A week before I wrote about our plans to do the San Diego Rock-n-Roll marathon in June, I seriously tweaked my neck. I'd like to thank Hwy. 18 and all the snow that kept us on said highway for seven hours instead of an hour and a half like it should have been. I was with two girlfriends, both of whom were scared to death to be driving in the snow while I sat in the back seat, appearing calm, but leaning to the center of the seat to look out the front window of doom, all the while clenching my teeth. Thus, tweaked neck. [Note from Wil: The next time I beg Anne not to go up into the mountains during one of the worst storms in a decade, because "it's just a really bad idea," there's a 20% chance she'll listen to me.]
Before this weekend of white dusted hell, we were well into our training, and very excited to start our fundraising. As I sat writing about it (pumped full of every pain medication I could find and a heat pack around my neck,) I figured I would be up and running in no time and going full speed ahead with big plans of dashing through 26.2 miles with ease. Boy was I wrong!
My neck continued to get worse. All I could do was lay down. I missed almost three weeks of work, and I got so freaked out by the pain I made Wil take me to an orthopedist to get an MRI, because when one of your friends has cancer, suddenly every minor ache or pain you get could be cancer, too. He said it was just a really bad muscle spasm and had me start physical therapy immediately. I did this for a couple of weeks, and of course being the over-doing it person I am, I went back to work as soon as it felt better, only to tweak it more and end up in physical therapy again. [Note from Wil: The next time I say, "Hey, you really shouldn't push it, honey, and give yourself a little bit more time to heal," there is a 25% chance Anne will listen to me.]
Fast forward to five weeks later and it's back to the marathon training drawing board. Instead of looking at doing ten miles on the weekend, we're struggling to run two miles without stopping. How are we going to do the whole 26.2 miles when it's just six weeks away? Um, I'm thinking that's not a good idea. Let's be realistic.
I had dinner with Kris in between one of those "I'm feeling better" moments. The first thing she said was "How are you going to run that whole marathon?" Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. So I came up with a solution: a half marathon was definitely do-able. And making our fundraising goal a little more within reach would make us all not freak out about this whole thing. So that's what we're going to do. Our fundraising goal has been pulled back to $10,000, so we're already halfway there, and our distance goal has been cut in half, to a more realistic 13.1 miles.
As for Kris' progress, she's doing great! Her biopsy came back clean, and though it is six months to two years before she will know if the transplant was a success, she is at home and back on her feet. In fact, she recently went on a road trip with her son to look at colleges. It's so wonderful that not only is her dream of seeing her son graduate going to happen, but she will get to see him go to college next year.
Also, her husband is finally doing the addition they've talked about doing for the 15 years they've lived in their house, which is another thing to look forward to. And her huge family reunion she looks forward to every other year is in Lake Tahoe in June. She's so excited to see them. Her treatment was definitely worth going through again. And, honestly, it was worth it from my selfish point of view, too. I didn't want to lose my friend, so I'm so happy she fought back and won.
Although Wil and I had every intention of doing this full marathon again, sometimes things just happen. And in my 36 years here, I have learned that everything happens for a reason. Good or bad. But we just do the best we can. [Note from Wil: Life is what happens while you're making other plans, in other words.]
So if you would like to contribute to our fundraising efforts, you can do it here. Even if it's just five dollars, or whatever change you can collect from around your car or your couch it really matters; so many people read Wil's blog, tiny individual contributions rapidly turn into enormous and significant totals.
Note from Wil: I sincerely hope that our choice to switch to a half-marathon doesn't let down anyone who already sponsored us. We're doing the very best we can under some really stressful circumstances that I can't publicly talk about, and it looks like we're going to end up walking most of the (half)marathon in June. To me, it feels like a major defeat and I'm disappointed that we aren't going to be able to do the whole thing, but this isn't really about me and Anne; this is about Kris and her family and everyone who has somehow been affected by cancer. Thank you all so much for your support, whether it's sponsorship, kind comments, or just a positive thought while you're walking your dog.