Dad Is Still With Me: Stroke Awareness and a Marathon

I won't lie, training for a marathon has been tougher than I had envisioned. There are a few good lessons and good things, in general, I've gained from the last eight months of training.

Stroke Awareness and Research

As you may know, I'm running to support the American Stroke Association's efforts to increase stroke

Dad and Mom, 2002,
13 years after the stroke

awareness and research. So many of us are affected by stroke each day. Whether we suffer a stroke, or someone we know and love suffers, our lives are changed forever. A real difference can be made with education and funding. 

Several years ago, my own family was impacted by my father's devastating stroke. He suffered the worst, of course, but we all were changed. 

If you would like to donate, you can visit my fundraiser page. 

I have been so encouraged by the support I've had for my running and my efforts at fundraising. We've increased the goal twice in the last few months, and met it each time. I will keep raising funds through January, and likely after.

Running Through Life

It takes commitment to train for a marathon. After making the commitment, as with most things in life, it will be tested. Mine certainly has. 

At the very outset, in early May, I believe, my knees were hurting badly. I started to take it as a sign that I was nuts for thinking I could run a marathon, but I came to my senses and visited my doctor and a physical therapist. Fortunately, I had a great therapist, Jennifer Tuska, at Kort Physical Therapy and I was better than ever in a few weeks. I had survived the first test.

Me and the monkeys at
the zoo.

As my runs became longer, the time requirement increased. I was determined not to let my family time suffer and it soon became apparent that this marathon thing would require their support. My wife, the kids, everyone has been great and on board. My daughters even run with me, sometimes. I hope this whole get-in-shape thing will help me be around for them all for a long, long time.

As with any other sport, your mind has to be focused to maximize your output and progress. When the stress of work, or the house, or the broken car, or any number of things pop up, its extremely tough to hit the road for a two hour run, or even a short one. I've learned to simply put one foot in front of the other and do it anyway. 

Dad Is Still There

Still, if I wasn't committed ridding the world of stroke, I wouldn't have the same drive to succeed. I think of my dad when I was a little boy; the strong, peaceful, outdoor-loving, dad. I think of the hard times he, and we, had after the stroke. I think of the man he became, overcoming his stroke to some extent, even better in many ways, but never returning to his former self.

Even though he's gone, he is still with me. I hear his words and see a lot of him in myself. I keep going because of him, for my own children, and for myself. 

It looks as if I will finish my marathon in January. I hope to post a good time for a first-timer, but it doesn't really matter. Finishing is what counts, this time.

Become a part of this whole thing here. And, follow this blog to keep up with all things fatherly and running-ly.

Stroke Awareness

I was planning to introduce a week-long series of posts that sought to define this blog, and me, this week, but something more important presented itself. That "something" is also a big part of "me," so I am actually following through with my planned defining.

Today is World Stroke Day. Take this day, this week, to learn to recognize the symptoms of stroke and what to do when stroke happens.

Over the next couple of decades, stroke deaths are projected to increase by 30%, unless we do something to educate ourselves on how to prevent it and how to react when it happens. Each of us, over our lifetime, will be touched by stroke in some fashion. My own father suffered a devastating, life-altering stroke. I can tell you, it not only changed his life, but also our entire family.

Learn, spread the word, and lets start turning the tide!

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Top-5 Personal Lessons of Marathon Training

Training for a 5K race and training for a marathon are vastly different. Forget the obvious distance differential, that's the least of the differences.

Lessons Learned

For an elite athlete, or one that has realistic expecations of winning any race, the training for a short or long race is not so different. Either way, it requires a great deal of time.

For the recreational runner like me, a guy who wants to check a few things off his bucket list and then evaluate the future, half-marathon and marathon training have taught me a few things. Some of the things I considered at the beginning, but, in my typical fashion, I overestimated my ability to overcome. 

Here are the top-five things I've learned these past few months.

5. It's harder than 5K training. When I ran my first 11-mile training run, I finished and thought, "That isn't even half-way," when compared to a marathon. I ran my first 13-mile distance in 90-degree heat a few weeks ago and it took me several days to recover. Again, I thought "That was barely half-way there." My first honest-to-goodness half-marathon race is in less than two weeks. I know I can finish the distance, maybe even ahead of some people, but make no mistake, it has been a physical and mental struggle to get to this point.

