Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscarriage. Show all posts

Sunday, September 23, 2012

It's the last piece of the puzzle but you just can't make it fit...

The past few weeks, put together, became the last piece of the puzzle that I've tried to put together over the past few months.  Finally, when I crossed the finish line today at the Rochester Half Marathon, the puzzle was finished.

A few days/races/events made up that piece:

-The Dirt Cheap Stage Race #6 (which was my first race since April, and my first trail race since January or February)
-The Wine Country Ramble (a women-only cycle tour of Canandaigua)
-The Rochester Half Marathon

A little summary for those who don't know...the end of June, Dave and I were excited to learn that we were pregnant.  I took it easy, didn't run some of the races I planned to do, in order to give the three of us a good start.  My first appointment with my doc was "A-ok".  But the day after that appointment, I miscarried.  And that was my undoing.  I'll save the stew of emotions that followed over the next several weeks (and even today), but it was hell.  But I think the first thing I told my friend Barb was "I need to do SOMETHING.  I'll make the best of the next 5-6 weeks until the Rochester Half Marathon, and do it".

I'm good at lying to myself enough to get the job done, but it wasn't so easy this time.  I wasn't cleared for another two weeks to run, and even then my hematocrit (percentage of red blood cells in my blood) had subsequently dropped significantly.  3 mile runs felt like the Bataan Death March.  Many times I wanted to say "eff it," and not run the half.  In fact, I seriously contemplated giving up running for a while, because my miserable workouts only reminded me of why I was in the situation in the first place.  I gave up something I loved for something I so badly wanted...and came up empty in more than one way.

But a few weeks ago, I got an email from a co-worker with some pretty inspiring pictures.  One of our burn survivors, ran a 5k not two months after his discharge from the hospital.  And to see those pictures, with his hot and uncomfortable compression gear he has to wear as his skin continues to heal (during a hot day already), I decided then and there to quit throwing a pity party for myself and start training harder, regardless of how it hurt.

And for some reason, my runs started to fall in to place.  At first, I needed the iPod (which for those who know me, I am VERY much anti-iPod on runs).  I needed the volume (which was very loud) to literally drown out all the negativity in my head.  And it worked (thank you, Evanescence!)

So my first race since April (the Flower City Challenge) was the Dirt Cheap race.  It's the shortest but most hilly race of the series.  And I guess I can say I held my own.  Trail running, as much as I love it, still intimidates me.  And it was trail running that I gave up when I found out I was pregnant (since I'm a bit clutzy).  So to return to it was bittersweet.  But I ran most of the hills, enjoyed the single track and the silence, and even enjoyed the burn of the sweat in my eyes.  But hands down the best part of the evening was seeing my husband afterwards, and dinner with friends.  I can't remember laughing as hard as we did that night.  Therapeutic!



A few days later I participated in the Wine Country Ramble, an inaugural event that gave participants a lot to do:  3-4 routes of varying distances, bike maintenance and yoga clinics, free wine tasting and tours at Sonnenberg Gardens, and delicious pasta stations and (more!) wine at the Wine and Culinary Center.  This ride was also a big step for me, as I had never done a ride on hilly terrain (which pretty much defines Canandaigua)  Running up hills is so much easier!  I went conservative and only rode 17 miles on Saturday, but I felt really great afterwards and wanted to try more.  So Sunday I picked the 33 mile route - quite a challenge, but the beauty of riding along Canandaigua Lake made up for it.  I took on hills that I NEVER imagined I'd tackle, let alone pass some riders.  I met some really great people that weekend, too - hopefully future cycling buddies!  I was totally whipped when it was said and done, but I felt great.  I can't wait for next year's event!

Wine tasting at Sonnenberg Gardens...refreshing after a ride!


made-to-order pasta station was quite popular.


bowtie with portobello mushroom, tomatoes, squash, olives, chicken.  With basil and alfredo sauce


Start of one of the rides

owners of Cycledelic Studio had delicious munchies!

East side of Canandaigua Lake, at Vine Valley

heading to the aid station/turnaround point on Sunday - Vine Valley

Heading back to the finish...



Rochester Half Marathon:  23 September, 2012

A lot was hanging over my head with this race.  I PR'd last year.  But with my training (lack thereof) this year, I just wanted to finish under 2:15.  Once again, great weather was a blessing (despite the threat of rain, it was sunny and 50 degrees!)

Barb wanted to be sure to post a pic EARLY.  You know I'm only kidding, right?!


Me and Dave G, my clinical instructor from nursing school.

Racing team membership has it's own privileges...our own porta-potty WITH toilet paper!


I met up with my friend Amy in the parking lot and we headed to the start line together.  I then met up with Dave, an NP at Strong, who was also one of my clinical instructors.  Our plan was to run together (more on that later) as we had similar finish time aspirations.  We started together, perhaps too far back in the crowd.  But as we got onto East Avenue we split just past mile 1...Dave had a great pace, but it was just too much for me this early.  I usually take it easy for the first couple miles in a HM, but knowing the hills to come, I wanted to be conservative.  I can't say that seeing him running into the distance was sad for me, as with the sun I couldn't see much of anything.  I missed Phyllis cheering on East Avenue, but was able to catch a former co-worker Eric across from Strathallan. 

