Then This Little Thing Called Life Happens... Literally

July 21, 2009

So, you may have noticed that I haven't been blogging for the last three weeks. The reason is simple, we've been a little... er... distracted around here. After three, yes count them, three pregnancy tests, I found out I was pregnant on July 21st.

And I couldn't be more thrilled! In fact, I'm still floating around on Cloud Nine.

So how does this effect my ride. Well, first I called my doctor to find out what she thought medically. Medically speaking I'm clear to ride. There are some restrictions. Number one my heart rate has to stay below 140 beats per minute. Also, I need to be extra sure to stay hydrated and if I don't feel well, stop.

Okay, so in the first few days of glowing pregnancy I thought this all sounded very reasonable. I normally train with my heart in the 160 range, so dropping it 20 beats per minutes shouldn't be a problem. Right?

Yeah, right.

So as you may notice after July 21 my time and distance significantly dropped. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be to keep my heart rate below 140. I mean seriously, grandmas on their way to get ice cream were passing me. But I was still riding and committed to Get Your Guts in Gear. Just because I was averaging 9 miles an hours on flat bike paths doesn't mean I couldn't still ride.... and at that pace I'd be riding all day.

Then this little thing called pregnancy hit.

And I started sleeping. Then sleeping a little longer. It took a lot of effort to get up, wash and go to work, much less swing my leg over a bike saddle.

And then a little bit of reality hit me. Do I really want ride 210 miles over 3 days while tent camping, all during my first pregnancy?

To be honest, the answer is no. I'm not what you'd call a roughing it type. When it's for charity and raising awareness I'm on board. But add to that I'm sleeping 10 hours a day, bloated and craving copious amounts of rare steak smothered in dark chocolate, not so much.

So I've decided to not ride in the 2009 Get Your Guts In Gear Midwest Ride.

But I do think the best way to lose baby weight would be to train for the 2010 Midwest Ride. After all, my due date is March 26... that leaves me plenty of time to get up and get going, and I think little Ambric would enjoy being pulled in a baby trailer.

if it's not about the bike, then what's it about?

So why a bike ride? Why a 210 mile, 3 day ride? There are lots of other great ways to raise money and awareness for Crohn's and colitis, most of which don't require sleeping in a tent for three nights. I don't know why I'm drawn to a bike, but I know where I started. The following is the story of how I first started bike riding. More importantly, it is the story of B.J. and I. B.J. was the first person I met that openly talked about colitis and his colectomy, which he had at 17. I called him when I was first diagnosed. I'd like to say he was a shoulder to cry on, but in actuality he is my antagonist. "Just get it cut out. Then you can move on with your life" was the piece of advice that he gave me over and over.

Summer 2001

Want to go for a bike ride tomorrow? I'm going to Wetmore Landing. The instant message from B.J. popped up on my computer screen.
How far is that? I typed.
About seven miles.
Seven miles didn't seem that far to me. Of course that would also be seven miles back, but I wanted to get in shape so I replied,
Sure. It might take me a couple of hours, but I'll go. I added a smiley face to let B.J. know I was only joking about taking two hours.
If it takes you two hours to get out there, I'll leave you behind. B.J.'s reply didn't have a smiley face.

I met B.J. the fall of my sophomore year at NMU. I was living in the dorms and he was an RA. We naturally had an antagonist friendship. One of the first times I was in his room I bumped a lamp shade and move it from it's perfect alignment. Within two minutes B.J. adjusted it back. Later I found out that he though I purposely came into his room and "bumped" things. In actuality I'm just klutzy. That winter I took a job as an RA. I called B.J. a lot to 'discuss' my RA problems. I was actually whining and he didn't hesitate to point that out to me. I also called him when I had my first bout of colitis. He told me to not fuck around and get it taken care of.

Summer came and the campus emptied out. Our jobs changed and we both worked as summer security assistants. Basically, we lived in empty dorm buildings and made sure they were not vandalized. It was a job that offered a lot of play time in the Marquette wilderness. We started rollerblading together a couple of times a week (yes, some of those times were down the empty hallways of the dorms!). Then came the big bike trip.

On the afternoon of the Wetmore Landing trip, I waited for B.J. outside his building. I knew he biked a lot, but it was mostly rough terrain mountain biking. He was just getting into road biking.

When B.J. appeared I realized that his idea of 'some road biking' and mine were polar opposites. Attached to the back of his Specialized mountain bike was a fully loaded bike bag, two water bottles, some fancy looking handle bars and his pedals weren't normal looking either. Later I'd learn that those fancy pedals required fancy shoes that 'clipped' into the pedals.

"Do you have water?" he asked while tightening his ponytail under his helmet.
"Yeah," I nodded to the Aquafina bottle I'd duct taped to my handle bars.
"You know water cages are like five bucks. Eight, if you get the really good kind."
"Right. I'll keep that in mind."

He just shrugged and started off.

"The goal is to keep your RPMs high, so keep your bike in a low gear. You don't want to have it in too hard of a gear because you'll just fatigue your muscles quicker. It's about endurance, not strength," he coached me. "Professional cyclist keep their RPMs at about 130. I can only go that fast downhill, with the wind pushing me. Other than that I try to stay between 90 and 100."

