Running Through It: Adrienne + Childhood Cancer
Adrienne’s kiddos, cheering her on during a 2012 half-marathon.
[[This is the second in our Running Through It series; today, we hear from #motherrunner Adrienne Linberg and her daughter’s childhood cancer. Read the first in the series: how Tamara ran through workplace harassment.]]
We got the call late in the evening on September 18th, 2011. The latest round of chemotherapy didn’t work. We needed to pack up and drive approximately 150 miles from our home in Duluth, MN to Minnesota Children’s Hospital in Minneapolis to start the next course of treatment by 8 the next morning.
We had learned just a little over a month earlier, that instead of starting 1st grade, our 6-year-old daughter, Annika, would be starting treatment for relapsed leukemia. The only hope for a long-term cure was a bone marrow transplant.
We packed in a hurry that night. I packed for our 15-month-old, Katherine and myself, while my husband packed the car. We didn’t know how long we would be gone—or if we’d be all together when we came back.
Annika packed her own bag, but of course, I always checked just to make sure she didn’t forget anything critical, like a toothbrush or socks.
Normally I would find a good mix of clothes and the most important toys of the day. But when I checked her bag bound for the hospital, mixed among her clothes, I found a few little treasures. A porcelain little angel, her newest American Girl Doll. I also found her new box of brightly colored 48 Crayola crayons. This was her first BIG box, she’d gotten when we went Back to School shopping. Before we knew she wouldn’t be going back to school.
The promise of a vivid life in 48 colors.
As a child, I specifically remember my excitement about getting a brand new box of crayons. The distinct, waxy smell, the uniformity of the tips, the repetition of the size of each crayon neatly forming rows in the box.
How could one little box hold so much excitement and creativity?
Seeing those crayons wedged in with all her other chosen items—the ones she decided she needed for this battle, the battle for her life—represented such a powerful juxtaposition of the innocent, childish, joyful, bright little girl and the evil, dark, colorless, malevolent cancer she was fighting.
48 colorful little soldiers, sharp and at the ready joined her rank and file to battle the threat of a colorless future.
For six months we lived in the Ronald McDonald house on Oak Street in Minneapolis. We left behind everything. At the lowest point in this journey, we spent 56 consecutive days in the hospital, watching as the oncologists skillfully brought Annika within an inch of death. She endured high-dose chemotherapy, full body radiation and the horrible pain and side effects.
11/11/11 = hope always. Miss A gets her transplant, while little K (donor) watches and we all HOPE. [Photo credit: Jim Bovin]
In the hospital, between bouts Annika’s bouts of nausea and diarrhea or when she was resting I would think about running. Mostly just think: During her treatment, I would sneak out for a short run to blow off some stress, but the miles were pretty few and far between.
Earlier in the year I had joined a group of women runners. We’d meet early mornings and run for a few miles before starting our days. These runs were such peaceful time and I longed to have that freedom again.
I fantasized about training for and running the Garry Bjorklund half marathon in Duluth the following June. I fantasized about putting some literal and figurative distance between me and my current reality.
I wanted to pound out months of pain, stress, frustration and anxiety during training runs on the snowy shores of the Great Lake Superior. If all went well, we could be home in spring in time to start training and running again in earnest.
100 days after her transplant, Annika was doing well enough to move home. It was mid February 2012, just in time to start training for the half marathon.
Adrienne getting her legs back, half-marathon style.
During this cancer journey, we were supported by hundreds of friends and family members. And the community of Duluth came out to support us in countless ways. If you’ve ever run Grandmas Marathon or the Garry Bjorklund half marathon you’ve witnessed how the whole city rallies around the races to support runners. It was incredible.
Running a half marathon was just the start of my own healing.
Since then I’ve run many more half marathons and am now training for my third full marathon, By putting one foot in front of the other, logging thousands of miles, I’ve realized the process of healing is just that: A process.
Cancer in your children is never something you just get over. Sometimes it’s riddled with traps, false security, emotions, confusion and acceptance, but through it all there is hope. Always hope.
[P.S. We are happy to report that Annika is now 12, and cancer-free.]
Have you Run Through It—a challenging situation or stage in life—at some point? We want to hear from you!
Write up your essay (no more than 1,200 words, please), then email it to us. We’ll be in touch when we can publish it. Thanks!
P.S. There are still Valentine’s Day BAMRboxes available! Make sure to order yours now so it gets there in time for the big day!
Why I Skipped Dry January
Me, a glass of wine, the month of January.
Abstaining from alcohol is the new black. For the past few years it has become the thing to do come January, right along with dieting and exercising. Those resolutions are no doubt still popular, but it’s dry January that I hear the most about these days.
