It's Sunday Morning: Danskin Sunday Morning

This morning marked the 17th year of the Danskin in Seattle and 20 years of the Danskin Women's Triathlon Series. The Danskin honors women who face their fears and take on challenges: be it cancer to wearing lycra in public. The Danskin is also a fundraiser for Susan G. Komen. This event honors the spirit of all women and has a spirit found nowhere else.

This morning marked the 6th time I registered for this race and the 5th time I actually started (and finished) the race. Each summer I train with a group. It is sortof like sumer camp. But this amazing group of women inspires me. Oh sure, there are new faces each year and faces move on. This year, we trained in the memory of Leah McCollough: a woman whose heart and spirit was so big, it could not be contained. Leah passed last fall from a sudden heart attack.

This year was different. While my team dedicated this year's race to Leah - I trained and raced for Patti. Patti is fighting Stage 3 cancer. This intention added a whole new level to the event. I am incredibly lucky - in addition to an entire team and Coach Cathy, I had Ironman Carol chasing me around and going over - literally - every inch of water, bike route, run route with me over and over and at ever increasing heart rates. There was one morning where I had to ask "Please stop", my hands were numb, my chest was doing something ...odd. Carol pushed - hard. But I still hear her calm voice... "Nice...nice pace....NICE."

On Wednesday, Patti took infusion #6. She hates Wednesdays. I posted on her blog the following:

Red is your new favorite color. It is the color of Christmas, and Valentine's Day, and Buddhist robes. It is the color of romance and life. Red is the ultimate color of speedy little sports cars. Red is the clear, sparkly color hanging in an iv bag that will bathe every cell you have with protection from wandering cancer cells. Red is the color of healing. Tomorrow starts cycle 6: on schedule, on time, onward. She called and thanked me for that post - it got her through drip #6.

Wednesday night - Cathy handed out team shirts. They were red. On the back was a quote... from Leah. Of course. I never knew Leah as well as some but I am sure she didn't mind. From her vantage point with the angels, she knew how to help - she knew what to give. Leah had fabulous fashion sense: I used to tell her "some day, take me shopping: you, girl, have style." So of course, the team shirts were red. Leah is dressing me from the great beyond.

Sunday dawned - a perfect morning. Sunday mornings are the mornings that Patti comes out of cycle and reverts to her bubbly, positive self. A perfect morning to start to a race. A race I had trained for like no other. And while I had a great time and a great race, there was a catch. The spirits of Danskin took my timing chip and sank it to the bottom of Lake Washington. Yup - I lost it and have no official time. At first I was really frustrated and then I remembered my intention for this race. This was not my race to finish. The spirit of Danskin acted as only happens at THIS event. This event that honors the strength of spirit, and the friends that see us through.

Tonight I posted again on Patti's blog:
My official time is DNF - as it should be.
This race is yours - your official time comes next summer and it will read: Survivor.

A little bit longer and I'll be fine.

Today was a home day. Sort laundry, hydrate. Catch up on emails, hydrate. Make doctor appointments, hydrate. Apparently today was a day to catch up on tv watching, and yes hydrate: I have a race fast approaching. About the tv watching....

This afternoon I had the tv on and saw a segment on Nick Jonas. He apparently is one of the Jonas Brothers and they, apparently, are people to get excited over. Nick has diabetes. Managing diabetes while on stage and on tour is quite a trick and in the segment of whatever show was on, he talked about just how hard that is. He is working with Bayer to create medical dogtags with lyrics from one of his songs that read "A little bit longer and I'll be fine." Having just come home from diabetes camp, I was touched and intrigued. Just having worn a pump for a couple of days (saline - not insulin) I cannot imagine having to be tied to a pump or injection syringe 24/7 for life. There is no break, just a non-negotiable rule that if you don't manage highs and lows all day every day, it will end badly for you.

Earlier today, i was folding laundry and James Earl Jones was on The View. James Earl Jones: the voice of CNN, the voice of Darth Vader, a voice that stutters - like me. I had heard he never, ever did interviews to protect his livelihood but here he was on The View chatting it up. I stopped and stared - and cried. Approximately 3% of the adult population in the U.S. stutter. It can be one of the most isolating, frustrating, despairing, depressing, disorders on earth. I have been exceedingly blessed to have always had great support. But I face the dark place from time to time. When the mouth locks and all of my tricks fail, talking is an awful place to be. I like Nick Jonas's dog tag - a much nicer expression that what I sometimes want to snarl out at people, "if you'll just give me a frickin' minute, I'll talk for myself - thank you very #$%^@! much." Aaahh that is why he is famous! "A little bit longer and I"ll be fine."

