Runners Don't Have Any

On Friday Jan 7th I went for a routine every-3-month-scheduled-breast-cancer-in-remission follow up. A mammogram this time.

Nurse: We'll do the left only. 
Me: Why?
Nurse: Because the healthy one (the right) gets checked only once a year.
Me: I want it for both.
Nurse: That's OK but you need to sign a waiver for billing purposes.
Me: I'll sign.

Exam done. Wait until the doctor sees the pictures. Preoccupation Level = 0.

Nurse: We need to take a magnified picture.
Me: Why?
Nurse: Doctor wants to see something with more detail.
Me: Which one? 
Nurse: The right one.
Me: Oh, the one that we were not going to see at all?

Magnified picture taken. Wait until the doctor sees the pictures. Preoccupation Level = 3.

Doctor: I can spot calcifications, and as you had them in the breast that had cancer, we need to be conservative. I'd like to do a biopsy. 
Me: OK, can it be done today?
Doctor: Yes, right away.

Biopsy done. Wait until Mon or Tue for the results. Preoccupation Level  = 5.

On Tuesday 11th I went to the doctor's office to find out the good news that I don't have cancer. The semi-bad news is that I have atypical lobular hyperplasia (i.e.: pre-cancerous cells). In short, I need to coordinate with my oncologist and the surgeon for the removal.  I go immediately to my oncologist office, who orders an MRI, contacts the surgeon, and is puzzled by the findings. With my current treatment this should not be happening. He had the biopsy report but didn't have the pictures in hand so he didn't know where the spot(s) was/were. As it's late in the afternoon, the Imaging office has already closed. We have to wait until next day. He tells me that if the spot is localized, an excision would do it. If there are many spots, a mastectomy is the recommended action. My Preoccupation Level  is now elevated to 8.

On Wed 12th my oncologist calls me and gives me great news. It's localized. Preoccupation Level  goes down to 3. MRI will follow on Thu, and with all the results we'll meet the surgeon on Mon 17th.

The appointment with the surgeon went really well. After 75 minutes of examining, evaluating, breast cancer 101, and surgery procedure explained, Preoccupation Level goes to 0. Then, the question is posted.  

Doctor: When do you want the surgery?
Me: I have a race on the 22nd and one on the 29th that I would not like to miss. My racing calendar is empty for the weekend of Feb 4th. Could it be that week?
Doctor: Sure. What about Feb 1st? 
Me: Deal. (In my mind, I write a note to Running In The USA: You might be a runner... if you schedule your surgery around your races).
Doctor: OK, let me take you to the nurse's office so we have you scheduled. 
Me: Doctor, when after surgery can I run again? 
Doctor: I tell runners to use common sense, though I know Runners Don't Have Any.

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PS: Surgery was successful. I have my post-op follow-up on Mon 7th and hope to get clear for running. After a week doing NOTHING, I am stiff like a stick.!

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A New Pink Look

I am a blank and white person. Clothes wise, and personality wise. It is or it is not. Period.

But once a year, I forget these self-imposed chains and my life becomes pink. It's the Race for the Cure Day.

It is not only Susan G. Komen's life celebration, but the celebration of the life of all women of the world that live, have lived and/or died to breast cancer. 

It is the day when men wear tutus without causing amazement, or dress in pink from head to toe to honor grandmothers, mothers, wives, daughters, family members, friends.

It is the day when a 5K means a path of sharing with beloved or unknown ones. 

It is the day when a rainy day doesn't mean a crappy day, because it is better than no day at all. 

It is the day when I go and share my triumph because I am alive. 

It is the day that I dare to leave my confortable black and white world to make my debut with A New Pink Look.

My 5K Playlist

I love My 5K Playlist... and... I pretty much depend on it. Starts at 155 bpm so I don't blow the race, and by the end of the race I should be sprinting at 180 bpm.

Well, today, 1o seconds before the race, I pushed my button, and song number one started. But, because I still had some few seconds, I stopped it. When we were set to go and I pushed play the thing didn't do anything. Pushed again, and again and went to another song that is not in the 5K playlist. Great, I was in another playlist. Tried to get over, but... Type A... remember? Therefore, stepped aside of the sidewalk for some seconds (maybe 10?) back to 5K playlist and because the mess up I was already panting.

