Please leave your shoes (and your modesty) at the door

Have you remembered your (large) towel?  Are you wearing little and lightweight clothing?  Have you brought your own water bottle?  Oh, no?  Well, don't worry; we have a refrigerator chock full of Zico, now in environmentally friendly tetra-packs!  It's like yoga's Gatorade.  Grab your mat, head into the hot-room, and calm your mind in anticipation of sweating out a few gallons of water.

If any of this sounds vaguely familiar, then perhaps you, too, have experienced the unique experience that is Bikram yoga.  My first experience came just a few short hours ago.  Recently, I decided to give yoga a second chance, especially since I haven't been able to run and my new bike is still in transit.  (I dismissed yoga the first time around as ineffective.  That was before I learned how to calm the hell down.)  My gym offers a few yoga classes throughout the week, and I have been going to some of the 7 a.m. "gentle" yogas, unsure of where I stood technique-wise or even whether this stretching/breathing/focusing thing could work for me.  The early classes have been pretty good as far as getting a handle on the basics, but they were far from challenging for someone who is already fairly flexible.

A few days ago, I was talking with a woman at my gym following a sub-par bike workout, and she mentioned that there is a Bikram yoga studio only a few towns away.  Now, I had actually been playing with the idea of looking more into this whole "hot yoga" thing.  Learning there was a studio mere miles away provided the impetus I needed to take that first step.  So today, I showed up wearing running shorts and an Old Navy tank top and signed my name to their Bikram yoga release form.

I did my homework.  I knew the classes take place in rooms heated to around 105 degrees F.  I knew to drink plenty of fluids all day, and I hadn't eaten for three hours prior.  I was prepared to sweat like a maniac; I was prepared to stretch like a maniac; I was even prepared to breathe deeply.  And so for 90 minutes, I did all of those things.  But I also completely forgot about everything that wasn't directly related to keeping my balance or remembering to breathe.  It was the strangest combination of relaxing and heated hell.

Sweat poured from my, well, pores, I guess.  When you first walk into the room, the heat isn't overwhelming.  It embraces you while it gradually insinuates itself into your body.  Even just lying on your mat waiting for class to start, finding your center, you begin to perspire.  When the yoga instructor walked in and directed us to stand to begin, I could feel my sweat beginning to mass.  And then possibly ten minutes into our Warm Up (!), I looked down and saw that my thighs were beading sweat that was already letting gravity have its way with it.  For a minute, I freaked.  While a totally natural and healthy cooling mechanism, sweat is still kind of gross, still slightly embarrassing.  Then I slyly glanced around and saw that everyone else was in the exact same boat.  Hands clasped together, arms above our heads, chests out, breathing deeply, as deeply as you can and then just a little bit more, we were all already sweating.  And this was the warm-up.

Needless to say, the poses became more intense with more complicated names.  Standing on one leg in a 105-degree room, trying to hold your other leg at 90 degrees with your clasped hands in front of you ("So your legs look like a perfect 'L'!"), you become acutely aware of your body.  You have no choice but to focus on your positioning and breathing if you want to keep your balance and not cramp up.  With yoga, it is all about total awareness of your body and your placement in the present.  You are in this world, but not of it.  As it was though, I know my limitations and with about 20 minutes left of the class, I was starting to bottom out.  My heart was pounding furiously from the relentless heat and the sustained poses.

I am proud of doing as much as I did though.  I don't know the names of most of the poses, besides the most basic: triangle, tree, sphinx.  Like they say too, the best part really is when the class is over.  Walking out of that literal sauna into the cool entry room was the best part of my day.  I toweled off and drove home, singing along with the radio and feeling all kinds of accomplished.  Dare I say, relaxed, even.  Hopefully, I can convince my body to go back.  It seems like my sort of yoga: intense and athletic but with a big focus on breathing and placement.

So that is my account of my first experience with Bikram yoga.  Any other stories out there?  Yoga or otherwise...  Everyone loves stories!  Hopefully I will have a running update soon, but for now, my knee is still not cooperating.  Who knows, maybe all of this will help.  Either way, enjoy your Tuesdays, and thanks for humoring me once more.  Peace.

A confession.

A few days ago I wrote that I was doing splendidly and moving on with my life, etc., etc.  Which is all fine and well and good and mostly true.  However, on rereading said post, it occurs to me that A: I come off as super narcissistic and B: there are a lot of things I did not mention that deserve to be mentioned.

