A Second Date with Bob

Bob and I, perhaps unfortunately, are going to become good friends.

The first time I met Bob, it was a year go, at our first visit to the fertility clinic. Feeling a little bitter,and slightly overwhelmed, I didn’t really welcome Bob’s quick advances on our first date, and so didn’t even bother to learn his name.  I mean, I’m not THAT easy.

Today I went in for a re-draw of my Day 3 labs, to check certain hormone levels on the 3rd day of my cycle. Apparently, I also needed another baseline ultrasound.

Enter Bob, the ultrasound wand.

While seated on the exam table, naked from the waist down, I waited for the nurse to perform the ultrasound. For those who are unfamiliar, I’m not referring to the kind of ultrasound you see on tv that goes over the stomach, I’m talking about the one that has a face to face with my girly parts. (internal ultrasound)People always talk about the dil.do cam, and while I vaguely recalled chuckling to Bryan a year ago that it did, in fact, really closely resemble one, I sat with Bob today, and decided I needed to make peace with his advances on our first date, because today was going to be the second of many.

The nurse entered, and out of slight nervousness I uttered “has anyone told you that thing looks like a dil.do?” (because I apparently thought I was the first person to ask such a witty question). She chuckled anyway and told me “yeah, we call him Bob”.

I should have gotten a picture with Bob.

He still didn’t even bother to introduce himself before making his advance*. Men. AND charged me a horribly high fee for his intrusion. Not even a cheap date.

Till we meet again, Bob. Next time, at least kiss me first………on second thought, nevermind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Apparently, everything looks ok. No activity on the ovaries, since its so early in the cycle. 15 follicles on one and 12 on the other. Uterus apparently looks good. No cysts.  At least Bob was able to tell me something productive. Not much else is going to be done until my next cycle. I’ve been taking the Metformin for a week no with no issues thus far. We’re still mulling over the financial aspect and I’m going to run in a couple 5 k’s in the mean time. One on Saturday!

 

 

I’m not Infertile, I’m Reproductively Challenged

A couple of weeks ago, I had to have a conversation I never thought I would have to have.

I had to tell my (male) boss about our infertility and plans to pursue IVF.

I realize that it’s really none of his business, and that legally I don’t have to say anything. That if I have enough PTO there is no reason I NEED to share this particular piece of information. But, in the same respect, I also know that I could have to take an hour or two, a whole day or a couple of days without much prior notice, and that losing my job because of recent weird absenteeism would not help our financial situation.

The one bonus I had is that he is a lone male in 2 offices full of women. Physical, Occupational and Speech Therapists tend to be women more often than men. But, as a male with two kids that I’m pretty sure they didn’t have issues conceiving, he probably had no idea what an IVF even was. (he didn’t)

I racked my brain for a couple of days after sending the message requesting to meet with him for a few minutes later that week on how I was going to introduce the topic.

• Hey boss – despite all of the rabbit sex my husband and I are having, we can’t seem to get pregnant, so I’m going to need an IVF
• Um, so you know when two people love each other very much? And they decide they want children? And then they do this thing so they can have children? That isn’t working for us
• So while we have the outer parts working effectively, we can’t seem to get the sperm to meet the egg and therefore, need to do an IVF
• Bryan and I can’t have kids naturally because I have PCOS and he doesn’t have enough sperm so we need an IVF

All of those options screamed TMI!. And truthfully, I went into the meeting having no idea how I was going to start the conversation about our sex life and ability to procreate. Talk about awkward.

Oddly, I sat down with him and blurted out, without thinking (which for me is usually a bad thing): Bryan and I are what I call “reproductively challenged”, and went on to explain that we were unable to have kids naturally and therefore would need to have the aid of science in order to be able to get pregnant. And that I’d need to take a few days of PTO. And that I wouldn’t be able to give much notice before taking the PTO. I even whipped out a handy calendar visual to explain how long it would take and when approximately I would need said days off.