From what I can tell, dry January can trace its roots to the United Kingdom about a decade ago. In our increasingly shrinking world, the trend hopped across the pond a couple of years ago and now it’s all the rage.
I’m not much of a resolution maker, but for a little while, I toyed with the whole dry January thing. It seemed like a healthy aspiration; reset the body and start the new year squeaky clean and sober. I can get on board with that, and so I did, for all of one week.
Then came the first weekend, a cold night, a warm fire, and the desire to complement it with a lovely red. So I poured myself that glass and enjoyed. I felt no guilt after it, either, for only making it seven days without alcohol.
Here’s the thing: I am a very healthy person, with very solid habits in place already. I exercise six days each week, eat a well rounded, nutritious diet, and get plenty of sleep. I check all the boxes and have outstanding stats to show for it. My doctor loves my blood pressure, and compliments me every year at my annual physical.
When it comes to alcohol, I probably average one or two glasses of wine per week. I like a glass with Saturday night dinner, at book club with the neighbors, or while capping off the weekend with a movie on Sunday evening. That’s it.
So when I started thinking about it, it seemed incredibly silly to deprive myself of this simple pleasure. In fact, many physicians even recommend the occasional glass of red wine for the resveratrol it contains, a heart-healthy antioxidant.
Sure, there are people for whom a bit of drying out is a very good thing, and many Americans just want to “clear out the toxins” at the start of a new year. There is no doubt some health benefit can come from avoiding alcohol for 31 days.
Alcohol is empty calories, in some cases, red wine not included. It can lower your inhibitions around food—I know this because I remember the mad cases of munchies I would get in college following a night of over imbibing. This can lead to unwanted pounds, which again, I know from personal, collegiate experience.
Other downsides to alcohol can include dehydration, interrupted sleep, and according to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, sometimes involves a rise in depression and anxiety. This is all without even touching on alcohol’s addictive characteristics, which for some, become problematic all too easily.
Other solid reasons exist, too: Listen to an AMR podcast on why this mother runner is happy she chose Dry January.
In my case, these issues don’t apply, so why restrict something that brings me pleasure and enhances my experiences? Not only that, but as a parent, I believe showing my kids moderation with alcohol is a good example. Restriction, on the other hand, models the idea that even for adults, there is no middle ground. I don’t want to send that message.
I believe that as a culture, Americans tend to extremes with our diets. There’s plenty of demonizing of food groups and behaviors, which can lead to a whole host of new problems. I go out of my way to avoid that for myself and my kids, and want to apply that to alcohol as well.
With this one extreme or the other culture in which we exist, I would bet that come February 1, most bars see a big uptick in business as the January teetotalers celebrate their dry month by, well, getting drunk. All of which rather shoots the whole point of a month sans alcohol.
Maybe some people find they improve their habits around alcohol by giving it up for a month, and that’s great. Heck, maybe there’s even a population that finds its way permanently sober after a long stint of alcohol abuse. These are wonderful outcomes, if so.
But for me, the likely less-than-average imbiber, I can’t see any benefit to dry January. I enjoyed the occasional glass in January and plan to keep it going all year ‘round.
Did you partake in Dry January? Why or why not?
2018 Running Goals: Cortney Comes Back—From Burst Appendix!
Note: This is our fourth (and last) in our 2018 Running Goals Series. Missed the other posts? Grab them.
Live—and run—long enough, and you’re going to face a setback. (And probably more than one. Sorry.)
Cortney Sloan’s appendix burst in August. Yikes!
“Sudden,” in her words. “Not so much fun.”
For four weeks, Cortney couldn’t exercise at all. Stitches holding her incision together meant no swimming. The communications manager at the National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine (cool job!) had to stay home from work for two weeks lying on the couch.
Memorial Day race with adorable Elliot, age 5.
When her doctor finally gave her the okay to exercise again, she spent two to four weeks of run/walking no more than 3 miles at a time.
Which is exactly the way anyone who is forced to take time off for injury, illness, whatever, SHOULD return, but as we all know, being cautious is SO hard. Because…
“I gained weight because I had to be sedentary,” Cortney says. “The fitness gains I’d made disappeared a lot faster than I would’ve imagined.”
(Indeed, a recent study of “recreational” [charity] Boston marathoners who mostly quit running for 8 weeks after that race showed they lost fairly significant cardiovascular fitness after 4 weeks of relative inactivity.)
The good news is, the longer you’ve been running (consistently), the quicker your return.
Cortney’s love affair with running began in 2003 when she started dating the man she’d marry. She and Kevin went for runs, signed up for races, joined the Montgomery County Road Runners. “It was part of who we were as a couple.”
