchase some beautiful notecards from http://www.tulaloo.blogspot.com. She's donating the proceeds of notecards sales between now and March 20th to the Guthy-Jackson Foundation in honor of my mom. She's an amazing artist and an even better friend. She's already raised over $180 in just a day of the promotion--please contribute!

3. Create some art of your own! Write a poem, take a photo, paint, sing a song, whatever inspires you.

Support System

I've been having a pity party for myself all week. The Boston Athletic Association has made major revisions to its qualifying times and registration procedures--RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY TRAINING CYCLE! While I wasn't expecting to BQ (shorthand for Boston Qualify) at the Shamrock Marathon, I was hoping to do it by the Steamtown Marathon in October. The new procedures let the fastest runners sign up first, which means that even if I BQ, since I would only do so by a slender margin, I would likely not be able to register. They also changed the qualifying times to take effect in September, which interferes with my hopes of qualifying in October. When I heard about these changes, I felt as though the wind was knocked out of my sails. As a result, my running motivation flagged. I got slower and even missed a 5-miler. I also started wondering if maybe my goal to BQ was too ambitious in the first place.

Fortunately, I have an incredible support system to help me deal with setbacks. Friends and family gave me great advice, such as asking me why I wanted to run in the first place. My husband made me breakfast in bed and let me sleep in. My mom told me that I'm allowed to have a pity party for one day before coming up with a plan B. My support system helped give me perspective and to keep me moving despite the minor hurdle. And it didn't hurt that we have raised nearly $1200 in the first two weeks of fundraising! The success of this fundraiser is testament to the amazing family friends that we have in our lives.

Having a support system is especially important for someone suffering for a chronic illness. My setback pales in comparison with the ones that my mom faces. The love and support that you all share by being a part of this help make me feel stronger, and I know that they help her, too.

Break on Through

It's common to reach a point in a long run where a runner feels as though she has "hit the wall," as though it is impossible to keep running. I tend to reach that point around mile 16 or 17, which is bad news, of course, for someone who plans to run for another 9 or 10 miles! Every runner needs some trick or motivation to break through this wall, and I'm no different.

One thing that helps is realizing that the wall is imaginary. I know that physically I am capable of moving my legs for many miles past the moment I first feel weak. Sure, it's much harder than the first part of the run; my hips and knees ache, my mind is foggy, and my body lacks fuel. But I know that I can will myself to go on despite feeling depleted and conquered.

During my 19 miles today, I had a much more moving source of inspiration. The Guthy Jackson Foundation sent me a weekly report yesterday of how much we have raised to support NMO research. My goal for the entire fundraising effort was $500. In only one week, we broke through our goal, nearly doubling it: $912.20. Breaking through an imaginary wall is far less challenging with such an overflow of support.

One thing that my mom has taught me is never to settle, always to aim high. Her experience with NMO is no different; she's a daily lesson in breaking through challenges that are far more painful and difficult than running a few extra miles. With that in mind, I've decided to raise my fundraising goal from $500 to $1500. If you haven't already had the chance, please help us meet this new challenge by making a donation to the Guthy Jackson Foundation in honor of Patti Lellock.

In case you've forgotten, here's the information on how to do that: There are two ways to donate to the Foundation. One is through a written check mailed directly to the Foundation at All Greater Good Foundation, 8910 University Center Lane, Suite 725, San Diego, CA, 92122. The other is to visit the website at www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/about-us/donate/ and to make a donation through PayPal. Be sure to write a note or memo letting them know that the donation is in honor of Patti Lellock, so that we know how much money we have raised. I myself have donated online, and it is easy and secure.

Please share the information with your friends and family members!

Winter Running in a College Town

Running in the winter can be a drag. Slush slows you down. Ice slips you up. Sometimes your path is completely blocked by snow. And it's cold. Some days are so cold that walking out the door is nearly impossible. The only thing that keeps you going on those deep winter days is knowing how easy it would be to just give up if you don't go outside and move your feet. It would be so easy to just snuggle into your warm bed, curl up, and forget about the whole thing.

But, for me, winter has its rewards, too. First, I feel so tough running on days when no one in their right mind is going outside. On those days, only a handful of hardcore runners are bundled up and hitting the trails or streets, and that makes me feel really strong. Further, the cold struggles of winter can make days like today seem heavenly: 38 degrees and sunny, with the steady drip and crackle of melting snow and ice. My run today felt downright balmy, and it turned around my cranky, sluggish mood into something nearing transcendence. The harshness of winter helps me appreciate my endurance, while at the same time giving me the perspective to appreciate the beauty of a sunny day. Winter running builds strength and promises renewal.

