The problem with LBI is that every time I spend any amount of time there (that extends past a day) I get delusional. There’s a part of me that wants to march right into Fantasy Island and fill out an application for ‘cotton candy lady.’ How cool must it be to dip those flimsy, white paper cones into those vats of pastel-colored sugar and spin those little happy cones for kids all night long?
And now I can run with these delusions a little longer because I am no longer teaching, but living on writing alone. Holy smokers… I can do my job from anywhere! I can even write AND then do the cotton candy lady gig for FUN (and to support my kids’ cotton candy addiction). I would imagine I wouldn’t even need a sitter if my job were at Fantasy Island. I will stick AJ on the Bee ride, lock him in with a man purse full of tokens and let him buzz all night.
But I imagine that Long Beach Island gets lonely in the winter. If you have ever been there in October, the winds get bossy and shove you around. And they are cold. Really, really cold. Which leads me to my second delusion. I want to run the LBI 18 miler again. I have run it twice, both before my MS diagnosis. But how do I know I didn’t ‘have it’ then? Why should I stop chasing these dreams of chasing long-distance finish lines? How many things could I do if I just tried and forgot that I had MS?
My chiropractor Dr. Todd Carnucci always fights me on running. He’s huge into snowboarding. He could care less about running. ‘It’s so bad for your knees’. I’m super close with his wife Nicole, who strangely enough, I met when we were trying to conceive our sons. We were both on Baby Center boards for support. We sent each other super long, personal emails for about 6 months before we realized we literally lived down the street from each other. We got pregnant the same time’ish. Had the same due dates. AJ came a week before Xander.
Even more strange is that Todd, Nicole’s hubby, was the only doctor who would listen to me when I was convinced something was wrong. I didn’t know chiropractors could do this, but he ordered my MRI’s. So Todd has taken care of me since I was 6 months pregnant and two years beyond my MS.
He knows every curve, every lesion in my spine. I go to him several times a week. I’m so used to him dissing running. It’s like it is part of the furniture, or some PT machine in his practice. I tune that out as he adjusts me. I sit on the edge of a bench, and he hugs my back as I fall back into his arms. Click. Click. Click. Click. Some days I will go the very next day and I get the same amount of ‘clickage’. My spine simply comes undone, no matter what. Todd said to me a few visits ago (I almost fell off the table), “Jame, ya know what? Run. No matter you do your spine goes crazy. F’ it. Do what you love.”
So maybe it isn’t THAT delusional if I tried to run the LBI 18-miler. Actually, going from 0 miles to 18 in 13 weeks is a smidge delusional, unless you are Bill Rodgers or somewhat ‘olympic’, BUT I don’t have to run the whole thing. I could run as far as I could and walk. Run as far as I could. Walk. And repeat. And if I completely bonked, there’s a number of Pancake Houses that line the course. I will just go eat some pancakes and move on, no?
People have all of this advice on what to do and how to treat whatever sickness you have. And people get all statistic and research-driven. Which is necessary. But there’s something to be said about being sick and continuing to do something you love. We need more research in how healing that can be. Feeding your heart, while starving your illness. On my heart's behalf-nom nom nom...
Twelve more cases reported of brain infection (PML) for Tysabri patients (that’s me). That brings a total of 145. Total number of those that resulted in death is 29. For those who are still living with the infection, it isn’t pretty to live with PML. You are a vegetable. That is the worst that can happen to me on my infusion. What is the worst that happens if I run? If I try? The worst would be the realization that I can’t, a long walk home, and a short stack of pancakes. I’m going for it.