Cortney and Kevin ran the Castaway 5K, a private island on a Disney Cruise.
They ran the Marine Corps Marathon together in 2007, although Cortney is quick to clarify: “We’ve always had a rule that we run our own races. We are not the couple that runs together and crosses the finish line holding hands.”
After their son, Elliot, was born in 2012, Cortney decided that she liked the half-marathon for all the reasons that every mother runner knows and why women make up more than 60% of half-marathon finishers:
The half-marathon feels like a big accomplishment, which it is! But you don’t have to spend 3-4 hours on Saturday mornings training, coming home depleted, exhausted, starving, and unable to bounce back and be a present parent. Never mind all the foam rolling and stretching, because who’s got time for that?
These days, Cortney goes to the weekend long runs her running club hosts because she likes the accountability and socializing. Kevin is perfectly happy doing solo long runs later in the day. That’s how they manage the running/parenting equation.
Cortney’s Realistic Stepping Stones for 2018
Here’s Cortney’s PDF of her 2018.
First Step: Just Finish
The Austin half-marathon in February is “really about being ABLE to finish,” Cortney says. “That’s where I am right now.”
Yes, yes, yes, SO smart. Cortney’s aim is to regain fitness and strength. When your training has been derailed—for whatever reason—your comeback goal has to be simply to come back.
Bonus: Austin! Fun!
Second Step: Make Peace With Where You Are
“I am running about a minute slower per mile than last year,” Cortney says. “That’s harder on the ego than the body.”
We hear that. The run-away ego has led many a returning runner straight into injury. A comeback plan starts where you are—not where you left off. Just because you could run [whatever pace] last year doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy—or even doable—this year. The quicker you can mentally make peace with that, the better.
Third Step: Take on Half-Marathons in May and October
On the upside, Cortney is setting a benchmark in February. That said, she’ll have to beware the comparison trap. If everything goes perfectly and she improves her times, hooray! But if it’s too warm in May or October, which is entirely possible, return to the first goal—just finish. This is the year to regain strength and fitness, not set world records.
PS Happy 40th Birthday in October! What a fun way to celebrate! May you have many more!
Fourth Step: Watching the Weight
Cortney likes the accountability that Weight Watchers offers: “It’s somebody else checking in on me, not caring what my excuse is.” She found a weekly meeting that fits into her work-life-running schedule.
Even better, she and Kevin sit down on Sundays, plan out the weekly menu, and go grocery shopping so the house is stocked with healthy food for breakfast, packed lunches, and dinner. She’s already lost a couple of pounds. Woot!
The other thing she’s working on is finding a cross-training activity that fits that work-life-running schedule. She loves Body Pump, but the class time isn’t convenient. Solid Core—“basically Pilates gone crazy”—left her too wrecked to run.
Fifth Step: Asking the Right Questions
I love that Cortney’s 2018 Goal Sheet is full of checking-in questions: What needs to be moved? What choices are you making to stay on goal?
It’s a good reminder that a year is not something we can just power through, checking off each month without assessment. They wouldn’t be GOALS if they were simply a to-do list, right?
So speaking of questions, here’s mine for you:
What cross-training do you fit into your running life?
#296: Bart Yasso Talks Races + Retirement with Another New Co-Host
Dry Martini: So That Was Weird
I’ve made a pledge to myself to not grouse about my recent runs in the snow, cold, and ice because, really, at this point in the winter, we’re all either sick to death of freezing and sliding or sick to death of hearing those who are freezing and sliding complain about it while we are out on the lanai enjoying a margarita. That pledge, however, means that I’ve kind of cut myself off at the knees when it comes to writing a column about running. Take it as a given that it is still cold, still snowing, still icy and I’m still running. Sometimes inside. Sometimes outside. Sometimes I swear at the sky a little bit; then go do what needs to be done.
Pretty much all you need to know.
My pledge means that I can finally tell you a weird story I’ve being trying to find room for.
At the beginning of September, I had a stranger “Slide into my DMs.” That’s what the kids say, yes? Or does that phrase have a naughty connotation, like “Netflix and chill?” For the longest time, I thought “Netflix and chill” sounded like the best way to wind-down after a grueling week, just hanging out in your jammies with some hot cocoa watching The Crown. And while the … aerobic … activity that goes with how other people use the phrase is fun, too, I didn’t figure it out until I’d already horrified my oldest child. See, I said her Dad and I were going to “Netflix and chill” that night. You can imagine the rest.
I’ll explain this in a minute. Just hold the image in your head for now. Marianne is on the left. I’m on the right.
Anyway, a stranger slid into my DMs. She started off with a bit about not being a stalker but then went on to say that she had a picture of me that was in her parents’ family photo album. Really, she said, it’s my Dad who is a stalker.
