I am late in posting this recap, but two weeks ago I participated in an extraordinary event, the San Diego 9-11 Memorial Stair Climb. It took place just days before September 11, and was a very poignant day.
I have been wanting to do a stair climb event for quite a while, but there just aren't any in San Diego, at least not that I've heard of or been able to find by searching online. I know other cities (New York, Chicago, etc) have stair climb races, but not here. Coincidentally, about a month ago a friend on mine posted on Facebook about this event in San Diego, with a discount available on a deal through Living Social. I bought it immediately, as not only was I excited about a stair climbing event to do, but the cause was great---it honored the victims of 9/11 and raised money for FireFighterAid. I roped one of my best friends, Amanda, into signing up with me. Although I had a 5k the day before, I was looking forward to the challenge.
What was the challenge? It was to climb 110 stories, which was the height of the World Trade Center. We were to climb at the Hilton downtown, which was 30 stories tall. The plan was for each climber to climb the steps 3 times (which would really total 90 stories). I think the assumption was that the amount of steps it took to get from the exit of the elevator (we took the elevator down after each climb) back to the start would account for the other 20 stories.
the hotel
Amanda and I arrived early at the Hilton, in time to check in and get our t-shirts. The event was untimed, so there were no timing chips. And we didn't get bibs. Instead, each participant was given a lanyard with the name and picture of a fallen firefighter, police officer, or port authority officer who died on 9/11. I was given the name of a firefighter, Stephen Stiller. Seeing his name and picture made the whole thing very real for me. I realized that no matter how tired I got, I couldn't stop. I had to do the whole climb. After all, it was the least I could do in Stephen's memory.
the hero I climbed for
this flag had every victim's name on it
a piece of one of the Towers
Before the climb started, there was a ceremony. A choir sang the national anthem and God Bless America. Some other people spoke. One of the most amazing speeches was by Lt. Joe Torrillo, a firefighter with an amazing story. On 9/11, he was actually trapped under the rubble of Tower 1. He was rescued, and then trapped under the rubble of Tower 2. As a survivor, he has made it his life's mission to travel the country, making sure the words "never forget" and its meaning lives on. They even had some metal, some part of one of the towers that had been transported to San Diego. By the end of the ceremony, I was in tears and feeling very patriotic. I am very proud to be an American.
a firefighter chopper made its way overhead
After this, it was time to get ready to climb! They went by waves, so I had a while to wait. The most impressive thing was watching the firemen get ready...they all did the climb in full gear, some with oxygen tanks on their backs. Jut incredible.
suiting up
firemen about to start their climb
When it was our turn to climb, we first had to touch a piece of metal that was part of the Towers, and then ring a bell and say the name of the person we were walking in honor of. Again, it hit me the enormity of what I was about to do, and helped me keep Stephen in my mind throughout the climb.
the bell we had to ring, and the piece of metal we had to touch
And then we started to climb! Amanda and I entered a side stairwell, along with other people in our wave, and began climbing the steps. There's not too much to write about here, except to say that the stairwell was hot. It was hot and humid with the sweat of all the climbers. Every ten flights or so would be volunteers passing out water bottles, which was much appreciated. The climb was not too hard. To be honest, I was expecting it to be painful, but it wasn't.
climbing!
At the top floor (30th), we got out of the stairwell and walked down a hallway of the hotel to the freight elevators. We were then brought down by elevator and sent to walk around the side of the building to do it again! The only thing noteworthy this time was that we passed an obese woman going up, who was clearly having a hard time. She was walking very, very slowly. The beautiful thing was that there was a firefighter right behind her, who stayed behind her during the entire event (I passed her again on the third round). This time getting to the 30th floor brought little relief, as the line to get on the elevators was very backed up and we had to wait a long time in line. This part was the worst---I don't ever remember being so hot and sweaty in my life. We were all just dripping sweat.
oddly looking fresh as a daisy
As we began the third, and supposedly last, ascend up, Amanda and I decided that we would do it fourth time. We really wanted to climb an entire 110 flights, and the 90 just didn't feel right. So at the end, we went up a fourth time, making for a total of 120 flights of stairs climbed.
one of the views on the stairwell
At the end, neither of us were sore at all! I had packed my Stick to rub out our quads and calves if we needed to....but neither of us needed it. We left the event happy and full of patriotic pride. This is one event I really hope to do every single year from now on.
