Doogie

You might want to get a tissue before watching this story about Doogie Weiks. Inspiration and love is all around us.

Seattle Siesta

Dori's in Seattle with her high school buddy, Erika. She's having a ball. The kids and I have spoken to her twice since she left. Actually, we've just listened to her laugh. On both calls, she was laughing uncontrollably, tears flowing. I think she thinks Erika is funny.

While out for dinner tonight, the kids and I saw some families from our school. I mentioned Dori is in Seattle and one woman in the healthcare field got this look of dread, knowing Seattle is home to the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center. No, no, I said; it's quite the opposite ... she's there for fun.

Yesterday, I had my annual physical. All is well, it would appear. My resting pulse is 47 and BP is 124/72. Honestly, I've not felt quite right since the bronchitis started in September and flared a few weeks ago. Earlier this week, I battled something viral, staying home from work on Monday. What's odd is Sunday afternoon I breezed through the 5.8-mile loop in Percy Warner, and Monday morning I couldn't get out of bed. Today, I feel fine. Whatever. I did get my flu shot yesterday.

While at the doctor, two young African-American women drew my blood. As I rolled up my sleeve, I saw my purple Team in Training bracelet that I wear along with a yellow LiveStrong bracelet. The look down reminded me to go to work. I told the women about Dori, how she survived with the help of an unknown perfect match donor and then explained the odds for any African-American that gets diagnosed with blood cancer. They were unaware of the NMDP program, but took down the information and promised to get on the Registry. Thank you, ladies.

In the interest of promoting good cancer blog vibes, here are a few dogs finding a moment of zen. I shared these the other day with PJ, who along with other cancer survivors and patients plans to return as a dog with fewer cares, a grand idea. The first is my favorite.

Blog Thoughts

I called PJ Sunday, something I've been meaning to do for some time. We had a good talk. She and I have several things in common (cancer bloggers, we're direct and detailed, love the outdoors, from a family of runners, etc.). PJ and Dori, however, are both survivors, and they connected instantly. Same experiences, same wavelength. I'm glad we called her ... We have a kindred spirit and friend in Rhode Island.

One thing I posed to PJ was when she thought one might cease maintaining a blog. She recently started another blog for "Things Not Related to Cancer," believe it or not a category on our $25,000 Pyramid. I've thought about doing the same, but I'm not there yet and may not go there.

While maintaining this blog can be challenging, I recognize what continues to drive my blogging. Education to save lives is just huge for me. One thing I didn't share, but planned to, from my San Francisco experience was how many Asian-American women were running for Team in Training. That was impressive. Those women are driven to help others. After the race, I met two nice Hispanic-Americans from southern California at an Alexander Valley winery. They didn't know how dire things can be for any member of their community that gets diagnosed with blood cancer. Hopefully, they are following through to register on the NMDP. Are you registered? Please tell me yes.

Of course, I still bristle when I hear about another blood cancer diagnosis. Shoot, any cancer diagnosis. That's still fuel for my blog fire. I recognize there are times I want to close this chapter of our lives, not to pretend it didn't happen but just because we're enjoying normalcy so much. Then I think of Ann in Houston (a daily occurrence) and the others soon to experience a similar battle. There's a new patient at Vanderbilt, a 16-year-old named Christian who looks like an amazing young man. I don't know him, of course, but I know what he and his family are going through. Dori and I used to live in Pleasant View when we first married. Hence, the constant blood cancer connections that remain or are made.

Besides being a chronicle for our journey, Run for Dori will remain a place to educate often and vent occasionally. The connections have helped people, and I can't lose sight of that. Even when I want to take a break, which I've been doing lately. And that's OK. Oh yes, Friday Night Flashbacks came to its merciful end last Friday. The blog, however, must go on.

More San Fran Photos

Fisherman's Wharf Tourists

Escape from Alcatraz

Cutie-Pie

The Infamous Trolley










New Friends from Northern Virginia




Golden Gate













On the Deck of Old Crocker Inn



Time for Wine

The Wine Country

Yes, it's wonderful to be home with the kids. I'll post more photos later.