"When you start to go up a hill down shift so you are peddling at the same rate you are now. Once you start to go downhill shift to higher gears. You want to maintain the same amount of forces on the pedals at all times," I watched Brian's legs trying to mimic his steady rhythm.

"Also, I'd get a helmet." I tried to reply, but it was between breathing and talking and I choose breathing.

We were traveling on Country Road 550 from Marquette to Big Bay. The road really should have been named Rural Rough You Up Road 550. Pot holes, a non-existent shoulder and blind corners was the course of my first 'road bike trip'. I made a note to buy a helmet the next afternoon. B.J. led the way, his white t-shirt and green gym shorts billowing out behind him. I tried to mimic my cadence after his steady one, but the distance between us lengthened. Ahead was a small hill. Concentrating on B.J. I tried to keep up with him, but I lost sight of him around the wide curve at the top of the hill. I was at least a minute behind. When I finally crested the hill and corner he was waiting for me.

"Hills are evil," I gasped. B.J. had a full smile plastered on his face.

"I look at it this way. Hills are like your life. The more you dread them, the harder they are. You are just have to tell yourself you are going to get to the top and don't stop. Sure at first your thighs are burning like hell and your mind is screaming to stop, but once you get past that, you just go numb and all you thinking about it biking. Each hill makes you stronger for the next one. Just like life. Everything you do makes you stronger." B.J. re-clipped and started off again.

It did not take us two hours to make it to Wetmore Landing. Instead it took about 45 minutes. Following a trail that traced Lake Superior, we biked to an outcropping of rocks. It was almost July and the sun was finally taking the winter chill out of the smooth black rocks. Sitting on the edge of the rocks a cool mist from the Lake rose and covered my bare legs leaving me covered in goose bumps. Next to me B.J. was leaning back with his face raised to the sun.

"Truthfully, I didn't think you'd make it past five miles," he confessed.
"Why did you ask me to come then?"
"To see if you'd do it."

I studied a black lump along the shoreline and asked, "Isn't that Little Presque Isle?"
"Yeah."
"How far away is it do you think?"
"About another three or four miles, I think, if you follow the road."

We both sat in silence.

"You know we'll end up in Big Bay if we aren't careful," I joked.
"We have two months before staff training starts. What else are you doing this summer?"
"Nothing." That summer we rode our bikes twice to Big Bay, fifty-five miles round trip both times.

We joked that there was nothing to do that summer. That's why we rode endless miles every week-- we were bored. The truth was I was chasing B.J. trying to find the peace that he appeared to be at with his colitis. I wanted to see my life as a series of hills that were just making me stronger for a larger challenge. But I couldn't. I was becoming weaker. I was losing more blood. I ignored his advice to not fuck around and take care of myself.

Two months after my last Big Bay trip I passed out in the shower.

It's Only a Weed if You Don't Think It's Pretty

If it's not broke, don't fix it.

If you're regular, don't change your diet.

I had been eating my high vegetable diet for two months and was feeling great. I'm also the world's biggest cheater, so I'd sneak a cookie or piece of dark chocolate every once in awhile. I did notice that after eating a cookie, I'd feel "off". I also noticed that I could no longer stomach my once daily mocha. You'd think I'd take a clue, but I didn't. I just figured my system wasn't used to the sugar.

Then came Strata Night. My friend Krista came over to color Easter eggs and we made strata (what else do you do with 2 dozen eggs?). We used 100% whole wheat bread. That night I had a migraine and felt like I'd swallowed glass shards. One of my co-workers has Celiac disease and has been telling me to get tested for several months. I finally started to think there might be something to her suggestion.

Now I'm stubborn and sometimes I need a third degree burn before I learn my lesson. So six days after Strata Night I had a piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast. Within two hours I was vomiting and had a screaming migraine. Lesson learned.

I did insist that my primary care physician test me for Celiac disease and it came back negative. Right now I'm in the process of determining what my tolerance level is, but I'm not to excited to get burned again, so I'm just as happy to be gluten free.

As for the connection between my colitis and gluten intolerance, I don't know if I'm an unique case or not. I do know that diseases are autoimmune disease of the digestive system. Ulcerative colitis is limited to the large intestine. Celiac and gluten intolerance is centralized in the small intestine. Autoimmune diseases tend to run in pairs.

So am I surprised? No.

Is there anything I can do about it? Yes. Don't eat gluten.

My dream is for someday colitis' cure to be a diet modification.

When You Lay in Clover Beware of Bees

Training: Week 9, Day 1

Distance: 11.67 miles

Time: 1 hour 2 minutes

Power Song: Shadow Play by The Killers

Finding out I was gluten intolerant began with a minor bowel obstruction, that hoodwinked my doctors into believing was my gallbladder. Yeah, I can see this is going to need an explanation.

November 2008 Eric took me to the ER for extreme pain in my right side. I was relatively assured it was a bowel obstruction-- I'd had one the year before and clearly remembered the symptoms and namely the pain.

At the ER the doctor of course ran a battalion of tests before shipping me off to my surgeon in Grand Rapids. Iwas hospitalized overnight and sent home.

