Activism

Numbers And Feelings

December 4, 2011 By Amy 7 Comments

So the St. Jude half-marathon is over. It’s a bit odd to see the back side of something that’s seemingly taken over my life for months. In many ways, it’s all been like a pregnancy. Practice, preparation, odd swelling, support, advice, fear, regrets, dread, and then the big day, the event, prayers, perseverance, accomplishment, screaming, begging for mercy, elation, afterglow. And soreness. Oh yes, soreness.

Here are the numbers for Team JDW:

Most important number of all: Money raised is $4054.19*

Suzanne Leslie, finished in 2:39:58, with an average pace of 12:13

Allyson Smith, finished in 2:40:20, with an average pace of 12:15

Amy Bradley-Hole (moi), finished in 2:55:36, with an average pace of 13:25

Lori Stratton, finished in 3:11:11, with an average pace of 14:36

Julie McEachern, finished in 3:20:31, with an average pace of 15:19

Our ages: Creeping up on 40. We’re no spring chickens.

And a number that means a lot to me: 1,359 people finished after me, which means I beat over 1,000 people. Hell yeah. What can I say? I’m slightly competitive, but running is certainly not my thing, so I’ll take whatever accomplishments I can get.

I AM SO PROUD OF US. But really, I am SO UNBELIEVABLY PROUD OF MYSELF. I don’t think I’ve ever been so satisfied with an accomplishment in my life, even when I kicked the ACT English section’s ass. I think there was always a big part of my subconscious that didn’t think I could do this. Especially after I started having major kidney problems and had a car wreck. Because of those two things, I had almost no training time during the month leading up to the race. Granted, I think a week at Disney really helped my stamina. But cardio-wise, and mentally, I was not in good shape.

During all my training, I was obsessed with numbers. How far am I supposed to go? What should my pace be? How quickly can I make it to that next intersection? Can I sprint through this commercial break? It was incessant, and it was unpleasant. But my kidneys and my accident made all that grind to a halt. Instead of being obsessed with numbers, I suddenly became obsessed with failure. My mom and I had a few conversations about this. She helped me realize I am not the kind of person who enjoys the process. Rather, I only enjoy the result. So even if I had trained hard and had gotten into better shape and had raised money for a good cause, well, none of that would have mattered to me if I hadn’t finished the race. For me, there is no success in failure.

But lo and behold, I didn’t fail. In fact, I succeeded beyond what I could have imagined. During my last mile, when I realized I was going to finish in under three hours, I was astounded. My last thirty minutes were kind of a haze of dumbfounded silliness. With each footfall, I considered the fact that I had done something I never wanted to do. Something I never thought I could do. I had just traveled 13.1 miles, and I had done it at a better average pace than I had ever run before. PLUS, I did it without my music, which I had also never done before, and which I thought was an impossibility. Hell hath no fury like a woman with a carefully cultivated playlist that she can’t even enjoy. When I say I threw a temper tantrum Saturday morning when I realized I’d forgotten my headphones, I mean I pouted and whined to rival any hungry, sleepy toddler. And most impressively, this was my first race ever. No kidding. I’ve never even done a fun run or a 5K.

So not only did I finish the race, I finished it upright, not crawling towards the finish line. And feeling good. My pain was minimal. I had a little discomfort in my right hip, but I think it was just a wonky psoas muscle. I’ve got crazy flexible hips, so my psoas muscles have always been a little out of line. Psoas muscles are easy to tweak, but also easy to stretch. I took about three good, long stretch breaks during the race to work on my feet and major muscle groups, and each time I did, I felt incredibly refreshed. My kidneys also behaved themselves. I was under strict orders not to take in ANY fluids at all during the race unless I was sure I was also outputting plenty of fluids. About a third of the way in, I start swelling a lot, but thankfully, I soon started going to the bathroom a lot, also. This meant I could actually drink something, which was a lifesaver. I made three trips to the port-a-potties, so I got to have two cups of water and one cup of Powerade. Sorry, this is probably TMI for most of you, but hyponatremia is dangerous. It’s deadly, in fact. It strikes people who are in excellent physical condition, so for me, a person with an excess of ADH and kidneys that don’t function properly, it’s something to definitely pay attention to. The past month has been all about taking in just the right amount of salty foods and fluids, at just the right time of day, weighing myself before and after every run, and making sure my urine output is a certain amount, and a certain color. It’s been pretty tedious, and I haven’t let anyone know the extent of what I’ve been dealing with. Race day was kind of a test for me — had I been getting my formulas right? Had I suffered through enough ramen noodles and beef jerky to account for my cellular balances? Would my kidneys process my waste, or would my body try to hang on to the bad stuff? I’m pleased to say that, other than some pretty painful gout symptoms in my left toes (which I’m used to and can work past), my kidneys behaved themselves very well.