This past weekend I had a two-race weekend, the Aloha Run 5k and the 9-11 Memorial Stair Climb. Both were very different events, and I was glad I was able to complete both First recap: the Aloha Run!
I signed up to run this inaugural 5k race with my 9 year old son, D. For the past few years, we have run a few 5ks together, and we hadn't run together in some months. This race looked fun---along the water in beautiful Mission Bay, and it even offered a medal, which is rare for a 5k and something that my son was excited about. Over the last few months, they sent out emails asking registrants to vote on the medal design; it was narrowed down to a choice between a hibiscus flower (with a hula dancer on it, complete with actual swinging skirt) or a wooden tiki (you can look at the website for the actual designs; both were cute!) In the end, it was a tie vote, so the race said they would offer BOTH medals at the finish line, and each runner could have their choice. I was excited, as I had voted for the hibiscus and D had voted for the tiki. We would both get the medal of our choice! (By the way, they also had the medals made into keychains for sale, in case you wanted both).
Friday we drove to Road Runner Sports (my favorite store in the whole world!) for packet pickup. It was an easy pickup, with a very small expo. This race had 3 wave starts. The 7:30 a.m. start was for runners; the
8:00 a.m. start was for slower runners and run/walk people, and the 8:30
a.m. start was for walkers. We signed up for the 8:00 start, and noticed that each wave had a different color bib, which was cool. After getting our bibs, timing chips and cotton t-shirts, I splurged and bought D his own handheld hydration system. I got him the Amphipod Hydraform Handheld, which is really sleek and actually now I'm jealous of. Normally for a 5k I don't bring hydration, but I knew it would be hot the next day (it'd been in the 90s all week) and I definitely wanted D to have lots of liquid. I could have shared mine, or worn my fuel belt, but I'm glad I got him his own; he loves it and felt so empowered being able to drink whenever he was thirsty without asking me. It was a great deal, too. Not only am I a Road Runner VIP so I get a discount, but all race registrants got more money off on top of that. I also bought him a Gu---he wanted to try pineapple. I bought one for me too.
Unfortunately, due to my injury (I have a herniated disc) I have not been running too much this summer, and have not been able to train with D at all in months. We went into this race knowing it would be slow, and that was ok. After all, I don't do these 5ks for a great finishing time; I do them in order to have fun with my son and foster a love of running and racing in him. So it was with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness that we drove to Mission Bay early Saturday morning. We left the house at 6:30, and not a moment too soon. Even though we didn't start until 8, and it didn't take long to get there, parking was a nightmare (remember, one wave started at 7:30) and as it was we had to park 3/4 of a mile away. Not far, but in the hot sun with a tired and cranky 9 year old after the race, trust me, it seemed FAR!
The pre-race vibe was great. Lots of music, lots of booths. A man on stilts dressed in a tiki costume sent each wave off. As we lined up, a woman in a Hawaiian outfit came over and gave D and I leis. In fact, lots of people were dressed in Hawaiian shirts and hula skirts; I wish I'd have thought to dress up! Each of the three waves got their own send-off with the National Anthem, which was a nice touch. A few minutes before start time we each ate our new pineapple Gus. He loved his---I hated mine. Gross flavor! At 8:00 on the dot our wave got underway.