Two weeks later my primary care doctor called and told me I need to have my gallbladder removed-- apparently, I had more than 20, but less than 30, gallstones and they were the cause of my earlier hospitalization. I was a little shocked to say the least that this was the first time I'd heard about gallstones-- or maybe the drugs in the ER scrambled my short term memory.

Long story short, I couldn't have my gallbladder removed until January and I was instructed to eat a bland diet until surgery. Following doctor's orders, I spent the month of December eating toast, soda crackers, pasta and feeling like I was dying a slow death. By the time I hit the operating table in January I was screaming for them to take my gallbladder out! I couldn't believe that my condition deteriorated so quickly because of an organ the size of a walnut.

Needless to say after my gallbladder came out I needed to detox myself of my high carb bland diet. I started following a no sugar, no wheat diet that my mom had been using to lose weight.

This is what my daily menu looked like:

Breakfast: 1 oz of oatmeal (the real kind, not instant), 8 oz of plain yogurt (the real kind with no flavoring added) and 6 oz of fruit

Lunch: 4 oz lean protein, 6 oz. of cooked vegetable, 6 oz. of raw vegetable w/1 Tbsp. dressing

Dinner: 4 oz lean protein, 6 oz. of cooked vegetable 8 oz of raw vegetable w/2 Tbsp. dressing

I thought for sure I was going to die.

My impending death wasn't because this menu didn't include dark chocolate (which was a concern), no, I was more focused on the amount of raw vegetables listed. Raw is not a word that most colitis sufferers like because if it's raw, it's going to make you raw. However, I had to break my high carb life or my pants weren't going to fit anymore, so I decided to try it for a week.

And I'll be damned. I was fine. In fact, I felt solid and regular--- words that hadn't describe my bathroom habits in several year.

TBC

The Missing Grain

I had a very nice compliment from two coworkers today-- they both said that I looked like I was feeling good- better than I've ever looked.

The truth is I feel the best I've ever felt.

There is more to my story than just colitis. For roughly a year I've felt run down, had extra digestive problems and lots of migraines. I just thought it was all related to my lack of a colon. Four month ago I finally found out what the problem really was-- I'm gluten intolerant.

For anyone who doesn't know about gluten intolerance here is your mini-lesson. Gluten intolerance is the small intestines inability to properly digest wheat, barely or rye in varying degree. People who cannot tolerate any form of gluten at any level have Celiac disease. I can tolerate small doses of gluten without major problems, but I still prefer to not take a chance.

For years whenever I had diarrhea I'd eat a bland diet of toast, soda crackers or pasta waiting for things to calm down, but during the past year that strategy hadn't been working. Also, whenever I ate spaghetti or Eric's wonderful homemade pizza, afterwards I'd feel like I was digesting razor blades. I thought I'd just eaten to much or the tomato sauce was getting to me.

Nope, it was the gluten.

I've been gluten free for 3-4 months now and I feel amazing. I can honestly say that this is the best I've felt physically in almost eight years.

Blog It

Training: Week 8, Day 2

Time: 1 hour 20 minutes

Distance: 15.87 miles

Power Song: Hang Me Up to Dry by The Cold War Kids

The Detroit Free Press ran an interesting article about blogging on Sunday, July 19th. The focus of the article was that blogging can help boost your career. Not only can a blog show potential employers that you can write, or not, but it can also highlight your personality, or lack of, and show that you have drive, or lack of. Basically, your blog can be an on-line resume. So I wonder what potential employers would see in my blog?

Would they only focus on my health issues and see me as someone who'd miss work? Or instead would they see someone who calls in sick because they are honestly unable to come to work?

Would they focus on my past medical history as a potential disability? Or would instead they see that I'm driven despite the odds?

Will my resume be marked as fallible? Or instead will my fallibility highlight my adaptability?

These are all questions I had to ask myself before I started this blog. My current employer knows of my colitis and is very understanding. But what if they weren't? My dad heavily counseled me to 'edit' anything that could endanger my job. It's wise council.

But I can't do it. If I going to write about my life with colitis, then I'm going to bare it all. I'm tired of keeping quiet and feeling like I should hid this part of my life. I've done nothing wrong. Colitis is just something that happened to me. And it's a sucky part of my life. It's something that happened not because of a lifestyle choice, but because that is just the way my life played out. And yeah, there are parts about it that aren't pretty. Some of it's really depressing actually. And hiding it, only giving part of the story, just makes it worst for me. Because when I don't give the whole story I feel like I've done something wrong and I haven't.

So yes, maybe this blog will red flag me. But honestly, in the end, I can't work for someone that will hold colitis against me. I give 150% when I'm at work. And when I'm not there it's not because I'm at the beach or taking a bullshit 'mental health' day. I've not there because I can't be there.

Colitis has taught me to work harder.

Canine Cool Down

Training: Week 8, Day 1
Distance: 11.67 miles
Time: 57 minutes
Weather: 67 and sunny
Power Song: Dashboard by Modest Mouse

There is one casualty in my quest for a good cause- the dog.