Luckily, he was understanding, but as expected had no idea what an IVF was. Or how much one cost. When I told him, his jaw dropped.

Yeah, my thoughts exactly. And that’s for a 65% chance.

Since that conversation, I’ve decided I kinda like the term “reproductively challenged”. Infertile, literally meaning not fertile, does have a bit of a negative connotation. Not so negative that I’m going to contact my congressman and demand the term be changed to reproductively challenged in order to fight the discrimination of infertile people everywhere, but you know what I mean.  The “challenge” part in particular fits for me because of my competitive nature, and so I picture my PCOS ovaries with their multiple follicles attempting to produce one healthy egg, fighting over which one is going to grow its egg faster. The winner becomes the dominant queen follicle, reigning over all of ovary land, and the left side gets so angry at losing that it spits out a bunch of eggs and causes a tube blockage, rendering itself useless.

The right ovary and tube, celebrating its victory, merely laughs at the left side. Bryan’s sperm, thanks to too much testosterone (go figure), fight each other to the death on their way out, and so there are only a few healthy ones left at the end. Thus, making procreation challenging. And leaving a lonely queen egg.

Whoops, wrong Queen (pinterest.com)

In all seriousness though, most of the time a diagnosis of infertility doesn’t mean we CAN’T reproduce, obtain or sustain a pregnancy, just that we need help doing so. So the next person stuck in the weird awkward situation of explaining to a male boss why you’re going to need several days off of work with little notice you can stick your chest out a little and proudly say “I’m not infertile, I’m reproductively challenged!” Make sure to stomp your foot for good measure.

The competitive nature in me accepts that challenge. And plans to WIN.

Show Me the Money

I thought the hardest decision to make regarding IVF was the decision to do the actual procedure.

Wrong.

Turns out, that was the easy part. As I previously mentioned, our clinic offers 3 options for us out-of-pocketers:

1. Pay cash. Ha, Credit card. Who am I kidding?

2. Multi cycle discount (no refund)

3. Multi cycle refund program (no baby in 3 fresh and 3 frozen cycles = refund of 70% of your money)

I basically decided not to even worry about the refund program. Personally, I feel like this program is made simply to make money, and doubt that if I were to qualify, that it would be worth it for me. Why would I qualify if chances of it working before 3 fresh and 3 frozen cycles weren’t really good?

So that leaves us with option 1 and 2.

Bryan is leaning more towards pay out of pocket. I vascillate between OOP and going Multi cycle. A friend of mine who has been through this suggested a graph with all possible scenarios and what it would mean financially:

The cost of one out of pocket IVF+ICSI at our clinic is 11,848 + about 2,000 for meds. The first cycle would actually cost about 15k total because of pre IVF testing that needs to be added, and freezing sperm. The cost of a multi cycle (2 fresh, 2 frozen) is 21,450 + 2,000 per fresh cycle for meds. From what I understand, meds for frozen cycles are minimal, so I didn’t add anything for those.

Plusses are what we would pay extra, minuses are what we would save, based on choosing the multi cycle plan.

• Cycle                              Out of Pocket             Multi Cycle           Difference
  

• One Fresh cycle                      15, 000          23,450                 + 8,450
• Two Fresh cycles                   28,848            25,450                 – 3,398
• One Fresh/One Frozen          18,500           23,450               + 4,950
• One Fresh/Two Frozen         22,000            23,450               +1,450
• Two Fresh/One Frozen         32,348             25,450                – 6,998
• Two Fresh/Two Frozen         35,848            25,450               -10,498

(Sorry for the poor spacing, I couldn’t get it to format correctly. )

At the most extreme ends, basically if we paid for the multi-cycle and it worked the first time we’d be paying an extra 8,500 (or saving 8,500 if we paid cycle by cycle). If we needed 2 fresh and two frozen cycles and paid out of pocket, we’d be paying an extra 10,500.(or saving 10,500 with the multi-cycle). Its that second fresh cycle that’s really the kicker, and where the money really starts to make a difference.

