Bonk

A week ago was SPRING BREAK (!).

I'm a teacher.  From now until the end of July, when I will get ten days off, it's quite a long haul. Before then we have report cards to complete, graduation, summer school and cleaning out my now-cluttered cubicle. My Felix Unger days left me after I had my third child. I gave up. Over the course of the school year the "I'll get to that eventually" pile has grown to be 8 inches tall. This summer,  I'll clear it out once more and come back after a week and a half off to begin again in the fall.

But a week ago, it was SPRING BREAK (!)

I was really looking forward to it this year. My youngest daughter would get her wisdom teeth pulled and though that procedure is never pleasant, I was looking forward to a little one-on-one time with her. Then half-way into the week I would depart for a bike tour along the Big Sur Coast of California, joining a group of friends. My daughter would be visiting her narrowed-down college choices with her dad for some special daddy/daughter time. She'd be in good hands. Her brother would be at San Diego State studying away and her older sister would be assisting in the the delivery of more babies in her newly minted career.

All was right in the world. The stars were aligned. There was that one glitch that the weather forecast called for rain, rain and more rain. Still, it would be an adventure this mom was ready to embark upon.  Have Gortex? Will bike anyway, was my motto.

That is...until my youngest's extractions led to an infection and daily visits to the oral surgeon. Again. And again. And yet again. Morning and (sometimes) night. My poor daughter. Not only was she in excruciating pain, she did not get to visit her schools and many of her friends were on family vacations together. I'm going to spare you any more details, but let me say this: my daughter is one tough cookie.
Let's suffice it to say it was not fun.

*Sigh*

She got through it, and so did I.

For the last weekend she ended up going to her dad's house to finish recuperating.

I decided to go ahead and join my biking posse of three.

Our plan went loosely like this: I would drive to Peiffer Big Sur State Park and park my car at a campsite I secured online. I'd then hop on my bike and head down the coast's Cabrillo Hwy. Eventually I'd run into them and head back to camp. They would be coming over from the other side of Nacimiento-Ferguson Rd. We guessed I'd ride about twenty miles to catch them, if not earlier.

Altogether I figured I'd be riding about 40 miles which is not a long ride for me. I had ridden to the Junction on Mt. Diablo the night before but it was at a leisurely pace. Plus, I'd relaxed at home all weekend with my daughter with a few early morning runs. I was physically refreshed and ready to ride.

I was SO excited. There was a break in the weather and it looked GLORIOUS that day.  I parked my car and quickly changed into my biking attire. Deciding what to wear was tricky because it was cool and brisk outside with the tease of sunny skies sprinkled with a splattering of gray clouds. It was also a little windy. I settled upon biking shorts, leg sleeves, a long sleeved shirt, a windbreaker vest and a fleece light-weight jacket over it. Normally I get very hot while bike riding but the air was still quite nippy. I pumped air in my tires. I made sure I had two water bottles, grabbed some Cliff Shot Blocks, a protein bar, my phone, car keys and sunglasses and I was good to go. I opted to not drink energy drink this once, I had other calories on board so it wasn't a big deal, right?

I headed up the hill and out of the campground. As I passed a bakery at the beginning, the thought crossed my mind that my bento box, or little carrier,  had no money in it. I ALWAYS carry money for emergencies but because my bike was on the back of my Jeep Liberty on the way down, I had emptied its contents.

No matter, it was not that difficult of a ride and not that far of a distance. I had an extra tube in case of a flat and I had plenty of water and fuel. Or so I thought.

The ride down the Coast was very beautiful. In fact, I stopped to take a few photographs. I was thinking how great it would be to take my son camping, borrow a bike, and go this exact route this summer. What wasn't to love about it? Easy pease-y.

I had worn my Garmin, which keeps track of mileage, how far and how fast, as well as approximately how many calories are being burned.

For breakfast, I have a confession to make. I stopped and ate something that was fattening, loaded in carbs but since I had planned to be riding, and this was my "big" vacation day, decided why not? I ate a sausage and egg biscuit. From (are you ready for this?) McDonald's (don't judge). I knew I would burn it off. No problem. Even if this wasn't a speed race, because my friends were traveling with all of their gear: clothes, food, cameras, tent, etc. I knew biking this distance would still burn calories. This carbo-laden breakfast would propel me forward.

