A race schedule and a rebuilding year

Look over there to the right. Do you see that new list? The list of races I'll be walking this year? It may not include a sprint triathlon or the half marathon I'd hoped to walk, but it's not a bad little list, full of 5Ks and 10Ks in the months when San Francisco is at its most beautiful.

It's far from what I'd hoped for out of this year, but I'll make it work. My return to the pool has been slowed by continued discomfort in my spleen when I reach my hands above my head, but I've been able to walk each day, probably averaging a mile or so. I'm still sore and my cardio capacity is nil, but I'm feeling surprisingly better this last week.

I've been resting a lot, sleeping better at night, and enjoying a little sunshine each day. I think I'm really on the road to recovery.

One last gasp of normalcy

In December, the weekend before dad died, my mother threw me out of her house.

Maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but she did insist I leave NY and head to Washington, D.C. I'd been planning to visit my sister, and nobody wanted me to cancel the trip.

(Updated to include that the first sentence up there made my mom mad. That wasn't at all my intention. This weekend was a tremendous gift, and I'm sorry that I couldn't give her anything equaling it in return.)

I started the day not really wanting to leave my parents' house. I was pretty convinced my dad wouldn't live through the weekend, and I wanted to stay close to home. But leaving was the best thing I could have done for myself. And that weekend was tons of fun. I've come to consider it the last weekend of normal, before chaos took the reigns of our lives. I don't know if my mom knew the gift she was giving me that morning when she insisted I leave the house, but I'm incredibly grateful.

I got into DC and met my sister at her job. I met her new friends, saw her cool house, and caught up with old friends. We went to parties and pub nights.


We visited our college haunts. And yes, I always made it to Mass on Sunday night, no matter what the rest of the weekend entailed.


We saw the National Christmas Tree


We walked until we were numb with cold on the National Mall
We had fun. And as we drove along the New Jersey Turnpike on our way home that Monday morning, mom called to let us know we would be moving dad into hospice that day.

I wasn't sure I could have fun like this again. Tahoe proved me wrong, and has me looking forward to a return to normalcy someday. Or maybe just a redefinition of normalcy. But I think I can be OK with that.

There atop a red-roofed building

In December, while visiting my sister, we made visits to our college campuses in Washington, D.C. Here's the main classroom and dorm building on my little campus. So pretty.

The road to recovery may be uphill, but at least the view is nice

A few weeks ago, my doctor cleared me to walk again. Her recommendation was half a mile a day. I started slowly, walking four blocks up the street and then home again. I've been really tired at the end of the day and it's hard to be motivated to get off the couch. But today I felt good. And the sun was shining. And I walked 1.1 miles. And a lot of that was up the hill from my apartment to the university campus in my neighborhood. I stood briefly at the top of the hill to admire the view. I could see the spires of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Marin Headlands. It was beautiful.

This was a very slow mile. And it involved a stop at the grocery store for dinner. But it felt really good. So good that I could have walked further, but I didn't want to take any risks. After the walk I stretched a little. That didn't feel too good. My calves and hamstrings are really tight, and my back is getting sore from all the sitting. But today was huge progress, and I'm very happy with it.

2009 may be a rebuilding year, but it has potential. This weekend, I hope to get back in the pool for a few minutes. My goal is to be able to swim three laps on Saturday if I'm feeling well. By the end of April, I hope to be able to walk 1.5 miles at slow race pace. Ideally, I'd like to be able to enter a few races at the end of the year, but I'm not sending in any registration fees just yet. Right now I'm just hoping to be able to walk the same 1.1 miles tomorrow.

Momentarily Very Awkward

I met friends at happy hour on Friday night - which means I drink way too many Cokes and get a little strung out on caffeine while they relax over glasses of wine and really good beer. And then I leave before they've really started their evening. It's not ideal, but right now it's the best I can do.

The organizer of this event always sends out her emails without including the addresses of the invitees, so I never know who's coming, but the crowd is always tons of fun.

On Friday we were seated at a table by the door, and about half an hour into the evening, I looked up to see this guy. Remember him? The guy I met at Oktoberfest and went out with once? That evening was so uncomfortable that it forced me to break my no-blogging-about-dating rule. Twice. I tried to keep my cool as he stared at me for a second before our hostess made a round of introductions and I could pick up the conversation I was having with some new friends.

