God bless the families of the victims of 9/11/2001. May God continue to comfort them and hold them closely as America vows to never forget those who lost their lives that day.
As I signed onto this page today, I could not believe that the last time I posted a note was on February 10th. Back in June, I started a post about my experience crewing and pacing my brother, Jack, during the Western States 100. I never finished it and there is no way I could do that experience justice now. It was awesome and one I won't ever forget. I was actually on the plane back to Cincinnati and it was as fresh in my mind as it could have possibly been. I had free wifi (thanks to my husband's American Express business card) and 4 plus hours of uninterrupted time. Or so I thought on the uninterrupted part. I quickly realized writing would be a difficult undertaking based on my "seat mates". The lady on the left was very unaware of personal space invasions and the gal on my right was apparently terrified of flying. There was simply no way to get lost in thought and let the words flow.
I've missed writing very much. I wish I made time for it, but I don't. I've been fortunate enough in the past two years to remain injury free, which allowed me to spend the early morning hours running. At least that was the case up until 4 weeks ago. I decided to train for, and race, the Air Force Marathon. It is on September 19th… eight days from today and my Lucy's 9th birthday. I figured summer training would be doable with more time in the mornings to train. Before I signed up, I checked with Lucy to make sure that she was ok with mom being gone all morning on her birthday. I told her I wanted to run a marathon and I wanted to, once again, try for a BQ. She was on board, and soccer schedule permitting, assured me she would be waiting for me at the finish line. I signed up and personalized my bib with, "Happy Birthday, Lucy!" I was sure that all would come together that day.
Training did not go as planned. I did get the scheduled miles and workouts in. I used a personalized Jack Daniels training plan that had specific workouts tailored for my goal time. I decided not to "self coach" this time around. I researched and read a lot about Jack Daniels as a coach and the success of his training plans and decided to give it a try. I really liked the plan and will do it again someday. One of the huge pieces missing for this training cycle was any kind of mental edge. In truth, I trained tired much of the time. Summer bed times were often quite late and morning runs, early in order to beat the heat. The combination did not do anything to enhance the training experience or my mindset. As the weeks went by, my enthusiasm for training was spiraling. I was doing something 6 days a week that was not only difficult, but I wasn't rested doing it. And although moods and attitudes during training can and do wax and wane, this was different. By week 14, I was on the verge of scrapping the race altogether. I just didn't think I could get myself mentally where I needed to be to race through 26.2 miles on a course that wasn't my favorite. But I also didn't want to walk away from all the training when physically, my body was adapting well and I where I needed to be. On August 16th, I set out for a 19 mile long run with Jen and Kim. I had gone to bed after midnight the night before (or I should say, the day of) and was up at 4:30 to fuel for the 6 am start time. To say I wanted nothing to do with 19 miles that morning was an understatement. While running, I confided in Kim and Jen about my thoughts of just not doing the race. We weren't close enough for nerves to be a factor. I wasn't scared. I was exhausted. I told them I didn't think I had the ability to race the distance mentally. If that were the case, it didn't matter how well prepared I was physically. Anyone who runs marathons knows that a mental edge is critical on race day. It's just too far to go to not be mentally on task. I thought with the school year starting, earlier bedtimes would help me get more sleep and perhaps I could tweak my training and do one of the three other local marathons this fall. I hadn't decided that, I was just tossing it around.
My last run was August 19th. That morning, I set out to do a 9 mile speed workout with Jen, Erin and Greg. After a two mile warm up, we began our interval miles. Somewhere around mile 5, I noticed an ache in my lower back on the right side. I didn't think too much of it. Strange aches and weird pain that means nothing is par for the course in distance running. By mile 7, it was really sore. At mile 8 we started our first cool down mile and I knew that I needed to be done at my car even though we had one more cool down mile to go. I let the gang know and headed home. Again, I figured it was something dumb and for whatever reason, I was just having an off day. After getting home and sitting for about 10 minutes at the computer, I got up and started to head to the kitchen. The pain in my lower back upon trying to walk was now, severe. I had never experienced anything like it. I still couldn't imagine anything was too wrong since I had been fine, literally, 2 hours prior and ran fine for the the first few miles. Injuries usually give warning and I had none.