Just for a comparison, for the price of 2 fresh and two frozen cycles, you can buy a Lexus.

I hate that there is no way to know how my body is going to respond. That there is just simply no way to KNOW which choice is the smarter one. It’s making my anxiety ridiculous, and the calmness I felt about deciding has been replaced with a desire for several glasses of wine. I need to decide, and be ok with the decision.

Rock paper scissors, anyone?

Life’s Little Annoyances (Sun Visor and Sock Monster)

I love the sun. Really.

Getting up when its dark outside makes me grumpy. Running in the dark makes me nervous. Walking around in the dark makes me stub my toe. And sometimes run into walls. Unless I have my trusty cell-phone-screen flashlight.

I start work at a slightly different time every day. And especially at this time of year, I tend to leave my house around the time the sun is still rising.  Because I wear glasses more than half the time and was too cheap to pay for transitions lenses, and because I lose and break sunglasses like its my hobby, I depend on my sun visor for glare protection.

It is absolutely useless.

Many mornings, I get into my car, back out of my driveway, drive through the neighborhood and onto the main road. After that I make a couple turns and BAM

Good morning! Your sun visor sucks! Love, the sun

See that black shadow up there? That’s my sun visor. And that super bright blinding ball? The sun. Clearly not being blocked by the visor. Sadly, I almost always drive around with it down, perhaps hoping that one day it will simply extend on its own or I’ll magically grow several inches overnight. Squinting all the way.

To the tune of Jingle Bells

Morning drive, morning drive

Squinting all the way

Oh how bright the sun is

In the first part of the day, hey!

A couple of nights ago, Bryan and I watched a particularly gruesome episode of Taboo. A Russian girl willingly underwent a a $26,000 surgery that broke both legs rendering her bedridden for 4 months, so they could slowly lengthen the bones and allow her to be slightly more than an inch taller.

That extra inch could possibly allow me to me tall enough to make the visor effective. (or maybe someone has invented an extender?) But while I hate the sun glare, I think I’ll sit on a phone book instead. I’d rather keep my leg bones intact. Plus I’d be horrible on bed rest, staring at my socks.

Mismatched ones…….

Every week I do a load or two of laundry. It’s neither my favorite nor least favorite chore. And, inevitably, with every load, are a few lonely, matchless, pairless socks.

Where do the socks go? They were there when I put them in the laundry basket. No matter how tired I am when throwing dirty laundry in the basket, I’m pretty sure I don’t forget to throw in both the socks I take off my feet. And yet somehow, inevitably, when I reach the point of my laundry-doing that I’m folding, I’m missing socks. I get that sometimes socks get separated in loads, or one gets left in the dryer when I’m pulling clothes out and gets an extra round in the dryer before finding its long lost match. Even then, though, when all the stray socks are paired, I am STILL.MISSING. SOCKS.

Missing our other half

Seriously? I’d start washing them paired in a ball if it didn’t result in half washed, still-soaked-even-out-of-the-dryer-so-I’d-have-to -separate-them-to-dry-them-anyway socks.

When I’m feeling particularly OCD, I scour places for my missing socks. Under the bed. Behind the dryer. Around the basket. Mixed in the drawer. Sometimes, when I’m successful, I squeal a little with glee.

But I’m still missing socks.

That can only mean one thing.

A sock monster. The sock monster is stealing and eating my stray socks. Laughing while I search high and low for sock pairs. Beaming when I swear I just saw the matching sock right here.

I want to eat your socks

I think he lives in my dryer. Just beware, sock monster. One day I’m gonna get sneaky, powder my floor with baking soda, and wake up looking for footprints. Then, when I find them, I’ll be a sock monster ninja. Or maybe I’ll just pretend to wash my socks, and the next sock you eat will be a stinky, dirty, filthy sock. One day, you’ll be eating your last sock.

