F***

Cancer.  a malignant tumor of potentially unlimited growth that expands locally by invasion and systemically by metastasis.

Or just a scary-ass word that invokes the words, "Oh, fuck" from even the most pious monk.

Talked to my mom on Monday and found out that each of my parents found out this past week that they both have cancer.  Prostate is my dad's flavor, while my mom has the pleasure of breast cancer.

That's the bad news.

Good news, which has been trickling in throughout the week, suggests that neither of them are about to drop dead or have to undergo nasty, years-long battles with this enigmatic cellular deviant.  Doc told my pops that he'll likely die WITH prostate cancer, but not OF prostate cancer.  Mom has to undergo a mastectomy, but it looks like she gets to avoid the twin horrors of radiation and chemo.  She'd been good about getting annual checkups.  Here's to early detection!


When the headhamster starts spinning, I think adventure.  Newest idea - I'm not sure how well it will fit into my training, but I'd love to run the four pass loop this summer.  Looks more and more like I need to spend a good week up around Aspen...I hafta find a passable route between Snowmass and Capitol as well.

As I've frequently alluded to in the past, I run as much to process the crap that life throws my way as I do to keep from getting fat, feed my ego, and get rid of excess energy.  So it's always a bit strange to sit here and write down how far or fast I went on any particular day, as if the numbers define that event or something.  Nonetheless. 

20 flat miles in the dark this AM.  10 out easy (8:15's) on the Santa Fe, and 10 back averaging 6:30's.  I was curious to see what was under the hood after 18, so I brought home the last trail mile in 5:40.  Iced and stretched afterward.  In no point of my training has a twenty ever felt so inconsequential - I felt I could have easily tacked on a ton more, and would have done so if daddy obligations didn't begin around sunrise.


The Santa Fe is a mixed bag.  I love being able to translate mile splits into fitness and such, but I'm sick of the same damn thing every day.  Today's run only included 600ish feet of elevation gain.  I can find that in 2 miles outside the front door of my school.  Speaking of which, Cheyenne Mtn is a week away, and it's not exactly flat.  This week has seen me return to near-normal mileage (53 miles after 6 days) and intensity.  The only thing left to add back in to my full regimen is hill work.

And maybe this week can bring a little less news.


 

Cheaper than a shrink

Today was one of those "character-building" days.  Got some news I wasn't prepared for.  Caught two kids cheating on a test and had to contact parents.  Had another parent come after me because her kid didn't get a big part in the musical.  And lost my buddy Chris for my birthday run as he had the opportunity to visit his folks in Wisco that weekend.  To top it off, sleet had started coming down at a somewhat annoying rate.  Snow is one thing, but sleet gets you all chilled to the bone.  I was in a foul mood when I got done with work.

So I ran.

Nothing crazy, I planned on an easy hour after yesterday's long run.  Here's the beauty of running, though.  Within minutes, this sixty minute recovery run became something entirely different.  It became therapy.  It became escape.  Relaxation.  It put my headhamster to rest for a bit.  Totally lost track of anything other than the freshly snow-covered lower Columbine trail and the first semblance of peace I'd experienced today.  

The monster was at gymnastics during this hour - he was jonesin' for some Wii at the YMCA, so we stopped in for thirty minutes afterward.  Just enough time for to squeeze in some rehab for my shoulder.  Read a good book to the little man, talked about planets as I tucked him in.  Had a cool email waiting for me.  Realized the day had taken a turn for a better, and that defining point, as it usually is, was when I stepped out that door.

Another email I got tonight was from the fine folks who run the Salida Marathon.  Sounds like there's barely any snow on the course right now.  We'll see.  A brisk little 2k climb in the first 8 miles, a bunch of rollers, and then a drop back into town around mile 20.  Probably not a Boston qualifier.

Truthfully, I haven't run a non-Ironman mary since 2001...and I was fat and useless back then.  While I don't expect anything impressive, I am looking forward to another chance to test my fitness.  26 trail miles are very different than 13 concrete miles.   


Got this JBT tune stuck in my head.