Oh well. I continued in my well known Lake Washington Boulevard, running good. I was checking my pace from time to time, but knew that I was out of a PR, probably for more than a minute. If I ran the Livestrong Challenge so good and I did 29:35, I thought that I would be close to 30 minutes this time. The order was shut up, run and enjoy an overcast 54F degree race.

And then... when I was about 100 m from the finish line, I saw the clock. It marked 27:55. I told to myself: "Lizzie, get a PR, sprint and get it. " 100m in 25 seconds was in my range. I sprinted with all my heart with a pace for that segment of 6:29min-mile, the necessary pace to get under my PR of 28:22. But, it seems that I was probably farther than 100m. Final time: 28:32. No PR but a wonderful race. I would say... an excellent race. No regrets on stepping aside to fix my Ipod, as my 5K music is definitely vital to me to get a good pace. We don't get PRs all the times because of a variety of reasons. This time I know why, due to my playlist. (My kids would say because of my lack of abilities to play an Ipod while I race)!!!

Time: 28:32 - Division 5/19 - Overall Female 59/250 - Overall 146/429

Great race, a lot of fundraising for Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center, nice goodies for survivors, and a lot of prizes...

Crushing Cancer With Our Running Shoes

Cancer has won several battles in my family. My dad, my sister Miryam, my fathers-in-law German Moreno and Bill Lee, my political cousin Rafael Ignacio Porras, and the in-laws of my sister Sara, Luisa and Pepe Panero.



Though many more battles will be lost by us, I dream with the day that we'll win the war. The day that research has gotten the clue to eradicate cancer for ever. Today, we in Seattle, raised closed to a million bucks through Lance Armstrong Foundation, racing the Livestrong Challenge, and Crushing Cancer With Our Running Shoes.

Cancer has won many battles, but we'll win the war.
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My medal, a yellow rose. I had a great race, no PR, but I ran good!!!















My oncologist, Dr. Saul Rivkin. So fortunate of being in his hands.













In honor of Camila Lashly, 1 yo girl who is fighting like a warrior.

Survivors To The Left

Susan G. Komen, from Illinois, died of breast cancer in 1980 at the age of 36. Her sister, Nancy, promised Susan that she would find a way to speed up breast cancer research and, founded in 1982, the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. The rest is history, with the foundation raising over $35 million a year.














Last year (this year too), the company where I work (Boeing) pledged $100 for every employee running the race and I became motivated to raise funds for the cause. As I became more aware and touched by the works of the foundation, I joined, I pledged and I raced, feeling humble while running among hundreds of survivors. Six months later, for my total surprise, I was diagnosed.

This year, it was my story and I ran the race from the other side of the fence.

Dressed in pink, (a lot to say for a black-and-white lady), I joined my adorable son Diego, his fiancee Shelly, and my good friend Emily. I saw my good friend Melinda also in the start line. At 7:45 am we were set to go, and there we went. There were so many people, that I lost sight of my son. Melinda took off very fast, and Emily and I ran together the whole race. Thanks to her I could keep a decent pace. The Alaskan viaduct going uphill didn't look so bad, but when you run it under 8 min/mile, is going to look really bad later, even in the flat portions... The support was great all along the course with cheerleaders singing "Early detection is the best prevention" and "I am the Cure"...

After mile 2 I was panting but, thanks to Emily I still kept a good pace. If I would have been alone, I would have dropped my speed considerably.

Getting close to the finish line was quite a moment. The support to the runners and to the survivors was simply amazing. Just a third of a mile from the end I told Emily "let's sprint", but I think she didn't hear me. I can't describe what I was feeling. I was lost in my thoughts with flashes from last year's race. Today I would cross a different finish line. A sign indicates: "Survivors To The Left". When I heard, "another survivor crossing the line", I cried, and then I saw my son, right there waiting for me, and in an indescribable moment that I will never forget, we hugged each other, like saying, we have come a long way, in such a short time... And a press guy captured the moment. What a gift.












http://www.seattlepi.com/photos/popupV2.asp?SubID=4880&page=4&GTitle=seattlepi.com%20photo%20gallery&pubdate=6/7/2009


Six months ago, Diego was with me at the doctors' office, hearing those terrible words: You have a malignant tumor. Six months later, everything was happiness, and joy: His mom is a survivor.