After nearly two plus weeks of rest from running, increasing discomfort, difficulty walking, an X-ray, and an MRI, I finally had an answer. I have a sacral stress fracture on the right side. This was thought to be brought on by a fall down my steps in MAY, where I bruised my tailbone, and then the beginning of marathon training before it healed. The stress of the training on an already weakened area was likely too much, causing the fracture. The treatment? 4-6 weeks on crutches and NO lower body exercise. AT ALL. No bike, no elliptical, no swimming. No lower body strength training of any kind. And no weight bearing on the right leg.
No Air Force Marathon. The hand was forced.
I am doing surprisingly well with this injury and I don't know why. What is bothering me most is not the no running, but the no weight bearing in a family of 6. It's practically impossible and as much as I am trying to adhere to this, there have been times this week when I have ditched the crutches. However, I am staying true to the no lower body exercise or workouts. The pain is considerably better, though I feel a little dull ache when I don't use my crutches. Absolutely nothing like it was. Both my mom and my brother have graciously provided meals for my family in addition to John doing some cooking. We are getting along ok and before I know it, I'll be back. This is the most severe injury I've had, with the least amount of going stir crazy. I can only attribute this as a very clear sign that I was mentally fried and needed time off from running. Running is part of my life and what I do and although I will start again in a very de-conditioned state, without a doubt, I will run well again. It is not something I will ever give up willingly and something I find worth doing as long as God wills me healthy enough to do it.
It is through running that life's burdens are eased a bit. Just this year alone, three of my running friends suffered difficult losses. All three were cancer. Two were sudden and quick and one was a nine year battle. On some of the most difficult days for Jen, Greg and Suttan, they showed up to run with the group or with someone. They did not show up because they were training or because they didn't want to miss a workout. They did not show up to be at the top of the Garmin Leader board (where we are connected and see each others workouts and mileage). They showed up to have their heavy hearts lightened through encouragement and listening ears. They showed up to be reassured that they and their loved ones were being lifted up in prayer. And they showed up for each other… to be a friend in the midst of their own rough stuff. That's how it is with running. We go through life carrying loads, or crosses as I see them. Some are light, some are heavy, but we all carry them. No one has a problem free life. Running eases that weight, if only for 30 minutes or an hour or 3 hours. It provides an escape and an outlet. There is seldom a group run that laughter isn't part of. I never have a solo run that prayer isn't part of. Either way, I always come home feeling lighter and better equipped to handle what the day brings. I know they do too.
As my wonderful friends get ready for their big races (Suttan and Sarah, Air Force Marathon, Kim, Air Force half marathon, Jen, Berlin Marathon (yes, GERMANY), Erin and Greg, Ironman Louisville), I can only say I have nothing but respect and admiration for what they have trained through… work, kids, illness and death. May the only thing they carry on race day be the combination of a strong mental edge and pure joy in their hearts.
Friday, September 11, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
What I Want My Kids to Know About Depression and Suicide
I imagine the title of this post throws a big curve in what was expected. After all, I haven't posted since November 14th, the week before the JFK 50. The post I was working on for the race got put into "drafts" and now seems dumb to post. In a nutshell, the race went very well. Sondra and I finished in our goal time with 10 minutes to spare and her calf was a non issue during the race. It really was a terrific event and a great way to start my training sabbatical. I have had a couple of months of downtime, running occasionally, with no huge training goal in sight. My timing could not be more perfect either. The season of my life that has arrived is one that requires my fullest attention right here at home. When I am training for a race, that piece of my brain is not available for my family. In other words, right now, life requires all hands on deck, particularly in the raising of teenagers.
What has driven me to sit and purge my thoughts and my experience is the recent suicide of a young man in my son, Will's, class. This hits close to home for a few reasons: first, the boy is 16 and a sophomore. I have a 16 year old sophomore. Secondly, I have lived this with my husband nearly 20 years ago, when his 20 year old brother took his own life. Third, and this affects me least of all but affects Will to a degree, the young man was Will's chemistry lab partner. He was someone my son came in contact with and worked with daily, though they didn't hang out socially. There is sure to be a void in that classroom for Will. A stark reality he will face in chemistry… a classmate that no longer exists in the physical sense. How in the world does a man-child process this type of thing? I have no idea. I'm a rookie at raising 16 year old boys.