I rode and I rode. No sign of the boys; Rick, Eric or Gary. No worries. I continued along the beautiful ocean's coast.  I pedaled for 28 miles. I stopped at the Kirk Creek Campground, just at the base of the  Nacimiento-Ferguson Rd, yet there was still no sign of the guys.

I decided to go to the restroom. I added more water in my bottles. I relaxed in the grass alongside the freeway, keeping my oh-so-goofy-looking helmet on, to keep me warm. And my bike gloves. I zipped my vest and fleece jacket up to my chin and lay back, looking up at the cumulous clouds floating by. One by one. It was so relaxing. I felt at peace. My mind was calm. I was on vacation. All was right in the world.

Time was ticking away. 15 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes. Now it was getting quite late. I was relaxed but began to think maybe something had happened to the guys and it would begin to get dark. I didn't bring my headlamp or bike light. I had no money. I'd polished off the rest of my energy bar and Shot Blocks and realized I only had one small sample bag of Sports Beans. I started adding the calories I'd eaten or brought on my bike and it only totaled about 400. Uh oh. I was beginning to realize I might need to turn back and could not count on the guys to throw me an extra snack or bar. I was really on my own now. I needed to think.

What to do?

I had no choice. There was no cell phone reception and even if something had happened to them my only hope of hearing it would be back at the camp, 28 miles away. With at most, 100 calories to carry me forward. And now nearly four hours had passed because I'd been lying in the grass and stopped to take photos on the way down.

I got on my bike and headed back.

THIS time there was a strong headwind. I was pedaling, pedaling and pedaling and not moving very quickly. I was beginning to feel like a fish swimming upstream. Or like I was slogging through Jell-o while cars whizzed by me. There was not much wiggle room riding UP the coast, no shoulder, just sandy hillsides.

I began to play the mind games you learn when you train to run a marathon. It goes something like this: I'm already half-way home. I have already biked 28 miles, I only have 28 to go. Soon I will have less than half-way. In time, I will only have 20 miles to go. There are only 16 miles left. 10 miles is not so far, that's a short ride to downtown and back, if I were at home.

Meanwhile, my body had already consumed every calorie I've carried. I'd gone beyond the shaky hungry feeling. But my mind was intact enough to know I only had about 8 miles to go. I started to watch the time, and was very aware that staying to the side of the road was getting more challenging.

I was starting to lose it. I had six miles to go, I'd ridden only 50 miles but because of the headwind I had travelled very slowly. I had been outside in the cold, the sun and the wind for over six hours. I felt wobbly. I was not in good shape riding along the highway.

My brain was fuzzy. I started thinking about death. My thinking went like this: I've lived a good life. I just had a week with my youngest daughter. This fall I had time with both my son and oldest daughter. They all know I love them. My mom does too. So do my siblings, nephews and nieces. My friends. I'm okay with dying.

My bike? Normally my bike is one of my most prized possessions. I love it. Other than my kids, I would save it if a fire threatened my home. But not now. It took every ounce of my internal fortitude not to shuck the damn thing to the side of the road.

Camping and biking this summer with my son? Forget about it. I now would have loathed the idea, if I had the energy.

Biking? I was thinking that I hated it. I was SO over it.

With only four miles left to go, I got off my bike. My reasoning was that I have a route near my house that I run a few times each week with a friend, exactly 4.4 miles. If I can do that, or if I can complete  a marathon, than surely I can walk up the friggin' big hill in front of me. Heck, I can crawl back to camp if I have to. If I die, I die trying. I do not care. I am so fuzzy-brained I feel like I'm nearly delirious.

I walk maybe 1/2 mile up a big steep hill. Barely. It and I are both ugly.

With about 3-1/2 miles to go I somehow convince myself to get back on my bike. I slowly pedal up and down the remaining hills headed to the campground.

I see it at last. I do not even feel relief. I am numb. I still have about 3/4 of a mile to get to my car.
I pedal down and around to the lot where I'd left it. I cannot even cry with relief. I am only thinking of survival right now. It is no easy task to get off my bike and locate the key and open my car. I can barely function. I open up the back of my Liberty and I consume:

an entire package of Cliff Shot blocks, maybe two, I was so fuzzy I can't recall
two Cliff bars
an apple
a giant bottle of water

And then I begin to shake. I'm now cold but it's more in sync with the reaction I had after just given birth to a child. I know, I've done that three times nearly a lifetime ago.

