Well I am back in London, like it or not. It feels strange to say the least.
Time at home wrapped up pretty well if a bit emotional. I had a nice send off by the girls on the Swifts which was great. They really are so much fun and such a good team of which to be part- inspiring and inviting - I do hope to be a more permanent fixture at some stage, as I promised I would become. We had a good and hard long run the net morning which was a challenge, but good fun. Needless to say, my efforts in running struggled a bit the rest of the week without them!!
I had to miss track to go with Dad to his appointment with the oncologist. It was a fairly positive one I guess - things on the inside still looking about the same: heart function weak (despite being twice normal size!!) hence lots of fluid buildup, but lungs looking about the same if not a bit better. He got an Rx for a new pain relieving patch and we were laughing at the fact that they give discounts even to people who make $150k!! But he got it and seems to be helping ease his knee and leg pain. He also went in a couple days later to get the fluid drained off his belly - in all they got nearly 4 litres!! That is literally like a good-sized baby! No wonder he has been feeling tired and a bit bloated and heavy. A relief they got that much since last time they tried it didn't result in much.
So I guess I felt okay leaving him like that, at least knowing that things hadn't gotten worse. He continues to surprise the docs, which I think is a good thing but he admitted being a bit concerned about it - if things turn bad again, how do we recreate what we did this time?
Saying goodbye was a bit shaky bur not quite as emotional as I had expected it to be. Dad and LP and JM took me out there and there were definitely tears shed but I think we all felt a bit better due to the fact that I will be back pretty soon. I am so glad I booked that trip - it is a light at the end of this tunnel for me, not that in any way I expect that goodbye to be any easier!
The journey home was about as bad as it could have been. I stayed a night in seattle with CM which was nice - good to see his set up and meet his roomie, etc. But that night I got ridiculously sick and had to get up about 4 times in the night. And I am not a good sick person, spending most of the night moaning and tossing and turning. I don't think either of us slept more than an hour before I got up at 5:30. The airport was pure madness too, demanding way too much energy than I had. Luckily I survived and managed to sleep most if both flights, feeling quite a lot better by the time I arrived.
After delays and all normal airport drama, I got to paddington about 2 hours later- didn't know that MJ would have tromped to the station to find me only to have me show up late!! Finally made it to his and gathered up Mr Art Vandelay and all his accessories. Riding through the early morning London streets was not the nicest welcome back- often times I get a thrill from the urban-ness, but this time I just welled up, missing home. Luckily it was a gorgeous day or I might have turned right back around! (ironic in that it was chucking it down at home then). The flat was in a state that can only be recreated when left unoccupied for six months- not anyone's fault, just grimy and dirty. The kitchen stunk to high heaven, and still does due to the small infiltrators of the Rodentia family - buggers better have enjoyed it since Mr Art has been instructed to take no prisoners!!
Anyway, I spent most of the day tidying up and trying to unpack - kept myself busy so as not to get too down. It was a really nice day and while a run was always on the list of things to do, I couldn't face it for some reason.
I missed my friends and loved ones, and I wanted to be in that mindset, I guess, so I didn't want the sun in my face or the the accomplished feeling. I wanted to mope.
But I woke up bright and ready at 5am today, despite efforts not to. And it seemed like the right thing to do, since it couldn't get done any other time. So off I went for an easy run to reacquaint myself with urban running.
I left the IPod behind since the old one due to replace the two newer broken/gone ones was charging, plus I didn't see it being the best idea when I'm used to the calmer streets of Spokane. And I should try to soak it in.
Differences/observations include but weren't limited to:
- it didn't feel nearly as easy as I thought it should have, seeing as I spent 6 months running an extra 2500 ft up.
- I don't usually get hollered at by bums in Spokane.
- the anonymity of urban living allows a lot more trash to accumulate on the residential streets of London- one would think people still wouldn't want to litter up the streets they live on, but that's apparently not true.
- I can't run nearly as fast on the streets here
- while the hills of Finsbury Park might be fairly comparable to those or my normal hilly rural route at home, they are not nearly as picturesque or enjoyable.
- there is just way too much to pay attention to when running in a huge city, which really takes away from how much someone can immerse him/herself in the experience itself. But it is still a preferable mode of transport to this bus on which I now sit (not to mention I would have been there ages ago had I been running!)
Anyway, this is quite a ramble and not nearly on the inspirational, thought-provoking level the last one was on. I just have to throw myself back in it- the whole London experience. Whether I want to be here or not, I am here, at least for the forseeable future, and it won't do me any good to wish otherwise right now. So as I run to the track tomorrow night in seemingly grotty Wood Green, I'll try to keep the clean Spokane air in my head and let myself be here too.
