What I learn on a long run

Long runs are great opprotunities for learning...is my training right, how is my pace, what is my body doing.  Sometimes it is also a time for learning about my emotional and mental state.  Today was one of those days. 

What I learned kind of surprised me.  I am angry.  I am angry at myself.  I am angry at my body.  I am angry at God.  I had a serious bout of this when I was first diagnosed with MS.  I got over it.  It took awhile, including yelling at God and at some people who love me and sat there and took it until I got it out of my system.  But, I got over it.  And I figured out how to live with the disease instead  of spending so much time fighting the disease.  Things have been going really well.  Until recently....

Today's long run was no exception.  I was doing ok, holding a pretty good pace, then my leg felt like I was stepping on a knife.  I know as you reach the end of a long run, it hurts.  Your legs are tired, your back aches.  But usually it is a "good" hurt.  Yes, that is an oxymoron, but it is true.  It isn't sharp, damaging kind of pain.  Usually I can keep going with this.  Not so much today.

I have been dealing with this peripheral neuropathy thing for about six months.  There isn't a good cause that has been found, thus far.  It dawned on me during my run that one of my early lesions was in my spinal cord.  So, there is probably going to be a more extensive MRI in my future, depending on the results of the EMG. I am going back to square one.  Blood work to check vitamin B-12 and folate among other things.  Then an EMG/nerve conduction study.  That was the first of the series of tests that led to the diagnosis.  I have made so much progress both physically and mentally, and now we are going back to the beginning. Really?

As for  the progress physically...I feel like there is regression.  The fatigue I am experiencing is horrible.  I make myself go run or go to the gym because I feel like if I don't I am giving in to another piece of it.  Not to mention it keeps me a little saner than I would be otherwise.  I go lift weights or go run sometimes at the times when in the past I would have sat outside with a soda and smoked half a pack of cigarettes.  Addiction is addiction, but this is definitely healthier.  But I am so tired and frequently feel like I can't keep up. 

As I was running today and my leg started to hurt so badly, the anger came rolling out.  "Really God.  I got it together, I deal with  the aspects of this disease, so now you are going to take it away again?  Have I not done what I am supposed to do?  I eat right, I exercise.  Past that, I am a good person, I give back to the world to make at least my corner of it a better place." For about 5 miles, I cried, I yelled, I tried to run--mostly walked about 4 of those miles.

 A very wise woman once told me "say your prayers, sweetie, and everything will be okay."  On Wednesday this week another woman, who has never met the first, told me the same thing.  Two people two different times, two different places can't both be wrong.  So, I say my prayers.  There may still be some arguing with God, but I know the ultimate answer.  I keep doing the things I do to make myself as okay as I can be.  And I try to let the people who love me in. But, damn I am mad.

It doesn't go away

I am sure anyone with a chronic disease has experienced this.  You think you are at a good place, your disease is stable, maybe you can even ignore it, then WHAM!!!!  It kicks you in the gut and reminds you that it is still here and you better not forget it.  This has happened to me with a 1-2 punch.  First, I have been experienceing the peripheral neuropathy.  This has been going on for a while.  I have been mostly ignoring it.  Some days I have a hard time drawing blood.  When I run, the pins and needles and tingling goes farther up my legs than it was and my arms are asleep to my elbows.  It doesn't stop a run, just makes me pay attention to where I am putting my feet.  When I lift weights, I have to lift lighter so I can hold on to the dumbbells.  My hands don't always want to hold on. But I work, I run, I lift. I feel pretty good.  Most people who know me can't believe there is a custom wheelchair in my laundry room that was in daily use until 2008.  Those same people have a hard time believing I weighed 240 pounds and smoked two packs a day.  Now I am healthy, even with the MS.

Now for the part that is where maybe I forgot the disease. Or at least tried to.  Yom Kippur is the Day of Atonement.  It is a day spent in prayer.  You fast.  Pay attention to the needs of the spirit, not the comfort of the body. God doesn't expect you to make yourself sick. If you already have health problems, don't make it worse. I know I can't fast.  I have to take my medicine and I need some food to do that.  In the past I have eaten my normal breakfast.  I was told by a wise rabbi once, "don't you dare.  It isn't what is needed from you on that day."  When I was told that, my wheelchair was as much a part of me as my glasses.  So, this year, I tried to do it a little differently. I decided to eat a light breakfast.  That way, I am not doing a complete fast, but I am challenging my body to step away from the ordinary, from comfort.  BAD IDEA.  I didn't even make it through morning services.  I got light headed, I am told I was pale, and I am pretty sure I almost passed out.  Amy took me out--more accurately drug me out.  I left, ate, and laid down for a little while.  I went to afternoon services and tried again.  People who saw it said it was scary to watch. 

That night, my blood sugar was low, even after a big meal.  One of the things we ask forgiveness for is arrogance.  My rabbi pointed out that thinking I could do that was probably arrogant.  On the other hand, the fact that I feel so good that I thought  I could deal with this like everyone else is what caused me to do it in the first place.   I have found two papers that say some people with MS have impaired ability for gluconeogenisis (making glucose from body stores). I saw my doctor recently, and he said it definitely sounded like a hypoglycemic event.  He also said he is pretty sure God will forgive me if I don't fast.  So, to my wife and all of my friends who had to witness my stubbornness that day, I am sorry.  I don't want to wait until next Yom Kippur to say I am sorry to all of you.