I Run These Towns

In 22 years of Crohn's there's always been an answer to my problem: surgery, a new medication, changing my diet, something . It wasn't always an answer that made me feel 100 percent, but I've felt like there was a path toward relative wellness. I've had seven small bowel obstructions (SBOs). My first, in 2012, was pretty minor. I went to the ER, but it started to resolve on its own without treatment. They kept me overnight for observation, but it wasn't a huge deal. In 2014 I had an obstruction following a hernia surgery that required surgery. That's when I learned the word "adhesion" (scar tissue) and that more surgeries create more adhesions. It was a few years later, in early 2017 , before I was hospitalized again. That time I ate a lot of baby carrots and knew that to be the culprit. So ended my love affair with uncooked carrots. It took a few years, but last September I once again ended up with a SBO. It happened again in May and August of

December is my favorite month. I love Christmas, and it's also the month of my precious son's birthday and our wedding anniversary (on the same day). Generally December is absolute chaos. I'm planning our annual holiday soiree, our son's birthday party, attending holiday gatherings for work and with friends and preparing to visit family. My head is usually spinning during this month, and I love every minute of it.  This December is quiet. We've been working from home and without child care for nine months, and even though the air has turned colder and our Christmas decorations are up, it feels a lot like the last 273 days. I've really struggled to find the joy this month usually brings.  We decorated before Thanksgiving which is very unusual. Honestly we did it on a day when I desperately needed something to occupy my small human lest I lose my mind. I knew decorating would be very exciting. We put up our two artificial trees and all the decorations, but that di

Let's be fair - I could've (maybe should've) renamed this blog: I love these towns because part of the deal here is my being in love with cities. The "running" part has been a little lacking in the last few years. I decided 2020 would be the year I began really running again, but we all know 2020 wasn't about to be told what to do. Earlier this year my friends and I registered for a half marathon the first weekend in October. This was the year I was going to get back into half marathon shape. I've had a four-year hiatus after 22 half marathons, but I was ready to get back into it.  I bought new running shoes online because of COVID and paid way too much money for new Smartwool socks (my favorite).  I began logging more consistent miles in March and April, and I felt pretty great. I ran a virtual 10k on April 11. It was pretty slow (1:10:46 which is 17 minutes slower than my PR of 53:46) but I was back. A few weeks later I was in the hospital with a bowel

I'm obviously no shrinking violet. My favorite thing in the world is being the center of attention. It's the best. I don't shy away from the spotlight, and I expect to be noticed.  Something nobody tells you before you become a parent is how much you will do, every single day, that nobody will notice. It's how much you have  to accomplish and yet nobody will ever say good job. Hell nobody will even notice it's been done. They'll only notice if it's not  done. And yet you've still got this to-do list of thankless tasks to mark off each day. This week is a brutal one. I haven't been feeling well, and pretending to have my shit together is taking about 115% of my energy. Early in the week I was struggling with stomach issues and zero energy. Combining those symptoms with a remote work, virtual kindergarten and energetic 5-year-old is a recipe for disaster. So I do what all moms do: I power through. I have myriad to-do lists both at home and at wor

I love summer. I've written about enjoying every minute of summer with my small human, and this year summer has been particularly poignant. Once the reality of COVID lock down set in earlier this year it was difficult being inside and feeling stir crazy. Summer provided a welcome respite. While we didn't travel and kept our circle pretty small, we were able to be outside every day. My son and I were at the pool almost every day, and he started golfing with his dad. The long, hazy days of summer have been magical, and I'm panicked at the thought of their end.  On Labor Day my son and I spent four hours at the pool. I got my first sunburn of the season as I sat there reading. In July my stubborn son announced that he'd never take off his floatie "until he was an adult". A few swim lessons later he was diving, and on Labor Day I found myself not even needing to get in the pool. He was swimming with friends and playing. I have said to my husband repeatedly this s

I was quietly filling a bag with clothes at 1 a.m. hoping not to wake up my husband. The pain wasn't too bad at that point, but I knew I was on borrowed time. Despite my attempts at being quiet my husband walked in and asked what I was doing. I told him I was packing a bag for the hospital, and he sighed knowing that meant I had another obstruction. I told him I wasn't ready to go yet and encouraged him to go back to bed. I went downstairs and got everything I needed and then hastily wrote a thank you note to friends who we'd visited just hours before. I kissed my husband and son goodbye and drove two miles to the hospital. Visiting friends hours before heading to the hospital It was early Sunday morning, but the emergency room waiting room was empty. I did a COVID check-in, had my belongings scanned by security and walked to the desk. Before I could get there I grabbed a sickness bag and immediately began throwing up. The nurse asked me to take my time, and after ten minut