I never physically laid eyes on Grant. I heard Will talk about him a few times, always in the context of school and class, never in a mean way. But you don't have to know someone to feel the effects of his or her death. All I have to do is think of his parents, his siblings, his family. All I have to do is remember the ripple effect the devastation of my young brother-in-law's death and how it still touches the family today. All I have to do is think that this could happen in my very own home to one of my children and it's enough to send surges of fear and grief throughout my whole body. On Thursday, I will accompany my son to Grant's visitation and I will stare at a 16 year old boy in a casket while standing next to MY 16 year old boy. I will greet his mom and dad and I will be at a loss for words. They fail me thinking about it. I hope I don't hear whispers of how good he looks, when the truth is that no16 year old child looks good in a casket.
I have thought of little else since I got news of this. I have said a few things to Will, who is very typical in his responses for his age. He's private about his feelings. That's the thing that sucks about boys. At least with my daughters, there is no guesswork involved in what they are feeling. Sometimes it is over the top. I'll take it over the quiet thinker, the one who buries things deeply. How do you reach that kid so that if there is ever a desperate moment in his life, something you said can be recalled and be helpful, if not lifesaving? That is the million dollar question. But one thing is for certain. Suicide and all its ugliness and all it encompasses MUST be discussed in my home with all of my children. It has affected our family and now has creeped into the surrounding world of my eldest. And I plan to sit them down and talk about it with all of them, ages 8-16.
And this is what I want to say:
Dad and I want you to know how much we love you. We want you to know that each one of you holds a place in our hearts untouchable to anyone else. We want to talk about what happened to Grant and to Uncle Jay and what happens to many other desperate young people who feel that life is not worth living. Depression is the root cause of many suicides. Unfortunately, depression has a stigma and therefore, many people bury their hurt and don't tell anyone and don't feel like they can. It makes me very angry that a biochemical disorder would have a stigma attached. Depressed people cannot help that they suffer from depression any more than the person with cancer can help that they have cancer. There are things that can help, from therapy to medications and many things in between. Depression is not a character flaw. If it were, there would not be a medication to help with it, just like there is not a medication to help someone's tendency to be an asshole (maybe I won't use that word…), a character flaw.
We want you to know that if you EVER feel like you may be suffering from depression, which you may not even recognize as such, or if you ever feel like you are walking around sad all the time, or like no one cares about you and that life is just too hard and not really worth it, you come to us. We are your parents and we will NEVER attach a stigma to that kind of emotion and we will NEVER judge you or think you are weak. You will never be told to "get over it" or "suck it up". You will never hear those words from us. Our job as your parents is to walk with you through pain and hardship and get you what you need to ease it. In fact, the bravest, boldest, most courageous thing you can do is tell us, or someone who you think can help you. Tell a friend, tell a teacher. Just please, I beg you, tell someone. Likewise, if a friend or one of your siblings or someone you know ever comes to you and confides in you, PLEASE tell them you care. Encourage them to talk to their parents or to a teacher. Listen to them and hear what they are saying and try to grasp their pain or struggle. And if you are afraid they won't tell anyone, then you tell someone for them. You could be saving a life. I wonder that if Grant had ever looked at anyone and confided in them his struggle, if he may have been able to be helped. Be a friend and NEVER laugh or make fun of someone who is suffering emotionally. Never laugh or make fun of anyone… period. Growing up is hard and kids make it really hard on one another. Fitting in is the most important thing in the world and to think you don't fit in or that no one likes you is devastating. To a person prone to depression, it could be life-threathening. And you may never know because people hide things through smiles very easily. Even when they are deep in pain. To my knowledge, Grant was not the victim of being made fun of or anything like that. In fact, I believe he was well-liked by his peers… a very outwardly positive person. You just never know, therefore ALWAYS choose kindness.
You are loved beyond comprehension, not just by us, but by your grandparents, aunts, uncles and tons of cousins. You life matters immeasurably and this family cannot imagine not having you in it, or not having the generations that will follow because you exist. Suicide devastates families and generations to come. It alters the plans God has for a person's life. It crushes parents and siblings beyond words. The beautiful thing is, THERE IS HELP and at all costs, we will get it for you should any of you ever need it.