I adopted Queen Mab when I was a junior in high school (hahahaha did my parent laugh about that when I moved to the U.P. for 5 years and they kept the dog!). Mab is in herself a medical miracle. At nine months old a hit by car accident left her with a broken right hip and snapped left knee. Then she developed urinary tract problems which require special food and medication. And she's allergic to pollen, which requires medication. Then she had this weird blood issue where her body stopped making red blood cells and she needed a blood transfusion and medication. And then she started having seizures, which requires medication. Oh yeah, and within the last year she has snapped the majority of her teeth in half, which thankfully doesn't require medication. My dog takes more medication than all my grandmother's combined.

When I moved back home in April 2004 my parents had two rules for me #1- I must live within one hour of my surgeon. #2- The dog was moving with me. In comparison, I actually think the first one was the more negotiable.

Moving Mab for a roam where you may country setting to a bedroom and a half apartment in the middle of the city was not an easy transition. To make matters worst my roommate had a cat. In order to keep both our wits Mab and I would take nightly walks. Over the years these walks have become a part of our daily lives. But now with me training, the walks have slowly died off.

Mab gets so excited when she sees me in my workout gear and then is so disappointed when she's left behind. I wouldn't be surprised if she chews my tires off my bike one day. I really need to throw her a bone (horrible pun intended) and start taking her for a walk as part of my cool down.

Day Lilly Blossoms Only Bloom One Day

From my front yard.

My driveway is lined with day lilies. I love them. They are pretty. They are hardy and don't require a lot of time on my part. Their blossoms only bloom for one day, yet, each plant has several blossoms to display. Within a few years they spread and claim an area as their own. There are several varieties. And they are resilient.

Yesterday's post was heavy and I feel it necessary to tell you that's how I felt at the time. I was 24, had just ended a three year relationship, was recovering from a colectomy, worried about my academic future and had years worth of denial crashing down on me. In light of that, I think I was in rather high spirits!

Also, it didn't last.

I can only lick my wounds for so long before my optimistic side takes over. However, I would be lying if I said I still don't have times where a lot of those old thoughts rise up. This past week was a rough one for me. I just didn't feel well. My abdomen ached and that repeat pain in my side was back. Motrin wasn't enough to take care of all the aches. It was hard to sleep because I couldn't get comfortable, but once I did, I was out for 9-11 hours. Sleep is usually my indicator that something is up. When I feel great I sleep 7 to 8 hours, but when I'm not feeling well that bumps up several hours, plus I can take a nap in the afternoon.

Obviously, taking an afternoon nap and going to work took up the majority of my time last week, so I didn't train for Get Your Guts in Gear. But that was last week, and I'm going to deadhead it like I do my day lilies. I might have missed one week, but I still have I lifetime ahead of me and I'm not going to miss out mourning for one lost week. Colitis has made me resilient.

Really?

June 2004-

Why me?

Why me?

Why me?

I could ask this question a thousand times and never grow tired of it.

Why me?

Of course I knew the world didn't revolve around me and that bad things could happen to me. Yet, I never really though anything "bad" would happen. But here I was in Muskegon living a reality that I though would only happen to other people.

It was during this time that the permanency of my colectomy stuck me. There was no going back. Using the bathroom every 2-3 hours, night or day was not new, I'd been living that life for a long time, but before there was always the hope that I'd recover. That there would be a drug that would put me in remission. Or prednisone. There was always good ole pred. Yes, it was horrible for my body, but it gave me a quasi normal life.

But now things couldn't be undone. As a fellow colectomy survivor put it, "Your colon is now in a jar a formaldehyde and being used a paper weight to hold down the bill for your surgeon's new BMW."

What would I do for a job? For now I was working for my aunt and there was an employee bathroom three steps away, but what about when it was time to get a teaching job? A first year teacher getting a room next to the teacher's bathroom was as likely to happens as NMU saying, "Don't worry about the last four years, it was on us!"

What would happen if I needed to go during a test? Who'd watch my class. I could lose my job if I left a class unattended. What do I say in an interview? Not that I'd say anything! I'd almost rather not get a job, than discuss my intestinal issues with a principal during an interview.

And there were other things. Like children. For a women a colectomy reduces her chances to conceive. But if I do, what if I give colitis to my children? How could I give this to someone else. I couldn't live through it, watching my child have colonoscopy after colonoscopy, taking drug after drug, only to have a colectomy in the end, knowing that I'd given to them. Knowing it was my fault. They'd hate me. I'd hate myself.

I could adopt. But what kind of mother would I be? Always sick. I'd be the mommy who's always "not feeling well". Not able to keep up. What would that do to my family?

And who'd want to marry me? I'm sick. Defective. Damaged and missing parts.

I have a shorten life expectancy.

No health insurance company will cover me.

I'm prone to bowel obstructions.

This might not be my last surgery.

I'll have to buy toliet paper in bulk from Sam's Club.

Same goes for Hemroid cream.

I'm paranoid to use a public restroom.

I won't use my own bathroom without turning on the radio/shower/faucet.

I'll always be looking for the next bathroom.

I'll always carry extra toliet paper and underpants in my car.

Life isn't fair.

You can always go home, but how long do you want to stay?