In response to qualm A, well, it is my b-log, so I suppose I am entitled to write about my goings on.  My problem with the post stems from the fact that, as written, it "tells" rather than "shows" how I feel, which pretty much directly violates the instructions of every writing class I have ever taken.  The writing is bland, boring.  Some of my posts from bygone days have literally made me laugh out loud or physically cringe when I reread them.  Tuesday's post makes me want to cringe too, but not in the good, oh that is some crazy descriptive writing there, way.  It is funny because it was all pretty much good news; I just totally dropped the ball with the writing.  To my college-sophomore COM 201 writing professor, I apologize.  Thanks for passing me.

As to qualm B...  Here is the truth:  I am going a bit nuts.  Don't worry; I haven't started talking to the little men who live under my bed.  I have, however, not run in over two weeks.  As in, almost Three weeks!  Three weeks??  And the shameful reality is there is a small demon voice in my head whispering no way I'll be able to train to actually run 26.2 miles.  Two weeks ago my three months of relative health caught up with me, and whatever bug has been zooming around my family and coworkers found its way into my system.  Coughing, sneezing, labored breathing, the whole usual bit.  And then a few days ago, just as I was feeling better, the sickness resurfaced in my sinuses.  It is currently residing in my nose and lungs, but it is also slowly diminishing.  So.  The point is that I haven't run for the past two weeks with good reason.  The problem is that I am too hard on myself.  Par for the course.

The broader picture: I find it very interesting to read and hear some of the motivation offered to us runners with Team in Training.  Obviously, I support Team in Training and what they do and where they direct their funds.  But I would be interested to hear from or talk to other runners who have actually survived their own diagnosis of a blood cancer.  I would like to know why they are running, what motivates them.  Personally, I am running for me, to prove to myself that this is something I can do.  I would assume (possibly incorrectly) that many of those running with Team in Training (who have not had cancer) are running for someone else (who has).  Please do not misunderstand me: I chose TNT because of their mission, because I know some amazing people who have been diagnosed with leukemia or lymphoma, and their struggles pretty much tear my heart apart.  No One should get cancer, and if I have to run to do my part to help eradicate it, then so be it.  I am just struggling with will and motivation.  This may sound strange, but other people's running provides me with a lot of motivation.  I have been stocking up on different runners' memoirs and crazy accounts and histories of races.  The science behind running is my motivation, nutrition, the effects running has on our bodies.  Does that make me strange?  Probably, a little.  Whatever I have though, is it enough to get me out the door every morning when my knee is killing me and I have a Nyquil hangover?  Is it selfish to think, "Hey, I've been there, done that cancer thing.  I am not running for the cancer"?  So much, then, for empathy.

And finally, a few weeks ago, I was flattered and honored to be asked to speak at an annual young-adult cancer conference at Dana-Farber, the "I'm Too Young for This" conference (not associated with the i2y organization; just a funny coincidence of names).  Three weeks from tomorrow, I will be standing in front of a crowd of young adults who will probably think I am some kind of nutter and wonder if they can get their money back for this free conference.  Self-deprecation will abound!  Thinly-veiled requests for a job from the sponsors will fly!  And somewhere buried deep in my speech will be a desperation to connect, to make an observation or raise an issue that will resonate with whomever hasn't yet fallen asleep.  Surely, with everything I have experienced, I can find something to say that won't be total bollux...  But we'll see.  I still have to write the speech.

And so that's my real b-log update.  Tuesday's post may have been true and all that, but those were just words.  This here is good, solid, unresolved conflict in my brain.  Happy Spring.  Peace.

The mysterious case of the missing blogger...

Resolved!  I apologize for, yet again, dropping off the board for a while.  Although, when I don't blog, it is mainly because I don't have anything cancer-related to report.  Which means - and this is important - my cancer diagnosis and treatment are rapidly becoming another part of my past.  This past is hugely important to me, and it has pretty much defined who I have become, but it also no longer controls my present.  My anger at my personal cancer has basically disappeared; my body is back to normal; my energies are focused elsewhere in my life.

I am a year and a half finished with my treatment, and as of one week ago, I am still cancer free (!) and clear for another six months of straight chilling.  I do need to note, however, that I have chosen to make cancer a part of my life.  Perhaps "chosen" is a strong word, but after everything I have gone through, I have found that I cannot just ignore the fact that I had cancer and move on with my life in some unrelated direction.  I volunteer with Imerman Angels; I am looking for a job working at a non-profit; I am running for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society!  The social effects of my illness have made me realize that I can use my experiences to help others, and I want to help.