Those are the words I want my children to hear. If you are the parent of a child who frequently tells your sad, depressed child to get over it or suck it up, shame on you (sad and whiny are two totally separate things. Whiny is most definitely annoying). Shame on the stigma you attach to what may be a debilitating disease on your child's part. You are what makes it hard for society to freely talk about this struggle that is more common than you may know. I am the last person to tell anyone how to parent. But this subject makes me crazy mad. Yes, we still live in a macho world, where boys are permitted only "appropriate" emotion. The irony of this is that boys, or at least my boys and many of my friends' boys, are very sensitive and really internalize things. My boys are far more "fragile" than my girls, who yell and scream and then get over it. But even they have picked up on what is allowed and not allowed in a "boy's world". Now Will may kill me for this, but many years ago, we were watching a Spongebob episode called "Where's Gary?" Gary the snail had run away and Spongebob was sick over it. He searched high and low for that little snail and coupled with the sad music and Spongebob's heartache, it was more than Will could handle. I looked over and tears were spilling out of that little boy's eyes. He was really embarrassed that I saw him and got defensive. But I told him it was ok to feel sad… that he was so kind to have felt Spongebob's pain. Talk about a sensitive and empathetic person! And don't make fun of him… he was like 6 or 7.
I was at a doctor's appointment yesterday. My doctor's son goes to the same school as Will and we were talking about the tragedy. Without hesitation, he told me his eldest son, a junior in college, suffered from depression and confided in he and his wife, who got him some help. With the help of medication, his son is doing exceptionally well. It made a huge difference. I wanted to hug him for telling me this information as plain as day, with nothing to feel ashamed or embarrassed about. Then again, as a physician, he understands disease pathophysiology so why would he be ashamed or embarrassed? If his son is sensitive about who knows this information, well he was sensitive to that fact too as he knows I do not know his son or would I know him if I bumped into him on the street.
This is what I want my kids to know about depression and suicide.
Praying for God's healing comfort for all the families in pain from suicide's devastation, especially the most recent ones.
What has driven me to sit and purge my thoughts and my experience is the recent suicide of a young man in my son, Will's, class. This hits close to home for a few reasons: first, the boy is 16 and a sophomore. I have a 16 year old sophomore. Secondly, I have lived this with my husband nearly 20 years ago, when his 20 year old brother took his own life. Third, and this affects me least of all but affects Will to a degree, the young man was Will's chemistry lab partner. He was someone my son came in contact with and worked with daily, though they didn't hang out socially. There is sure to be a void in that classroom for Will. A stark reality he will face in chemistry… a classmate that no longer exists in the physical sense. How in the world does a man-child process this type of thing? I have no idea. I'm a rookie at raising 16 year old boys.
I never physically laid eyes on Grant. I heard Will talk about him a few times, always in the context of school and class, never in a mean way. But you don't have to know someone to feel the effects of his or her death. All I have to do is think of his parents, his siblings, his family. All I have to do is remember the ripple effect the devastation of my young brother-in-law's death and how it still touches the family today. All I have to do is think that this could happen in my very own home to one of my children and it's enough to send surges of fear and grief throughout my whole body. On Thursday, I will accompany my son to Grant's visitation and I will stare at a 16 year old boy in a casket while standing next to MY 16 year old boy. I will greet his mom and dad and I will be at a loss for words. They fail me thinking about it. I hope I don't hear whispers of how good he looks, when the truth is that no16 year old child looks good in a casket.
I have thought of little else since I got news of this. I have said a few things to Will, who is very typical in his responses for his age. He's private about his feelings. That's the thing that sucks about boys. At least with my daughters, there is no guesswork involved in what they are feeling. Sometimes it is over the top. I'll take it over the quiet thinker, the one who buries things deeply. How do you reach that kid so that if there is ever a desperate moment in his life, something you said can be recalled and be helpful, if not lifesaving? That is the million dollar question. But one thing is for certain. Suicide and all its ugliness and all it encompasses MUST be discussed in my home with all of my children. It has affected our family and now has creeped into the surrounding world of my eldest. And I plan to sit them down and talk about it with all of them, ages 8-16.
And this is what I want to say:
Dad and I want you to know how much we love you. We want you to know that each one of you holds a place in our hearts untouchable to anyone else. We want to talk about what happened to Grant and to Uncle Jay and what happens to many other desperate young people who feel that life is not worth living. Depression is the root cause of many suicides. Unfortunately, depression has a stigma and therefore, many people bury their hurt and don't tell anyone and don't feel like they can. It makes me very angry that a biochemical disorder would have a stigma attached. Depressed people cannot help that they suffer from depression any more than the person with cancer can help that they have cancer. There are things that can help, from therapy to medications and many things in between. Depression is not a character flaw. If it were, there would not be a medication to help with it, just like there is not a medication to help someone's tendency to be an asshole (maybe I won't use that word…), a character flaw.