The best part? Just as soon as I crossed the finish line, Allyson and Suzanne were there to greet me. They’d heard my name called over the loudspeakers, so they were waiting for me. At this race, as soon as you enter AutoZone Park where the finish line is located, you cross a timing pad, and the announcer calls your name out over the PA system. Just a few seconds later, you cross the almighty finish line. The one you thought you’d never see, and that you swore they kept moving on you at about mile 9 or so. Just after crossing, I got my heat wrap, then my medal. I desperately wanted more water, but I refrained. Instead, I headed into the outfield with Allyson and Suzanne to wait for Lori and Julie. While there, I took my shoes off, laid down, and made myself comfortable! Once we’d all crossed the finish line, we looked around in giddy contemplation, half astounded at what we’d managed to do, half drunk on endorphin cocktails. It was a satisfying, intoxicating feeling.

As soon as we were all done, we hit Beale Street for lunch. I saw someone today use the term “rungry” in a tweet. Oh my word, there is no kind of hunger to compare with the hunger after a long run. We went to Dyer’s and overloaded on grease, carbs and good beer.

Of course, we celebrated Saturday night with a rich, fantastic meal, lots of wine, and even more laughter. Besides toasting to the race, we also toasted to Allyson and Julie’s birthdays this week. We had the best time at Flight, and I HIGHLY recommend this restaurant if you’re in Memphis. In fact, if you’re ever within a 100-mile or so radius of the city, you owe it to yourself to eat there. It was incredible. It was, by far, one of the most fantastic meals of my life, and I’ve eaten at some of the best places around the world.

This morning, we all woke up sore but satisfied. I’m pleased to say I’m less sore than I thought I would be. Other than a killer case of waiter’s bum, the only thing really bothering me is my feet. I have pancake-flat arches and absolutely no fat on my feet, so I basically run on concrete slabs. That doesn’t make for a good morning after. But again, it wasn’t much worse than what I dealt with after a week of hardcore Disney tripping. My thighs, calves, quads, etc. were all just fine. This was another boost of confidence, because it makes me feel like I must be in OK shape overall.

Someone today asked me how I did it. I really think it was because, for once, I ignored the numbers. I ignored the goals, and the pressure, and the little mind games I played with myself during training. During the race, it wasn’t about a time or a pace or beats per minute. It was about my instincts. It was about how I felt. When I wanted to run, I ran. When I wanted to walk, I walked. And when I wanted to cry, I cried. When I ran through the St. Jude campus by myself, and looked up to the window of the room that Denise died in, I broke down. As I heard the cheers of the parents who were in the midst of the toughest days of their lives, I felt justified. As I looked at the faces of the few patients who could come outside to cheer me on, I remembered why I was there. For once, salty fluids poured from my body, and I wasn’t worried about measuring them. Instead, I flipped down my sunglasses from their perch atop my head so the spectators wouldn’t see my sobbing. I thought of all I’ve lost and won in my life, and I just kept going. Because really, what else can we do?

People say running is addictive. And people are partly right. Running isn’t addictive. Running sucks. It’s no fun. Running is only for potential muggings, hot asphalt and unexpected shoe sales. And running extreme distances isn’t natural. At times, it’s downright unhealthy. But racing is addictive. The camaraderie, the shared goals, the challenge, the accomplishments, the cause — they all combine to give you a feeling like nothing you can imagine. It was awesome.

And I can’t wait to do it again.

* In just two short months, we raised more money for St. Jude than we ever dreamed we could. But we’re not stopping yet. We have until January 2 to accept donations on behalf of our team. And I’m still just a little shy of my personal goal of $1000. If you’re looking to offload a few bucks before the end of the year tax deadline, if you believe in helping sick kids and their families and the people who take care of them, or if you’re just damn proud of me, you still have time to donate.