Or – I guess I could just buy some new ones.

Life After the Marathon

My first week in 18 weeks with no scheduled runs (well, except the one I scheduled with a friend, for fun) and I was excited about the idea of being able to sleep in this Saturday morning.

Naturally, I woke up on my own at 6:30am.

Interestingly, many marathon runners talk about “Post Marathon Blues”. I found quite a few articles and also quite a few blogs on the topic. When you follow a running plan for 4+ months, and suddenly it isn’t there, it’ s weird. When your life is almost literally scheduled around training and suddenly its gone, it’s weird. Almost empty, like something is missing. Running has an addictive quality to it. Distance running especially, as you can experience the “runners high” more than once during a long run (or none at all during a particularly crappy one, it is a bit of a gamble). Personally, I think signing up for a couple 5k’s in the next few weeks and changing focus to having a family helps, but its totally legit……and I admit I do feel a little…..unorganized. I found myself just a mere few days later, researching half marathons. I was seriously considering the Diva Half Marathon in Myrtle Beach….because any half marathon involving a tiara, roses and a boa would totally rule (yes, I said it would rule), until I realized that not only is it the same weekend as my sisters college graduation, but that I will hopefully be newly pregnant from our IVF, and therefore not going to happen. I’m supposed to be taking a break from long runs. I think I have an addiction.

Hi, my name is Theresa, and I am a run-aholic.

Maybe I can get a rollerbladers high? Or a yogi-high? Or perhaps a bikers-high?

And most importantly, what am I going to blog about on Saturdays?

The phenomenon seems to happen because you spend months planning and following a schedule with an ultimate goal in mind: to finish a marathon, to take a vacation, to buy a house, but get so wrapped up in the planning of the actual event that you forget to plan for afterwards. And for those of you who are balking at the thought of all this planning, it must be a runner thing. Or a Type A personality thing. Take your pick.

Admittedly, I have some mixed emotions. It was a bit sad to reset the 4:10 time on my watch.  There is a definite strange emptiness to not having a planned run 4 days a week at a certain distance or a goal, but I’m looking forward to strapping on my rollerblades periodically instead of my running shoes. Or take a yoga class, join a gym again and dance awkwardly at Zumba, or hop on my lovely pink and purple bike on Saturday morning.

I’ll still be running though. I have a couple small races in mind until we get knee deep in IVF. It’s in my blood. And I’m pretty sure that when I do have a child, he or she is going to come running out of the womb and into my jogging stroller. While I do miss the training a little, I’m looking forward to what’s next.

Plus some rollerblading.

(And no, its not just for the 80′s anymore)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*For those participating in ICLW with Blogger and Blogspot blogs – I am having issues leaving comments. It simply won’t let me. If you have commented on my blog, most likely I have attempted to comment back without success. Anyone else having this issue??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January ICLW

January has been a busy month for us.

When Christmas came around with a “special” present from AF in 2011, hubby and I  had a long talk and decided it was time to press forward with IVF.  With the theme in mind that 2012 is the year for babies,we met with our RE on Friday the 13th(ha), which you can read about here.

The very next day, I ran my second full marathon, which, even though I’ve done one before, felt like a huge accomplishment. I will keep running until I’m told not to, but won’t be training for big races anytime soon, as we have decided to go through with the IVF in April. I just got some bloodwork taken, will be on Metformin for about 5 weeks, and we’ll start the process in late February, hopefully transferring our child in mid to late April. It was both an easy and a difficult decision, which I’m sure you all understand. Infertility is expensive, but the alternative to not trying is turning out to be more costly than I would have originally guessed. 

So here we are, two AF visits away from staring what will hopefully be the first and only IVF cycle, and allow us to finally become parents.

Thanks for stopping by, and hope you’ll stick around!

The Cost of Infertility

Infertility is costly. I complain about that a lot, just ask my husband.