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
Friday, 10 June 2011
No Games, just Sport
Let's see if I can get this stream of consciousness to make any sense....
So, tonight was my last night of Flying Irish, and I was reflecting on how great it was to find that group. They are genuinely nice people - actually all the running groups I have met have been. There might be some competitive edge there, but it is healthy, and people are just happy for one another to succeed. It is really positive, and motivating to be around. Same with Serps, and Swifts, of course. I am consistently humbled by how hard they work, and the lengths they will go to, often for little shot at glory beyond personal victory and sense of achievement.
And then I got thinking about sport in general, and how it feeds the soul and how much it can actually prepare us for life's greater challenges (I agree with JM that it is Real Life drama.) Under what other circumstances would people put themselves through actual physical pain other than sport, by choice? (Okay, maybe some strange people might do so in other circumstances, but that is not really the norm. Or probably circumstances I would feel comfortable discussing here!). Either way, the fact is, sports involve a lot of pain and anguish, a lot of pushing bodies to the limits, actual breakdown in many instances. Undoubtedly there are countless images Google could find us in nanoseconds showing frustration, pain, tears, twisted faces, even blood and guts, all associated with sport. Non-athletes would never get it, and might wonder why people would choose to put them through some of these states, and possibly with good reason. Most times there isn't even an award involved!! Most of us aren't professional, and would never even consider trying to be. (I love those NCAA commercials: 'And 99% of us will be professional in something other than sports'). We just DO it, for a million reasons: the thrill, the adrenaline rush, the personal gain, the competitive spirit, the love of the game. We love the feeling we get before, during, and after. Not an event has gone by - running, skiing, game involving some ball - that I can remember when I didn't have butterflies and at some stage thought to myself, 'Why do I do this? I hate it, I wish I could just quit and be a normal person, just okay to go out for a run.' But part of me feeds on that - all those emotions are what make it what it is, and make me love it. Even the horrible ones, and the seconds that go by when I think to myself, 'I am not good enough to succeed at this.'
Those seconds are the ones that prepare us, and challenge us, for real life. Sport is preparing us for real life. I just think about how much we can learn through sport - the anguish, the losing, the winning, the sportsmanship, the camaraderie. There are so many lessons, and I love to think about how much I have learned about myself and the world around me because of my involvement in sport. Of course, that isn't to say it is for everyone, but everyone must have those same aspects in their lives that make them run a similar gamut of emotions - butterflies, elation, disappointment, fear, achievement, victory. It is all of those feelings that make us want to succeed and push forward.
So at the same time, I am thinking about how the last six months have progressed. Never in a MILLION years would I have foreseen it would look now like it really does. When I got here, I had no hope for Dad's survival - I know, that is a horrible thing to say!! But things were THAT bleak, that I just didn't see it being possible. I didn't for a second think I would be leaving here with him to come back to, and I didn't think he would have had a chance at recovering how he has. It really is incredible. And I think it is down to the human spirit that lives within him. I have a feeling (though I haven't asked him) that he definitely went through a period (that could have been quite long) where he also thought he was nearing the end, and was done for. That the situation was grim (duh, cancer with no treatment options??) and there was no reason to get one's hopes up.
I don't know what it was that turned his mindset around, or if it even could have been one thing - likely not. But the fact is, he is living up to one of the greatest challenges that can be put in front of anyone. He is laughing in the face of his ailment, and he is succeeding. It might not be for years, or even months, but he has turned his attitude around and brought himself out of the terminal 'two-week' existence he was placed into, and he is doing better now than he has for ages. I don't know if it is down to sport - I doubt he has thought of that - but I am certain it is down to telling himself, 'Dammit, I am tougher than this. I am not ready to go down, I haven't reached my limits.' That is how Dad is. That is how challenges prepare us - we lose some battles, but most of us get back out to fight the war, to persevere, and to prove to ourselves, and everyone around us, that we aren't weak and we aren't giving in.
When we were at Grandma's burial, on a lovely day, in Santa Rosa, there were just a few of us - 15 maybe - gathered at the gravesite where her ashes were to be buried alongside Grandpa. I was a wreck, and I sat and held Dad's hand. He tapped me and pointed to a headstone about 25 yards away. All it said, in big letters, was 'Attitude is Everything'. And he said, 'See? Attitude IS everything.' That is how Dad is.
Life is uncertain, and we never know how long we are going to get to be with the people we love. I am leaving next Friday trusting that I will see my dad again. Of course, I never know for sure. But I have to leave thinking that I can do this, I can face this challenge - he has to too, and we will march forward, for as long as we can. And to this, and the other challenges I have faced and will face in the future, I say, 'I am good enough to succeed at this.'