My exceedingly sweet husband brought home the current issue of Wired magazine. It contained an article on spasmodic dysphonia that afflicted Dilbert creator Scott Adams. Spasmodic dysphonia "SD" affects the basal ganglia of the brain and your speech abandons you. Without warning - yikes! The article was amazingly articulate on describing how speech takes on rules and every day the rules are different. One day you can speak, the next you cannot. One day Scott Adams could read Dr. Seuss, the next he could not. One day singing helped: nope - not the next day. I could relate to "the rules". Stutterers have rules too. One day "W' words are impossible, the next day it is words that start with "T". The best part - "the rules" do not arrive with breakfast. Knowledge of "the rules" arrive when they damn well decide to show up. I used to order a latte every morning on my way to work or school to learn "the rules" for the day. That trick didn't always work but at least I got a warm cup of comfort out of the deal.

I spent quite a bit of time with P recently and had the amazing experience of being with her as she came out of a chemo cycle. From curled up in a ball in bed trying not to moan and scare me to quietly asking for popcorn with lots of butter (the smell of popcorn helps), to jumping out of bed Sunday morning all chirpy and bubbly and stating "I think we should walk up the street and get a bagel". She called the other day to share she can travel in a couple of months and wanted me to fly with her. The phone call ended something like "a little bit longer and I"ll be fine."

I have talked to a lot of people facing non-negotiable health issues: from Celiac to chronic pain. Diabetes to depression. It took Scott Adams 3+ years to find a medical answer. For those with diabetes, cancer, a stutter or whatever else, we are still waiting. We can all learn a lot from Nick Jonas, Scott Adams, and James Earl Jones. We all have a challenge to face - and manage. We can learn from, and be gentle with, each other.

A little bit longer and we'll be fine.

Space Sticks and Tang

40 years ago today, Apollo 11 launched into space. The Apollo program and gardening are the two areas where my mother and I truly connect. We were living in Houston and I was a toddler at the time of the Apollo program. Everyone in our neighborhood was involved in the space program. Everyone's dad worked for NASA, Boeing, Northrup-Grumman. I remember once sitting on my father's shoulders at a neighborhood block party to welcome home astronauts. I attended Edward White Memorial Elementary School and it was years later that I realized Ed White died on the launch pad of Apollo 1 and why my elementary school had such a long name. My husband and I toured Kennedy Space Center one time and loved it - I got extremely emotional standing on the Apollo 1 launch pad that has never been used. I went back this past December - back to Seabrook, Kemah, Galvaston Bay, Clear Lake City. I took a drive down Saturn Lane and also a drive down memories I didn't realize were so strong. I was pulled strongly towards an internship that would afford the opportunity to do nutrition research at Johnson Space Center. I still find that a jet engine screaming down a runway moves my soul like no other sound. The TV image of liftoff makes me cry everytime. I stayed home the day John Glenn returned to space and jumped up and down screaming during countdown. I was standing in the Louvre when Challenger went down and felt like I had just be punched - hard. I was home when Columbia went down and both my husband and I could not stop crying. As a toddler, I was a space child. That still resonates somewhere in my core.

As a small child I drank Tang and ate Space Sticks. Tang became mainstream. I drank it hot at summer camp and poured the powder down my throat on the starting blocks of swim meets as an age-grouper swimmer. My grandmother made Tang Ice Tea: sometimes when I get extremely lonely, I still crave it. Space Sticks were something else. We LOVED them. I cannot tell you what is in them. But I would spend time at the Shepherds house and all the kids would fight over the last space stick in the box. Today I found them on Amazon (of course I did! Where else would they be?!) And while I am darkly fascinated, terrified, and frankly - disturbed, by a space stick, I may just have to get myself a stick or two and celebrate.

40 years ago today - someone of about my current age, climbed on top of one unimaginably huge rocket and dared to go to the moon. They went with nothing by a slide-rule, bad ice cream, Tang, and a box of space sticks. They went with the dedication and support of the brightest minds on earth. They went with the hope and inspiration of the entire world. Just how cool is that?

Good Food

Last night we had a picnic in the park by Lake Washington. In a thunderstorm. And downpour. With Shakespeare. Yes, really. It was perfect! Friends from Oregon were up and had spent the day watching baseball so we met them and other friends at Luther Burbank Park. We grilled burgers in the rain and then gathered around one of the two tables under the shelter for burgers (man food), tomato/basil/mozzarella/violet salad (girl food), watermelon (kid food), and raspberry sorbet (pretty food). We learned that the Shakespeare in the Park had been cancelled due to lightening so a group decided to picnic with their Richard the 3 library books. So we shared the shelter. We gave them watermelon and they did readings of Shakespeare - while waving the watermelon knife, wine bottles, and cookie dough! Huddling under blankets with long time friends and their families watching the lightening and counting to thunderclaps while laughing hysterically at the antics of our collective kids and the thespians made for the perfect meal - even if it was slightly damp and a meal fit for a warm summer night and not quite the stormy night we had.

All food shared with friends and strangers is good food. Our meal was heavy on the fruits, herbs, and laughter making it great food.


I had spent the weekend taking an Ayurveda intensive. There may be a post on that later. The part of the class that I loved was the premise in ayurveda that:
Our souls are guests in our bodies so treat your body well; be a gracious houseguest.

Eating well is how we thank our bodies for providing housing for our soul.

Having satisfaction and happiness is the goal of life. Not things mind you - happiness. Happiness like picnics in the park during thunderstorms with lifelong friends and random strangers.

