Time Out for Seth's Birthday Week

I took a little blog vacation, and that’s because we’ve been busy celebrating Seth’s birthday/ week/ month (an extended celebration idea I think he got from my Mom!) We were hoping to observe the holiday, along with the also-rans Valentine’s Day and President’s Day, over the long weekend in California. Seth has never been, and I was dying to take him to meet friends and drive the Pacific Coast Highway and enjoy Valentine’s Day at a spa hotel with views of the Golden Gate…

And then Snowmageddon happened. We got over a foot of snow the day before we were supposed to leave, and the East Coast shut down. Literally. We went through six iterations of cancelled flights over three days before we finally, reluctantly, rescheduled the trip. Seth still made Valentine’s Day special, with gorgeous roses and presents and chocolate and wine… although I think the stuffed burger makers I got him, from an “As Seen on TV” commercial, were pretty inspired as well. We had various grilled meats at home, and spent most of the weekend inside with the hatches battened.

The silver lining was that I finally got my late Christmas present! Seth finally, after a lot of begging on my part, kept his Christmas promise and got into the pool with the aqua jogger, and he loved it. We spent hours running in the pool over the long weekend (the one workout we can both do right now!), and he’s gone every day since and even knocked out some lap swimming. He loves the no-impact cardio. And although I almost drowned him when he asked me why I had been “holding out” on him with such a great workout, I’m elated.

We made it to Mount Vernon for President’s Day- along with about half of DC- but it was beautiful in the snow. We couldn’t believe we had never been and vowed to make it back after a chronically loose screw on the prosthetic cut the walking tour short. (I’m still hobbling around in a boot cast, so we were a pretty pathetic pair.)

My birthday present was, as usual, kind of a fail. I ordered Seth an awesome custom Benelli shotgun with the help of one of his old football coaches, but of course it still hasn’t arrived. Poor guy got a card and a bottle of whiskey. I dropped the cupcakes I had picked up for him, and the banner I made fell on the floor before he got up. I really am the worst at occasions. (Luckily, Mom came through with bacon-topped cupcakes.) We did go out to a couple of nice birthday dinners with friends (why have one birthday dinner when you can have two?), and spent some great evenings at home watching the Olympics over a bottle of wine. One of my very favorite things about my husband is that he loves any and all sports and competitions. I think I caught him yelling at figure skaters at one point.
 

Snowmageddon of course manifested itself on the roads, so I had an abysmal week fighting traffic. It twice took me two hours to get home (27miles!), which is its own exquisite form of torture. Seth is to be commended for not locking me in the basement once I made it home on those nights.

This weekend was insultingly beautiful and warm, after the havoc wreaked by a week of storms. Saturday it was in the 60s, and I even took the new kayak out for a spin on Accotink Bay. We wrapped up Seth’s birthday week with a Restaurant Week dinner in Baltimore with friends, complete with hilariously bad service and a real, live hair in the soup. We will not be returning to The Black Olive, but a good time was had by all anyway.

Here’s to 31 great years, and many more to come, for the love of my life. He even had his own birthday message. Shameless self-promotion, reprinting it here, but I thought it was really sweet.  

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone that made my birthday day week so special. I should have typed this sooner but it seemed like every day someone was doing something to make the whole week super special. I feel very blessed to have so many great friends, family members, and mentors in my life that I truly love and respect.

Thank you, Amy, for making the last year of my life the best year of my life, despite the fact that it was also the craziest year of my life. I am thankful every day to be alive, and you make it even more rewarding.I look forward to living many more years with you by my side. Thanks for being my best friend.

Oh. The photo of the week is the one at top, of us literally blocking Mount Vernon. (Also entitled, "why you don't hand your phone camera to strangers.") This happens to us all the time. The first time was when we had just started dating, and we were standing on the steps of the Lincoln Monument. Of course the picture was our faces... and the steps. I guess it's tradition by now.any great friends,family members, and mentors in my life that I truly love and respect.