We want you to know that if you EVER feel like you may be suffering from depression, which you may not even recognize as such, or if you ever feel like you are walking around sad all the time, or like no one cares about you and that life is just too hard and not really worth it, you come to us. We are your parents and we will NEVER attach a stigma to that kind of emotion and we will NEVER judge you or think you are weak. You will never be told to "get over it" or "suck it up". You will never hear those words from us. Our job as your parents is to walk with you through pain and hardship and get you what you need to ease it. In fact, the bravest, boldest, most courageous thing you can do is tell us, or someone who you think can help you. Tell a friend, tell a teacher. Just please, I beg you, tell someone. Likewise, if a friend or one of your siblings or someone you know ever comes to you and confides in you, PLEASE tell them you care. Encourage them to talk to their parents or to a teacher. Listen to them and hear what they are saying and try to grasp their pain or struggle. And if you are afraid they won't tell anyone, then you tell someone for them. You could be saving a life. I wonder that if Grant had ever looked at anyone and confided in them his struggle, if he may have been able to be helped. Be a friend and NEVER laugh or make fun of someone who is suffering emotionally. Never laugh or make fun of anyone… period. Growing up is hard and kids make it really hard on one another. Fitting in is the most important thing in the world and to think you don't fit in or that no one likes you is devastating. To a person prone to depression, it could be life-threathening. And you may never know because people hide things through smiles very easily. Even when they are deep in pain. To my knowledge, Grant was not the victim of being made fun of or anything like that. In fact, I believe he was well-liked by his peers… a very outwardly positive person. You just never know, therefore ALWAYS choose kindness.
You are loved beyond comprehension, not just by us, but by your grandparents, aunts, uncles and tons of cousins. You life matters immeasurably and this family cannot imagine not having you in it, or not having the generations that will follow because you exist. Suicide devastates families and generations to come. It alters the plans God has for a person's life. It crushes parents and siblings beyond words. The beautiful thing is, THERE IS HELP and at all costs, we will get it for you should any of you ever need it.
Those are the words I want my children to hear. If you are the parent of a child who frequently tells your sad, depressed child to get over it or suck it up, shame on you (sad and whiny are two totally separate things. Whiny is most definitely annoying). Shame on the stigma you attach to what may be a debilitating disease on your child's part. You are what makes it hard for society to freely talk about this struggle that is more common than you may know. I am the last person to tell anyone how to parent. But this subject makes me crazy mad. Yes, we still live in a macho world, where boys are permitted only "appropriate" emotion. The irony of this is that boys, or at least my boys and many of my friends' boys, are very sensitive and really internalize things. My boys are far more "fragile" than my girls, who yell and scream and then get over it. But even they have picked up on what is allowed and not allowed in a "boy's world". Now Will may kill me for this, but many years ago, we were watching a Spongebob episode called "Where's Gary?" Gary the snail had run away and Spongebob was sick over it. He searched high and low for that little snail and coupled with the sad music and Spongebob's heartache, it was more than Will could handle. I looked over and tears were spilling out of that little boy's eyes. He was really embarrassed that I saw him and got defensive. But I told him it was ok to feel sad… that he was so kind to have felt Spongebob's pain. Talk about a sensitive and empathetic person! And don't make fun of him… he was like 6 or 7.
I was at a doctor's appointment yesterday. My doctor's son goes to the same school as Will and we were talking about the tragedy. Without hesitation, he told me his eldest son, a junior in college, suffered from depression and confided in he and his wife, who got him some help. With the help of medication, his son is doing exceptionally well. It made a huge difference. I wanted to hug him for telling me this information as plain as day, with nothing to feel ashamed or embarrassed about. Then again, as a physician, he understands disease pathophysiology so why would he be ashamed or embarrassed? If his son is sensitive about who knows this information, well he was sensitive to that fact too as he knows I do not know his son or would I know him if I bumped into him on the street.
This is what I want my kids to know about depression and suicide.
Praying for God's healing comfort for all the families in pain from suicide's devastation, especially the most recent ones.
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