Training: Week 7, Day 2
Distance: 15.46 miles
Time: 1 hour 3 minutes
Weather: 72 degrees w/83% humidity
Power Song: Sabotage by Beastie Boys

Who would have thought Gatorade actually works? I always figured that 'sports drinks' were more marketing spin than substance, but it seems to be helping me stay hydrated. Live and learn.

May 2004- So not only was I angry (filled with dark rage would really be more accurate), living with my parents and jobless, but I also had to return to Northern Michigan University to pack the rest of my apartment and watch my best friends graduate.

It's a horrible thing to hate your best friends for graduating. And my hate really was an irrational since I wasn't even due to graduate until the following fall.

But I did.

They were going to be able to move on. Change the world. Start on all the plans we dreamed about for the last fours years. And what was I doing?

For three years I'd been in denial about my colitis. For three years I'd been numb to any emotion attached to my health. For the most part I'd even insulated myself from the pain of having a colectomy. But that all changed.

Pure and fresh anger pumped through my body filling me with renewed energy. A job. I needed a job and found one as a veterinarian's assistant. Apartment. I needed to get out of my parents' place, so I got a place with my cousin and repainted the whole place. As a side note, it's always best to discuss color choice with your roommate before you paint.

And despite keeping myself busy, I'd still lay awake at night, staring at the newly painted walls, screaming inside my head, Why me?

At What Point In a Vacation Do You Relax?

See Mom, I do wear a helmet.

Training: Week 7, Day 1
Distance: 8 miles
Time: 1 hour
Weather: Sunny and gorgeous
Power Song: Conversation with Eric

I don't know what I've been doing the last two weeks, but it hasn't been training. I of course had great intentions to follow my plan, but then this little thing call My Life crept into my schedule.

Since I'm not a professional athlete I'm not worried about losing the Tour de France because of two weeks of light training, BUT it does set me back in my training and I'll need to repeat week six. That's okay though, I'll be back on schedule this week.

I did watch a great documentary called Blood, Sweat + Gears: Racing Clean to the Tour de France, directed by Nick Davis. The film follows the Pro-Cycling Team Garmin-Slipstream, nicknamed the Clean Team, through the 2008 cycling year. The film highlighted this teams quest to race without any performance enhancers. In the last five years pro-cycling has made headlines with doping scandal after doping scandal. At least in Europe they have. Here in America anything we hear about pro-cycling has to do with Lance Armstrong. I'm not an avid follower by any means, but this film was really interesting. It was impressive to watch what these guys put their bodies through. I never realized there was so much planning and strategy to a bicycling race. After watching the film, I'm glad of one thing:

Get Your Guts In Gear is not a race!

Blood, Sweat + Gears is playing on the Sundance Channel through the month of July.

Biking the Great North

Yes, I'm aware that I'm one of the few people that can pull off a button up sweater and big jewelry while hiking. It's a talent.

Two of the most inspiring women I know.

Training: Week 6, Day 2

Distance: 13 miles

Time: 53 minutes

Weather: Overcast

Power Song: no music (I forgot my earphones!)

Location: Atlanta, MI (Elk Capital of Michigan)

Today was another power ride. I was scheduled to ride for an 1 1/2 hours, but cut it short so I could spend more time with the girls. Riding in Atlanta (Michigan) was a nice change of scenery. I've been getting bored with my routes at home and my current routes are pretty flat. Around Jen's house there were plenty of long sloping hills which were a nice challenge. Tackling those few hills did make me realize I need to work more hills into my training. I was winded after the first two hills and really they weren't all that big.

The Get Your Guts in Gear's Facebook page says the route for the Midwest ride will start in Libertyville, IL head north to Wisconsin, wrap around Lake Geneva, WI, and loop back to Libertyville. The word is that this ride is less hilly than the New York and Seattle rides, but will still pass through rolling farmland and country roads. In other words, I need to get my guts off flat city bike trails and onto some rolling country roads.

Vacation

Just another peaceful morning on Muskegon Lake.

Training: Week 6, Day 1

Distance: 8 miles
Time: 30 minutes
Power Song: Cocaine Blues by Johnny Cash, sung by Joaquin Phoenix

This morning was a sprint power ride. I have to leave this morning for a girls weekend up North and didn't have time for my scheduled 2 hour ride. This week is going to be off. I'm off on vacation all week, but have plans for almost every day. I am bringing my bike with me up North, so hopefully I'll be able to slip in a ride while I'm gone.

More when I'm back.

Happy 4th of July

Training: Week 5, Day 2

Distance: 8 miles

Time: 1 hour 2 minutes

Power Song: no music

Weather: 72 and overcast

Happy Apple Pie Weekend!

Gears and Guts Both Need Liquids to Keep Moving

My bike chain derailed today-- OPI's Aphrodite in a Pink Nightie partners well with Gear #2 Grease, don't you agree? Training: Week 5, Day 1

Distance: 25.23 miles

Time: 2 hours (exactly!)

Weather: 68 & breezy

Power Song: You, Me & the Bourgeoisie by The Submarines

And the heat wave is finally over! Michigan's weather has been terribly inconsistent for June. Cooler weather in June is normal for us, but usually it's a little warmer than the low to mid 60s. Then last week's temperature spiked to the mid 80s with heavy humidity.