Truthfully, I still haven’t decided on the route to take to pay for this IVF. It’s such a gamble that I’ve started considering having Bryan stand in front of me. I’ll be pay per cycle and he’ll be pay for multi-cycle, and then we can rock, paper, scissors – best 2 out of 3.

sorry, someone has to win

I’m a freak about money by nature, too, which doesn’t help. I’d be the one saving money forever and end up taking it to my grave with me because I was too afraid to spend it. But for the first time in my life I’m finding myself caring less about it. (not totally…just less)

I get/have gotten the suggestion to wait it out. It’s one that I too have struggled with, all of the unanswerable possibilities. I find myself searching for signs or hidden messages in our situation. What if all I need to do is wait a few more months? What if we spend the money and it happens on its own later and I was being impatient? What if I’m being too impatient? What if I’m meant to be childless? What if this is a sign I should adopt instead? What if this is a sign to wait? What if we go broke? What if it doesn’t work?

I’ve gotten suggestions to pray. I have. I do. But who is to say that IVF isn’t the miracle I’m praying for?

Many infertile women say they experience guilt. Anger. Frustration. Mostly at their own bodies not being able to do what nature intended. I understand where this comes from. Oddly, I don’t have this experience. I feel frustration and sadness. I sometimes feel anger. But not at my body, at our situation. Like, why did we draw this particular set of cards? I believe in God. I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe I’m meant to be a mom. I believe that sometimes, in my lowest moments, I also find them difficult to believe in.

For whatever reason, I know in my heart that this is the next step in my life. And not because of the routine get married, buy a house, have a family kind of reason. It originated from inside and worked its way out. It’s a desire, but not in the same way you desire a new pair of shoes. It’s a dream, but different from the kind of dream where you win the lottery and suddenly become independently wealthy. It’s like the dream you have, whatever it may be, that eats and nags at you even as you try to live your life and ignore it, that keeps eating at you until you find a way to make it happen. The kind that you might take to your deathbed and suddenly regret not trying. Is that lame? Maybe. So my dream isn’t to be an award-winning doctor or high-profile lawyer, it’s to be a mom…..that runs marathons

Each month comes with hope, however small. And up until now has been replaced by sadness. Hope. Sadness. Hope. Sadness. Like an eternal roller coaster ride. I love roller coasters, but I want off this one.

It effects your friendships. Your emotional state, and your husband’s. You question yourself. Your body. Your relationship suffers. It eats into your work, your social life, the places you once deemed safe. Infertility tests the strongest marriages, the souls of fighters, and the faith of the believers.

At this point, we are choosing to move forward. Take a risk. And finally, even though I’m still faced with more anxiety provoking decisions and a whole new set of what if’s, I feel a sense of peace and a different kind of strength to face this battle. It’s going to be expensive, and its going to be stressful.

The alternative is simply too costly.

The IVF Consult

Bryan and I had our IVF consult appointment on Friday. Now that the marathon is over, while I’ll still run and do small races until I’m told not to, we/I are changing focus to the second reason I initially started this blog: starting a family.

While the HCG shots seem to have help with sperm reproduction, we still don’t have enough for anything but an IVF. Our RE kept reiterating what good news this was. Sometimes I forget that – that we started with zero and could have ended with zero. It’s hard not to compare us to the “norm”. One thing struck me while sitting in the waiting room. There were at least 10 other people there, and more that walked out while we waited. I felt both sympathetic to and encouraged by the presence of others in my situation. It’s also hard to remember sometimes that we aren’t alone.

First, we met with the RE. He reviewed Bryan’s labs from the VA. He told us that because Bryan’s testosterone and FSH levels were in the normal range, there was a decent chance that his swimmmer issue wasn’t 100% testosterone shot related. The problem is that they give men testosterone but don’t have any reason to test sperm production and so they don’t, meaning that its difficult to tell if the problem is new, or was always there. He basically said that we could wait and see, but our chances that we would be sitting in those two chairs again a year from now with the same result were pretty good.