So, tonight was my last night of Flying Irish, and I was reflecting on how great it was to find that group. They are genuinely nice people - actually all the running groups I have met have been. There might be some competitive edge there, but it is healthy, and people are just happy for one another to succeed. It is really positive, and motivating to be around. Same with Serps, and Swifts, of course. I am consistently humbled by how hard they work, and the lengths they will go to, often for little shot at glory beyond personal victory and sense of achievement.
And then I got thinking about sport in general, and how it feeds the soul and how much it can actually prepare us for life's greater challenges (I agree with JM that it is Real Life drama.) Under what other circumstances would people put themselves through actual physical pain other than sport, by choice? (Okay, maybe some strange people might do so in other circumstances, but that is not really the norm. Or probably circumstances I would feel comfortable discussing here!). Either way, the fact is, sports involve a lot of pain and anguish, a lot of pushing bodies to the limits, actual breakdown in many instances. Undoubtedly there are countless images Google could find us in nanoseconds showing frustration, pain, tears, twisted faces, even blood and guts, all associated with sport. Non-athletes would never get it, and might wonder why people would choose to put them through some of these states, and possibly with good reason. Most times there isn't even an award involved!! Most of us aren't professional, and would never even consider trying to be. (I love those NCAA commercials: 'And 99% of us will be professional in something other than sports'). We just DO it, for a million reasons: the thrill, the adrenaline rush, the personal gain, the competitive spirit, the love of the game. We love the feeling we get before, during, and after. Not an event has gone by - running, skiing, game involving some ball - that I can remember when I didn't have butterflies and at some stage thought to myself, 'Why do I do this? I hate it, I wish I could just quit and be a normal person, just okay to go out for a run.' But part of me feeds on that - all those emotions are what make it what it is, and make me love it. Even the horrible ones, and the seconds that go by when I think to myself, 'I am not good enough to succeed at this.'
Those seconds are the ones that prepare us, and challenge us, for real life. Sport is preparing us for real life. I just think about how much we can learn through sport - the anguish, the losing, the winning, the sportsmanship, the camaraderie. There are so many lessons, and I love to think about how much I have learned about myself and the world around me because of my involvement in sport. Of course, that isn't to say it is for everyone, but everyone must have those same aspects in their lives that make them run a similar gamut of emotions - butterflies, elation, disappointment, fear, achievement, victory. It is all of those feelings that make us want to succeed and push forward.
So at the same time, I am thinking about how the last six months have progressed. Never in a MILLION years would I have foreseen it would look now like it really does. When I got here, I had no hope for Dad's survival - I know, that is a horrible thing to say!! But things were THAT bleak, that I just didn't see it being possible. I didn't for a second think I would be leaving here with him to come back to, and I didn't think he would have had a chance at recovering how he has. It really is incredible. And I think it is down to the human spirit that lives within him. I have a feeling (though I haven't asked him) that he definitely went through a period (that could have been quite long) where he also thought he was nearing the end, and was done for. That the situation was grim (duh, cancer with no treatment options??) and there was no reason to get one's hopes up.
I don't know what it was that turned his mindset around, or if it even could have been one thing - likely not. But the fact is, he is living up to one of the greatest challenges that can be put in front of anyone. He is laughing in the face of his ailment, and he is succeeding. It might not be for years, or even months, but he has turned his attitude around and brought himself out of the terminal 'two-week' existence he was placed into, and he is doing better now than he has for ages. I don't know if it is down to sport - I doubt he has thought of that - but I am certain it is down to telling himself, 'Dammit, I am tougher than this. I am not ready to go down, I haven't reached my limits.' That is how Dad is. That is how challenges prepare us - we lose some battles, but most of us get back out to fight the war, to persevere, and to prove to ourselves, and everyone around us, that we aren't weak and we aren't giving in.
When we were at Grandma's burial, on a lovely day, in Santa Rosa, there were just a few of us - 15 maybe - gathered at the gravesite where her ashes were to be buried alongside Grandpa. I was a wreck, and I sat and held Dad's hand. He tapped me and pointed to a headstone about 25 yards away. All it said, in big letters, was 'Attitude is Everything'. And he said, 'See? Attitude IS everything.' That is how Dad is.
Life is uncertain, and we never know how long we are going to get to be with the people we love. I am leaving next Friday trusting that I will see my dad again. Of course, I never know for sure. But I have to leave thinking that I can do this, I can face this challenge - he has to too, and we will march forward, for as long as we can. And to this, and the other challenges I have faced and will face in the future, I say, 'I am good enough to succeed at this.'
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