Giving It A Tri

For the past four months I have been running, biking, and swimming in sweat to prepare for the Capital of Texas Triathlon in Austin this past Memorial Day since I made the commitment to join the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's Team in Training to raise money and awareness for the cure of these blood cancers. My mom died nine years ago after a valiant fight against non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma and I felt my participation in this event was a way to honor her memory and work toward a cure for this devastating form of cancer. So in January I, along with my stepdaughter, signed my name to the dotted line and began to count the miles and dollars toward our improved health and fundraising goals.

Over the past months and weeks our Team in Training logged hundreds of miles on our bikes, swam thousands of laps in the pool, braved the murky and cold waters of Boerne Lake, pounded out laps around the track and miles on the dusty trails in McAllister Park at the benevolent, but tough call, of our coach Marion in order to be as prepared as we could be come the 7 am blast of the starting horn on the shores of Town Lake in Austin on Monday, May 28. Over the weeks we have learned about how to best fuel our bodies for the mile swim, 26 mile bike and 10K run. We learned how to stretch our muscles and replenish our protein stores following sweaty workouts. We were schooled in how to prepare our "transition area"--where one quickly (or not-so-quickly) wriggles out of a wetsuit, slips on a helmet and bike shoes to speed off to the bike course, then locate the same transition area after the bike route, change into running shoes (and remember to remove the bike helmet) before wobbling out onto the run course. We strengthened and toned our bodies to best respond to the physical and mental challenges. By Friday, May 26 we were as ready and lean a tri machine as we were ever gonna be!

On Sunday my stepdaughter and I began the hour long drive to Austin from San Antonio noting that the days-long rain finally abated. On the 60 mile drive, we grumbled, groaned, worried and smiled in anxious anticipation of what lay ahead of us the next morning. Two thousand triathletes descended on the shores of Town Lake that day, checking in to their hotel rooms and picking up their goodie bags. We attended a pasta dinner held for all Team in Training participants on Sunday evening, and I wondered at the 300 people who made the commitment of time and energy to raise money to find a cure for blood cancer. There were tables of folks from all over the country: from New York to Georgia to Texas. All in all, the San Antonio chapter raised $100,000 in the past four months and nationally, Team in Training raised $1M for the cure!

After a day's worth of pre-event gatherings, we fell into bed at 10 pm and counted down the hours til the alarm sounded at 5:40 am. I had a great night's sleep (thanks to a Tylenol PM) while my stepdaughter tossed and turned in nervous anticipation of her first triathlon. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the morning alarm buzzed and it was time to get up--the Big Day had arrived! I turned on the news to check out the weather report for the day and was shocked to see the weathermap showing Austin being engulfed by a green blob. I looked outside and witnessed the rain coming down in dark sheets. Soon we received a call that the triathlon was postponed and we were to meet in the lobby of the hotel for further instruction. Sheepishly, my stepdaughter and I smiled at each other, guiltily acknowledging that our anxious and tepid prayers for rain the day before had been answered. We gathered with the other Team members and were informed that due to the dangerous conditions and flooding, the swim portion had been cancelled. An hour later we were all told that the triathlon had been cancelled due to the manic, Texas-style, activity of Mother Nature.

Here it is Wednesday and I am still trying to name my feelings following word of the cancellation of the event. What I am experiencing must be a bit like what a bride feels after being left at the altar: the invitations were sent out, the flowers were ordered, the guests arrived, all the while the skittish groom headed for the hills. Later in the day, as I drove back to San Antonio in the beautiful bright sunshine, I began to try to make sense of what occurred. I thought about how, just like cancer, one never can be sure of the outcome. I thought about my mom's diagnosis and how, although she had never been a smoker, a tumor formed in her throat. I thought about how she followed medical advice and began radiation to shrink her tumor. I thought about how later she had to make the choice to begin chemotherapy, which frightened her terribly, because the cancer did not abate with the radiation. I remembered how I began to read about cancer-fighting and immune-boosting foods and I shared my knowledge with her and my dad. I remember praying with all my might that she would survive. I recalled her positive outlook and assurance to me that she would survive. Even though she followed the rules and did what she was supposed to, cancer ultimately claimed her life on May 18, 1998. No matter what I did, I could not change the outcome. It was the first time in my life that I experienced total and complete helplessness with regard to being able to change something.