Our plan was to do a 2 minute run/1 minute walk combination. However, D soon tired (remember, he hasn't been training at all) so that deteriorated into a 1 minute run/1 minute walk. Toward the end, he was so hot and flushed (I've never seen his face so red!) that I let the walk breaks go on for longer. I had to push him in the middle, as he was very tired and wanted to stop, but he got through it! They had tons of entertainment! I'm used to no entertainment at all on
5ks. This one had about 5 acts (mostly hula dancers and steel drum
bands, all to match the aloha theme) crammed into 3.1 miles. And with
the out-and-back course, we got to see each one twice. Very cool.
There were only two things I didn't like about this race. First, there was only one water stop, which was at the turn-around at mile
1.5. Normally for a 5k that would be sufficient, but it was very hot and
humid. One more would have been nice....perhaps having a water stop at
mile 1 and 2. We were ok, as we each had our own handhelds (D had his
new Amphipod and I had my old Nathan handheld ) but the runners who hadn't thought to bring their own water were hating it. And second, the
course, while beautiful, was an out-and-back largely on one sidewalk.
With the slow runners still returning from the earlier wave, and then
later the runners starting in the later wave, it was extremely crowded
and congested on the course. I'm glad we weren't trying for a PR because
many times we were forced to walk, or even stop, as there was no place
to go with the crowds of runners in front of us.
At the end, he sprinted ahead of me. I came in 20 seconds later, and when I did they announced my name. We each got our choice of medal (me the hibiscus, he the tiki) and we began the long walk back to the car. He was so tired I ended up carrying him on my back for a good chunk of it. But he was happy, and thanked me for signing us up and running with him. That made it all worth it. Also noteworthy was that I was in very little pain during the race. I am currently doing a new treatment for my herniated disc (spinal decompression, which I will write about another time) and I think it's helping. Yay for me!
All in all, we had a great time. Hopefully some changes will be made next year (mainly with adding a water stop if it's as hot as it was this year) but for an inaugural race, they did a great job. And now D has yet another 5k under his belt!
So two weeks ago, my husband, J, had brain surgery.
He's been diagnosed with Young Onset Parkinson's Disease for 7 years now, having had symptoms for 9-10 years. I haven't written about the PD in my blog too much, choosing instead to focus my writing about my running, triathlons, and parenting (with and without special medical needs). That said, the PD has been a constant presence in our lives for almost a decade. J's symptoms have steadily progressed, going from a slight tremor in one finger to full shaking in the arm. Worse, even, is his walking. Without his meds, J has a very hard time walking. He lurches and stumbles, he shuffles and freezes. When his meds are "on" (that is, when they have kicked in) he's ok, but when they're "off" it's hard to watch. And he's on an awful lot of PD medications.
Did I mention he is only 42 years old? He's been dealing with this since he was 32.
The idea of a surgery called deep brain stimulation (or DBS) was presented to him a few years ago. This surgery involved implanting some electrodes in the brain. I'm not even going to pretend that I understand exactly what it does, so if you are interested you can click here to read exactly what it is. All I really understand, science aside, is that it is supposed to greatly alleviate PD symptoms. In fact, DBS is being used for other things; a TED talk spoke about it helped children with severe cerebral palsy walk for the first time. The video below shows what a person with PD is like with and without the DBS working....it's truly remarkable.
J's neurologist, however, is very conservative. She didn't want him to have the surgery too early in the progression of the disease. So for years, the DBS seemed far off in the future. A few months ago, however, she said she thought J was ready. After meeting with the neurosurgeon, who thought J was a good candidate, and getting cleared by a speech therapist and psychologist (apparently swallowing and memory can be affected by the surgery) the surgery was scheduled for Wednesday, August 7. My dear sister, R, flew in from out-of-state to take care of the kids. He was supposed to only be in the hospital one night. (A battery pack will be installed August 26, and the whole system will be officially turned on September 9).
I brought J to the hospital early that morning. I was with him while he had his vitals taken and IV put in, but then I had to leave. My best friend came to sit with me all day. The day was long; not only was I waiting for J to get out of major brain surgery, but my mother was also undergoing her 3rd round of chemo that day for ovarian cancer, so all in all I was worried about a lot of people. After about 6 hours, the neurosurgeon came out and told me that everything had gone great, and he considered the surgery to be a success.