Race results were posted earlier this week, and here's where the dust settled. My personal worst time for a half marathon (2:17:02) netted:

- 10.27/mile pace, 40 seconds per mile slower than my previous worst half
- 34/72 among men 40-44
- 198/580 among all men
- 2,651 among 11,540 half marathon finishers

Dori and I drove part of the course Monday before heading to the Wine Country. She gasped as we drove the hills at Miles 6 and 8.5. Honestly, it made me feel better to drive the course and experience the inclines that way. It was also great because Dori and I were able to experience the beauty of the course.


Dori and I ate a late lunch at Thai Time in Cloverdale, about 90 minutes north of San Francisco. Dori was skeptical of Thai food, but had a conversion Monday. It was the best Thai I've ever eaten. We checked in to The Old Crocker Inn, then headed to the Dry Creek Valley to sample wines. Reds no longer agree with Dori post transplant, but she sipped a little white. We visited Quivira (hit and miss), organic producer Michel-Schlumberger (pricey but very good reds) and Stryker-Sonoma (nice visuals, weak wines) in Alexander Valley.


A highlight of the first day was a visit to Locals, which samples nine micro-wineries from the area, in tiny, picturesque Geyserville. I sampled four whites and three pinot noirs, and was simply blown away. The pricing and quality were outstanding. Afterwards, we ate at Santi, which served some tasty Northern Italian. My chicken over soft polenta with figs, garlic and onions was terrific.


The next morning, we enjoyed a marvelous waffle, fruit and bacon breakfast with unfiltered apple juice. Dori decided to get a massage, while I peeled off to sight-see and fish the Russian River. I caught a small trout, smallmouth bass and an unidentified species before heading back to find a very relaxed, ache-free Dori. We ventured out again and sampled some wines at Hawkes (excellent 2004 cabernet sauvignon and a nice chardonnay) and Field Stone (average), then grabbed a bite at upscale Jimtown Store. Dori had a white bean vinaigrette salad while I had a hearty chili with tender pork and beef. The food reminded me of the cuisine at Marche in East Nashville.

I proposed to Dori that we take out more food from Jimtown, grab my favorite white from Locals (Portalupi biancho fusion) and enjoy dinner on the Old Crocker deck with a view of the sunset over the Dry Creek Valley. "I love that idea," she said. We ate a ham and butternut squash gratin and crisp cole slaw. I added a hard salami that was stellar, and we finished with a chocolate chip cookie.

We could have enjoyed a few more days in the Wine Country, but we decided to act mature, rise early this morning and head east to bail out the grandparents. An oil tanker, unfortunately, collided with a car near the Oakland Airport, our destination, which made the trip much longer than we had planned. But we had allowed for something like this and made our flight on time. Meanwhile, some state workers probably are still cleaning up some of the 8,600 gallons of gas on I-880 and repaving where the freeway melted. This disaster forced us to re-route through some tough neighborhoods in Oakland, which didn't impress.

But we'll soon forget Oakland. The power of Wine Country memories will simply be too pleasantly overwhelming.

Race Stories from San Fran

SF Chronicle: Marathon's twin causes
Great race photos
SJ Mercury News: Pushing themselves to the limit

More Race Details

Dori's napping after a great lunch at L'Osteria del forno in North Beach in Little Italy. Wonderful Northern Italian cuisine that I'll highlight later.

So today's run was a toughie. That happens. At miles 8 and 10, the only thing I cared about was finishing and getting off the course. Too bad, because the course was spectacularly scenic.

My Team in Training Teammates and I arrived at the start 90 minutes before the start. I felt surprisingly good, despite many trips to the port-a-potty. After the gun, Jessica, Lisa and I ran together the first four miles. Jessica was running her fifth full marathon, while Lisa was running her first half. Both are young and strong. We ran the first two miles easy, taking care to avoid the many walkers on the course. They dotted the streets from Union Square through the Financial District to The Embarcadero, home to many of the piers. I looked for Dori as we passed through the Fisherman's Wharf. She saw me, but I missed her.

We hit a few hills, steep but short, then ran through Fort Mason and the Marina District. I was enjoying the scenery. We entered the Presidio National Historic Park and made our way to the Golden Gate Bridge, so impressive in the distance. It was at this point I started to realize my body wasn't so happy. I began to labor. Lisa looked great and took off like a shot out of a cannon. Jessica and I stayed on our 9:30s.