Biking to Visit the Angels

Yesterday I biked with friends and my guy up Blewett Pass. Well, sortof. The 4 ladies biked 70 miles from Lake Wenatchee up Blewett and back down to Leavenworth. My guy joined in at Leavenworth. I took one look at the thermometer at 8:30 in the morning and thought "uh oh". So I did water patrol up the first 10 miles of Blewett Pass and then joined the fun on the old highway road and did the last 7-10 miles UP. Good thing too - we went through 15 liters of supplemental water in the 98 degree weather. Somewhere along the line I got hooked on biking UP hills. I hate, with a passion, descents. They scare me and I suck at descents. But climbing, call me crazy, I think is meditative. Your heart pounds, all you can hear is your own breathing and it sortof hurts but then the pain fades and all you hear is your breathing and the birds and you feel the sensation of the cadence and where exactly your feet are in the pedal stroke. There is a rhythm to it that is rewarding. Yesterday on the quiet road in the forest with the heat radiating off the potholed pavement I thought I had died and gone to heaven; just me, 5 friends and a bike going UP for hundreds and hundreds of feet. Oh - the down part down all the curves (don't go off the road - nothing but air) was frightening - but when I stopped to unclench my hands from the brakes the views about broke my heart they were so beautiful.

Dinner was grilled salmon, veggies, fruit, and champagne overlooking Lake Wenatchee - wonderful.

Raspberry Heaven

Oh my. Really. Oh my.

Yesterday I drove down to my mother's house to check on the house, the garden, and the cats AND to pick raspberries. Her raspberries are taking over one of the abandoned chicken coops so I could stand with raspberries dangling right in front of me through the chicken wire and just pick and eat myself into raspberry delirium. The buzzing of the bees was so loud, at first I worried that there might be a hive nearby but no, the bees were just buzzing their striped, fuzzy selves into raspberry delirium as well. I also picked lettuce, rhubarb, onions, and an armload of roses.

Tonight, I sent both Ken and I into serious raspberry heaven: raspberry sorbet with a shot of lime, and a garnish of spearmint. We ate sorbet for dinner. For dessert we ate more. You are about to learn why I rarely write recipes and never cook from them, but this will get you really close!

Make sure the bowl from your sorbet maker is frozen (can be anywhere from 6 to 22 hours in the freezer).
Approx. 1 1/2 quarts raspberries
Juice of 1 lime
1 cup agave

Combine all ingredients in a blender until a consistent puree. Pour into sorbet maker. Hit "go".
Garnish with spearmint leaves.

Past, Present, Future

Wednesday.
5:30 am
"Do you want coffee?"
"Yes, Please"

This is how every morning starts at my house sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 am. Since my household lives and breathes aviation, morning starts early and starts with news. Ken makes coffee and it is a sprint through breakfast, packing lunches, frantically comparing schedules, grabbing bags and dashing out the door. The day begins. This is my present.

10:00 am
My amazing groupmates and I present our grant proposal. The final presentation I will ever do for grad school. Laine sets a relaxed tone, Claudia throws detail after detail on the screen. I close with a photo of the kitchen seniors from the Pike Market Senior Center. Unexpectedly I feel a pang of emotion. The Senior Center taught me much - but it is becoming part of my past.

1:00 pm
I am sitting on P's bed watching the ceiling fan and holding her hand. Her other hand holds an icepack where her right breast and a boatload of lymph nodes used to be. She is telling me a story that cracks me up. But then I ask, "Do you get angry?"

"No. Someone asked me what do I think about first thing in the morning and it isn't anger, or why me. It is how awed I am to be alive. I have a past, and a present. I want a future."

The answer and the fact the person giving the answer has honored me with her friendship for almost 30 years, leaves me speechless.

7:00 pm
Standing in the back of the Bastyr chapel I am watching my future. Every year the graduating nutrition students cater a dinner for the interns and their preceptors. There are candles, truly amazing food, and flowers from my mother's garden covering almost every surface. The interns are thanking their preceptors and the director is thanking them. Next year, I am an intern. This is my future.

11:00pm
The swim technique video finishes. Cathy's house (my tri coach and personal trainer) is cooling off after the 90 degree day.
We sit there in the almost dark and talk: about how to fix my swim stroke, how to fix my terror of riding a bike downhill fast, surfing, chocolate, paperwork, her own past fight with cancer.

"Do you have a time goal this year for a sprint tri?"
"For the first time ever, I do have a time goal, and a plan for what the splits have to look like."
"OK - you'll be doing the level 3 workouts this summer." "Misha, you'll be fine."

The last comment is in response to my whining. She never - ever raises her voice but the message gets sent. She knows what she's doing and more importantly she knows what I should be doing - don't whine, just do it. She is a great coach and tonight especially she gets in my head and soothes my fretting. Close to midnight, I head home.

5:30am
"Do you want coffee?"
"Yes please".
"What are you thinking?"

I give P's answer from yesterday. "I am in awe of being alive. I am lucky to have my present. I want my future."