I continue to shake.

My brain's functioning slowly returns. I realize my three friends are still out there riding. I need to make my way into my car and go try to find them.

I feel safe enough to drive and about 13 miles out I see the first rider. He is relieved to see me as he too, has begun to bonk. As have the others. I give them some fuel, load up all their pannier bags in my car and take one of them back to a store to purchase a few dinner supplies and then back to camp with me.

That night we ate grilled salmon, pasta and vegetables followed by a giant slice of berry pie and a few Red Vines too. I got to hear all about their previous four days of biking. We laughed, drank wine and we had a roaring fire that burned past midnight. It was a perfect ending to an imperfect day.

I slept soundly in my one-woman tent, despite the uneven surface underneath.

The next day I chose NOT to ride. I packed up my gear and headed home to make it back in time for a friend's baby shower. And a nice relaxing movie.

However, as I was driving home alone,  I recounted all the lessons I had learned this past weekend related to bike riding:

1. Carry more calories than needed. Always. Without exception.
2. Bring money. Always. Without exception.
3. Drink water before. During. And after. Without exception.
4. Wear layers, bring more than you think you'll need so you can peel off layers, as needed. Always.            
    Without exception.
5. Bring lights in case it gets dark.
6. Carry extra tubes if your tire goes flat and at least have a general knowledge of how to change it
    when, not if, the time comes.
7. Wear sunscreen. Bring a little extra to reapply. Don't forget your glasses to protect your eyes.

If I were to "score" myself I would receive only 4 out of  7 points. For me? I only fail if I make this mistake again. I was very lucky. Others have not been and made these very same mistakes while hiking, biking or running and it has cost them their lives.

To bonk or not to bonk, that is the question?

I now have the answer.

My answer is to never bonk again.

A New Kind Of Normal

My mom uttered the words to someone on the phone as I stood nearby, “We’re all getting used to a new kind of normal” regarding the death of my father a few years ago. I found them to ring true then, and over and over again.

Just last week my children were all home visiting and I had a quiet moment alone baking cheesecake for my daughter’s birthday. I had music playing and the realization hit me suddenly. One child has a career in Cleveland, one is away at college, another is about ready to launch from the nest next fall and I’ll be alone. I thought to myself I should call my dad or talk with him about it when he comes over later for the party. Then it hit me: he’s not alive. I can’t. And so I started to cry softly. After a little while, I wiped my tears and decided to move into the celebratory side of the day.

I’ve come to realize that grief comes in waves. My sister’s good friend, whom had lost a daughter to leukemia was incredibly strong and said she chose to face it head on, much like facing waves at the ocean’s side. There are times when they are overwhelming and crash into her full force but she could see them coming. In time, they recede and there is a time of rest between the waves of grief. Her analogy was that if she turned her back and did not see them they could crash into you and take you tumbling downward. She chose the former.

About three weeks ago my friend Lanny Edwards was in Hawaii with Jen Handy. They had a wonderful trip until Jen had a ruptured brain aneurysm. She was flown to another island, put into a medically induced coma in hopes of saving her life. Lanny mentioned that in the last moments of life, dying, she gave a gift to her family. You see, her dad had a horrible decision that no parent should ever have to make. In the end, he did not have to do it. After a very long fight, Jen Handy died on February 15, 2012.

       Here are some more thoughts from Lanny about Jen that I've summarized:

        She was most proud of her family, this included an entire host of people and at the head was her father, Dave Handy, whom he adopted when he married her biological mother, Letha. Later Jen’s family grew to include a second mother named Ronda who gave her a sister and two baby brothers. Jen adored her four nieces and  a very special cousin/goddaughter, Aspen.

        Jen was a wine connoisseur.

        She had a great work ethic and was employed at Safeway's corporate offices as a Director of Pricing. She was amazing with numbers and spreadsheets.

        She was a loyal St. Louis Cardinals fan.

        She was also a fan of the UFC and of Urijah Faber, known as the California Kid.

