Boot Camp

Beat Cancer Boot Camp  

March 16, 2013

You may have heard of the race events that exercise junkies and weekend warriors have concocted to keep it interesting.  One such is even called "warrior dash" another "tough mudder".  It combines the tired old 5 or 10K races with a series of obstacles that have to be negotiated on the way to the finish line. One of them includes an electrified fence and a ring of fire.  No thank you, I'll have my race without such a large helping of crazy, thanks.  

For the past three years, I've participated in the Beat Cancer Boot Camp 5K here in Tucson.  It benefits an exercise program among other offerings to people combating cancer.  The race includes things like push ups, sit ups, rope swings, wall climbs and at the end a mud pit. We've always done it as a staff and this was the first year that our clients joined us as well.  I almost didn't do it this year and I couldn't really articulate why.  For various reasons a lot of the staff wasn't going to attend and at first I thought that was a good enough reason to bail too.  It wasn't until I was talking to a client that the true reason came tumbling out of my mouth.  

FEAR 

I've been participating for three years.  I was diagnosed with Parkinson's two years ago.  Year one I competed in the race pretty well with a few difficulties due to "a persistently sore shoulder".  My arm had stopped swinging and my shoulder froze but I hadn't connected the dots then.  All I knew at that time was that it hurt like heck to do a push-up, something the marines screaming at us were very eager for us to do. Many of them!  

Year two I had just been diagnosed and I was full of spit and vinegar.  I trained hard, determined that this crappy disease was not going to get the better of  me and it didn't.  I did very well and had a lot of fun with barely a hiccup last year.  Pumping heavy ammo boxes over my head was difficult and the too many sit ups gave me a muscle spasm but those are minor inconveniences when you're talking to an exercise junkie.     

The honest answer that had been eluding my consciousness was I don't want to not be able to do anything that I could do last year. That's a biggie for a parkie.  I think we all take notice of the tasks that get tougher for us little by little as time passes.  Sometimes, however, the decline can be gradual and can go  virtually unnoticed. 

The Wall I Didn't Want
to Run Up Against

This race could be used a benchmark for my declining physicality.  I've already noticed several things that have become more difficult.  I don't run as much as I used to because my affected side takes a beating just by being a heartbeat out of sync with the rest of my body.  I don't participate in group exercise classes because my nervous system needs more rest than a 30 second interval or I'll become a floppy spectacle. Not being able to traverse a wall obstacle would be too literal a meeting of the figurative.   

For better or worse I'm still ornery and once I realized that fear was my sticking point I signed up on the last possible day to register for the race.  The nightmares ensued.  That wall was everywhere in my thoughts.  I could almost hear the marines yelling their "encouragement" at me as I struggled unsuccessfully to heft myself over the wall.

Race Day- It wasn't just a fun run. It was a referendum on my health and my grasp on normal.  The run to the first obstacle was incredibly difficult. My "chirpy hand"  was going in full force.  My thumb and fingers tremor together like a bird's beak.  It's my "canary in the coal mine" physical indication of stress and over-exertion. Had I not been running with my friend Amber, I could have easily stopped and slunk home right then.  That little voice inside my head kept shrieking, "This is supposed to be the easy part!  No way are you going to make it!"  I wordlessly kept pace with Amber like my life depended on it.  

The overhead press of ammunition boxes actually felt easier.  The kettlebell strength training I've been obsessed with paid off.  I skipped a few of the push ups (I don't think that shoulder will ever be completely right again.) and I evaded detection as I slipped by the station where we were to do step ups onto the tractor tire.  That kind of movement wipes me out and I wanted to save my energy for "the wall".  

The wall is located in the sandy portion of the course and is about 8 feet tall.  This was it.  I was tired and thirsty and had shoes full of sand.  My hand and leg were tremorring and felt weak.  A prayer and a running jump gave me a toe hold 2 or 3 feet above the sandy wash.  I reached for the top of the A-frame and hoisted myself up, swung my legs over and dropped onto the other side as if nothing was wrong with me. 