A New Beginning

Traditionally Lent is about self-sacrifice. This Lent, the hardest I have ever lived had imposed sacrifices, rather. During this season, I started and completed my cancer radiation treatment, and day after day I've mourned Luis' passing. I wanted to yield to my grief, stop the world, not eat or drink, cry and sleep at my own desire, but the treatment didn't let me. It required me as healthy as I could be. I needed to eat well, to be hydrated, and to rest and sleep properly. Though it was extremely difficult, I had to endure.

My days were all the same. Get up at 4 am, be at work at 4:45, work until noon, pick up my mom at 12:30 pm, go to the Hospital, receive my treatment at 1:20, come back home at 2:00, work for another hour to complete my 8 hours, take a shower, put creams for the burned skin, watch with my mom Food Network for 2 hours, have dinner, go to bed at 7pm. Day after day during seven weeks. The weekends were quiet.

Social withdrawal, no blogging, no facebook, no emails, no phone calls. No running. And believe it or not, I found solace in my own isolation.

Lent is over and gave way to Easter, the foundation of Christian's faith. A time where death and life intertwines to give meaning to a new life, to A New Beginning.

Last Monday my radiation treatment was over and gave way to a new beginning as a cancer survivor. My husband was laid-off, though bad news, good news. California is over, and we have a new beginning. We are together again after two and a half years of being apart and seeing each other every now and then. And on this Holy Night, on this Easter Vigil, Luis has two months that left this world. And because on Easter death gives way to life, I know Luis is also living a new beginning.

Too many parallels between this lent and the sacrifices, and Easter and my new life ahead. This is the time I have chosen for my new beginning. Mourning will never end, but it will morph. Unanswered questions will continue flowing to give room to acceptance. I'll never understand it, but, I am faithful to my beliefs, His Kingdom is not of this world, and His Kingdom was promised to us. He conquered death and He lives forever. Though beyond our terrestrial comprehension, I pray for Luis enjoyment of the Kingdom of Heaven and an eternal life.

This is A New Beginning.

Happy Easter!

Felices Pascuas de Resurrección!

At the Hospital, with my mom the last day of radiation treatment. Infinite thanks to her who went with me every day during seven weeks.













Celebrating this week the last day of radiation treatment with hubby, son Diego and my mom.

13, A Lucky Number

"Numerology is any of many systems, traditions or beliefs in a mystical or esoteric relationship between numbers and physical objects or living things... Today, numerology is often associated with the occult, alongside astrology and similar divinatory arts. The term can also be used for those who, in the view of some observers, place excess faith in numerical patterns, even if those people don't practice traditional numerology." (1)

Numbers have an important meaning since we are born. They are important for Chinese, in alchemy, science, in the Bible, and, I bet each of you have a favorite number, or a bad number.

In most of our weekly reports, we, runners, post our numbers. At the end of the year, we, runners, sum them all, and post the grand total: numbers of miles we ran, number of races we participated, number of hours and/or minutes that took us to complete a race, number of calories we burned, number of colds we got throughout our training, numbers of days we couldn't run, etc...etc...etc...

Number 13 has been a very famous number. Though related to bad luck in many countries, it is also seen as a lucky number. We've been across the States in buildings that skip that floor; Friday the 13th is a superstition about a day of good or bad luck depending on where in the planet we are; Tuesday the 13th (Spain, Greece and Latin America) is a day of bad augury. I am not a superstitious woman, and three members of my direct family were born on a 13th, so there was no way that I could look at that number as a bad thing.

Yesterday I went to pick up my final cancer results, the oncotype dx test. A test that study 21 genes within the cancer tumor determining the likelihood of breast cancer recurrence in 10 years and predicting the magnitude of chemotherapy benefit. When the doctor came into the room, the only thing I asked was: "What was the number?" She said "I think I have good news." I said: "Please, just tell me the number". She replied: "13" and I cried of happiness.

13% means the likelihood of breast cancer recurrence in 10 years. 13% indicates that there is a low risk that my breast cancer will return. Any number below 18% is categorized as low risk. 13% also means that the benefits of chemotherapy is almost zero, so chemo is NO NEEDED. 13% means that after five years of hormonal therapy (tamoxifen) my likelihood of breast cancer recurrence will be reduced to 8%.