        Jen was a beautiful woman.

I did not personally know Jen. I don’t know her family. I can’t even imagine how hard it is to lose a daughter. My friend Elaine says there is nothing worse. I cannot pretend to know…

I do know that grief is very real. It comes in waves. I know it feels unbearable and unrelenting and never-ending. I know that the bystanders want to help but can only stand there watching as those who battle the grief are in the midst of it. And we can whisper words of love and concern and support as a new kind of normal without your loved one comes to fruition.

So from Lanny’s pen, to your eyes, Jen Handy’s family, you are not alone. We celebrate your daughter/sister/friend’s life. We are sorry she has left us and know she will be missed greatly.

Note: For those of you who have read previous blog postings I am doing the Escape From Alctraz Triathlon in memory of Anamarie Neveau on June 10th for TeamCindy.  It is an organization raising money for The Brain Aneurysm Foundation. If you would like to donate, please go to here.

Falking

Facebook + stalking = falking

Admit it.

You've done it. You've seen your kids do it. Your friends admit to it. Hip grandmas and grandpas do it. Grandchildren do to.

You have, on more than one occasion gotten caught up in the time-sucking pastime of "falking." That is, you have gone on Facebook and perused the pages aimlessly. Or perhaps even purposely. Maybe it's to  catch up on a high school friend's life. Or you have been lucky enough to be "friended" by your child and are permitted to take a peek every once in a while. Or you are quite possibly bored. Or  you've heard horrible news and gone home to log on and read about it yourself.

Just to be clear. This is to be used in only the friendliest of terms. No harm. No foul.

The first person I heard use the word, "falking" was my daughter Shelby. I laughed out loud. Now I use it all the time. And my friends do too.

I think we should begin a campaign to have dictionaries define and include it within their spines.  We can then use it without abandon.

Think about it. It's a good word.

Falking.

The Waiting Game

Lanny Edwards and Jen Handy in Kaui

Today I sit here and quite simply and humbly don't know how to write this entry. You see, I've been working toward the goal of spreading awareness of The Brain Aneurysm Foundation's organization. I'm raising money for TeamCindy by completing the Escape From Alcatraz triathlon in four months. I'm doing it as a way to acknowledge the legacy my friend and fellow mom, Anamarie Neveau left behind nearly five years ago. I've now learned about Cindy Sherwin, a vibrant young woman who was training for an Ironman and died from a brain aneurysm during that time period too. I've become aware of her mom, writing a book called Dear Cindy, I Love You  and forming TeamCindy as a way of dealing with her anger and grief and the unfairness of it all. I've learned about a woman on the Forward Motion Race Club, Tiffany, who literally is a running miracle. She had a brain aneurysm and survived. She runs. Fast. Very.

But about two weeks ago, another teammate, Lanny Edwards, was in Kauai with his friend, Jen Handy. They had a lovely dinner and were back relaxing after a long day. Jen had just downloaded photos of their adventures onto Facebook. She climbed into bed and began to feel sick. Nauseated. She did not have the typical killer headache. In fact, I have learned if you have the worse headache of your life, go to the hospital right away. Doing so can quite literally save your life.

For Jen, she did not have a headache. But in the early morning hours she experienced a ruptured brain aneurysm. Lanny found her and immediately called for help. She was flown by helicopter to Honolulu  and put into a medically induced coma. She had had two angioplasties in the arteries near her brain stem. It has been nearly two weeks of waiting. As each day ticks by her chances for recovery are not good.

Family has flown to be with her. Her stepdad, a devoted father, is asking for word to get out and for our prayers.

Now we wait.

If you would like to donate to the Brain Aneurysm Foundation please go to here:

Hope

I had just finished a very difficult ten miles,  I think I was overheated!

Many of my friends know I like to write and with the encouragement of my former boss I began to blog for a local city where I teach, as well as my own site. I have learned over the years that I sometimes struggle what to write when it involves those that I love or care about.