I didn't feel all that well last week-- I was more exhausted and my heart felt like it was pumping lead instead of blood to my muscles. It was a different kind of tired than what I've felt before. It makes me wonder if I was suffering from a little heat exhaustion.

I carry plenty of water when I ride and drink a lot of fluids throughout the day, but when you go from riding in 68 degree weather to 86 degree weather, your body has a harder time adjusting-- especially if you are not a seasoned athlete. Especially if you are not a seasoned athlete, that is also minus your large intestine.

Body Function Fact: The colon is the last part of the human digestive system. It's primary job is to store waste, reclaim water, maintain your body's water balance and absorb some vitamins (e.g. vitamin K).

Implication: If you don't have a large intestine, it's harder to stay hydrated.

Day to day I drink an average of 2-4 cups of coffee, 1 1/2- 2 liters of water and 1 glass of milk. Last summer I was in West Virginia for a week and upped my water intake to 2 liters of water, plus a couple of glasses of juice and still had a hard time staying hydrated. A fellow patient of my colon rectal surgeon is a marathon runner. My doctor is amazed that he is able to stay hydrated long enough to run 26.2 miles.

The biggest problem I have with staying hydrated is that I can only drink so much before I'm water logged. I have also started to crave soda, whereas before it was more of an occasional treat. I think my body wants the added salt and fluids.

I've always regarded power drinks as something for wannabes and extreme athletes, you know, the Lance Armstrongs of the world. But I think it's time for me to look into them and see if they need to be incorporated into my daily intake.

Let the Healing Begin

Me and the girls three weeks after I'd withdrawn from student teaching. The exposure is a little off in this photo, but only a litte. The sad thing is my color had improved by the time this photo was taken. Training: Week 4, Day 3

Distance: 13.04 miles

Time: 59 minutes

Weather: 83 & Humidity 57%

Power Song: Bicycle by Queen

April 2004- So now what? How does one go about healing?

Do you sit around on the couch, watching television and let your body go at it? I can't do that, I'd die of boredom before the week was out.

Do you start out with slow walks along the river listening to Enya? Okay, time to reveal a deep dark secret that's even more embarrassing than my Angry Ass issues. I own every Enya CD, including holiday specials.

Do I clean out the self-help section of the library? I do read a lot of 'relationship' books... but usually my 'relationship books' involving a dashing lord and a brave heroine in a great dress.

Do I call one of the 1-900 physic hot lines? This one is out. I don't have a job and I don't think I can mow enough of my Dad's lawn to make up for one phone session.

Maybe following a 12 step program would help: Step One: I admitted I was powerless to my disease and that my life was no longer manageable. Check. Step Two: I've come to believe that a power greater than me could restore me to sanity.... Okay, well I don't think I was insane, so does this one really apply to me? I guess the 12 step program is out.

I'd been in denial for three years and now that I'd accepted that I was sick, I didn't know what to do. Worst yet, I'm not a person of inaction. 'Just being' is a mindset that has always been incomprehensible to me. Concepts don't 'sink in' with me unless I'm distracted by something else. For me meditating leads to brooding, which leads to over thinking, that then knots itself into a complex bitter little ball. No sitting around my parent's house, watching television and 'just being' for the summer was not going to work for me. But I was too sick to lead my old life. So where do I go?

And within hours of moving back in with my parents my denial morphed into anger.

When It's Time to Go, It's Time to Go

Photo taken on Thursday, April 4, 2004, my last day of student teaching.

Training: Week 4, Day 2
Distance: 25.3 miles
Time: 1 hour 53 minutes
Weather: 80 w/ 60% humidity
Power Song: Supermodel by Rue Paul (If you've hesitant about Rue Paul I recommend listening at mile 12 of 25 as you are tackling a hill).

Today's photo was too gruesome for even me to publish. I was late getting started this morning and didn't leave until 11 a.m. There was a nice breeze blowing off from Lake Michigan, but the skin on the back of my knees kept sticky to each other. Not a pretty sound or sight.

I realize that I left my Angry Ass story hanging with the post Living in a Toilet Paper House While It's Raining (June 13). Since my only thoughts today were, "Keep pedeling, keep pedeling, keep pedeling", this is a good place to continue with my story. Also, after some feedback I discover that it may be confusing to tell when I'm talking about present events versus past events. Anything that happened in the past will be dated and be in italics.

April 5, 2004- Despite my major realization that I was indeed sick and probably in need of some serious rest, I returned to student teaching. I went back because I really didn't know what else to do. I like security. I like being in charge of my choices. I'm a control enthusiast. Accepting that I was going to have to change my master plan and move forward with a plan that I had no say in was unsettling to me. So I returned to my classroom not sure what I was going to do, until a student, who had several vices, looked me in the eye and said,

"Amber, you look like you shouldn't be here." (Students were allowed to call teacher's by their first names, in fact, my students didn't even know my last name.)

That night I called my parents and made arrangements for them to come get me. I then called my university advisor and told him I was withdrawing. I couldn't finish out the last three weeks. He was very supportive. However, I couldn't make that last call to my supervising teacher to tell her I was leaving. I knew she'd try to guilt me out of it. Maybe that's why I called my parents first. They were the fuse for this change of events, once they started there would be no going back. In the end my mom called for me. It was easier than I thought it would be to allow someone else to think for me.

