I completely grant that was not one of my better choice of words but if there's anything I've ever shown in this approach to life and death it's that well I don't pull the trigger lightly. There were 3 events the weekend before. The first was the Atlas Ride where the Texas 400 did their first ride on their way to Alaska. Almost 70 college kids will go on 3 different routes form here to Anchorage on their bicycles... I did the 50 mile ride that day and while it was not officially a competition in anyway me and the two guys in the front when it got down to about 10 miles to go, one of them said it's always a race. I was the first to finish. But that wasn't anywhere near the main highlight of the day, I started the ride with two cancer survivors who mean a lot to me, Will Sweatnam and Mike Thompson, oddly enough Will was one of the guys who was there as I was learning basic things about a bicycle half a decade ago. Mike at the time was working in a bike shop and helped me maintain the bike I would use as my car when I wasn't allowed to drive. It may have been a point to point ride but it felt like some very good things were coming full circle my first time joining the Texas 4000 as they took on Atlas.
There were 25 and 70 mile options (the 25 one started two hours later) so after I got it done I headed back out and finished with my girlfriend. She looked good in the Livestrong gear of her own and while often when we have done trail races she has been doing the longer distance, twice or 3 times as long, it was nice to show I could last longer for a change.
But we headed there for teamwork. We went to a trail race where arriving less than 30 minutes before the start of a running festival we would put together a team of the 4 by 5k relay. We had decided if we arrived on time we would put together a team and in worst case scenario we'd each run two legs. Let's just say we didn't just put together a team, we put together the winning one. It's the 4 relay we've placed in and the 3rd one we've won. It was a cool trophy and it resulted in a shelf now at the house for our joint medals and trophies. I hope that shelf keeps growing just like the ones with Kiana and I has kept growing.
It was pouring rain at the trail and many people headed out before the 3rd race but well I wasn't one of those and took off for the 3rd race of the day. It was an evening 10k and well... I won it. When I originally got diagnosed with brain cancer I put off brain surgery to run a marathon and qualified for Boston. It seems I always race intensely before medical appointments... 2 years ago I did 4 races in 8 days and placed in none of them but enjoyed them all. Last year I did 3 races in 3 days and placed in two. This year I did 3 in 3 days and was in the lead of them all. Somewhere it may well be the subconscious but I want to know that if some trigger is being pulled that I had some say in how much conviction it got pulled with. There may be people who call that naive to think it's all just chance but I never quite forget that I have a brain cancer that has no known dietary, genetic lifestyle or environmental components.
To pretend like I shook off the impending MRI would be a myth but I don't pause for it. We played a poker game the night before with some of the same people who had played in the hospital when this first started and a few new ones. As I prepared for it with stiff legs thinking that my exercise is habits is my way of fighting cancer I echoed the song that was playing the background 'luck ain't even lucky, gotta make your own breaks.' I'd end up taking home not the win from the poker game but more money than I had put in. I like that approach to poker but I hope it's the opposite in my life, that I put in more than I take out. Not quite sure how that works with the laws of the universe but that's my hope.
Kiana and I are on a mission this summer to catch some things we've long neglected around our own home town. We found a tree house that I climbed up first and reminded Kiana that if she broke her legs she shouldn't come running to me. She got up and down from the tree faster than I did. I kept trying to find ways to stay busy till the moment of the MRI and then even busier between the results.
I've been to this MRI place for years (that's both a good and a bad thing I suppose). I have no idea what procedure was happening but from the moment I walked in and for a solid 10 minutes there were screams in the background, not muffled but just outraged screams from a child. They were those primal ones that you hear and you're not sure anyone can comfort because the procedures presumably necessary. It took plenty of focus to refill the documents I'm given every time as I just kept listening to those screams but when I to turn them in it was to a new front desk lady who was named of all things, Hope. That's what the MRI feels like, somewhere a balance of primal screams and Hope trying to be helpful through the process.