Case in point: For a significant part of my teaching career I had the most amazing teacher's aide. Her name was Linda Banwell. I met her when my eldest daughter Morgan was in kindergarten. Morgan was an energetic creative kindergartner and Linda embraced my daughter into the world of formal education in a way that was loving, accepting and encouraging. The next year I was added into her fold as well as I ended up team teaching and Linda became my teacher's aide too. Throughout the years Linda worked alongside me as I taught kindergarten, second, third and fifth grade. She grew to know and love all three of my children and was a huge support as my youngest daughter was diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes. Throughout my day I would have to momentarily stop, prick her little seven year old finger, measure the insulin, and administer her shot. This occurred on a daily basis at least three times during the school day, more if her blood sugars were abnormally high. Linda would keep the students in the classroom on task during these short pauses. She was with me soon after I had returned to school after an ablation procedure for my heart. I was afraid to take time off as I was a new teacher and did not want to miss school (dumb, I realize now, I know). She was with me as I began the painful process of divorce about ten years later. During this time period I chose to ignore the divorce factor while enclosed within the four walls of my classroom which became my educational safe-haven. I could be a teacher first and forget about the unpleasantness and painful process while concentrating on the curriculum, children and my grade-level team's responsibilities. She was with me for the better part of my career at Vista Grande Elementary School in Danville. When Linda retired, I was asked to speak. Normally I relish such a task.

How was my talk about Linda? I'd say I choked. I could not put into words how truly wonderful and amazing and bright and talented this woman was to me and for all of the hundreds of children she worked with over the years. I feel I failed.

Describing the second week of training for the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon and raising monies for The Brain Aneurysm Foundation's TeamCindy has also proven to be especially difficult.

Why?

It's because something terrible has occurred. Sadly, this week, the devastation of a ruptured brain aneurysm has struck again. I won't give any further details at this time as it is not my story to tell. However, I will say this, 1 in 50 people experience brain aneurysms. From there, the statistics are grim.

But there is hope and there are miracles. In fact, one such person is a member of my race club. She is a (running) miracle. She is, to me, amazing.

A weekend trail run!

And there is more good to describe. In a little over two weeks, we have raised $2,640, nearly 25% toward our collective goal to raise $10,000. I am both touched and amazed at the generosity of people. There are many members of Anamarie Neveau's family on the list of donors. It is a testimony to their love for Anamarie and her story and her legacy. There are members of the Forward Motion Race Club, my running coach, my friends and family and people and companies I do not even know.  I've received notes and comments on the San Ramon Patch blog, my Facebook page, the fundraising site and personal emails. The support has been overwhelming. Many of the donors have friends or family members who have died or suffered from having a brain aneurysm.

As far as my training, it's been spotty.  I have gotten a good start, though the swimming won't begin until this weekend or next Monday. I've struggled through a few of my runs and bike rides but overall I can't complain. I feel, as my friend has said, running is a privilege. I would add bicycling and swimming to that list too. Especially when I think of Anamarie Neveau. And Cindy Sherwin, of TeamCindy .

Anamarie

Cindy Sherwin was an amazing woman by all accounts (Link to Cindy's story here). She was a triathlete who died from a ruptured brain aneurysm nearly five years ago while riding her bike. As a way of dealing with her grief and to raise money for The Brain Aneurysm Foundation, Cindy's mother, Elaine Roberts Schaller, helped found Team Cindy.  Several events are held throughout the year while athletes compete and raise money to spread awareness, support and research funding to reduce brain aneurysm ruptures.

TeamCindy

This past week I also read Elaine Roberts Schaller's book entitled, "Dear Cindy, Love Mom" (link for the book). It is a book filled with letters that Elaine wrote to her daughter after her death. I found this book to be a source of comfort and think it would be a good resource for anyone dealing with loss or grief. I found Elaine's vulnerability of both her agony and grief heroic, though I imagine she would cringe at that statement. Her fight to try to do good for others through her work with the BAF and TeamCindy, her book and more, is inspiring.

This week, I am hoping for another miracle. Though the person's name is not mentioned, the hope is very real. And there are a lot of other people hoping and praying for a miracle too.

If you would like to donate please go to: BAFTeamCindyKathyDillingham

Escape From Alcatraz Training: Week #1

Escape From Alcatraz Weekly Training Recap

Week #1
Tuesday-It was a cold start, by California standards.

Wednesday-I rode my bike up Mt. Diablo for about an hour and witnessed a beautiful sunset.

Thursday-I ran 4 miles in the early morning and witnessed a beautiful sunrise.

