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.