Training log for this past week:
Mon - 1/2 mi easy/moderate 3:59, around grass soccer fields.
4 x 100m carioca left, carioca right (8 total drills)
3 sets: 10 forward lunges, 15 calf raises (forward, out, in), 15 hip flexor raises
Tue - same as Mon. Run/Jog was 4:04. Moderate effort both days.
Wed - Off. Achilles mildly sore, mostly from tight leg. Right hamstring, etc tight & pulling on
Thu - track session. 3200m walk curves & jog straights with rolling heel strike.
(1 mi total jogging)
Fri - No running. Same problem - Achilles mildly sore, mostly from tight leg; right hamstring,
etc tight & pulling on Achilles. Stretch, lunges, heel drops. Hamstring & Achilles felt better afterward.
Sat - No running again. Same problem - Achilles mildly sore, mostly from tight leg; right
hamstring, etc tight & pulling on Achilles. Stretch, lunges, calf raises. Hamstring &
Achilles felt better afterward.
Sun - same as Thu. Hamstrings & Achilles felt ok. Quads slightly sore by the afternoon, as if I did light speedwork. The 100m jogs were all between 26-30 sec, so not really 'fast' but slightly faster than anything I've done so far.
Total: 4 miles for the week.
Training log for this past week:
Sub-8 Mile wrote:
Gonna revise my approach and step it down a little.
Here's my revised, again-scaled-back, plan. The idea is to build strength, and to allow that hamstring/Achilles to resolve, before increasing mileage or intensity. 4 mi/week with 'harder' days spaced out between non-running 'strength' days. Only Sun-Mon easy/moderate jog/walk will be consecutive running days.
Mon: 2 mi in-and-out 100's, jog/walk. (1 mi total jogging). Rolling heel strike to go easy on Achilles, and to force all weakened muscles & connective tissues to activate.
Tue: Lunges, heel drops, core, upper body
Wed: 1/2 mi easy/moderate (currently 8-min pace), 8 x 100m carioca drills
Thu: Lunges, heel drops, core, upper body
Fri: 1/2 mi easy/moderate (currently 8-min pace), 8 x 100m carioca drills
Sat: Lunges, heel drops, core, upper body
Sun: 2 mi in-and-out 100's, jog/walk. (1 mi total jogging). Rolling heel strike.
Running and Life, or, Running versus Death
Sub-8 Mile's Battle-o-Rama
(maybe this story will, in some way, help someone you know; if so, that's cool. oh, and F Cancer.)
September 20, 2016
I’m at the Well Known Hospital And Medical Research Place, in a wheelchair. My friend, who was kind enough to come along, is sitting near me. It’s 10am; we’ve been here in the waiting area for an hour.
I’m no longer out of breath, resting here in this wheelchair since 9am. I have a vague sense of bodily pain, but I push it down. This isn’t the time. I am here, and I will wait, here in this large open waiting area filled with people whose collective quiet speaks loudly of suffering and anguish.
There’s a mix-up with the appointment. It was set for 9:30, but the doctor -- a top oncologist and a professor of oncology students -- is overbooked. I am waiting for my turn.
They ask if I can come back tomorrow. No, I tell them. As of Thursday, I had hundreds of nodules in my lungs and I barely made it to today. It’s Tuesday, I am here, and I must be seen.
Another hour passes.
We ask the representatives at the desk: What’s going on? When will the doctor be available? Can I see another doctor who is available? Anybody?
No, that doctor is the one I must see. Just wait, they say. He will try to get to me.
Another hour. It’s past noon. My friend is hungry. She wheels me out to the nearby cafe in the lobby. She gets a sandwich; I get a bottle of water and take miniscule sips. My belly is still stuffed from this morning’s 1/3 of half a bagel.
We check back with the desk. The doctor is completely booked for the day, and he knows I’m here. He will do his best to see me, they say.
It looks like I won’t be seen today.
But … I can’t keep holding on. Maybe I can make it another day … maybe. However, I know that I can’t make it for TWO more days.
Painfully crouched in the wheelchair, another hour goes by. Another ... and another. My name is still not called.
I angrily wheel up to the desk -- to no avail. The doctor has many patients today, and every day. Everybody has serious cancer, not just me. The doctor will see me when he can, they say firmly.
Slowly, I wheel back to where my friend is seated, waiting with me all day. We sit with the same quiet, with the same faces, as the other cancer patients and the family & friends who quietly wait with them.