So, cancer, I hope you have enjoyed your day in the sun, because your influence on my day-to-day living has ended.  I would like to thank you for everything that you have given me: amazing new friends, countless opportunities to help others, a voice with which to blog, a level of maturity and self-awareness I might not have found for years.  For all this and more, I thank you.  I know everyone's cancer-story is unique, and many people possibly don't share my sentiments towards this disease.  All things considered, I got off pretty easy.  A little depression here, some hair loss there, but I've gotten through it and am stronger for having survived.  I can only hope that people with a similar situation can one day have a similar response to their cancer.  That's the funny thing about this world: it keeps turning, the days keep coming, and all we can do is respond so that hopefully we can enjoy the days we have.  Or something.

It has been a super long winter for me, and my words cannot do justice to how happy I am to finally see things growing again.  To run outside.  To (hopefully) invest in a mountain bike and pedal all over these crazy suburbs.  So that's what is up here.  Happy Tuesday, sad toad. 

Generally ridiculous....

For a few different reasons, I was recently doing a very small bit of online research on William "The Fridge" Perry.  Perry is a former Chicago Bears defensive lineman, well-known not only for his size, but also (and particularly in Chicago) for being a member of the 1985 Super Bowl Bears winning team.  As this year's Super Bowl draws ever nearer, Chicago Bears fans are reminded, yet again, that we, yet again, didn't even make the playoffs.  But I digress.

This past August, I had the luck and privilege of attending a climbing camp for cancer survivors in Jackson, Wyoming.  One of the stipulations of the week-long adventure was that every camper was given or earned themselves a nickname.  One of the amazing things about First Descents is that once you arrive, the person you were before camp, all of the pain and uncertainty that marked your life, doesn't matter.  You are given a new name; all that matters are the people surrounding you, the friendships you make; the literal mountain to climb.  On my first afternoon in Jackson, I mentioned to one of the group leaders that I was a pretty big Chicago Bears fan.  (FYI, I don't remember statistics or names or most of the football minutia.  I am unable to identify plays and only recently learned what a "pump fake" is.  In short, I am a terrible football fan.  But I also spent a lot of time in a hospital bed about three years ago with nothing to do and not much to look forward to other than playoff games and a Super Bowl in which my Home Team was playing.  Those games got me through a pretty long mid-winter in Chicago and solidified my allegiance to the Chicago Bears).

So I was dubbed "The Fridge," Fridge for short.  William Perry and I have very little in common.  Sadly, I do not get to run people over for a living.  I am also nowhere near 6'2, 382 pounds.  I do like to eat though, so I suppose that is something...

This all ties together, I promise.  In Jackson, for whatever reason, more than a few of the survivors there were runners.  Meeting them, even, once, running with two of them, I realized, hey, maybe I really can do this.  These women and men have triumphed over cancer, and now they are running marathons and participating in triathlons.  They took their illness and what they learned from it and ran with it.  Literally.  I couldn't stop thinking about them and their strength once camp was over.  I returned to Chicago and on October 11, 2009, the day of the 2009 Chicago Marathon, swore to myself that I would be among those runners in one year.

As of January 20, 2010, I have taken the second step.  I, Caroline "Fridge" Bridges am now officially registered to run with Team in Training for the 2010 Chicago Marathon.  I know it is official because they have even given me my very own Fundraising Page!  I am not soliciting donations (yet), just pointing out that I am Going to do this.  Although October and 26.2 miles seems a damn long way away from January and three miles...

Sitting in my bedroom, pushing through some SADness, I know the winter doldrums cannot last forever.  It helps to have a long-term, solid goal.  It also helps that I am running with Team in Training, and I know that everything I am doing, all the running-pain I will be willingly forcing on myself over the next eight months will (hopefully) help another person with leukemia or lymphoma.  I'm all about paying it forward, that is, once I figure out the best way for me to do it.  Which in this case, means running like a maniac for an organization I strongly believe in.

So that's what is up.  Hopefully you are surviving January....  Go for a run or something!  Haha.  Alright, happy Saturday.  Peace.