I learned a few things from bits of conversation going around the table that night, including that Mr. Oktoberfest is now without a job. I wonder if he's still boasting about his portfolio. I should have asked the girl he came with.

I went to the lake and then kind of disappeared for awhile

I did indeed make it safely home from Tahoe last weekend, with lots of fun stories to tell. I also discovered that a week in the woods (or at least much closer to nature than I've been in awhile) was really wonderful for clearing my head. How I managed to do that in a house crammed with nine people I'm not sure. But the late night conversations and half-awake breakfast chatter and a little walk around the lake were wonderful.

I've spent a lot of time the past week thinking about things, and as a result will be taking some additional medical leave, because working fulltime isn't helping me get well. So I'll have some time off starting late next week, and I'm so relieved to have finally come to this decision after weeks of uncertainty.

But Tahoe wasn't all about deep thought. I walked! For about an hour! around the lake! That's more physical activity than I've been able to do in months, and it was terrific. And I got to talk to some friends and catch up with people I haven't seen since November and enjoyed an ultimate '80s dance party - even though I don't have the cardio capacity to dance yet.

I felt normal last weekend; I joked and laughed and wasn't the girl whose dad just died, and I wasn't so sick that I couldn't have a little fun. And though fleeting, those moments of normalcy were awesome.

And the lake? It was just so beautiful. I've never seen a beach covered in snow before, and the lake surrounded by the mountains was awe inspiring. Here are some views from the beach in South Lake Tahoe. The whole set is on flickr.

On the beach in the snow

South Lake Tahoe, March 14, 2009. I've never been on the beach in the snow before. It was beautiful.

Shouldn't my tears be green today?

I wanted to talk about happy things today. I wanted to share stories of my fantastic weekend in Tahoe and post pretty pictures, and be happy today. But today was a truly shitty day. Things at work are really bad right now, I feel pretty lousy this week, and today is St. Patrick's Day. And I miss my dad so much I can't breathe through the hurt.

I saw this guy walking down the street this afternoon wearing a blue tie with green shamrocks on it. My dad must have had a dozen of those ties over the years. I'm pretty sure some of them even played music if you pressed the button in the center of the tie. They went well with his collection of shamrock lapel pins and the Irish legislator souvenirs he acquired at an annual dinner he attended at the state capitol.

So I saw this guy walking down the street and I started to cry. And I've been sobbing on and off since. And then, at the end of choir rehearsal, a friend gave me a shamrock necklace - one of those shiny plastic ones handed out at parades and in bars this week each year. I don't remember how she first got it, or why she'd intended to give it to me, though we first talked about it months ago. But I left the church wearing a shiny, green shamrock necklace that looks like a lei. And I told her about my dad and the ties and how much I miss him right now. And I think tonight, in a very small way, I made a full circle - from the church of my childhood where dad conducted the choir and we sat in the choir loft; where he wore he shamrock ties to the annual St. Patrick's/St. Joseph's day celebration - to my parish and my choir and the shamrock lei that is now hanging in my kitchen.

A dog by any other name.... is nameless

My mom needs some help from the internet, please. She just adopted a Jack Russell Terrier puppy. She's an adorable little girl, but she needs a name. You can see photos and leave suggestions with my sister. Your help is greatly appreciated.

Road trip, snow trip

These are my bootprints in the snow in New York. Snow in New York is miserable, mostly because it requires lots of shoveling. Snow in Tahoe is supposed to be miraculously wonderful. It's supposed to glisten in the sunshine and hide rainbows and leprechauns and all sorts of wonder. And even if it's slushy and grey and gross, I won't have to shovel it.

I'm off soon, and hoping we make it up to South Lake before becoming like the Donners. If you don't hear from me by Tuesday, please send help.

This is mortifying, but since you asked....

I did indeed wear a surgical mask on my flight from San Francisco to Orange County. It was uncomfortable and I looked ridiculous. And it did not leave me with much hoped for space int the seats next to me. I refuse to get on a plane again until I can fly mask-free, which by my calculations will be sometime this Fall. In the meantime, road trip anyone?