When we reached "the hill" at six miles, Jess asked how I was. "I'm OK, I'll be fine," I said. We ran under the bridge, and Jess actually pushed me twice to help me up the incline. She finally went ahead, as I tried with all my might not to stop. I didn't stop, but I was running in molasses up the steep one-mile hill. Finally, I made it, but my running buddies were well ahead now. I was on my own. The descent went well, and I regrouped for the next hill, which wasn't supposed to be as tough. But it was, and long, too. After a Gatorade break, I walked a quarter mile. One lady gave me a look of disappointment. "Lady," I thought, "You have no idea how disappointing it is not to be running right now."

Perhaps the best view of the race was the run downhill through Lincoln Park to the Pacific Ocean. Even in pain, I could appreciate that view. On the flats in Sutro Heights Park, I began to feel woozy and chilled. My color wasn't right, nor was my breathing. I kept running, hoping for some boost or help. An tall Asian girl next to me tripped and fell, with both knees hitting the aggregate. The crowd yelled in unison. They felt her pain, which had to be immense.

I thought, "I'm not stopping again. The tough hills are gone." But nothing was in reserves. Damn. Help. And there she was. Dori arrived, fresh off the shuttle. She started jogging with me, coaching me up. I told her I was in trouble. She said, "I'll run with you." I said, "How about on the course? I need you."

Coat and purse in hand, she joined me. I felt better, but labored to Mile 11. I told her I needed a break. I didn't tell her vomiting was possible. Queesy and chilled, I walked another quarter mile before uttering a no-no word. That's when we started up again at a slow pace. Others around us were also laboring, a few like me. Maybe they had bronchitis, too.

The end of the race was welcome. Unfortunately, a race official spotted Dori and wouldn't let her cross the finish line after her impressive 2.5 miles. I received the Tiffany necklace and gave it to her over the fence. I gathered myself and started grabbing whatever they handed me. I ate and drank, happy to keep things down. I coughed and hacked hard for about an hour, before that spell finally subsided.

So I crossed in 2:21. Chip time is probably going to be four minutes faster. I've never run this slowly and now have a PW (personal worst) by eight minutes. My other half marathons were between 1:58 and 2:09. It is what it is, and I'm not going to beat myself up. The lasting memory will be of Dori helping me finish a terrible race with respect and showing her own grit by fighting back from the depths last year. What more can a husband ask for? I also disrespected no one. Mile Six was hell, but I scaled it. I could have quit the race, but didn't. I probably won't run that slowly for a long time.

Dori and I returned to the hotel, cleaned up and headed to lunch. We laughed while noshing on polenta with gruyere cheese. Dori ate a roasted potato and carrot dish with rosemary and roasted zucchini with basil. My lunch was perfect ... two slices of pizza - ham with artichoke hearts and a very good Italian sausage with mushrooms - with a few Anchor Steams.

Coach Stephne called and told me Lisa and Jessica had two very different days. Lisa ran a 1:56 half, which is outstanding. I knew she had it in her. She's tiny but strong. Jess struggled, throwing up at mile 13. Stephne found her walking and groggy around mile 18. Jess decided to cut over, taking off six miles. She removed her timing chip and finished 20 brutal miles. I haven't seen her yet, but I want to give her a hug. Jess and I trained a lot together, and I know she'll be disappointed.

You never know what will happen at a marathon. The 2008 Nike Women's Marathon is now in the books. Fifteen minutes slower than I would have liked, mission accomplished.

My Best Running Friend

Lots of good things happened today. Let's go ahead and get the bad stuff out of the way in this short race recap.

Bronchitis, antibiotics and running don't mix. Today's run was rough as hell. I ran with Lisa and Jessica, two Team in Training women I like and respect. All of us felt good at the start. The first three miles were OK at a 9:30/mile pace.

I could tell I was going to have a tough day when I had to work to hold that modest pace from miles three through six. At the six-mile marker, I felt like I normally feel at about Mile 11 of a half marathon. Not good. Then came the first major hill that started at the Golden Gate Bridge. I made it, but it took a huge toll.