True confessions of a shamelessly lazy bum

I have a health dilemma.  Or possibly my body is just confused.  Either way, I do not know what to eat.  It has now been over a year since I finished all chemos, but I am still having diet issues.  Not weight issues, but issues with what I can and should be eating and how those foods are affecting my body's precarious internal balance.  This past August, I began having some GI problems: cramping, gassy, mostly unpleasant and definitely not dinner-table-conversation symptoms.  I stopped eating meat pretty much altogether because I thought my symptoms might have something to do with eating meat.  I also mostly stopped eating dairy (although I have had a lot of trouble dropping cheese...).  Neither of those diet changes did much to help my colon conundrum.  

Around October, I tried to stop eating wheat/gluten based products, knowing that gluten allergies can affect the bowels.  There, however, I came across a huge challenge.  I was hungry all the damn time, and frankly, I just couldn't do it.  I could not drop three major food groups from my life.  Especially when one of my personal dietary staples was (is...) pizza.  So I have retained wheat in my life, although primarily the whole and unbleached variety.  Honestly, I don't think it was the wheat anyway. 

The other thing is that I have always had a dangerously soft spot for sugar and chocolate.  Even now, even this afternoon, I would just as soon have a cookie and a Starbucks sugar bombe drink than eat food with any nutritional value.  Well, maybe that isn't quite true.  If there had been tasty and satisfying food handy, I would have gladly eaten it.  As it stood, I was super hungry at work, and, well, I work at Starbucks.  Like I said, I am lazy; I also forgot I made some delicious pasta last night and it was just chilling, all alone, in my fridge.  It's funny though because I am not ignorant.  I know the amount of sugar I consume is Not Good for anyone, much less someone who has already had a slew of sugar-hungry cells take over her body for a little while.  In the most basic of layman's terms, from what I understand, sugar stimulates cancer-cell growth.  From there it gets a whole lot more technical for my liberal arts majoring self, but I get the gist of it: too much sugar = bad for cancer patients, especially those with tumors.  Too much sugar is not healthy, period, but how does it affect former cancer patients, those of us whose tumors have (hopefully) disappeared?

I am sure all of this is somehow connected: my stomach troubles; my low-energy levels throughout the day; my sugar affinity; my lack of motivation to go to the gym.  What I am not sure of, however, is how this all connects to my having had cancer.  Because, of course, this is all cancer's fault...  Haha.  I am also not sure where to go from here.  Meat?  No meat?  Wheat?  Or not?  I'm sure we all can agree that I should get rid of all the sugar...  But that is easily the hardest part.  Does it all come down to motivation?  And, if that is the case, any suggestions on how to stay motivated....?

In all seriousness, I would really like to hear what anyone else has experienced in a similar situation.  Did cancer (or illness) force you to change your diet for good?  How and to what end?  Perhaps the best thing for me to do would be to meet with a sports nutritionist.  Or a hypnotist...  Either way.  I'm sure one day all of these things will straighten themselves out.  Or you can help me straighten them out...?  Or I will straighten them out.  Or, something like that.

also:            HAPPY NEW YEAR.  Here's hoping 2010 brings only and many wonderful things to everyone.  :)  Peace.

Getting in the Christmas stomach

Wait...  That doesn't sound quite right.  Christmas Spirit?!  No, no, definitely the Christmas stomach.  So many cookies, breads, cheeses, chocolate covered everythings...  I am feeling a wee bit guilty about all of it, especially since I haven't had time to run the past two days, and I won't be running tomorrow either...  So, definitely feeling the Christmas stomach.

Haha, but it is all good.  I love cookies and chocolate and bread and cheese, so much good cheese.  I also love shopping for my family, walking around the malls and boutiques, considering what my little brother might like or find amusing this year, what my mother deserves after another year of putting up with all of our shenanigans, what my dad could use to spruce up our camp in Canada....  And then watching as they open their gifts, their (hopefully, fingers crossed) joy as they slip a finger underneath the tape to reveal that sweet t-shirt or watch or pocket-size multi-tool.  Sitting around our living room with a fire going, hot chocolate and coffee, maybe a mimosa or two, everyone together once again; that is Christmas.

Three years ago I was plopped in a hospital bed for Christmas, and that was the only time in my 23 years that I did not spend the day goofing around with my family.  They came to the hospital and tried to bring Christmas with them, but it is obviously not the same as actually sitting in that living room in front of the fire and the tree and All of the food.  Actually, if I remember correctly, Christmas marked the very beginning of all of my chemo treatments, and I was really not feeling too well that day.  Kind of poopy, if you know what I mean...  

