Training for the Marathon
Don't tell anybody, but I'm gonna run the Rock n' Roll Marathon this year.
The whole thing. I did the half-marathon last year, halfway through chemo, so I figure now that I'm done with all that garbage, I should probably do the whole thing. I need to raise a few thousand bucks for my Team in Training, and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, but that's the easy part.
There are some issues with my training. First, I'm out of shape. I'm only running 4-6 miles a day and crosstraining by playing hockey and skiing. I will need to increase my mileage when I start training for real at the end of this month. And there's this, too: As a result of radiation, I get a weird tingling numbness, down my spine and into my legs, anytime I drop my head. So, if I look down at my shoes when I run, for example, I suddenly go numb and can't feel my legs. The doctors warned me about this. There's a big fancy name for it. I should probably figure out how long this is going to last. So, even though I am three months removed from chemotherapy and radiation treatments, I am still affected by it.
I can't run very fast. Maybe I'll get faster as I start training. I should hope so. But right now, I struggle to make it five miles. That's strange for me. Here's the part where I start completely geeking out. I've run five marathons. My PR is 3:13, which would qualify me for Boston at my advanced age (42), but I made that time when I was 32. I would now need to break 3:20 in order to qualify for Boston. That's about 7:25 mile pace. It's ridiculous to think I could qualify, but honestly, I can't start training for a marathon without thinking about Boston now. It's road racing's Mecca. I vowed long ago that one day Boston will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.
But probably not this time. Like I said, I struggle to make it five miles right now.
I also hurt my arm somehow. Woke up on New Years' Eve morning, and my left arm was just throbbing something awful. 3 different docs say it's bursitis in my shoulder, but I still don't have full range of motion. It's been so painful, until just recently, that I couldn't run much at all. I'm icing it and doing some physical therapy. Clearly, 2009 wanted one more little twist of the knife on me.
So, I'm gonna run the marathon. Who's with me?
The whole thing. I did the half-marathon last year, halfway through chemo, so I figure now that I'm done with all that garbage, I should probably do the whole thing. I need to raise a few thousand bucks for my Team in Training, and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, but that's the easy part.
There are some issues with my training. First, I'm out of shape. I'm only running 4-6 miles a day and crosstraining by playing hockey and skiing. I will need to increase my mileage when I start training for real at the end of this month. And there's this, too: As a result of radiation, I get a weird tingling numbness, down my spine and into my legs, anytime I drop my head. So, if I look down at my shoes when I run, for example, I suddenly go numb and can't feel my legs. The doctors warned me about this. There's a big fancy name for it. I should probably figure out how long this is going to last. So, even though I am three months removed from chemotherapy and radiation treatments, I am still affected by it.
I can't run very fast. Maybe I'll get faster as I start training. I should hope so. But right now, I struggle to make it five miles. That's strange for me. Here's the part where I start completely geeking out. I've run five marathons. My PR is 3:13, which would qualify me for Boston at my advanced age (42), but I made that time when I was 32. I would now need to break 3:20 in order to qualify for Boston. That's about 7:25 mile pace. It's ridiculous to think I could qualify, but honestly, I can't start training for a marathon without thinking about Boston now. It's road racing's Mecca. I vowed long ago that one day Boston will be mine. Oh yes. It will be mine.
But probably not this time. Like I said, I struggle to make it five miles right now.
I also hurt my arm somehow. Woke up on New Years' Eve morning, and my left arm was just throbbing something awful. 3 different docs say it's bursitis in my shoulder, but I still don't have full range of motion. It's been so painful, until just recently, that I couldn't run much at all. I'm icing it and doing some physical therapy. Clearly, 2009 wanted one more little twist of the knife on me.
So, I'm gonna run the marathon. Who's with me?
Posted by Bill Wixey at 2/9/2010 9:13 PM 
Categories: seattle rock and roll marathon bill wixey cancer team in training
Tags: seattle rock and roll marathon bill wixey cancer team in training
Categories: seattle rock and roll marathon bill wixey cancer team in training
Tags: seattle rock and roll marathon bill wixey cancer team in training
I am in for the half.
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I'm training for the Seattle Rock & Roll as well, Bill. I just did Honolulu with Team in Training in December, but I really want to go under 4 hours, and stay healthy, in June in Seattle! Hope to get out on some runs with you -- maybe a Tuesday night TNT run at Green Lake?
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Bill;
I wish you all the luck in the world,you go man!
take care,Virginia
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Bill,
Just read your blog for the first time today when it was suggested as inspiration for the next Mission Moment for our next newsletter (TNT Alaska). wanted to share with you something I read a few months ago, Bill Bryson's "A Walk in the Woods" It's a flat out hysterical read but what had me on the couch sobbing was his descriptions after the first few months on the trail of trying to get back, to recapture the experience, to finish what he'd begun. Only to realize once you've been so changed you can't ever truly go back, you just learn to embrace the changes and move forward.
I've no doubt you will slowly find your way as a survivor just as I will survive and build a new life once my husband dies (though the doctors have quit putting time lines on him lol). We all like to think that cancer is just a bump in the road, or a short side path that winds us right back to where we were before some doctor said "it's cancer." But it's not. With every treatment, every call to 911, every scary night in a hospital, we are changed. What we do with it is up to us though.
I am so glad you are taking those changes and facing the marathon course. You and each of the thousands of other across this country mean the world to my husband and I because what you will be doing as you face yourself, your fears, the pain, is carrying our hearts and giving us the peaceful knowledge that the next person to follow our path will have an easier journey and that just maybe on a day not too far in the future someone will be able to tack up a "Trail Closed" sign because the footsteps your journey inspired brought forth a cure.
An old Chinese proverb I adore says "Be not afraid of going slowly, be only afraid of standing still." Excellent advice for all of us.
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I will be right behind you...I was diagnosed with CNS Lymphoma on July 7, 2009 and have watched you through all this. I have never been an athletic person but my son has run with team in training for three years. I will walk, not run, 13+ miles not 26.2. I just wanted to thank you for sharing your story with all of us. Thanks
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