Thank you Amy Niemanfor making the last year of my life the best year of my life, despite the factthat it was also the craziest year of my life. I am thankful everyday to bealive and you make it even more rewarding. I look forward to living many moreyears with you by my side. Thanks for being my best friend

A Forced Slowdown

We had a rare down week, followed by a lazy weekend. Much of that was dictated, of course, by my limited mobility, but I guess slowing it down occasionally isn’t such a bad thing. Seth has been a literal saint, insisting that I sit on the couch while he does all the chores and makes dinner and fetches thing and hooks up the ice machine (which we inherited after Tony’s double knee surgery, and is amazing.)  He even admitted that having to be a one-man show made him appreciate how much I usually do around the house, which is every working woman’s dream. I’d consider this a major win, if I didn’t consider it akin to a prison sentence to sit on the couch while somebody else does stuff.

We did make it out on Friday night, for another trip to the Kennedy Center. We saw the Alvin Ailey Dance Company’s amazing show in front of a packed audience, and had dinner and drinks at a cute restaurant in Palisades on the way home. It was a lovely “city” night, and we followed it up with a much-needed sleep-in morning. By Saturday afternoon, though, my inability to sit around combined with my inability to get around had started to wear on us both, and we needed a plan that didn’t involve much walking. He must have been desperate, because Seth acquiesced to a trip to the outlet mall in Leesburg in search of a coffee table just to get me out of the house.

We lasted about five seconds of course, since we both actually hate to shop. We definitely did not find a coffee table. But Seth did somehow talk me into a side trip to a gun store.

Sunday we had brunch with friends in Old Town, and then spent a snowy day on the couch with mimosas in hand. Not bad, if you can’t go for a run.

Our biggest news these days, in light of what I’m calling the forced slowdown, is medical.

I got my cast wet Monday, and after a long day under drying lamps in the casting room (and a scolding or two for walking on it too much), was awarded a boot cast and a weekly requirement to check in. Apparently, I cannot be trusted to sit and rest. It’s a family trait. The Walters energy level speaks for itself, and Seth got in trouble for the same thing, many times.

He, on the other hand, has two amazing new accessories. The first is this BIOM foot. It has a 6000rpm motor that acts as a calf and achilles and helps him push off when he walks. Jury’s still out on it, but the early word is that he doesn’t care for how heavy it is. 

The second is the new ankle brace, which is already pretty indispensable. I’ll have to get a better class on how it works, but if it helps I’m happy. Plus, it looks really high tech. 

Photo of the week: Seth and Scott at brunch

Disaster at Uwharrie, and Silver Linings

I’ve never DNFed (for “did not finish,” reflected in the race results if you walked off the course for some reason) before. Lots of runners have, because of injury or illness or burnout or even getting lost. I almost did once, after a bad burnout at the Marine Corps Marathon a couple years ago following months of racing. I sat down on the curb at mile 17 and refused to go on, but Jackie Bergey- bless her heart- coaxed and prodded and half-dragged me through the rest, for which I will always be grateful.

And then, only 2 miles in to the Uwharrie Mountain Run 40 Miler, I jumped sideways- nimbly, I thought- to avoid getting my feet wet that early in the race. I heard some sort of awful pop and had to walk a few steps. I was pacing Jim, my friend Heather’s husband, for his first 40 (as she had done for mine), and he turned around and looked concerned. “I’m fine,” I told him. “It’s just twisted. I can run it off.” We ran by Heather, crewing for us, at the next aid station, and I yelled that I might need some motrin at the next stop. A couple miles later it became harder and harder to put weight on my left ankle, and it looked pretty swollen. I told Jim to go on ahead and promised I’d catch up with him. Before long, however, I was walking gingerly uphill and crab-crawling downhill, wincing in pain and afraid to examine the damage. One guy who passed me offered to carry me to the next aid station. Trail runners are the best.