I thought about how we, the Team in Training members, showed up at the workouts, pushed our bodies to build new muscle and endurance, changed our eating habits, and found our voices to ask others to support our mission through a donation. Despite all of the best laid plans and following the workouts to a T, the outcome was not what we planned. The experience provided me yet another lesson in letting go and how to not wed myself to a particular ending. There is a lesson in everything and my mom's death from cancer lead me, years later, to think about what I could do as an individual to make a difference for others. If my mom had not been diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, it is likely that I would not have thought twice about campaigning for such a cause. Nine years later, after surfacing from my immersion in grief, I raised $3000 to help find the cure to the cancer that claimed my mother's life and I shared an experience with my stepdaughter that we will remember all of our lives.

Although we cannot always control the outcome, we can do what we can to move forward as if we could count on a predictable future. Prior to Monday's rainout, I envisioned a sweaty victory salute to my mom as I crossed the finish line, instead today as I write this, I feel my mom's smile over my shoulder as she helps me to realize that there is even greater victory in letting go and allowing new awareness and possibility to emerge.

Thought for the Day: Is there something in your own life you need to let go of in order to reap the benefits of new awareness and possibility?

Why do I tri?
I tri for health,
for a cure,
for awareness
and to set an example.

I tri to make a difference.

I tri for children
and for adults.
None are immune from disease.

I tri for myself,
to help me remember
it's not too late
and I'm not too old.

To tri and make a difference.
--Kevin Baumann--Team in Training Mentor

Mother's Day Revisited

Happy Belated Mother's Day to all you moms, grandmas, stepmoms, soon-to-be moms, and someday moms! This year's Mother's Day was to be an unusual one as our family planned to spend the weekend celebrating my nephew's wedding in NM. The day before we were to leave one of our Danes became suddenly ill with fever. I teased my husband that Zeebo, the dog, suddenly grasped the meaning of "Rob Carey" (the kennel) and decided that he wanted no part of that experience--similar to when our daughter feigns illness to get out of a geography test. After a visit to the vet on Thursday with a fevered dog, and armed with a handful of antibiotics and a new dog-only thermometer, I settled in on the couch for a long weekend of catching up on reruns of Oprah and chick-flicks while the rest of the clan headed to Albuquerque to enjoy the wedding.

It was a strange weekend alone with the dogs. As usual I spent time reflecting on my Mom (who passed away nine years ago) and I reminisced about a few of my fondest Mother's Day experiences with her and my Dad. I thought about my own experience of becoming a Mom: first to my now-adult stepkids and later, to my own birth-daughter. While running in the park yesterday my mind hit the rewind button and 20 years of learning-to-be-a-Mom experiences danced in my mind: giving up the battle over whether eggplant belonged on pizza; learning how to wash boys' T-shirts so they wouldn't shrink; juggling doctor and orthodontist appointments along with graduate school studies; purchasing tutus and pink tights for ballet class; kissing bumps and bruises "all better" and making my lap and ears available whenever needed.

As I ran past young families I smiled and said "Happy Mother's Day" to women walking or riding bikes with their kids. Without my own family with me yesterday I felt a bit like George in "It's A Wonderful Life" when Clarence, the angel, provided him a glimpse of what his life would have been like without his family. I thought about all the experiences I have been witness to and ways I have been stretched to become the woman I am today through the evolutionary process of becoming a Mom. I tried to imagine life without my kids ever being a part of me and I struggled to hold onto the thought.

- Yes, there were times when I was tired and grumpy from lack of sleep when my daughter was young.

- Absolutely, there are times I felt that I wanted nothing more than to be alone without the noise and shouts of kids.

- Yes, I still dislike grocery shopping, particularly when everyone is in town and I need two shopping carts just to get through the weekend.

- Yes, I would rather not battle with a teenager about the importance of picking up one's room ever again.

But no, if the only way to cancel out the statements above were to not become a Mom at all, then I would decline in a heartbeat. My Mother's Day weekend with the dogs allowed me space to contemplate and tap into the gratitude I feel about being part of a family unit who calls me Mom. As I ran, two decades of memories filtered through my mind as I worked my way through the trees on the trail. I recalled giving my youngest stepson a piggy-back ride in a park in Berkeley--I saw his beaming smile as I lifted him up into the air. In my mind's eye I stroked the 13 year old seasick brow of my oldest stepson as he rested in my lap on our return from a day of fishing on the Bay with my Dad. I recalled comforting my then teenage stepdaughter on a summer night after her first experience of heartbreak. I felt the ghost-memory of the lank weight of my sleepy toddler as I lifted her out of her carseat and felt her warm breath moisten my neck. I thought about the lessons my kids have provided me on acceptance of myself and how to love others. I think about how my kids have encouraged me and pushed me to become a better individual and positive role model for what it means to be a woman and mother in today's society. When I returned home, sweaty and fatigued from my run, a flower arrangement had been delivered to the doorstep. I smiled as I opened the card which read simply: "Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Love, your kids." Simply put, it was one of the best gifts yet.