My favorite number will always be Seventeen 17. My brain will always register number 7 as THE lucky number as my dad always had faith in the 7th inning to get the Detroit Tigers ahead of the other team. But the number 13 now has a new meaning to me: 13, A Lucky Number, the number that removed chemotherapy fears and a burden off my shoulders.

To celebrate such a wonderful news, other than a glass of Chianti, I got out this morning to run. But I needed to run big. I didn't have a plan on how many miles to run, when I thought: 13%? Then the light bulb went on: I had my Half Marathon Celebration. What better way to celebrate a 13, than with a 13.1?

My total miles of the week were 22.9 miles. I feel so alive and thankful for my life, that running the half distance on the treadmill (35F and cloudy outside) was not boring at all; it was wonderful and I was full of joy.

I have a question for you: What's your number?

___________________________________________________________________
(1) Wikipedia

Giulietta In Verona

Doctor told me to use double sports bra when running, advice I followed the prior week; however, I forgot last Tuesday. With 5 miles planned, the bouncing testing proved that bouncing still hurts, a little, but hurts. I completed only 3 miles and like Giulietta in Verona (Romeo and Juliet) half of them were done supporting my boob with my left arm. You gotta do what you gotta do!!!

I could not have forgotten the double support on Thursday, so my five miles were successful. Testing of the day? Sprint Testing. I needed to know how fast I could go without hurting. I did two sprints of half a mile each at 8:34 min/mile. Successful.

Waiting still for test results that will determine if chemo is needed, but I am already planning on having my first 5K race of the year for Valentine's Day, Love ‘em or Leave ‘em.

I Believe In One God, The Father, The Almighty.

Today, after ten days of my breast cancer surgery and with my doctor's permission, I am back to my passion of running. I am literally up and running, back on track, completing 6.25 miles / 10K. Impossible to explain or describe how it felt, it was a wonderful gift to me.

Just one month ago, on December 08, I got the diagnosis. Then, the five stages of grief started. But denial, anger, bargaining and depression lasted less than one week. I was determined that, when in my power, cancer was not going to rule my life. With the Jingle Bell Race on December 14th, I put those stages behind to give room to the last stage: Acceptance. One of the most beautiful Christian Holidays was ahead of me, and I was going to celebrate. As my husband put it, I went from cancer victim, to cancer warrior in one week, and with God's help and technology, by the end of the year, 22 days after the diagnosis, I was already a cancer survivor. And the description about me in the upper right corner of this blog, hasn't changed a bit. I am as happy as could be. I adore my husband, I adore my kids, I love my life.

My 2008 Christmas Holidays were amazingly beautiful, quite and truly full of love: The love of my angels on Earth was shed on me day after day, love from my hubby Randy, my kids David, Diego & Alejandra, my mom, my brother and sister, my nephews and nieces, my dear cousin Gladys, my son's fiancee Shelly, and an impossible-to-count number of true friends from many corners of the US, Venezuela and the world .

My 2009 race plan cannot yet be designed because will depend on my therapy which will be defined at the end of January. For sure, I will get radiation and hormonal therapy. Chemotherapy will depend on the results of the oncotype dx test that will indicate the likelihood of recurrence. This test takes 14 days, and it is the driver to define the treatment to follow.

I feel strong physically and emotionally. My strength comes from the love of my family and friends, and from Heaven above. I Believe In One God, The Father, The Almighty, Maker Of Heaven And Earth, Of All That Is Seen And Unseen. That's my profession of faith.

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee?
In inches? In miles? In laughter? In strife?

In Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand journeys to plan

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?

In truth that she learned? or in times that he cried?
In bridges he burned? or the way that she died?

It's time now, to sing out, though the story never ends.
Let's celebrate, remember a year in the life of friends

Oh, you got to remember the love, you know that love is a gift from up above.
Share love, give love, spread love. Measure, measure your life in love.

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I could have measured this year in 662 miles and 126 hours of running,
or in 80,000 calories burned during runs,
or in 9 races,
or in 75,000 miles flown,
or in 40 planes boarded,
or in 140 days away from home,
or in 1 lump that changed my life.