4. It's harder than 5K training, mentally.  I remain motivated to finish both the half and full, and I'm certain I'll be able to do it.  I must say, however, that it gets harder with every maintenance run and every long run to summon the same verve I had a few weeks ago. The 13-miler took as much out of me mentally as physically. Since that time, I've missed some runs and had to dig deep not to lose ground. 

3. Encouragement matters. As word gets around, people congratulate you on the undertaking. It feels good and provides some much needed motivation. A certain percentage of the people most assuredly think I'm stupid for doing it, but they're easy to spot. The sincere remarks have an impact.

2. My body doesn't respond as quickly as it used to. In past years, when I demanded something of myself physically, my body returned with a hearty "Let's roll!" Now, past 40, it says, "I'll get back to you on that one, maybe." I estimated that I'd be much further along in my per-mile pace at this point, but at least I'm able to get out there and do it. 

1. It requires a commitment from the whole family. Real runners, great runners can put in a 13-mile training run in well under 1.5 hours. My only training run at that distance took me 3 hours. Yes, conditions were unbearable, but under the best of conditions it would have taken 2.5.  With three maintenance runs and one long run, running can take a big bite out of the free time you have in a week. My family time has suffered, which has been the worst part of this little journey.  I'm fortunate that everyone is on-board with this. I've found that running requires as much mental well-being as any other sport. Being worried about something, or having loads on the mind, has an impact on performance and motivation.

I'm fortunate for the family I have, the relative good health I've been given, and the ability to continue. It's been harder than I expected, but I'm glad to be able to put one foot in front of the other as many times as it requires.

I'd like to hear from those of you who have been down this road. Let us all hear in the comments!

Slow Motion: Another Dad Moment

Not my child. Not her dress.

My 10-year old daughter is beginning to enter a realm where the times my impact on her is
plainly seen are fewer. I hate to see her grow, but love seeing her grow. Ya know?

My six-year old daughter, however, still frequently reminds me how important I am in her life. There are moments with the older one, still, but the little one is all about daddy.

This morning, while getting ready for school, her first choice of the day's attire was dirty, having been worn twice already this week (Said "yes" to day two, but three was pushing it). The next choice, even by my standards, was not a good one, because it's PE day at school. Her third choice left her uncertain, but she put it on.

As she brushed her hair, she kept looking at her dress (I made her put bike shorts on underneath. After all, it's gym day) and moving altogether too slow for my taste. Finally, I said, "Sweetie, you look beautiful. I love the dress." BOOM. Smile and a whole 'nother gear. Now we're moving toward getting out the door. 

As she bounced around and as I tied my tie, I realized I had made an impact. I replayed her smile in my mind and thought of how she needs to hear things from me. The same thing from mom is good, too, but when daddy also approves, it must be good. I need to be reminded of that from time to time. Reminded that I am important. Reminded they need me.

I'm forever telling them how smart they are when they've done something well, pointing out when they've been a good friend, or when they've shown generosity, and so on. Little girls don't just need to hear they're pretty, but when they do, it is meaningful.

I live in a home full of girls, including the two kittens we recently acquired, so rarely do I get to say, "Dude, that superhero shirt is killing it!" I don't even know if that's something that would be said.  But, I'm sure something appropriate would carry as much weight with boys as with girls.

I like moments like this. When everything is moving at the speed of light, when I can't even think clearly because of all the activities and time flying away, a moment where I clearly see my child's smile and happiness in slow motion is priceless.

 Image courtesy petuniad.

Is This Happening?

My dad, a few years before his stroke.

May 1989

When I visited my parents' house around 5:00 p.m., I usually found my dad sitting at the table, watching the news and smoking a cigarette after having worked in the garden, tended to the cattle, or any number of other things that could happen under direct sunlight.

This day appeared to be no different. I walked in the front door and said, "Hey." He was at the table, watching television and trying to hold and light his cigarette. He dropped it a couple of times before giving up on the task for a moment. 

As I went to get a drink and some food out of the frig, he began telling me about working in the garden and how it was coming along, and how unusually hot it had been for a day in May. 

In between my munching and gulping, I noticed that his speech didn't sound quite right, a little slurred. I was about 21, so his 51 years seemed ancient to me. I instantly thought he had gotten too hot and was tired, or he had drank one too many beers due to the heat. But, I watched him continue to unsuccessfully light his cigarette. He'd drop it, pick it up, and drop it again. 