Bryan asked a few questions, and then the RE delved into the protocol he would have me follow (if  I remember it correctly). The entire process takes about 60 days from start to finish. The first month will be fairly simple – I’ll be taking meformin (a diabetic drug, because people with PCOS tend to have similar insulin issues as a diabetic) to improve egg quality, and be on birth control pills for 3 weeks. During that time I’ll also have to get a hysterosonogram to check my uterine cavity and a mock egg transfer. After the birth control pills come the injections and needles. First, Lupron, which is supposed to delay ovulation (I think), then at some point Follistim, HCG and FSH, the timing of each correlating with my eggs growing and the day of retrieval. During the second month, a million ultrasounds to monitor egg growth. On the day of the retrieval, I’ll be put to sleep for about 30 minutes and sent home for the rest of the day. The eggs will be fertilized and sent to an embryologist who will watch them divide and choose the best ones. If we are lucky, we will have extra to freeze. 1-2 will be chosen from the best, and transfered on day 3 or 5 after retrieval, depending on quality. A blood pregnancy test is scheduled 14 days after retrieval. At some point I get to start shoving progesterone into my lady parts, which sounds just awesome. He gave us a 65% chance.

And to think, some people just need to have s.e.x.

From the RE’s office we met with our nurse coordinator, who basically explained the schedule and told me what blood work I’d need to get done before we could start (which I had known that while we still had Bryan’s insurance).

Then we were off to see the financial lady, who so lovingly brought my head out of the clouds of possiblity by showing me a piece of paper detailing exactly how much this possibility is going to cost.

Apparently it really depends. The cost of the procedure is fixed, and is based on using 6 ultrasounds and blood draws. If your body responds well and you don’t need as many, you’ll have a posititve balance, but if you need more, you’ll owe. Medications aren’t included. Testing before you get started isn’t included. If you have extra embryos to freeze, that isn’t included.  Add it all together, and we are looking at a range of about 15-17k.

There are refund programs. One allows for 3 fresh cycles (as described above) and three frozen (transfering a frozen embryo) and if you don’t take home a baby, you get 70% or so of your money back. If you take home a baby first try, you still owe the grand total. Another is a non refund discount plan, where essentially you pay for 2 fresh and 2 frozen cycles at a discounted rate. If you don’t take home a baby, you’re out the money. If you take home a baby first try, you’re out the extra money. But the cost of the cycles is about 30% less than if you pay for each individually. Neither includes medications (another 2k per cycle).

I left with a headache.

It  makes sense when I think about it though. I think I managed to run through about 10 different emotions in the course of two hours, ranging from excitement to anxiety, hopefulness and worry, trepidation and possibility.

We’re gonna do it. The question is just when (shooting possibly for April), and how? (i.e. do we go with paying per cycle or do we try the multi cycle).

Marathon Take 2

Well, I did it. I finished. And it was fabulous.

Last night my (also fabulous) husband made me my carb load dinner – chocolate chip pancakes.

I look fabulous

I didn’t sleep particularly well but I didn’t honestly expect to. Something about the fear of oversleeping, which is a freakishly rare occurrence anyway, made me wake up about 30 minutes early anyway. I was dressed. I had my water, my race food, my ipod, my phone and most importantly my shoes with my chip and my race number. I posed for some pre-sun pictures.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

much better

And we were on our way. Bryan, ever the comedian, turns out of the neighborhood and proceeds to drive the car in the dead middle of the road, straddling the double yellow lines and proclaims “If I were flying a plane, this is how I would land”.  Awesome. Now please get out of the middle of the road.