It’s 3:45. Well past desperate, I feel a deep, calm urgency.
I say to my friend, “I have to go do something. I’ll be --“ I give her a significant look “-- right back.”
I stand up. With determination, I stride across the waiting area to the restroom. I step in and lock the door. That’s a risk, with what I’m about to do -- if I lose consciousness, I’ll be locked in here -- but I can’t have anybody walking in on this while I’m doing it.
I grab some paper towels, fold them, and hold them in my left hand. I tell myself: cough into the left, catch myself with the right. Cough left, catch right. And be able to unlock the door and at least partially get out. Don’t pass out. Don’t knock yourself out by falling and hitting your head on the sink. And don’t f***ing drown.
Facing the mirror, I look myself in the eye. I inhale, slowly. OK. Thirty seconds ought to do it. One per second.
Ever do too many 30-second 200’s in a session? That last one is like hell. It’s not so fast that you can’t begin. But then it catches up to you. You’re lucky if you make it.
I am about to drown in lungfuls of my own blood, or not. Slowly, I exhale.
One-two-three-four- rapidfire deep squats -five-six-seven-eight-nine- heart thumps -ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-fourteen- room darkens -fifteen-sixteen-seventeen-eighteen- bathroom spins chest aches nineteen-twenty-twentyone-twentytwo- all I see is my eyes in the mirror the dark room spins wildly I will not stop until - twentythree-twentyfour-twentyfive-twentysix- can’t hear can’t see chest spasms yes twentyseven-twentyeight-twenty-nine-THIRTY don’t hit your head don’t fall everything whirls -
My lungs explode violently. The rubber door, rippling and wobbling, is flung open by my also-rubber right hand. My left hand, with the folded white paper towels, covers my deep wet heaving coughs. Staggering - bright red on the white wild eyed no equilibrium gasping hacking blood -
My friend zooms the wheelchair to me, and the nurse sprints over. I crumple into the chair, coughing red spatters into the paper towel. All eyes turn to the man with blood on his hand, on his shirt, on his mouth. The cancer patients and families look aghast. Is this guy about to die in front of us?
No, I think, dizzily lolling my eyes at them. I’m not going to die right now. Later, maybe, I can’t say. But right now, no. Not yet. Not like this. Not with you looky-loos.
In a few minutes, I’m breathing a little better, and my heart is beating at a more sustainable pace. The nurse admonishes me to stay in the wheelchair. No more walking around.
They wheel me into the doctor’s office.
Training log for this past week (3 mi total)
Mon - 3200m walk curves & jog straights (23-27 sec) with rolling heel strike.
(1 mi jogging). This was a bit faster than yesterday, and at paces ranging from 6:00ish - 7:15 pace, this is the fastest running I've done in years. Accidental "speed" session. Great to be able to do it, but my quads were sore by afternoon and I paid for it later in the week as this plus some really good lunge sessions tired out my legs.
Tue - No running. Lunges (forward, side, angle), calf raises, upper body.
Wed - 1/2 mi easy/moderate @ 4:05, around grass soccer fields. 8 x 100m carioca drills.
Thu - same as Tue.
Fri - Off. Right leg tight, making Achilles stiff & sore. Stretched and Achilles felt better. Also, legs tired from this week's training.
Sat - Off. Right leg & Achilles better, but still tight/sore. Also, legs could use another rest day.
Sun - Grass athletic fields. 2 miles approximating walk 100 / jog 100m (30 sec) with rolling heel strike. Felt great today ... aches & pains, buring feet, etc., but feeling stronger & fitter.
I'm ok with the 2 days off; they were super beneficial (or so I feel) and I made a lot of progress this week. Another few weeks like this will really pay off, I think.
Well done, still reading!
Ghost of Igloi wrote:
I have my two year CT scan next month, and as you know that is a significant hurdle to cross. If clean I get my chemo port removed, and move on to annual monitoring.
Two months prior to my diagnosis I ran a 22:30 5k, in March I did a 24:40 tempo on the track. I was planning to race Carlsbad 5k, but the Covid ended that. So back at the drawing board. I run three times a week, swim twice, walk once, and one day off.
I hope your CT scan has good results. Keep us updated.
Sounds like you are close to your pre-diagnosis fitness. That's an impressive accomplishment. Thanks for posting those details; it helps motivate me (and hopefully anyone else in a similar situation).
F cancer. Keep running.