There was actually something different about the machine this time. For the first time ever they said they could give me earphone to use in there as opposed to ear plugs. They asked me what radio station to put it on and I tried while we did the first set of imaging (the one without the contrast). But then I remembered during that first set and as I listened to my favorite radio station a piece of advice I'd been given when trying new drugs which was not to have some of your favorite foods because their taste might change for ever due to emotional associations and vomit associations. I'd listened to that then so I have no foods ruined for me. The contrast they inject with rare exception makes me throw up so as they came in I said thanks but no thanks and handed the earphones back since I didn't want any good songs associated with that machine or that vomiting feeling. That would result in me being in there for the first time without earphones... let's just say the machine is loud.
But the louder part is from when it was over Tuesday evening till results this morning. I tried appropriate and inappropriate distractions for the scanxiety as we call it. Did a track workout with heavy legs, a Marathon Kids Ambassador Training Day, a social run for Global Running Day. For the 3rd year in a row I've had an MRI between national cancer survivor day and global running day... I can't ever quite decide if it's appropriate or odd that I'm stuck between those two.
But while it may feel like Russian Roulette and while there are suddenly arguments in the news and politics today about what things from Russia we should take, the one thing I hope to not be in life or social media or my approach to cancer is a Russian doll. I don't ever want to just be full of myself. Still as I perused through social media, there were 5 of us who were due for scans and or results within 24 hours of each other literally all doing scans in different cities and states. Three I've met through brain cancer events but one was a running friend. I reached out to them and was intrigued that we had all ended up on the same schedule. While none of them knew each other I wished them all well and the same in return.
In complete honesty, my girlfriend has asked to come to the MRI all but insisted on it but I am just not there where I'm ready to let someone join me there. Perhaps it's damage, perhaps it's protecting others or even self protection. I mean I tried to kick my mom out of the hospital room before brain surgery... I appreciated the insistence and well a thought that went through my mind in that machine there's at least room in one area of my life for growth.
When results were due, I took Kiana with me. She's stuck with me and my results for now and sat and listened as the doctor said everything was stable. The last time one of the measurements had gone up a millimeter. This time one went from 14.04 to 14.10 which was nothing to be worried about. 6
The last several years worth of appointments have been on the 8th of something... so the next one is December 8th. If somehow the way you spin the barrel and hold things keeps consistently keeping you alive, I don't mess with the formula. But one way I did mess with the formula was usually I go to the Hope Outdoor Gallery before an appointment to 'just breathe.' Summer time is sleeping-in time so this time I went afterwards and for the first time ever either of us, both of us, spray painted. The first thing Kiana painted was a heart, something that somehow has in my view both stayed steady and kept growing for me.
But the story may be that for me today but it doesn't end that cleanly. Because when I got home, I checked on everyone else. They almost all got stable or clean results. But Matt, a guy who I often refer to in speeches who I talk about in media interviews like the Spartan one, someone I met at my first brain cancer event. He's relearned to walk and talk and it was after that he did his first marathon. He's why I got mohawks and a little more comfortable both with being an advocate and living with the scars. He's the one I stole the joke from that if the brain cancer doesn't kill you the medical bills will. He's the one who always tell me to leave it all out there. He's been stable far longer than me but on his scan results today, there is now a new tumor at his skull base and will have to have another brain surgery next week and likely have do radiation and/or chemo not long after. As soon as I heard the news I offered condolences and he offered congratulations on my stable one. I said I wish I could trade him spots and he said he'd never let me do that with Kiana.
I have another race tonight, the Moonlight Margarita Run 5k, a race that has honestly never gone that well in Texas heat but we present a check afterwards from the Austin Runner's Club. I have a Spartan on Saturday. I was going to take them a little less intensely than last weekend's races and it tells you something they are the last ones I presently have on the calendar till September. But I'll go out there and give it what I can with a little more conviction and a little more purpose. I'll see my family and friends at the Spartan. Kiana and Elaine will be home tonight. I'll hug them all with a little more conviction.
The Russians have a saying that a bird is known by its flight. Matt texted me before either of us has results and said that he prayed for us to have clear results. The years and the symptoms and the struggles of brain cancer are something we've flown through or above, sometimes with mohawks to be a little more aerodynamic. I told him all I ever hope for is is to handle the results well no matter what they are. I think loving and living with conviction is something he shouts and I try to echo it and I think despite our different results that won't change and I really believe that for both of us that's handling it well.