Victory!  Victory over fear! Victory over challenge! My experience was in keeping with the universal laws of training that bind everyone.  The run was hard this time because I haven't been running regularly.  The feats of strength were easy because I've been consistently lifting weights and swinging bells.  Hallelujah!  That day I basked in the feeling normalcy!  Granted it's my new normal but I was so relieved that my old life hadn't slipped that far away from me this year.     

Oh Good Grief!

The 5 Stages of Grief

1.           Denial
2.           Anger
3.           Bargaining
4.           Depression
5.           Acceptance

I've had a fantastic time during my ski retreat in Breckenridge, CO at the BOEC.  For anyone interested in attending or donating you can check them out http://www.boec.org/   

Today, I finally learned to control the speed that came naturally to me.  The previous two days were so fun and I'm sure fun to watch as I went end over end, bailing out and losing my skis.  I didn't fall once today and I give all the thanks to my ski instructor Terrin! Actually, I consider this wonderful lady more of a friend now than merely an instructor.  

Terrin & Me

It was pretty o.k. to be in the company of other parkies this week although I don't think anyone referred to themselves as a parkie, preferring instead the term -PWP (person with parkinson's).  That's a little too politically correct for my taste and as you might be able to tell by now, I cannot take myself that seriously.  My daughter asked if I was worried that a bunch of spazzes on the slope at the same time might cause an avalanche!  Love that girl!

The other participants are for the most part a great group of people.  Most of them are staying physically active and the very fact that they are here indicates that they are trying to hold onto normalcy and and do all that they can to get out there and enjoy life.  It was a much more positive experience than the summit in Phoenix.  

I had two great runs today.  Didn't fall once!  I wanted to end on a high note and I also wanted to hang out with Terrin.  She wasn't her normal bubbly self and I could sense that she was out of sorts. From the start of the day, I relieved her of her duty to be a cheerleader.  I was feeling a little nauseous from having to take a second dose of carb/lev without eating enough to cushion that nasty side effect.  Perkiness wouldn't have been well received anyway. 

As it turns out, we had a great day seeing the sites, going out to lunch and really getting to know one another.  She's an amazing young woman who works with people with all sorts of disabilities as her vocation.  She's called to do this kind of work and she's really good at it.  Unfortunately, it doesn't exactly pay the bills and she works two other jobs besides. 

I realize that I'm the odd duck.  I suppose that any time you get a group like this together there's going to be formal sharing sessions.  YUCK!  If you read this, Terrin, I'm sorry.  I know you were doing your job and REALLY, YOU DO IT WELL!  You'll be running the place in no time.  The other participants gained from the experience.  I don't necessarily mind talking to people about "my condition" as my husband phrases it, but only if it's during the give and take of a natural discussion.  One of the activities was to write a note of encouragement to yourself, seal it in an envelope to be opened at a later date.  Oh please! I dated mine the 12th of Never.  Then, we were to write a negative thought and divest ourselves of it by burning it over the gas stove top.  Good grief!  

Speaking of grief, there's the well known five stages proposed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.  It's been pretty well debunked although we cling to the tidy idea that there's a procedure for grieving. There was a lot of talk about coming to terms with limitations and loss, being at peace with it and accepting it.  You may categorize me in either the denial or anger stages and I don't care, but I say, "hell no!"   I'm not going to ever be o.k. with not being able to ride a two wheel bike.  It would be devastating to give up the keys to my car.  I wouldn't ever accept not being able to continue working.  

People talk about grief as if it's a process to get through.  I don't want to.  I have my days where I can be in any one of the stages but I don't ever want to get to the end which is acceptance.  This isn't acceptable!  I'm going to keep ticking things off my bucket list and adding more to it when I get to the end of the original 28. Skiing has a big check mark next to it!  I leave for home tomorrow and I'm going to go to bed now  to contemplate what will be the next item on my list.  

Do you have a list??