But now, here I am, once again, on Christmas Eve, sitting at home and laughing at the stupidity and normalcy of my family.  I actually had to work earlier today, and as I was sweeping the floor of Starbucks, I had a pretty obvious epiphany.  My thought, as another Christmas carol was playing over the speakers, was: "I am so glad I am alive right now."  It wasn't brought on by any special moment or event, just the usual mundane life thing.  It was a brief thought, but I'm glad it decided to stop into my head.

It is Christmas, and my family is all sorts of awkward and rude and tense, and I love them for it, and I can't imagine not spending these days with them.  I wish everyone a Very Merry Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate.  Hopefully you are with people who love you and whom you love as well.  And if not, well, there is always cheese...  Whatever you need to do, do it so that you can love your life, even just a little bit.

I love you all, and thank you for a wonderful year, and to all a good night!  :)

Music makes my world a much better place

I have a number of important cancer-related updates for those of us who may be curious what, if any, lingering physical effects remain from the nearly two years of chemo I received.  Well.  Let me tell you, I am still finding little interesting tidbit remainders.  For instance:  just under 3 years ago, I started this one drug, vincristine.  Same 'ol cancer-cell killing chemo drug, one of many.  One of the notable side-effects of this drug, however, is "peripheral neuropathy."  "Numbness or tingling in the hands and feet" anyone?  Basically, the drug damages the nerves in the tips of your fingers and toes.  I experienced mild numbness in my fingers, often contributing to comedic ventures involving toast...  But I digress.  The feeling eventually returned to my fingers and toes, and all is well.  I recently learned, however, that the damage is longer-lasting than I had thought.  As the temperature continues to drop outside, my hands continue to get cold.  One day recently, my hands got Really cold outside.  And I found that when the rest of my hands started to warm up, my finger tips continued to tingle.  It took a really long time, a lot of frantic hand-shaking, and more than a few minutes under hot water for them to finally get back to feeling.  So.  In summation: whatever happened to the tips of my fingers seriously affected my cold hand peripheral circulation nearly three years later.  Hoorah!  Weird feeling to not be able to feel.

Update number dos:  As some of you may know from having seen me, when my hair decided it was time to grow back two years ago, it did, in fact, grow back curly.  For two years now, I have had a serious love/hate relationship with my hair.  When it was super short and curly, it was cute and fun.  Then it started growing out some and (I thought) it looked unshapely and awkward.  I was hesitant to get it cut though because I am vain and truly enjoy having my hair around.  'S anyway, it kept on growing.  Finally, this spring and into summer, it had grown out enough that I liked it.  I also didn't like it.  I didn't like what the curls stood for, but I had resigned myself to them.  A hairdresser had confirmed for me one year ago that I was officially a curly-haired lady.  Funny thing though; she was Wrong.  I manned up and got myself a much-needed haircut last Tuesday.  And the curls?  Are gone.  Cut off.  Caroline - 1.  Chemo Curls - 0.  My hair is still kind of wavy, but the ringlets of yore are now nothing but memories fraught with emotion.  So if you are female and in chemo or recently out of chemo and your hair grew back curly, perhaps it is only a temporary permanent...

And those are my sort of lame cancer-updates.  In separate but sort of related news, I love life so hard right now.  Maybe it is the haircut.  Maybe it is that my jeans are getting consistently baggier.  Maybe it is that I have been volunteering more and Finally going out and taking pictures.  Perhaps it is because I made a decision to be more proactive with my photography and am working on figuring out how to find myself a job.  Or maybe it is that a random guy told me I was "really cute" the other night, which, even if he was some guy I will never see again and is ultimately unimportant in the long-term, it is still nice to hear those sorts of things.

Nothing has really changed except that every day I get a little more comfortable with my current situation and what I can do to make it better for myself.  Am I allowed to be happy at stupid things?  It is so easy for me to get dragged down by life sometimes.  Obviously; I have been complaining all about it on here.  But Photos, Music, random guys, chocolate?  Rodrigo y Gabriela playing at Barnes and Noble while I'm eating a cookie and drinking tea?  Seriously, that is my idea of just about perfect, and I am living it right now.  Insurance be damned, I will smile in spite of your attempts to bring me down.

Finally, briefly:  a new, serious attempt to put my photography "out there."  It is new, in progress, and still being edited, but I am always open to suggestions and comments.  Check it out!!  HERE.  Anyway, so, Happy Tuesday, sad toad.