Hours of labor and decades of parenting and all she got was this lousy blog post

Today is my mom's birthday. Last year at this time my wish for her was for a better year than the one before. Yeah, well, I was off the mark on that one. Perhaps the only good thing to come out of last year was the Wii we bought her for her birthday.

Since things can't get any worse, maybe you could all just stop by for birthday wishes - maybe with cake - and buy her a drink. A really strong one.

Happy birthday mom!

Let's start at the very beginning

At my doctor's appointment on Monday, my doctor cleared me to start walking again. A half mile a day. I started my new workout plan yesterday. I walk a half mile (plus two blocks because I like the hill a block up from my turnaround point) and then I return home to stretch. Next week, I plan to head back to the gym to use the hot tub. My muscles really need it.

My last workout, on Christmas day, involved a walk (about 6 miles) through the snow, 20 minutes of core work, and some weights. Until December, my workouts routinely included 8 mile bike rides and half-mile swims. Today, it took me about 15 minutes to walk a half mile. My slow race pace is 15 minutes per mile. I am definitely starting from scratch. I'm trying not to be frustrated, but rather to look at the positives: I can walk without pain or any of the dizziness that plagued me for weeks while I was sick. My quads no longer quiver after more than 5 minutes of use. I can stretch out some very stiff and sore muscles. My slow return to working out is probably very good for my left foot, which still has occasional plantar faciitis soreness.

On the down side, I have lost all of my cardio function, and I get short of breath every time I have to climb a hill. And living in San Francisco, I am always walking up hill. But that will come back. I hope to be back in the pool in about a month. Biking is still questionable until my spleen is fully healed, and that could be several more months. So my quest to compete in a triathlon will have to wait until next year. And I've given up my registration for a half marathon in July. But there area few late-season races on my calendar. If I can walk a half mile now, I'm on target to be able to walk a 5 or 7 K race by October. And really, Fall is the best time to be outside in this city.

Somewhere above the coast of California

I rarely sit in the window seat on a plane, because I'm usually traveling across the country and I need to get up often. But last weekend I was in the window seat on the trip to Southern California, and as soon as the clouds and Northern CA fog cleared, the view was spectacular.


A little overcast, but beautiful even with the clouds.

Miles of coastline stretched out before us as we flew along the water between San Francisco and Santa Ana.

There's still some snow on the mountains under the wing. I am so lucky to live here.

Photo Thursday on Friday

I bought a new hat today. I'd had my eye on the hat vendor on Sansome St. for weeks, because I like the watchman's cap look. But today they finally had something in an attractive green. For the days when my winter hat is too much and a baseball cap just won't do.

Here's a closer look.

Because I've been crying for the last nine months

Some days, as I consider the events of the last nine months, I wonder what I'll have to do to change the tide. Will I have to host a birthday party exactly like last year's in order to reverse the bad fortune? Will I wake up on May 9 and discover that the universe, which has been so out of whack, has automatically realigned a year after all this insanity began?

Today was a rough day, and I spent entirely too much time alone. And alone time leads to thinking. And thinking leads to brooding, which invariably leads to some tears. My family has been in mourning for the last nine months. We've spent almost a year dealing with the emotions and the practicalities and the details of death. And we're far from finished. And while in previous centuries or in other cultures, there are traditions in place to identify mourners as separate from the rest of the world during their time of grief, we don't have that luxury.

I don't look any different. I don't sound any different. I'm not wearing a black veil or an armband or participating in a daily prayer service in remembrance of my dad or grandma. I haven't been allowed to build a shrine or light a funeral pyre or do any of the things that might signify that this is a really hard time, and maybe the world could try to lighten up a little on me.

I've been reading about the history of mourning practices lately, and I really think the absence of any visual cue to set the grieving apart from the rest of society does us a significant disservice. I'm not saying I need a Victorian era black crepe dress and veil, or even an armband like those worn by professional athletes to mark the passing of a teammate. I would probably like something similar to the Jewish daily prayer ritual of Kaddish, said every day for 11 months following the death of a loved one. But I have neither the fortitude nor the energy to get to daily Mass early every morning. I'm not yet well enough to get out of bed for work in the mornings. And even that ritual wouldn't be about my dad, or my grandma, or my loss.

I really need something that's mine. And I'm not sure how to find it.