Friday-"off" My daughter had a "slumber" party with 7 high school seniors who were up until 4am. I gave up and worked on report cards in my bedroom until 1am.

Saturday-I ran 8 miles with my running partner while wearing a headlamp so we could see. It was 7:30pm and 42 degrees (perfect!).

Sunday-A group of us from Forward Motion went for the Sunday bike ride, the rain started pouring so we had to turn around after 20 miles. I was cold, wet and had mud on my face. I thought the man at Peets Coffee was mesmerized with my recounting of the ride. It was only the dirt.

Monday-"off" I had a teacher work day, more report cards!

Fundraising Totals: $1,540

I also heard from Cindy Sherwin's mom, Elaine Schaller. I am touched.
---------------------------------
Together we can make a difference.

Please donate.

To donate or learn more about  The Brain Aneurysm Foundation please go to this link:

http://bafound.donorpages.com/TeamCindy2012/KathleenDillingham/

Anamarie Neveau

Anamarie. When I think of Anamarie I can’t help but think of her famous effervescent smile.  It was beautiful and so was she.

I first met Anamarie on the sidelines of a soccer or lacrosse game. I had heard nice things about her as our husbands worked together at the same large fire department. We were at a point in our lives where the children were too big to be hanging out at the firehouse with their dads for dinner or visiting Santa at Christmas therefor we had not met one another yet. Instead, we had five children between our two families and loads of their many activities to occupy our time. I looked forward to the upcoming sports’ seasons and getting to know she, her husband and children better. 

                        

What did I learn? Though she had beautiful brown hair and skin she was a shade-seeker just like myself. She had a mellow persona and had positive energy. She was close with her children. I know this because Whitney, her daughter, hung out on the sidelines to cheer for her brother on a consistent basis. I’m sorry, unless you have a particularly close bond with your children, no teenager is hanging out with mom on a Saturday afternoon. And again on Sunday. In the heat, no less.

I also know family was important because her son spoke highly of his mom and allowed her to joke and tease him and cheer for him on the sidelines. She would wear her big straw hat and sunglasses and cheer for that boy like no one’s business. And when he had problems with his leg she was there on the sidelines, supporting him while he was standing alongside the players with his crutches. And her husband would stroll in just as the game was starting as he’d been off doing his thing. She’d smile and greet him warmly. Their marriage was one that projected goodness. And I know family was important because there was talk of cousins and dinners and parties. Lots of them.

Anamarie was kind-hearted too. And generous. She was a reliable carpool mom as we carted our boys to and from practices. And she was a mean holiday cookie baker as my stomach well remembers. She was caring. I know this because she’d met my parents over the years. As my dad battled cancer Anamarie would chat and visit and make them feel welcome. The last game my dad attended due to his worsening cancer, she sat with us the entire time. Whenever I saw her after that the first thing out of her mouth was, “How’s your dad doing?” In return, she had made an impression on my parents and they would always ask about her.                

Just before Father’s day nearly five years ago Anamarie left us all too soon because of a ruptured brain aneurysm. It was very unexpected and shocked her family, co-workers, the fire department, soccer and lacrosse teams, the local school and neighborhood families and more. I remember having to call my parents and tell them. My dad moaned when he heard and my mom was grieved. The death of our lovely beautiful Anamarie was cruel. Everyone agreed.

Nearly five years ago, another young vibrant woman, Cindy Sherwin, was training for an Ironman race. While biking she suddenly suffered from a ruptured brain aneurysm and died.  The “Team Cindy” organization was formed in her memory.

When I learned of the opportunity to participate in the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon for “Team Cindy,” raising money for The Brain Aneurysm Foundation I read about Cindy and immediately thought of Anamarie. I knew right away I wanted to participate.  I wanted to raise money and awareness for the only nonprofit organization dedicated to providing critical awareness, education, support and research funding to reduce the incidence of brain aneurysm ruptures.

I wanted to make both Cindy’s family, and Anamarie’s family know that maybe lives will be saved with the monies raised.

That is my hope.

Together we can make a difference.

Please donate.

To donate or learn more about  The Brain Aneurysm Foundation please go to this link:

http://bafound.donorpages.com/TeamCindy2012/KathleenDillingham/