Filed Under: Activism, Musings

What Part Of This Is So Hard To Understand?

November 11, 2011 By Amy 16 Comments

A few weeks ago, as I was watching the local morning news, I heard a disturbing story about a nasty man who made a nasty video with a 10-year-old girl. Disgusting, I know. Besides what this guy did, there was another disturbing part to the story. The anchor wrapped up the segment by saying something along the lines of “And to report suspected child abuse, visit our website at arkansasmatters.com,” in her chipper news reader voice.

I’m sorry, but what????????

To report child abuse, visit your station’s website? To do what, exactly? Because last time I checked, there wasn’t a “live chat with a police officer” option on your site, but if there is, I can’t find it amongst the crappy Flash ads and half-off deals and comments about the weather from grumpy old men.

I dug around the site, just in case I was wrong, but I couldn’t even find information on how to report child abuse, let alone any kind of direct link to authorities. And it kept bugging me. So just in case anyone else had been viewing and visited that story looking for that sort of information, I eventually added a comment:

It was interesting to note that later, I did find this token page:

I’m sure you know all about the Penn State scandal by now. I’m not going to go into the details of it or give a big editorial on the whole story. I’ll just say I find it shocking that once again, there seems to be some kind of confusion about how to report child abuse or molestation.

It’s really not that hard.

If you suspect a child may be a victim of abuse, but you have not seen anything happening, call your state’s Department of Child Services or the National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD for help.

If you happen to see abuse as it’s taking place, it’s even easier to know what to do.

You call the police, or emergency services, immediately.

I don’t know why this is so hard to understand. Sexual or physical abuse of a child is an immediate emergency. It is always damaging. It can also be fatal. It must be stopped.

You do not tell your boss.

You do not tell the offender’s boss.

You do not call the campus police. (Girls, this goes for you, too, if you’ve been a victim of a sexual assault on campus.) Slam me for saying this if you want, but all too often, campus cops serve the school, not the victims. You cannot risk this happening when a child’s life is at stake.

You do not tell a reporter.

You do not tell the offender’s spouse or family members.

You do not tell your spouse or family members.

No excuses, no doubt, no wavering. When you see this happening, you have to do something about it. In that split second, you don’t need to worry about your job, or your reputation, or your bank account, or whether anyone will believe you.

You just need to pick up the phone.

It’s not rocket science, people. In fact, it’s so simple, even a football coach should be able to figure it out.

Filed Under: Activism, Current Events, Rants

Dreams And Gratitude

October 30, 2011 By Amy Leave a Comment

I dreamed of Denise last night.

This surprised me, as I was sure I’d have nightmares. I watched scary movies on Netflix all day, and then watched the first season of Walking Dead all night. Oh, and Nick was away at work all day and night. I was setting myself up for restless sleep and lots of nightmares, wasn’t I?

But instead of a nightmare, I dreamed of my old friend. I dream of her from time to time, and the funny thing is, in all my dreams, she’s a grown up. She never has a family or a job or anything like that, but she’s always my age, and concerned with the same adult things as I am. She’s not a high school student by any means.

In last night’s dream, she was helping me with Christmas cards. Now, I never send out Christmas cards, so it was odd for us to be sitting at my kitchen table addressing envelopes. But I remember she kept saying “You need to do this. People like messages. They like reading notes. You have to say the right thing.”

I think she was reminding me to say “thank you.”

Thanks to all the people who have donated so far. Every time I see that little thermometer go up on my fundraising page, I cry. I really do. They are definitely tears of joy. I am joyful that there are other people who still remember Denise, and are still part of our supportive community, and are willing to donate yet again to St. Jude. And I’m joyful that there are people who have never met her, have never met me, have never had a sick child of their own, and yet who still feel compelled to support this cause.

So Denise and I thank you. The chances of my sending you a Christmas card are slim to none, but I am still thankful.

(Don’t forget: For your chance to win an iPad 2, you must donate by Tuesday!)