But I am going to measure it in love. I measure my Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes of 2008 in pure and simple incommensurable love.

God Bless You All
Merry Christmas and the Best To All of You in 2009


___________________________________________________________________

My last race of the year, the Jingle Bell Run in downtown Seattle on Dec 14, 2008. Temperature of 20F with the wind chill factor. Ice on the streets. With Jingle Bells I also had asthma all the way, but I ran with high spirits. I am resolute. I will keep myself strong. I will keep running. Cancer, hear this out: You won't stop me!

Time: 31:15
Placement - Division: 21/138 - Female Overall: 613/2396 - Overall: 1406/4197

Let's Rewind. Marathon Week. A Total Different Meaning.

Marathon week (again) and sub-sequent weeks 11/24/08 - 12/09/08

How to write this? Let's Rewind. Marathon week. On Tue Nov 25th I had an easy 4-mile run. In few more days, I would complete my Seattle Marathon.

I was getting ready to take a shower when I felt a lump on my left breast. A lump breast? I called the doctor and asked for an appointment. Set for 3 days later, Friday 28th, after Thanksgiving. After the check, Dr. asked for another mammogram (previous done past October), ultrasound and biopsy if needed.

Checked internet, and found out that 80% of the lumps are benign. Why to worry? Yeah, nothing to worry.

Raced my Marathon on Sunday 3oth, and felt very happy for the achievement.

On Wed 03rd, I had a new mammogram, and nothing shows. Let's have an ultrasound. Ok, girl, you need two biopsies. What? Yes, one for the lump, and another for some calcifications I see in another area. When? Tomorrow the 4th.

Not to worry much. Much of the biopsies come out negative. 80% of the lumps are benign, remember?

On the 4th, my hubby's birthday, I went to have my biopsies. Had to go alone as he was in California and I didn't want to upset my son with news that could be nothing. Results? Monday the 8th, my daughter's birthday.

My son and his fiancee spent the weekend with me. Got distracted organizing pictures and videos. Not to worry. 80% of the lumps are benign, I have ZERO family history of breast or ovarian cancer; I consider myself the healthiest person on the planet (with the exception of my asthma); I eat extremely healthy; I am not overweight; I don't smoke; I don't drink; I had a late development; breastfed my kids for a long time; I exercise vigorously and consistently; etc...etc...etc... Of all risk factors, that are a ton, I had the age, 52, and one that seems a new issue and it is not being addressed much: dense breast tissue... Anyway, not to worry, all the numbers are in my favor.

Monday 8th. I worked since 5 am to be free at 1pm (yes, you can do that in the company I work for). Noonish, a lot of anxiety. Went with my adorable son to get the results. Arrived one hour earlier. Lizzie Lee? Come in. My son held my hand really strong. Lizzie, the calcifications biopsy came out negative, but I am sorry to inform you that your lump is positive to breast cancer.

The world stopped.

Let's Rewind. Marathon Week. A Total Different Meaning. Yeah, it doesn't mean anymore the week when I was getting ready for a marathon. It means the week when my life turned around. From a marathon where I ran one mile at a time to a breast cancer "marathon" where I need to walk one step at a time.

My life has changed in the blink of an eye.

Important things: my husband is here with me now to hold me and to help me go through this; my kids are my inspiration to fight this; my mom will help me too; my sister; family; and my friends. I will get through this, I will get through this, and yes, I will get through this. It will be a self-fulfilling prophecy. I will get through this.

I have the oncologist appointment next Tue 16th. Then I'll know when and what kind of surgery I will have. Surgery will tell if I need chemotherapy or only radiation.

I have not told you guys, because I was planning to do this in my next blog, I was assigned in October temporarily to Italy for 9 months with the company (Petra knew). My departure was scheduled for January 4th, and some of my run plans included two marathons while there. Rome on March 22nd and Gletscher Marathon in Austria close to Innsbruck on July 5th. Not going to Italy now really doesn't matter, I have more important things to do right now. My priority is to get this done.

This past June I ran the Susan G. Komen race in Seattle, and felt so humble among all the survivors. I will run again with them in 2009, but from the other side of the fence.

I will get cured, I will keep running.

I promise.