Last year I read something saying we only have 18 summers with our children before they are adults. Seeing those words immediately brought tears to my eyes. At the time my son was four and a half, and we were spending most evenings at the pool and already trying to fit in as much summer fun as possible. Michigan's summers feel so short. Pool time! Checking out the baby rhino at our zoo! I know conceptually that our time with our children is limited. And after waiting six years to have a child I've always felt like each moment is fleeting. I still carry my son when he asks because I can. One day he will be taller than me, and I won't have that luxury. One day, and I'm sure it's sooner than I realize, he won't want to snuggle with mama or I won't be his favorite person in the world. Until that day I want to take advantage of all the small moments I'll miss someday - starting with summer. Hiking while visiting Grandma First time tubin

During the time of COVID-19 we've appropriately spent a lot of time appreciating the hard work of our health care providers. They're amazing even when we aren't dealing with a global pandemic. At my best estimate I've spent approximately 11 weeks of my life in the hospital. This is overnight hospital stays; it doesn't include dozens and dozens of tests, ER visits, etc. I've been the beneficiary of some incredible care by a number of healthcare professionals. In a blog I wrote a few months ago I expressed my fear at the idea of having to go to the hospital. Two weeks ago we had a video chat with my brother and sister-in-law, and I signed off saying I had to run six miles the next morning. At 1 a.m. I woke up with bowel obstruction pain, and I knew I was in trouble. I used the heating pad on my stomach and then went downstairs and was walking laps around my house (walking can help). My husband came downstairs a few hours later and knew I wasn't okay. I ho

When I moved to Michigan I was a little taken aback at the Midwest politeness. I recall riding in a car with a former coworker shortly after moving here. A car cut her off, nearly hitting her, and she waved them in. I was outraged: "What a jerk! Nice turn signal! Why are you waving them in?" She replied it was the friendly Midwestern way, and that reply still annoys me.  I'm married to the consummate considerate Midwesterner. I can't tell you the number of times I've gotten annoyed with my husband because he wants me or our son to move out of the way to accommodate someone else (often in the grocery store). I'll say, "They can wait two seconds. Why should I inconvenience myself when someone else can just wait? If it were me I would wait." But I've learned Midwesterners will bend over backward to accommodate someone else at their own inconvenience.  I've mostly gotten used to the friendly Midwestern way, although I will absolutely honk and s

When I was a kid I believed my mom could do anything. As an adult I realize it's because that's what good parents do: they shield their children from worry and keep their world spinning no matter what. Growing up my mom cooked dinner every night (there weren't really restaurants in my hometown and it's not like we would've gone out anyway).  My mom was like the original Chopped champion: she could open the pantry and make something out of whatever was there. She went grocery shopping every two weeks, and other than the random run for milk or bread those groceries had to last us until the next store run. What I didn't know as a kid is my mom worried the food wouldn't last two weeks. She worried when we had friends over (we often had an extra kid or two hanging around) there wouldn't be enough to feed everyone. But it was always enough. And like a good mom she never let us know she was worried. When I was a kid I thought my parents had a perfect marri

I don't live my life like someone with a compromised immune system. I pride myself on not letting Crohn's run my life. It's an important part of who I am, and I've come to terms with acknowledging that in the last few years. But I rarely let it run my life.  The last few weeks have thrown off all our lives. Two weeks ago we had a briefing on COVID-19, and we were basically told to wash your hands and be smart. Last week I worked Monday morning and then stayed home the rest of the week. Yesterday our Governor announced a three week stay at home order, and the world feels weird. Weird is an understatement...everything feels off kilter.  Virtual happy hour = critical.  In this off kilter world I still have to manage my chronic illness. Crohn's is a disease whereby my immune system is attacking my entire digestive tract - top to bottom. When I'm not feeling well I can have symptoms including stomach cramps, diarrhea, mouth sores, and even worse symptoms

Tonight I have a really work big event: my boss's third State of the City speech. I've spent hours writing and tweaking the speech. Our team has been working feverishly for the last month to ensure the event will go off without a hitch. Yet this morning, before I get moving, I will give myself an injection of a biologic medication that targets my Crohn's inflammation. This tiny little syringe of goodness will keep me going for the next eight(ish) weeks.  Then tonight I will be at the boss's speech in a kick ass dress, super high heels, and you will never know I'm sick. How does this small thing keep someone healthy for weeks? Incredible.  Incredibles band-aids because I'm a boy mom.  I'm really, really good at pretending to be well. I've spent my entire adult life doing it, and I'm a master. You'd likely never guess that the last time you saw me I felt crummy. I am able to push through a lot, and that's one of the biggest challenges