Reliving the Glory Days

Morning Friends!

Dan and I have our triathlon this weekend. Remember that? Yikes. Have we been training? No, not really. We've ridden our bikes around the block. We've jumped in the sound a couple of times. And we jogged two miles last night. It's almost as if we've forgotten that we're not in our 20's anymore. Fingers crossed for no injuries!

This was all a harebrained idea to relive my glory days, the days before diagnosis. When I was diagnosed in 2010 I had completed two half marathons so far, and I wanted to take it further. In fact, I literally just went back in my emails to dial in this message from two weeks before I was diagnosed:

Megs,

In three weeks I'm off puddle jumping from Iceland, to Sweden, to Poland, to the United Arab Emirates and back. It's a really quick trip though, only about three weeks. I'm really excited! Going to go see the Polish family and then down to the Middle East to see one of my best friends from college - quite the adventure! You're tiny enough, you'd probably fit in my suitcase. :)

The Triathalon is in Lake Chelan, and it's called The Chelan Man and there's a lot of different options. It's on the weekend of July 17th/18th. There are different races on Saturday and on Sunday. I think I want to try the Triathalon Sprint: http://www.chelanman.com/index.php?page_id=302

The Olympic Triathalon looks great too though - just really challenging. Might be really fun to do as a three person relay though - but at the same time I kinda want to try an entire three-leg course. People could stay at my place, or we can camp out on the riverfront at my parent's house - that would be fun!!! Jet skiing to get us into the competitive mood of the race?!?! 

-Jess

As you can imagine, I never did get to take part in Chelan Man in 2010, and the trip was cancelled. My life, from two weeks on, was forever changed. It's bitter sweet to try and compete in this race (although I use the term "compete" lightly), because it reminds me of my old life. My carefree life. That ignorance that allowed me to think that my problems were important. It's going to be fun, and hard. It's supposed to be 97 degrees as a high on race day. Dan is doing it with me, though, and we'll just have a lot of water on hand, and seizure medicine as a given. This will be tricky when sun, dehydration, stress, and heat all trigger seizures, but it's something I feel compelled to do. To live my life and try to get back on track. To be the person I once was, but better. Jess 2.0, new and improved.

I'll post pictures next week, if I survive that is. Ha! Of course I will, I've navigated tougher waters that's for sure.

To The Moon!

Do you guys remember that the year I was diagnosed (2010) I was training for an Olympic Triathlon? Well, obviously that crumbled, but this winter I decided to use my good health to take a tour of not what could have been - but is about to be. I don't know if that makes sense, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm snatching up opportunities to challenge myself; to get back to living the life I was born to enjoy. That includes challenging myself physically like the mad runner that I always was.

One thing that I've learned about myself is that competing, although awesome, isn't as fun unless you don't take yourself too seriously. Wow, how is it that I can speak in double negatives, yet I can never, for the life of me, understand it when others do. (Or maybe that wasn't a double negative. The mystery is on). I digress. So, a year or so ago, someone stole my bike, the bike we would use for speed and comfort. But with friends like ours, it is of no surprise that my buddy Laura lent me her 6 speed beach cruiser to galavant around the hoods of Seattle. She's rusty, but trusty, and when I hit the never expecting bump from our evergreen roots, the bell dings on its' own. I am a sight to see, I'm sure, if not for a lesson in humility.

Next month, I am coming up on the 1500 meter swim (haven't swam since dunking myself in the sound on Saturday and it was a real in and out moment), the 25 mile bike ride (just imagine the cacophony of dings as I race around the course), and the final 10k which is about 10 times longer than I've been running. Not to mention this race is at Lake Chelan where it will easily be 90 degrees by early morning. Dan has gallantly decided to join me, although I don't know how seriously he is planning on taking it. He may leave me in a swirl of bubbles and dust.

From This:

To this:

My Trusty Medicine in The Basket At All Times

On Saturday, Dan trained me down to the farmers market, and back home. Everyone needs a good coach. No joke, my balance is still a bit off from all the brain surgeries, but I'm confident. Dan even made a little video, sneaker that he is, and I can't stop laughing about it. My goal to finish the Olympic Triathlon is to complete in under 3.5 hours. I'm being modest though, I really think I'm going to easily make the three hour mark. (I hope you can literally hear me laughing as I wrote that.) Set the goals high right!? To the moon!

I may not be living the way I thought I would, but good God, I'm having some freaking fun every single day. And I realize that life is more than just having fun, but sometimes it's really exactly what you need.

If you'll be in the Chelan area the race is July 18th, a Saturday. I assume it will be a zoo, but if you're around you'll know me by my uncontrollable dinging, and ahead of its' time aerodynamic helmet. (Sarcasm.)

How do we celebrate?

I never thought I'd feel this way. I never thought that I would use these words, and for good reason. Doctors don't use the term "remission" for brain cancer, because "it always comes back". At least that's what all of my doctors have said (minus my neurosurgeon at UCLA, I haven't heard her speak in absolutes). But today, I feel like I'm in remission, that I'm cancer free. I'm sure I still have cancer cells in my body, like we all do, but something feels different. I feel lifted, and whole, and healed. Does that seem crazy? It feels crazy, but it feels right, like I'm on the correct path with the appropriate protocol.

 
I don't want to jinx myself, so please knock on wood, but for the first time since diagnosis, I feel human. I feel normal. I feel like an epileptic (that may never change), but not a cancer patient. I'm continuing all of my current treatments, but now I'm doing it by choice not out of duty. And I know that this shift alone will do wonders for my psyche.

I never thought that my MRIs would get pushed out to 6 month intervals. It crossed my mind once or twice, but it was like imagining a unicorn. A wonderful thing to smile about, but not a reality. But the world tricked me, see - unicorns DO exist, and I love them! 

I keep thinking about this insane tumor diagnosis and how much it has changed my life. I have gone through so many wild things, like the awake brain surgery, or the hematoma that caused major brain damage, forcing me to relearn everything from using a fork, to learning how to run again, and read again, and regain my vocabulary. There were times when I couldn't even understand concepts. My IQ was ridiculously low. I remember undergoing hours and hours of testing only to be told by one of the top neuropsychologists at University of Washington that I would never recover and read again, that I would never be capable of high level thinking or processing. I remember sitting in that same doctor's office with Dan as we went over the results, as tears streamed down my face. Man how things have changed. Not that I'm that smart, but I'm more than getting by. 

So what do I do now? How do we celebrate?!? For starters, I have decided to start training for a half marathon. I haven't run a half marathon since before I was diagnosed, and have been hesitant to push myself too far because I was afraid of seizures, exhaustion, running down my immune system, elevating my blood glucose for long periods, you name it, I was scared of it. But, I was very inspired while watching the Iron Man coverage this weekend, and I reminded myself that life is short, do what you enjoy.  So I'm starting with a half marathon in January, and my other goal is to do ChelanMan in July, the Olympic length triathlon. I don't know if you guys know this, but when I was diagnosed, I was supposed to participate in the Olympic ChelanMan that summer (I was diagnosed in April) but obviously, that didn't happen. I feel like things are coming back around full circle. I honestly never thought this would happen. It would have been too much to hope for - to live a normal (ish) life. 

So if anyone wants to join me for ChelanMan (you've got several months to decide) please please think about it. Let's get nuts. Let's get silly and have some fun and sweat, and laugh, and feel alive.