I hope your day was spent, if not in the company of your children, then at least in the company of appreicative memories for how they have touched your life and helped you to evolve into the woman you are today.

Thought for the Day: Reflect on the woman or women who have played a mother figure in your life, offering guidance, support and encouragement. Take a moment to send an email, make a phone call or send a silent thought of thanks for how she influenced your life. Reflect on how you have evolved into the person who are today because of her influence and think upon how you have influenced a child to become his or her best.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before.
The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new."
--Rajneesh

Breathing Room

"I need breathing room"..."I felt suffocated"..."I am finally coming up for air"..."I just need to catch my breath"..."I need to catch my second wind." These are just a few of the statements I hear from my clients as they speak about their feelings of overwhelm or stress with regard to the happenings in their personal or professional lives. Perhaps you have thought or uttered the same statements recently as you juggled the responsibilities of your family, job and personal needs. Some days are definitely better than others when referring to breathing room and more often than not, you may find yourself gasping for air like my daughter's goldfish who, for reasons that remain unclear, decided to test out the environment outside of his bowl (the jury is still out on whether the little guy was attempting suicide due to boredom or a dirty bowl).

"Breathing room is a metaphor for something we all could use more of: some space in our lives--space to catch up with ourselves, to regroup, to metabolize whatever we've been going through so we can know how we feel and what to do next," writes MJ Ryan in this month's "Health" magazine. Pausing for breath is more than a metaphor. When we enter a state of stress or anxiety, we tend to breathe shallowly. Rather than taking deep belly breaths, we revert to shallow "panting" in our chest. When we breathe shallowly, our bodies and minds remain in a state of vigilance: waiting and preparing to react to danger. Think about the last time you watched a nature program on tv where a predator stalked it's victim. The potential victim, say, an antelope, senses the lurking presence of the lioness. The antelope became hypervigilant, her nose quivered and her breathing became more rapid as she prepared to flee at the first sign of attack by the lioness. When we humans are in that fight or flight mode, we can hang in there, panting our little breaths, for a period of time, but chronic stress begins to take its toll on our immune system and other functions after a while.

One of the easiest ways to consciously kick ourselves out of the fight or flight mode is to breathe slowly and deeply. When we inhale deeply we tell our mind and body that its OK to calm down. More oxygen gets into your lungs and brain, which signals your heart rate to slow and your muscles to release tension. When you turn your attention to your breath, you come back into the here and now. "Breathing helps create the ability to face challenges with persistence, calmness, patience and acceptance" writes Ryan. Taking a deep breath allows you time to cultivate the 3 Rs in stress management: regroup, rethink and respond calmly rather than act out in an explosive manner.

Here's a breathing exercise from Andrew Weil, MD (as presented in the May issue of Health magazine for you to try out this week:

Sit with your back straight.
Place the tip of your tongue against the ridge just behind your front teeth.
Exhale completely through your mouth, making a whoosh sound.
Inhale quietly through your nose with your mouth while counting to 4.
Hold your breath for a count of 7.
Exhale completely through your mouth, this time whooshing to a count of 8.
Inhale again and repeat the exercise 3 times for a total of 4 breaths.

If you have trouble holding your breath, speed up but stick to the 4-7-8 count. Practice twice a day but don't do more than four breaths at a time for the first month. Later you can work up to eight breaths. You may experience a bit of light-headedness, but this will pass.

Once you make a conscious choice to allow yourself some breathing space several times a day as mini-crises arise in the course of your day, you will find yourself responding with new perspective to the things that used to set you off. You will find yourself breathing freely rather than gasping for air by the end of the day.

Thought for the Day: Try taking several deep, slow breath next time you feel your buttons being pushed. Recenter yourself in the here and now and employ the 3 Rs: Regroup, rethink and respond calmly. For added relaxation, click on the first youtube box link at the bottom of the page. Sit back and enjoy the breathing meditation.

But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,
And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table
No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe, just breathe
woah breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe,
Oh breathe, just breathe.
--Anna Nalick (lyrics to "Breathe")