Filed Under: Activism

Support St. Jude For Your Chance To Win An iPad 2

October 25, 2011 By Amy 2 Comments

Hopefully you know by now that I’m training for a half marathon in memory of my best friend who passed away at St. Jude Children’s Hospital. Despite losing a couple of toenails and some chafing in odd places, I’m still going. Not going strong, but going. I am now the master of that whole “shuffling that looks like running” thing. Is it too late to qualify for that in the 2012 Olympics? Really, it’s surprising I even manage to propel myself forward, because I feel like those cartoon characters who spin their feet rapidly yet go nowhere.

(Cell by Chuck Jones)

I’m just like Wile E. Coyote. I have the potential to look cool and be awesome, but overall I’m just inept and likely to fall prey to gravity at any moment.

But while I and my teammates may not be the best runners, we are pretty good at raising money. We have been surprised and overwhelmed by your support. If you are one of the wonderful people who has already donated, thank you, thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

And if you haven’t already donated, now is the PERFECT time to do so. That’s because St. Jude has just offered an incentive to some of its race runners. The person who receives the most online donations between today and November 1 will win an iPad 2! Pretty exciting, right? But why should you care if I get an iPad 2? I’ll tell you why — because I’m not greedy. I already have an iPad. I don’t need another one. So if I win it, I’m going to give it away to one of my donors. But I’m not going to punish those donors who have already generously given — they’ll be in the running for the iPad, too.

So here’s the deal:

You make a donation to St. Jude in my name.
You make another donation. And another. In fact, you make lots and lots of donations over the next week. Even if you can only give $1 at a time, you do so knowing that any amount of money helps this amazing place care for some very dear children and their families.
You tell everyone you know to make a donation.
You do all this through next Tuesday, November 1.
Because so many awesome people have made a donation through my page, I win an iPad 2.
Because I love my wonderful donors more than I love an iPad 2, I randomly choose a name from my list of donors who have given at any time, not just this week. That person gets the iPad 2.
We all feel great because we have made a difference in the life of a child.

Pretty simple. You help me help St. Jude, and we all win.

Just a few things to remember:

Spread the word. With this contest, the more people who participate, the better our chances of winning.
Make sure you go to my St. Jude Heroes page. If you want to share the short link, it’s http://www.mystjudeheroes.org/amybhole
To be eligible, you must donate before 11:59 PM CDT on November 1. So don’t out this off — donate and spread the word today!

And if we don’t win, or if you can’t donate before next Tuesday, don’t worry. Keep those donations coming in anyway, because I’m going to be giving away my own prize after the race as my personal way of saying “thank you.”

Have a great week! Give often!

Filed Under: Activism

Delete Going Forward

October 24, 2011 By Amy 7 Comments

I’ll never forget the day. Jack was exactly two weeks old. I was driving him back from his pediatrician’s office for his two week check up, and he started screaming in the backseat. It was a long drive even without a screaming baby — we lived in rural, middle-of-nowhere Arizona and had to drive to Vegas for anything beyond the basic groceries, including doctor visits. When he started wailing, we were slightly more than halfway through the hour and a half trip, and it was very late in the day, so I decided to carry on heading toward home. But I knew something was wrong with him. I just knew.

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t want to share too much of this part of our life on the blog, so I’ll fast forward through the last seven years a bit. The screaming led to the always comforting (forgive my sarcasm) diagnosis of colic. Then reflux. Then some other feeding issues. Then some impulse control stuff. A left leg that doesn’t always behave as it should. Sensory issues. Motor skill development issues. Problems that made it difficult for him to be in a classroom and learn. Lots of developmental testing. And plenty of doctors who were seemingly overworked, uncaring and unconcerned with my child and my worries.

But last year, we found some wonderful people at a wonderful children’s hospital. And with them finally came a diagnosis. With that diagnosis came regular occupational therapy and rapid improvement in Jack’s developmental skills and his behavior at school. Thanks to OT at ACH, my son is a different person than he was a year ago at this time. A couple of weeks ago, he was reevaluated, and his results were compared to his intake exams. As I suspected, they found him to be the most handsome, smartest, funniest kid in the state. (At least that’s what I saw when I read between the lines.) But in all seriousness, the results were astonishing. For example, in just one year, his fine motor skills went from the level of a three-year-old to right where they’re supposed to be.

Because of his awesomeness and hard work, we were officially discharged from occupational therapy. I was so excited to delete that longstanding appointment from our family calendar.

DELETE GOING FORWARD! Music to my ears!