Another big hill greeted runners at around mile 8. Things got worse. I had little strength to run these hills, which were hard as advertised. I had to walk for the first time at 8.5. I haven't walked in a race in a long time. That sucked.

When I arrived at 10.5, I wasn't in a good place. Thankfully, Dori had just gotten off the shuttle and saw me. She decided to run with me at my slow pace, which was a huge morale boost. At 11, I told Dori I needed another walk break, so we walked for a 1/4 mile as I decided I will finish this *&%$#@%^ race. Gotta tell you that I said a bad word that probably didn't impress the folks around me. But I had to vent.

Anger out, I looked at Dori, with her blue Light the Night "Survivor" shirt on, and said, "Let's go." Dori was carrying her jacket and we alternated carrying her heavy purse. I think I finished in 2:17, but I didn't give a lick or a whip about time. I was so glad to finish, especially with my girl, who was smiling, strong and confident! Today was a payback day, she said - Dori ran for me. She is amazing. Makes me a little ver klempt posting that.

We're going to a get a bite to eat, but I'll share a meatier version later.

Thanks to all of you for your support.

One Day Away

We're in San Francisco, safe and sound. It was a long day yesterday on the airplane and in shuttle buses.

Highlights of the day included the Southwest flight attendant recognizing our Team in Training crew of 18 (17 ladies and moi). The plane erupted when she said the entire Tennessee chapter raised $140,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. We arrived in Oakland (nice airport, dump city), drove across the Bay Bridge (a few folks weren't happy when I reminded them about the bridge ramp that was destroyed during the 1989 earthquake) and finally made it to our hotel after 2 p.m. local time. Dori and I were very hungry, so we walked down to touristy Fisherman's Wharf and slammed some food that we didn't really taste.

Dori chilled in the hotel, while I caught a shuttle to the Nike Women's Marathon tent in Union Square to retrieve my bib number and time chip. The scene was Estrogen City - women receiving massages, manicures, you name it. Back at the hotel, I lied down for 15 minutes before we headed to the Top Fundraiser reception. Joan Benoit Samuelson spoke about what we've accomplished and why tomorrow's race is the most popular and recognizable race for women "in the world." She's tiny, but not diminutive in any other way.

We were told the top 90 fundraisers in attendance raised almost $1 million and we heard from a man who received 47 rounds of chemo, but was doing well. His beautiful and impressive family was clearly touched, as were we. LLS organizers and Samuelson then recognized the top three fundraisers, who raised $31K, $36K and $45K. The first and last spoke. The first introduced her sister, who has been battling a form of non-Hodgkins lymphoma in her brain. She said she started fundraising 10 years ago because "she was fat," but three years later her sister was diagnosed. She was very fired up, like football fired up. Strong lady. The top fundraiser, who was probably in her early 30s, took the microphone and started crying as she told us about her husband's diagnosis 12 months ago. Not many dry eyes in the house. You would be impressed and inspired by these tigers.

I slept well last night but haven't recovered from this bronchitis. I'm tired and stuffy. Dori wondered, "What percent are you?" To which I responded, "Don't ask." But how I perform running 13.1 tomorrow is little stuff. Sure, I'm bummed, but we are having a great time together. When Dori was sick, she thanked me many times for everything I was doing to keep things moving along. She hasn't stopped, and I don't want her to ... I said 14 years ago we pledged "for better or worse ... in sickness and in health." We've had a lot of better, a little worse.

The weather tomorrow looks decent - an upper level low and fog off the coast will keep the temps down along the coast. We'll probably start in the mid 50s and end in the low 60s. San Francisco, as advertised, is a beautiful city, so hopefully that will be part of what keeps my mind straight as I deal with this bug tomorrow. You all know what the other part is.

Friday Night Flashbacks

I should rename this weekly goofiness Friday Morning Flashbacks, but here's another early version of FNF, Inspiration-style pre-marathon. Gotta go with the Rocky theme, "Gonna Fly Now," from Rocky 2, "Chariots of Fire" and Springsteen's "Born to Run."





Finally: "I see a whole army in San Francisco here in defiance of blood cancer."