He dropped me off at a friend’s house (Carrie….running her first half marathon!!) who was going to get us both the rest of the way. Since no race is not complete without a roadblock -pun intended-  my ipod chose that precise moment to stop working. The button that allows my screen to turn on and off ceased to function, leaving me ipodless. I blew on it (thinking perhaps dirt got stuck in the button), I picked at it with a safety pin, I banged it (that’s what she said), I called it stupid, I threw it on the [carpeted] floor, and nothing. At least I had my phone for backup.(see? incessant planning has its benefits)

Carrie and her boyfriend entertained me on the drive by blasting Justin Beiber over the speakers. While her boyfriend vehemently denied enjoying the music, I knew he was lying when he started singing along. I laughed at him but when “Black and Yellow” came on and I began dancing in the passengers seat like an idiot, I figured I had little room to talk.

Carrie and I made our way to the start line and asked a stranger to take a picture

Thank you, total stranger

The National Anthem was sung before the race began, and I may or may not have chuckled like a 5  year old when the singer said “land of the freeeay”. Then, we were off! My goal was to finish this race at least faster than last year (4:30) and hopefully somewhere between 4 hours and 4 hours and 15 minutes.

Miles 1-5 were easy. Nice scenery of the coast and a large crowd of people kept me from going too terribly fast right off the bat – important when trying to pace yourself. I enjoyed the signs. My favorite signs included: “Run like you stole something“, “Its long. Its hard. That’s what she said“, “Worst parade EVER“. Miles 6-10 weren’t too terrible either, though I may have started to drive Carrie crazy talking. Carrie left me somewhere around mile 9 where I fell into pace with the 4:15 pace group. Hey, if I can finish with these guys, I’m golden. A slight snag occurred around mile 12 when I had to stop to take off my pair of pants and attempt to get my music going as I was noticing I was starting to get slightly sore already. Running while stripping, while likely funny looking, probably wouldn’t do anything to improve my time as I tumbled along the pavement, so I actually stopped for a couple of minutes to get myself situated. It took me about a mile to catch up with the pace group again. It helped that I got a second wind.

Around mile 14 I started to really notice the soreness, particularly in my butt and thighs. I wanted to slow down. Not one to be outdone (outrun?) though, I pressed on with the group. I cursed myself for remembering everything except to take ibproufen before the race in attempt to alleviate some of the soreness. It was a bit too late to turn around and go back home though. If you think someone who runs a marathon is crazy, you should have heard the conversation amongst the group – Ironmans and hoping to one day complete 50 and 100 mile runs. 100 miles? I was informed that in order to qualify, one “only has to run 50 miles in 13 hours”. Cool. File that in my “when hell freezes over” file.

it’s rumored that mile 18 is the real test. Last year mile 18 wasn’t so bad, but I think it’s because I was going slower than I needed to in order to avoid overdoing it, and had taken off from my group around then. Since I had started pushing myself already around mile 14, I understood the rumor today, because that’s when I really started to hurt. With only 8 miles left to go. Crap.

19 crept up. Then 20. My legs begin to go from sore to ow. (not OW yet, but stay tuned). Luckily, John, who I ran a couple of training runs with and who ran the 5k (and won third place masters!) had hung around and ran along for a bit. (Thanks John!) Theoretically, all that is left at this point is a 10k. Mile 20 is where the mental part really kicks in. At this point I start to set my goals from water stop to water stop, by this point nicely placed at every mile or so, and I’m grateful for the few seconds of walk time and quick stretches I can get in before catching up to the group again.

At mile 22 I crank the music up, perhaps hoping it will drown out the OW (there it is). At the very least the pace of the music helps me keep up with the rest of the group, but I’m still essentially running for each water station.

Mile 23. A 5k (plus .1) left. I’m honestly starting to wince a little, knowing that perhaps I pushed myself a bit too hard but too late now. I think I’m groaning a bit and the wind is getting annoying. I feel a bit better when people notice the pace girls’ shirt and seem excited to hear we are the 4:15 pace group (who actually, has been running about 4 minutes ahead the whole time) and I feel like a small celebrity for a few seconds, pausing to smile for the paparazzi.(wait! I didn’t get a chance to do my makeup!)