That night I had two calls from people I worked with at the school, all trying to talk me out of leaving. They said things like, "You'll regret not finishing." "You are so close, just tough it out."

I finally got mad. Really mad. How dare they question my right to get better. Sure, I'd abused myself to the point of exhaustion, but they had no right to call me and try and talk me into staying. Where they not listening at the staff meeting when I talked about my emergency air ride to Grand Rapids? Did they not hear me vomiting in the bathroom and see the dark circles under my eyes? How can they be supportive of someone that has fallen off the wagon four times, but have no compassion for me?

Looking back I realize that my angry was also self anger. How dare I question my right to get better. Was I not paying attention when I was aero-medded to Grand Rapids? Did I think it was normal to vomit in the bathroom between classes? Did I think the dark circles under my eyes were typical for student teachers? How I could I encourage teenagers to keep working at their own problems, when I couldn't even take care of myself?

Summer Haze

I'm looking glam as usual, but compared to Mother Nature I'm a sweaty, red faced couch potato.

Training: Week 4, Day 1

Distance: 20.7 miles

Time: 1 hour 38 minutes

Weather: 87 & HUMID

Song: Cowboy Dan by Modest Mouse

Training today was like riding a stationary bike, in front of the oven, while wrapped in a wet sheet. Despite the humidity I had a solid ride and covered a fair amount of miles. In fact, I was supposed to ride for two hours and my planned route wasn't long enough. I'm getting stronger and the distances are becoming longer. It's amazing how quickly my body is adapting-- remember I'm a dark chocolate eating couch potato that watched Bones marathons all winter.

With that in mind, remember I'm trying to recruit 20 riders to participate in the October Get Your Guts in Gear ride. If I can go from couch to 210 mile ride in five months, so can you. At first it may seem odd of me to use oh, not so glamours photos when I'm trying to recruit people to ride. Let's face it, I'm sweaty, red faced and have eye makeup running down my face (which I normally remove, but forgot today). I'm intentionally using these pictures because they are honest. You are going to sweat as a rider. And you are going to ache a few days. And it is an investment of your time. However your sweat, pains and time are all symbolic of what Crohn's and colitis patients experience everyday.

If being a rider does not appeal to you, consider being a volunteer crew member. No training involved. You just show up and become a worker bee. Get Your Guts in Gear rides are manned by volunteers so the most money possible can be donated to the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America, the United Ostomy Associations of America, Inc., Advocacy for Patients with Chronic Illness, Inc. and the Colon Club.

As much as I want everyone I meet to become a rider or crew member, I know realistically, it's not going to happen. So if you aren't rider or crew member material, please consider making a financial donate.

Everyone knows someone that has Crohn's or colitis. Everyone.

Who can you honor with your sweat, aches, time or money?

Canadian Invasion

Myself, Shemp & Marcia Check out those bags!


Training: Week 3, Day 4
Distance: 15 miles
Time: 1 hour 10 minutes
Weather: 72, Overcast & humid
Power Song: no music today

As I was cooling down my ride today I passed a couple on bikes who were obviously traveling somewhere. They were both carrying four bags each, plus wearing a lot of gear. I did just pass them, but then curiosity got the better of me and I turned around to talk to them.

Come to find out Shemp and Marcia are traveling by bike from Toronto, Canada to Washington State. Yikes! They'd already been on the road two weeks and plan to be on the road until August 31. They are mostly staying in hotels, but are prepared to camp once they hit the mountains. Intense! Then they found out I was riding in Get Your Guts in Gear and thought I was intense-- apparently, they'd never do more than 50 miles a day and me doing 70 a day for three days was really impressive. Hah! Biking across two countries is impressive. I'm just going for a ride.

To make a long story short Shemp and Marcia (who had a wonderful British influenced clip to her voice) were taking the Lake Express Ferry from Muskegon, MI to Milwaukee, WI. They had missed the Ferry's entrance (which isn't well marked from the bike path), so I guided them back to the Ferry. I did take a picture of us. Note that my master camera skills were once again used. This time I captured that perfect moment when my eyes were closed AND my leg looks like it has elephantaisis-- I know. I got talent.

What a cool experience to meet cross country travelers. That takes a serious commitment. I wonder what it would be like to take a trip like that.

Coast to Coast with Colitis Summer 2010. Takers? Anyone?

Zen and the Art of Riding with Hemorrhoids

Training: Week 3, Day 2
Distance: 13 miles
Time: 1 hour
Weather: 79 & Muggy
Song: Lights by the Editors




'June Snow'







The exhilaration for training leveled itself out today-- I forgot how hard it is to climb back on the bike after you've been off for a week! I'm experiencing some of Week One's general aches and pains, and I feel really slow. By Friday I should back on track, but for now I'm a smidgen sore.

Tomorrow I have to face every woman's fear-- purchasing bicycle shorts. They're short and tight and the bike shop I frequent is an all male staff--- but, oh, the padding, blessed padding of bicycle shorts! I've never owned a pair, I've always 'toughed' it out and hoped I'd develop... callouses?