Kristen, who lives in suburban Philadelphia, was visiting her folks in New Jersey and flipping through the family album. “Who are these people?” she asked her Dad when she got to the photo in question.
“Wait,” he said. “I thought that was you.”
Thanks to the wonders of the internet, she was able to track my info down via the Pittsburgh marathon results site. On Facebook, she noticed we had a friend in common and bingo-bango, the DM slide.
Once I stopped laughing and marveling at how tiny the world is, Kristen and I got to chatting. Yes, I told her, I did enjoy the race. I don’t know what I was doing in that picture, other than being a big goober because I’d just spied the very tall Dimity just a few feet ahead. Also: I always dig running over bridges and it was extra excited because Marianne was by my side.
“How was your Pittsburgh run?” I asked. I figuring that her Dad just picked the wrong photo to have printed because he was looking to have evidence of his kid in the race. And that’s where it got even funnier.
Kristen didn’t run it.
While she’s long been intrigued by the ‘burgh, it tends to be at the same time as Philadelphia’s Broad Street Run, which Kristen and other members of her S.W.I.F.T. group prefer to take on. And until the photo incident, she hadn’t been introduced to Another Mother Runner.
So far, no one has been able to figure out how that particular picture wound up in the packet of printed photos her Dad picked up at his local CVS. It is a mystery.
The photo itself showed up in my mailbox a few days later and I’ve put it in my own running photo album, which is actually a bulletin board near my race medals. It’s a nice reminder of both a great race and how small the running community can be.
Kristen and I finally met in person at the Philadelphia marathon expo in November. Sadly, I suffered from camnesia and failed to take a picture. I can say that while we look similar, in the sense that we are both middle aged white women who are sort of the same shape, we’re not dopplegangers. Maybe every runner looks the same when you stick a hat on ‘em?
So this week’s question: have you had any strange running coincidences?
Winter Running Gear: A Few of Coach Amanda’s Favorite Things
Coach Amanda’s winter running gear: Just add frost + you’re good to go!
By mid-winter each year, my friend Becky starts a countdown until the first day we can wear shorts again on our runs. It’s a bit early still to go there, but with the longest month just about over, it feels like there is hope spring may indeed arrive some day. In the meantime, however, we likely have another month of dreary weather on our hands.
You may have heard me say before that I really, truly, have no tolerance for treadmills. That doesn’t mean I don’t consider treadmill running “real.” I do, and I get that many mamas have no choice, especially in winter. But because I will go to the ends of the earth to avoid the treadmill, I’ve become pretty good at doing what it takes to get outside in the middle of the dark, short winter days.
These are my go-tos when the weather gets frightening:
- A calendar and a weather forecast—Around these parts, the weather folks start hyping snow days in advance, so when I hear it’s coming, I look at the calendar. Then I start moving runs around. If my long run is set for Saturday but we’re supposed to get an ice storm Friday night, I shift that run to Friday. Then it’s over and done and I don’t have to stress about potentially missing it. I do this with other runs, too, if necessary, to get outside. My standard advice with this maneuvering: Always keep a hard/easy pattern in your schedule, and don’t forget that long runs count as hard, even if the pace is comfortable (and it usually should be!).
- A set of yak trax or some such traction device—There have been many runs I would have skipped if I didn’t have the confidence of yak trax keeping me upright. These handy devices strap onto your shoes in no time and provide you with the traction needed to run when conditions aren’t favorable. You can find them online, at your local running store, or even Eddie Bauer, among other retailers.
- A neck gaiter—when the temperatures dip below 10 here (thankfully not all that often) I add a neck gaiter to keep my face warm in those early miles. Almost always I wind up pushing it down around my neck, but it is a life saver when I first step outside.
- Fleece tights—Ok, ladies, I have been running for 20 years and I finally bought a pair of these cozy bottoms. Where have they been all my life? From about 15 degrees to the low 20s, I wear them alone. When it gets down below 10-15, I add in a pair of bum huggers because for some reason, having the posterior in an extra layer makes some kind of difference.
- A good shell—Not something I pull out until it’s under 20 unless it’s windy, but a lightweight shell is so darn good at trapping the heat. Combine it with one long-sleeved shirt and I’m covered. My favorite is from cycling, actually, and has removable sleeves in case you warm up, with a pocket into which you can stash them.
- Ankle-length compression socks—I can’t even remember when/where I got these, but they are like little heaters for the feet when the temps are low.
I haven’t met a day/temperature yet here in Maryland where I can’t get outside with some combo of this gear and planning, and that’s after 20 years of running. They save my runs–and my sanity!
What are your go-tos for winter running gear?