Mile 24. I pull my phone out and haphazardly attempt to text Audri and Bryan, who so nicely hung around to see me finish and let them know I’m two miles out. It takes awhile (but takes my mind off running) and in my attempt to type “one and a half” actually type “1 ands a hf”. Yeah yeah, no texting and running. I attempt to put my phone back in my belt but it’s not working, and I’m not stopping, so now I’m stuck holding it. I can now feel every step I take, every pound of the pavement.

Mile 25. The longest. mile. ever. I’m at about 4 hours in and my calves feel like they are starting to lock up. I’m totally on autopilot and honestly, I really want to walk. I pass the water stop though because at this point, if I stop, it’s over. Honestly, I really hurt. At this point, all I want to do is see the finish line. I just.want.to.see.the.finish.line.please. I round the corner and I can finally see it, and its glorious (you’d think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not….trust me). AND, out of seemingly nowhere, Kim and Audri pop up with just about .1 miles to go, and run and cheer me on the rest of the way in. This encouragement allows me to speed up for the last tenth, and I am SO grateful that they did that.

On a cool side note, I ended up running in alone, and I hear the announcer saying “And now we salute Theresa from Summerville, SC!”. I salute back. I pump my fist in the air. I cross the finish line, accept my medal, and check my watch, which of course I forgot to stop when I crossed.

4:10:16

Coming in at 5 minutes under 4:15, and a full 20 minutes faster than last year. I hurt a lot , but I feel incredible. There is nothing I have experienced yet like crossing the finish line of a marathon. You feel proud. Amazed. Excited. And sore. But that’s an occupational hazard.

THANK YOU, Kim and Audri, for running me in!

I know I definitely pushed myself. After finishing, it was hard to stand up. I literally wobbled back to the car. Luckily sitting for a while helped, but the rest of my day is most definitely on the couch.

Race Fee: $90

Shoes: $ 140 (two pairs)

Race gear, music and audiobooks: $100

Crossing the Marathon Finish Line: Priceless

The Day Before the Race

18 weeks ago I started this blog with two finish lines in mind: fertility and my 2nd marathon. In a little over 12 hours I’ll be on my way towards one of them. (We did have our IVF appointment today, but more on that once the race is over)

I have some mixed emotions….I’m excited, I’m a little nervous, I’m a little annoyed at the leak in our toilet and the water dripping from the ceiling ruining my excitement, (Stupid toilet but yay for a handy husband) a little bit of disbelief and a little bit proud.  I cleaned my car window with a spatula to get to my 20 miler, found a FABULOUS bumper sticker, made up song lyrics, ran my best half marathon ever and celebrated all of those events with a ridiculous blog posts and silly pictures. And had a darn good time doing it.

I did a few things in prep this week. It was a low mileage week which I actually abided by. I picked up my favorite race food (sport beans, shot blocks and a gu….jury is still out on the gu), my Goodwill throw away clothes (pictures to follow tomorrow) and most importantly, my race number/shirt:

I also splurged a bit and bought a new belt. Different from the bulky and bouncy fuel belt (which drove me CRAZY), this one promises to be more streamlined and non bouncy and will even still hold my phone and race food (sweeeeet).

The only downside is that it will not hold any fluids, but there are water stops every 2 miles, so I really shouldn’t need it to. If it doesn’t bounce it’ll be totally worth the $20.

So, tonight calls for some carbs, relaxation and Season 2 of Modern Family.

In 18 weeks I’ve worn through a pair of shoes, swore some, sweat a lot, listened to music, listened to books, and almost got run over a few times. I ran with friends, ran alone, ran sick, ran well, ran cold, ran tired and ran comfortably…..all 468 miles (plus tomorrow’s 26.2)

(fabulous sign found on Pinterest)

I’m ready.

Bring it on.