After he was in the recovery room for a while, he was brought up to his room, where I would finally be able to reunite with him. I noticed immediately that his breathing didn't seem right; every few breaths he would shudder, as if he had a chill, although he wasn't cold. My best friend and I kept asking for a doctor to come, but it took hours. In the meantime, besides the shudder, J looked fine. He was alert, although a bit groggy, and the only pain he had was in his forehead from where the halo had been placed to keep his head still during surgery (of note, our daughter, A, wore a halo for 2 months when she broke her neck last year).
Finally a neurosurgeon (not the one who performed the surgery, though) came in. By this time, the shuddering had seemed to subside. The doctor did a quick neuro exam on J, asking him to touch his fingers, etc. When she asked him to show her his teeth, he smiled. His smile was lopsided. The right side drooped down significantly. Obviously, this freaked me out. He was also unable to touch the doctor's finger with his own. She ordered a CT scan, which she said showed no brain bleed and no stroke. I felt a bit better, and went home to sleep (there was no place for me to sleep over in his room).
The next morning, I returned to the hospital bright and early. His own neurologist was in, and was worried enough about J's neuro test results to order an MRI. This time, it showed a small stroke. It was only 6mm by 10mm, and was at the site of one of the electrodes. Apparently, only 1-3% of DBS patients have a stroke. Of course, with my family's medical luck, J was in that "lucky" few. He was hopeful that J would make a good recovery, as he was still strong. He could still move his right arm and right leg, and had strength, but couldn't direct them. For example, he could not touch someone's finger with his own. And when he tried to walk, with a physical therapist using a walker, he couldn't take one step. He just couldn't direct the limbs on the right side of his body. And his mouth was still drooped to the right.
As upset as I was, I was encouraged that the neurosurgeon was optimistic for a recovery. And I spoke to our friend T, who is a neurologist. T reassured me that J should make a good, if not full, recovery, although it takes up to 6 months. He was quick to caution me, though, that there is no guarantee. He said he's seen patients with big strokes that make a great recovery, and patients with small strokes that don't. So I was cautiously optimistic while talking to both J's neurosurgeon and our friend on Thursday (the day after the surgery). I'm not going to lie, though...I was scared. I was scared that he wouldn't make a good recovery, that he would never walk. But it was my job to keep a brave face for everyone, as I always do. All in all, though, I was scared but extremely hopeful and optimistic.
The next day, Friday, J made remarkable progress. He walked the entire floor of the hospital, using a walker and with the help of his nurse. Now I KNEW he would be ok...he went from not being able to walk a step to walking the whole floor in 24 hours. Saturday he discharged from the hospital and I took him to an inpatient rehabilitation center. He was there for a few days, where he received intensive (3 hours a day) of speech therapy, physical therapy and occupational therapy. Within a few days, he was walking unassisted (not even using a walker), going up and down stairs, and typing with both hands. He discharged to home that Wednesday, seemingly back to baseline and even being cleared by the neurologist to drive. He returned to work this week and worked a full week.
What happened to my husband is nothing short of another miracle. Bad things happen to my family (ie my daughter's neck break last fall) but miracles happen. With my daughter, her spinal cord wasn't touched when every doctor said she should have been rendered quadripalegic. With my husband, he had a stroke and made a full recovery within a week. I believe in miracles, and I believe we have guardian angels looking after us. As one friend wrote me, "you have a lot of guardian angels, and they like to work overtime."
I am so grateful that J will be ok. It was a harrowing experience, with the stroke, but we came through the other side. I am looking forward to the battery being implanted next week, and it finally being turned on in a few weeks. The implications of what it could do for my husband and his symptoms are tremendous.
If you are interested in reading my husband's blog, and reading about this experience from his point of view, please click here.