Running in a college town heightens this hope for refreshment and rejuvenation. Today, I ran past the freshmen dorms, where students were toting their freshly washed clothing and lovingly packed bags of food back to their rooms for the start of a new semester. For them, the spring semester is about to begin, with its promise of a fresh start, of a new chance to push through their challenges and to meet new successes.

Winter can be hard on anyone. Its oppression can seem never-ending, as though the cold will chill your bones, the grey skies will stifle your spirit, and the diminished daylight will sap your energy. It can make you want to quit, to hide, to hibernate. While pushing past such desires can be difficult, the rewards are immense. I imagine that even those who suffer a chronic disease such as NMO feel as though it's always winter, but I have hope that there can be days like today for them, for my mama. A lift in the cold, a promise of renewed strength, and a moment to appreciate the beauty of a sunny day.

The Long Run

Though I am inspired by their lyrics, "Well, we're scared, but we ain't shakin' / Kinda bent, but we ain't breakin' / in the long run," this is not about The Eagles. It is about my mom and running.

A few months ago, I decided to run another marathon. I've run two marathons, but never very fast. After having a child, the running bug bit again, so I decided to try to qualify for Boston in a marathon this year. To this end, I signed up for the Shamrock Marathon in Virginia Beach in March and started running. A lot.

Running long distances requires the ability to put up with pain and discomfort. Long runs essentially inflict damage on your body in order to teach it how to heal itself and to become stronger. Long runs require pushing myself farther than I thought possible.

Marathon training also gives me a lot of time to think. While I was out in the icy, snowy weather pounding the pavement, I started thinking about why I run. I do enjoy it, of course, and the health benefits are obvious. But if those were the only reasons, then I would run shorter distances. There's something about a long run that makes me recognize both how fragile and how strong my body is. There's something that helps me understand how hard it is to move forward when times are hard.

Which brings me to my mom. My mother has a very rare disease called NMO, or Devic's Disease. NMO is an autoimmune neurological disorder that attacks the myelin sheaths around the optic nerves and spinal cord. My mom learned that she had NMO shortly after completely losing her sight and suffering from partial paralysis. She was blind and had trouble walking for a very long time. She has since recovered much of her sight and ability to walk, but NMO is a nasty disease. The treatments are often just as hard on her as the disease itself. At this point, there is no known cure and since it is such a newly identified disease (for years, doctors thought it was a type of MS), the treatment options are limited. Much more research needs to be done.

She struggles every day. Her body fights against her over the simplest tasks. While the effects of NMO are nasty, this isn't a blog about a disease. Instead, I want to celebrate my mom's strength, grace, and dignity. My mom is such a positive person, and her fortitude and stubbornness in the face of this disease have amazed me. She is my inspiration.

While it's in no way a fair comparison, my mom's disease has helped me to become a better runner. Her model has taught me to be strong even when my body is depleted, to be grateful that my body can carry me such far distances, and to be positive when I run into physical and emotional obstacles along the way. I'd like to do some small thing to give back to her.

While trying to qualify for Boston is an important personal goal, I wanted to set another goal for this race that went beyond me and my love of running. By race day on March 20, I want to raise at least $500 to support research for prevention, clinical treatment programs, and a potential cure for NMO. I also want to raise awareness about this disease.

I hope that you will help me reach this goal by donating to the Guthy-Jackson Foundation. If you make a donation through their site, 100% of your donation goes directly to NMO research and is tax deductible. The Guthy-Jackson Foundation does not allocate any donated monies to administrative support of the Foundation.

There are two ways to donate to the Foundation. One is through a written check mailed directly to the Foundation at All Greater Good Foundation, 8910 University Center Lane, Suite 725, San Diego, CA, 92122. The other is to visit the website at www.guthyjacksonfoundation.org/about-us/donate/ and to make a donation through PayPal. Be sure to write a note or memo letting them know that the donation is in honor of Patti Lellock, so that we know how much money we have raised. I myself have donated online, and it is easy and secure.

If it's within your means, please donate soon, so that I can reach my goal of $500 before the race. I will update you about my training and my fundraising progress on this blog. Any amount helps. Some people might choose to make a donation of so many dollars per mile (that's 26.2!). Please consider donating! Thank you!