I asked him if he was ok. He said he was. I looked at his face. Something looked a little different, but if the slurred speech and cigarette trouble weren't happening, I wouldn't have noticed. 

After another minute or two, he went to lie down and was unsteady on his feet.

I thought, "Is this happening?" It seemed like a stroke, but it took me another couple of minutes to act on my feeling. I called my mother and brother. We went to the hospital. He seemed to feel better. The doctor sent him home.

Later that night, he had another, more significant episode. We went back to the hospital.

At the hospital, after the second episode, we learned that he had suffered a significant stroke and that the initial episode had been a smaller one. He survived, but in the days and weeks to come, we learned the extent of the stroke. His right side had been severely affected. He had no use of his right arm, no use of his right leg and the right side of his face had no movement.

He eventually regained some use of his leg and was able to walk short distances with a cane. His face returned to normal, but he never regained any use of his arm. His mind was not affected and his speech returned to normal, thankfully.

It seems strange to say, but he became more emotional after the stroke. He was much more prone to happiness and sadness, tears of joy or tears of pain. 

The stroke happened in 1989. Dad passed away in 2011. He lived and enjoyed his life for over 20 years after the stroke, but he would never mend another fence, never help another old mother cow deliver her calf, never toss his granddaughters into the air or run and play with them, though he wanted to, so badly.

All of this could possibly have been avoided. 

Please. Learn to see the signs. Learn to act and not think, "Is this happening?"

 

Visit the American Stroke Association and learn, and consider helping to further research here.

The Easiest Lesson Lost

Curmudgeon speak

After this post, I'll seem like a curmudgeon. So be it.

Any trip to Lowe's (or Home Depot), Wal-Mart (or Kmart), or, as it happens, Qdoba (and, quite possibly, Chipotle), or any place of business, for that matter, has the distinct possibility of ending badly. When I'm forced to visit, well, anywhere, I've become adept at picking out the "high speed, low drag" representatives.  

The Lesson to be Learned

I know it's difficult to go into work as a front line, minimum wage employee of John's Box Store with the attitude of "How can I help you? And, I mean that!"  I've been there and failed as often as I succeeded in keeping a good attitude. What I recognized, even as a lazy college student, was that I was working more for myself than "for the man."

Which helped me do a decent job.

Which, with minimal effort, I might add, separated me from others in my position. 

It taught me that if I work harder/better, I can improve my lot.

I've often thought this will quite possibly be the easiest lesson I will teach my children, because it generally works. It's provable. If they try it, they'll see it and feel it in everything they do.

But, Maybe I'm Wrong?

Because, that line of thinking seems to be disappearing. The high-speed individuals are harder to find, they're nearing extinction.

If you guessed that what moved me to think about this particular topic was something I've experienced lately, you're right. 

It was the three young gents at a local chain restaurant in the business of selling burritos that, apparently, were not excited about selling me a burrito.

It was the lady at a locally-owned dance studio that was upset someone forgot to turn the "open" sign to "closed" before I came in to buy dance lessons for my in-laws. A problem she rectified before saying to me, "What do you need?" I did not make a purchase. She did not care.

The good thing about both instances was that my children witnessed them. I used them as "teaching moments."  After the latter incident, my 10-year old said, "She was like the boys at [burrito place]?" 

This sort of thing is repeated everywhere, everyday. It is still counterbalanced with instances of great service and assistance, but the balance is tipping in the wrong direction. 

The Good News

The good news is, for my children and yours, the workplace could be easy pickings in a few more years. That is, if the motor of the world hasn't stopped. 

If they're willing to do a good job for their employers, or themselves, they'll succeed quite readily. If they take the prevailing attitude about life and their lot in it, they'll be miserably happy wallowers. I hope they'll chose the road less traveled and become a person that people will seek out.

Just as I feared. I'm a curmudgeon.

Who is John Galt?

Photo courtesy http://www.flickr.com/photos/oh_darling/

Best Encouragement Ever

I was completely wiped out after running 13.1 miles on Sunday afternoon. The heat and the distance, my longest ever, did me no favors.

I immediately felt better when I saw this message from my daughters on our windows. 

The fact that it is backwards made it even better! The right encouragement from the right people can work miracles.

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