Winton and Highland was more difficult than last year.  My legs were burning, but I knew it was relatively short lived - and along this part of the route is always full of cheering crowds.  A girl that I deployed twice with, who is an officer with RPD, gave me a thumbs up as I passed her along Highland, and I counted the steps until we turned onto Clinton.  The Blonde Musketeers (Sandy, Megan, Kathy and Wendy) were a welcome site along this part of the route, too!  And Duane, Chuck and Jill were thankfully cheering at all the right spots where I needed them the most!

I badly needed something to drink once I turned onto Clinton, but instead I wore the Gatorade because the plastic cup (they better return to the paper cups next year) split as soon as I grabbed it.  This happened at every aid station for the rest of the race.  I was not a happy camper.

But...left foot/right foot/repeat...keep on going.

After I got to the Canal Path, I really started to unravel.  My hamstrings and quads hurt.  My throat was dry.  And my necklace broke.  I wasn't feeling as strong as I was last year - understandable - and it was really becoming more evident that this may not be a great race (and I wasn't sure if my ego could tolerate).  But I thought again about our burn survivor who ran a 5k (and who coincidentally came to Rochester last night with his family to thank all the staff who saved his life), and decided then that I needed to quit being a sissy and suck it up.  I met up with Amy about half a mile before Genesee Valley Park, which was a welcome sight!  We gave each other encouragement, and started wargaming what our finishing time would be.  I wasn't sure if I would PR at this point, but I was contemplating slowing down.  I would rather miss a PR by 5 minutes than to miss a PR by 30 seconds (which was where I was at this point).  Again...right foot/left foot...  And at 10 miles, I almost thought to walk.  I was tired, but deep down I knew I couldn't throw in the towel quite yet. 

For the rest of the route, more of the same.  The incline to Ford Street was oddly brutal but the slight decline down Exchange was a welcome relief, as was the Perinton XC team (which I remembered from last year...ALWAYS enthusiastic!)  One more incline up Plymouth, and I was pretty much home free, but I didn't feel energized like last year.  Every step was a conscious effort.  My tank was running on vapor.  I saw Michelle and Duane on their bikes as I neared the final turn towards the finish line - I wave and smile weakly.  Please, don't let me bite it and fall on my face.

I turned onto Morrie Silver Way, and the finish seemed so far.

I heard Ellen call my name as I approached the finish.

I saw Barb at the timing tent.

I also saw the gun time as I approached the finish.

And for the first time crossing a finish line, the water works started.

And I felt really, really stupid.

I can see crying for running my first sub 2-hour.

But for as shitty as my summer had been, to nearly give up running after we miscarried, and to then PR on so little training (a method for which I'm not advocating), I never in my dreams thought it would end this way.  I don't know where it came from.

And then I saw a fellow Endurance Team teammate Jim just as I got my medal.  And I cried again.

Okay, Krista.  Seriously.  Get an effin' grip.

Finished!!!

One great cheerleader, photographer...and most of all, friend!  Barb!

Gun Time:  2:07:24 (in 2011 - 2:08:59)
Chip Time: 2:06:23 (in 2011 - 2:08:07)

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Stronger than you seem...



Sound familiar?

I found this quote about a year or so ago, as a dear friend of mine was going through a tough time in her life on so many levels.  As tough as that time was, she tackled new challenges, surprised herself at her successes, and kept moving forward.

I don't recall being a Winnie the Pooh fan when I was younger, but there is something about A.A. Milne's writing that speaks across generations and ages.

I was told once that conceiving a pregnancy is the ultimate lesson in letting go and letting God (which is not a term I use.  Actually, I think right here is the first I've used it).  As I confided with a college friend and his wife about my fears very early in my pregnancy, his wife admitted that her pregnancy was the ultimate challenge as a type-A person.  No shit.

Losing a pregnancy, no matter how early, tops that by 1,000.  And the fact that physically I can't do any of my comfort activities (biking, swimming, or *gasp* shopping) during this process means I have no choice but to sit here and just think about it.  And that. fucking. sucks.

While 30-40% of pregnancies often don't make it out of the first trimester, the fact that I had a great exam the day before just made this worse.  Now I've burned up my sick time for this year, and knowing that nursing staffing is already tight just stresses me out more.  I'm going back to work tomorrow, and I dread it more than I dreaded my deployment to Iraq.  

I don't feel brave, I don't feel strong, and I feel dumb as a brick because I don't know what to do next.  Which I guess at this very moment, is a good thing, because there isn't anything I CAN do.

Other people will forget and move on.  And that's okay.  But I will likely, after this is all said and done, keep out of my social circle for a while because it's not fair to them that I can't, and I'm not ready, to move on.


Wednesday, August 1, 2012

10 weeks and 4 days...

Sadly, it wasn't meant to be.


After a positive visit with my OB, all appeared to be well, and I was scheduled for an ultrasound in a few days as part of my First Trimester screening. However, later that day I was experiencing some complications (bleeding and cramping). I went in for an emergency ultrasound the next morning, and the sonographer could not detect a heartbeat.


This early, there is no explanation other than the planets, and chromosomes, did not align perfectly.


My doc was also sad, knowing that we had been trying to conceive for a year.  She assured me that her exam revealed nothing that would predict this.  She gave me her private office number to call in the afternoon to let her know I was progressing.  And she also called me the next morning to check on me, and schedule another exam.


Devastated is barely the word appropriate here.  I did *everything* right, I thought.  And I wonder if age is going to make this a hard fought and never won battle.   I curtailed my workouts. For nothing.  My life and the Army afforded me little time to have a marriage, let alone have children.  And I often fear it's too late.


So, all we can do is wait a few months, per my doc's recommendations.  And try again.


Which we will...