But now I'm older, wiser and have a few exit speed bumps, so I'm going to treat myself.

Now that the heat of last week's health problems are over, I can see how easy it would be for me to slip back into denial about my health. Five years ago I would have kept training and going to work until I passed out from the pain. Now I purposely step back and let myself heal. Not that I'm not Mrs. Suzie Sunshine about it, in fact, I'm actually very....moody about it, and my husband is a saint for still loving and caring for me.

Something I keep saying over and over again is "Colitis is just something that happened to me, it's not who I am." From the outside this is a simple statement, but to me it is a profound statement of truth that took years for me to understand. And when I'm bogged down I have to continuously remind myself that colitis is just part of my life. I can either stop and deal with it. Or I can ignore it and deal with it later.

Experience has taught me it's better to deal with it immediately.

Back in the Saddle

Training: Week 3, Day 1

Distance: 13.44 miles

Time: 1 hour 13 minutes

Weather: Sunny & 78 (Beautiful!)

Power Song: Are We Human or Dancer by The Killers

I'm back! As much as it stinks to be down and out for several days, I always experience a sense of exhilaration when I'm back full throttle. It sounds corny, but Muskegon Lake really did smell fresher, the sun felt warmer (I didn't even mind getting a little sun burned), I had a smile for every person and noticed several 'quaint' spots that would be good for a picnic. This is the part I don't mind about colitis-- I don't take good days for granted.

Since I missed all of Week 3 training I need to repeat it. I'm not worried, there is still 14 weeks before the Ride, so I should be in adequate shape by October 2-4. And my goal isn't to race, it's to finish. Two hundred and ten miles sounds like a lot, but when you break it down over three days, it's only 70 miles a day. If you average 12 miles an hour it would take just under 6 hours to finish. Even better yet, if you did average 12 miles are hour, there is a fully stocked restroom every 12 miles along the ride (remember you're dealing with the Angry Ass Peloton).

Doesn't sound too bad does it?

In fact, I bet you could join this ride with me. Stop it, don't laugh. If dark chocolate eating, Bones marathon, couch potato Amber can do it, so can you. And hello, I'm recovering from a partial bowl obstruction. If I can do, so can you. And who even cares if you make all 210 miles, take it 12 miles at a time. There are sweep vans that will give you a ride back if you can't make it-- but you can, so don't worry about. See you're mostly convinced. Wouldn't Northern Illinois & Southern Wisconsin be beautiful to ride in October?-- all the trees just changing color, cool breezes from Lake Michigan, cheese, cows, beer.... well, I can't guarantee beer. But cows and cheese, yes.

http://www.ibdride.com/ Check it out. My goal is to recruit 20 riders/volunteer crew members. You know you want to be one. At the very least you know someone who does.

Living in a Toliet Paper House While It's Raining

Easter Day 2004- Family Tip: When trying to avoiding looking 'sickly pale' don't stand next to Tanning Goddesses!

Training: Week 3, Day 5
Time: 0
Distance: 0
Power Song: Hometown Glory by Adele

April 2, 2004-- I spent my Spring Break sleeping. Weary and exhausted are words that are often tossed out like change to a homeless man- thoughtlessly given until the giver has been homeless. I was weary and exhausted.

The week that I slept was Holy Week (Christian holiday that begins with Palm Sunday and extends through Easter Sunday). I was raised in a Christian home and was active in my faith through college, but I changed as I became sicker. I couldn't understand why God allowed this to happen to me. Myself, my family and three churches were praying to him for my healing... and nothing. I lost my 'faith of a child' during my illness.

On Good Friday I was scheduled for a CT scan. This scan would either clear me to return to the classroom or keep me home for another week. My normal doctor was on holiday and I had to see another doctor. My sub doctor compared my previous scan and the current on. I had a 'potentially troublesome spot'. He wanted to hospitalize me. He said he wanted a second opinion, and the only doctor available on Good Friday would be the hospital's on call doctor. All I heard was hospital and started crying and said no.

When he asked what was wrong I told him I wanted to be home for Easter with my dog. He told me that if I'd let him admit me, he'd bring his dog to the hospital on Easter for me to see. It was the lamest compromise I've ever made in my whole life.

My hospital room was one I'd stayed in before-- a corner room with a view of the courtyard--where I could potentially play with the doctor's dog on Easter.

My mom left me alone to call my Dad. She was barely holding in her tears.

In a hospital there is always noise from medical equipment filling your ears. Or nurses are constantly pestering you to draw blood or check your fluid intake and output. It smells like weird disinfectants. But I didn't register any of this.

Instead, I sat on the bed looking at the courtyard. It was gray and unkempt from the long winter. I knew I had to chose. Up until now it's all been Amber's way, and here I was in the hospital, yet again. I could keep fighting. Keep trying to prove I could live my life how I wanted, no matter what. And I could keep ending up in the hospital. Keep pushing myself. Keep denying the truth.

But I was so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of seeing my mom cry. Tired of my Grandmas lighting candles and praying with the Saints of Intestinal Disease for my recovery. My way wasn't worth it anymore.

Okay God.

I get it.

I'm sick.

That began my climb out of a very dark hole.