At 8, the next time I saw Heather, she took one look at me and peeled off my sock. My ankle was black, and had swollen to the size of a softball. I could no longer walk. I checked my number out with the race volunteers, sat down on the ground, and sobbed. Heather eventually stuffed me into her old Chevy Blazer, which had been ferrying us and our wet socks and dirty clothes to and from trail runs for almost a decade and had years' worth of race numbers stuffed under the seats, and drove me to the nearest gas station. She came out with a six pack of beer and a bait bucket of ice, filled a nalgene with beer (at 9:30am), jammed my ankle into the ice, and told me she understood and I was welcome to cry, but we needed to catch Jim at the next stop.

I was numb, sad, and probably a little shocky. I threw up twice from the pain. Beer helped, and so did having a running buddy, who may not have been very sympathetic but who understood, with me.  Not only was this my first-ever DNF (no matter the reason, it still feels like quitting), I hadn’t done an ultra, or anything I was proud of for myself, since Seth got blown up. I hadn’t realized how much I had really needed this one, from a mental as well as a physical standpoint. Uwharrie had been my first ultra and held a special place in my heart. I had put a lot of things- like mountain runs- that I used to do, that were part of who I was, on the back burner for a long time. It occurred to me that I had built this race up to be a kind of “welcome back” statement for me. I was ready to get this part of my life back, and here was another crippling delay.

It all sort of hit me at once, sitting there in a lawn chair with my foot in a bait bucket of ice, watching other runners gut out my favorite race. I was crushed.  

When I was done wallowing in self-pity, having refocused on the hurting and abandoned Jim, Heather reminded me how lucky I was. I had done a lot of ultras on my own with no support crew. This would’ve been a miserable day indeed, without a warm car and dry clothes and that nalgene of beer.

 Seth showed up mid-afternoon, having spent a late night drinking with Brian, and whisked me away to the emergency room, concerned about a break.  We caused quite a stir at the civilian ER, a one-legged guy fireman carrying his wife through the door. Thankfully, civilian ERs move faster than Army ones, and we left a couple hours later with an inconclusive diagnosis and- you guessed it- motrin and crutches. I was still pretty miserable, but the crutches allowed us to enjoy the rest of the weekend with the Trimbles (including a very sore but victorious Jim) and Jackie and Kevin. Seth caught up with friends, Leslye made an appearance, Jackie and I made a mimosa-fueled Target run for old times’ sake, and Heather put on a killer Super Bowl spread.  It was a great time, minus the hobbling about, and reminded me how much I miss NC.

Back home after several sets of X-rays , an MRI, and countless hours in FBCH waiting rooms, the diagnosis is official: broken ankle and torn ligaments. Weeks and maybe months in a cast. No activity whatsoever for a long time (although Mom has some sort of crazy plan involving chair aerobics.) I hate hate hate being stuck on crutches and unable to carry things or do much, although Seth has been an absolute saint. Totally unprompted, he’s been doing chores, making dinner, and even went grocery shopping (which yielded a few interesting results.) Not only does this make me appreciate him even more- it’s nice knowing you have somebody you can count on to pick up your slack!- but it’s also made me think of his long journey back to mobility. I spent a lot of time worried about his infections and surgeries and pain and TBI, but I didn’t really take the time to think about just the general frustration of being unable to do what you’re used to being able to do. I can’t even carry my own coffee. It drives me nuts. Seth had many long months of that, and to some extent he must still struggle with it. And he does a much better job than I do of handling it without complaint.

So by way of silver linings, this whole thing- while disappointing and frustrating- is not a total loss if it helps us understand each other better, and appreciate each other more. I’m a terrible patient so I’m not sure if that’s what Seth is getting out of it, but I am.

Also, Mom has been feeling sorry for me and delivering food to the office. The pumpkin bread cheered me up significantly.

I cracked up last night as the Niemans spent our evening on the couch icing our various bum limbs. Life is funny, and we are learning to be grateful for every bump, bruise, and laugh. This has to be the photo of the week.