With no more after school trips across town, I was looking forward to having more free time. I was also looking forward to saving money. Our insurance is decent, but even with excellent coverage, going for medical care multiple times per month can get pricey.

A week after being discharged, we had Jack’s parent/teacher conference. For once, I was excited to go. I knew that he’d been having zero behavior issues, that he has lots of friends, and that his teacher adores him. I expected the report to be glowing.

Instead, I was blindsided. Yes, he behaves well. Yes, he is excelling in math. Yes, he works hard. But yes, he still seems to be having some issues. And we need to have him tested for dyslexia, pronto.

In a split second, my heart broke. All I could think was “We can’t do this all over again. How are we going to afford more testing and regular tutoring? And more importantly, what did Jack do to deserve this? Why can’t he just get a break?”

I was upset, and I was angry. Angry at myself, and angry at what had brought us to this point.

I’ll share a bit about his diagnosis. He has some neurological issues, which, according to the doctors, most likely developed because of something (who knows what, really) that happened either in utero or at birth. All of the weird symptoms he’s had his entire life are most likely a result of something that went wonky either during his fetal development or during the birth process.

My pregnancy was very difficult. When I was seven months pregnant, we moved to the middle of nowhere. I wasn’t happy about the move. It was very stressful for me. We lived in a hotel room for weeks as we tried to find a house. I couldn’t exercise or even prepare a healthy meal for myself. To receive prenatal care, I could either drive an hour and a half to Lake Havasu, Arizona or Las Vegas. I chose Lake Havasu at first, simply because there was less road construction on the highway to that town, and I didn’t want to get stuck in traffic trying to get to a hospital that far away. The doctor I found there was OK, but when we visited the hospital, it wasn’t. I decided to go to Vegas instead. Unfortunately, southern Nevada was having a terrible OB/GYN shortage at that time, and I found a hospital, but not a doctor. Eventually, my insurance company had to practically force a doctor to see me. From the start, Nick and I really disliked him, but I was a month away from giving birth, so I felt helpless and at his mercy. I was having pruritic symptoms which he didn’t treat. I had problems with an extended labor period, and I went far past my due date. And then during delivery, he injured me so badly that I was still having infections and severe pain over a year after I gave birth.

For me, the whole pregnancy and childbirth experience was a nightmare. I had a lot of emotional distress that I didn’t handle very well, and neither I nor Jack received optimal care. If only I had been older and wiser and better able to take care of myself and advocate for myself and my child better.

I think back to that time and wonder “Is it any surprise Jack’s issues started so early? I did everything wrong.”

So here’s me: Well-educated and financially comfortable. I should have had a smooth, easy and pleasurable pregnancy. But even I couldn’t make that happen. Despite my seemingly ideal background, I didn’t have access to good prenatal care. I didn’t have all the tools I needed to handle things well. I didn’t have much support from family and friends (we lived far away from them).

So imagine how it must be for women in areas with even less access to basic health facilities, let alone high-quality prenatal and postnatal care. Or access to pediatricians who can care for their children. Or with so many stressors in their life that taking care of themselves during a pregnancy has to take a back seat to just surviving.

Thanks to the Million Moms Challenge, we may be able to make things better for these women. Started by ABC News in conjunction with the United Nations Foundation, this challenge is a call to action for American moms to join together to help less fortunate moms in other countries. Here’s some info from their site:

The Million Moms Challenge brings together a coalition of more than a dozen world-class partners working around the globe to improve the lives of women and children. The Million Moms Challenge will focus on crucial issues that are a priority for all mothers, including access to proper nutrition to support healthy pregnancies, trained midwives to assist in safe deliveries, and vaccines that enable children to survive to their first birthdays and beyond.

All you have to do to help is sign up for the challenge, because when you do, Johnson & Johnson will donate a dollar to the program. You can do more, if you like. You can spread the word about this campaign. You can follow along on Twitter and Facebook. Even better, you can share your story, like I’ve done here.

I shared this story today as a way of letting you know about this campaign. I also shared it because I’m a little raw right now, and I just wanted to get it off my chest. I know things will be OK, but I’m just frustrated. I’ll get over it. But so many other mothers and babies may not get over their situations. So let’s help them out. We may not always be able to delete all our troubles going forward, but we can certainly help delete some of them.

Filed Under: Activism, Family