It's a Marathon, Dreamer, Not a Sprint
I was originally going to talk about guilt. And yes, we all suffer from guilt. Guilt that we didn't get the diagnosis sooner, guilt that I don't get home as much as I think I should, guilt that I'm living my life the way I want and Voyageur is Mom's primary caregiver.
And then I can hear my dad's voice saying Stop It! Guilt will get you nowhere, especially since both Mom and Voyageur need you now!
Sunday morning as I was lacing up my running shoes and getting ready for my ritual Sunday morning long run, I realized it will be 5 years exactly to the day and date next Sunday I ran my first (and currently only) marathon. Being a caregiver for someone with dementia is similar to preparing for and running a marathon.
April 5 years ago, I decided to run a marathon - not only decided but actually started training. Looking back, I cannot believe what I did. At the time, I did not live close to any good running trails (the closest a good 1/2 hour drive away) so I created my own running space - a one and a half mile track around my condo - and since the majority of running I did was early in the morning and often dark, I knew I was safe.
I ran 3 miles 3x a week and then had my long runs on the weekend, cross-trained every other day and took the other weekend day off of all training. I also was practicing yoga daily. My mid-week run I increased mileage as I also increased mileage on the weekend. I ran around my condo complex multiple times to get in 10, 12, 14 mile runs. I was dedicated and focused. A dear friend of mine loaned me his scale so I would make sure I was not losing too much weight during my long run - getting enough hydration and nutrition. That same friend ran with me on race day - he came along at mile 19 and ran with me the rest of the way.
3 weeks prior to the marathon, I developed plantar fascititis and could not run - heck I could only wear my sandals and had to ice my foot and do exercises stretching the fascia. I didn't stretch enough and my body reacted. Race day morning I was ready to go and started strong - until Mile 3 when I had shooting pain in my heel, but kept running - pain went down to dull ache. I ran the 26.2 miles in 5 hours, 43 minutes, 52 seconds - an hour and 14 minutes longer than my goal time.
I learned so much about myself during my 6 months of training. I can do anything, endure anything. I have the most amazing friends ever. And yes, dementia is like training for a marathon and at times running a marathon. You think you know what's ahead of you, but life surprises you at the most interesting time. Every day there is a new aha moment. Pains come out of nowhere - you have to prepare for everything. You do whatever it takes - no matter what. Cry when you have to and then move the fuck on. It gets really really hard and seriously sucks. But keep going. You will find euphoria and laughter in the strangest places, don't question it, just enjoy. You will find some folks you thought were going to run with you become dead weight and fall away. You will find real warriors along the way who will lighten the path in front of you.
Never give up. Never lose your sense of humor. Never outpace yourself. Keep your friends close, and the ice cream a little closer.
Back at ya Voyageur.
And then I can hear my dad's voice saying Stop It! Guilt will get you nowhere, especially since both Mom and Voyageur need you now!
Sunday morning as I was lacing up my running shoes and getting ready for my ritual Sunday morning long run, I realized it will be 5 years exactly to the day and date next Sunday I ran my first (and currently only) marathon. Being a caregiver for someone with dementia is similar to preparing for and running a marathon.
April 5 years ago, I decided to run a marathon - not only decided but actually started training. Looking back, I cannot believe what I did. At the time, I did not live close to any good running trails (the closest a good 1/2 hour drive away) so I created my own running space - a one and a half mile track around my condo - and since the majority of running I did was early in the morning and often dark, I knew I was safe.
I ran 3 miles 3x a week and then had my long runs on the weekend, cross-trained every other day and took the other weekend day off of all training. I also was practicing yoga daily. My mid-week run I increased mileage as I also increased mileage on the weekend. I ran around my condo complex multiple times to get in 10, 12, 14 mile runs. I was dedicated and focused. A dear friend of mine loaned me his scale so I would make sure I was not losing too much weight during my long run - getting enough hydration and nutrition. That same friend ran with me on race day - he came along at mile 19 and ran with me the rest of the way.
3 weeks prior to the marathon, I developed plantar fascititis and could not run - heck I could only wear my sandals and had to ice my foot and do exercises stretching the fascia. I didn't stretch enough and my body reacted. Race day morning I was ready to go and started strong - until Mile 3 when I had shooting pain in my heel, but kept running - pain went down to dull ache. I ran the 26.2 miles in 5 hours, 43 minutes, 52 seconds - an hour and 14 minutes longer than my goal time.
I learned so much about myself during my 6 months of training. I can do anything, endure anything. I have the most amazing friends ever. And yes, dementia is like training for a marathon and at times running a marathon. You think you know what's ahead of you, but life surprises you at the most interesting time. Every day there is a new aha moment. Pains come out of nowhere - you have to prepare for everything. You do whatever it takes - no matter what. Cry when you have to and then move the fuck on. It gets really really hard and seriously sucks. But keep going. You will find euphoria and laughter in the strangest places, don't question it, just enjoy. You will find some folks you thought were going to run with you become dead weight and fall away. You will find real warriors along the way who will lighten the path in front of you.
Never give up. Never lose your sense of humor. Never outpace yourself. Keep your friends close, and the ice cream a little closer.
Back at ya Voyageur.