Footprints in the Sand (brought to you by Brazil and my love of Tina Fey and 30Rock)

So, Brazil is crazy. Well, the nature is crazy. The food is kinda meh, the wine was terrible, the people are very lovely and helpful, the coffee was excellent, but the nature is kick-you-in-the-face unbelievable. Three weeks ago, I went to Rio, the Amazon forest, the island Fernando de Noronha, and a small seaside town three hours north of Rio. The purpose of this trip was to run my 6^th marathon on my 5^th continent because, that is.... I guess... what I said I would do. Ambition is a dangerous drug, people. Dangerous and expensive. But I digress. I left the race until the end of the trip, only because my schedule dictated that I needed to be back in Rome on November 10 and the only race I could find in the 2 week window prior was in this tiny little town on the coast called Buzios. Whatever, it’s just 26 miles. I don’t have to win a prize, just finish and not die afterwards. I can do that. Probably.

While I have many stories about Brazil, and I will be sure to write them with some kind of consistency, the story I want to tell you today is about the race itself. But first, let me give you some lead-up. Prior to arriving in Buzios, I had canoed down the Amazon, hiked through the jungle, held a baby Cayman in my hands, scuba-dived with sea turtles, sharks, and barracudas, and been on at least 7 different planes, 6 different boats, and many taxis, buses, and scooters. I thought I had already endured the epic journey of Brazil when I laced up my Nikes to run the race, but oh no, twas not so. Because, you see, I don’t really research my races very well. I pick a spot on a map and think, in the words of Tina Fey, “I want to go to there”. That’s my rhyme and reason for picking marathons. Had I done any real research on the course, which would have necessitated me translating a lot of Portuguese, I might have learned that Buzios has some of the most crazy trails you could ever run. Great idea, right?

The race starts out on cobblestoned roads. As resident in the Eternal City, this zero-percent scarred me because most of Rome’s streets are more excavation site than actual road-way at this point. But, after about 3 kilometers, the race deviates into the woods and that is when shit got real. We are talking steep, muddy, rocky inclines so narrow and precarious that only one person at a time can climb up them, followed by the slippery slopes down that require you to push branch after endless brambly branch out of your purview. If there are no trees, you’re probably running over the sea cliffs. I don’t know why the race organizers left the rocky outcroppings till the end of the race. I was so tired and delirious, after 7 and a half hours of running, I am amazed I did not fall and smash my face into the jagged edges, leaving me to then get eaten by the crabs. 

And when you’re not running in the woods, you are running on sand. All the sand ever created. You have to run through it, mostly at high tide, next to sea wall, which means that part of the race you will need to wade through the water at knee-high level for about, oh, 5 kilometers. I remember, as I walked down the beach (running in sand is like taking two steps forward and one step back. It’s insufferable and I admit that I walked over most of the sand in protest) looking at all the foot prints in front of me. After a while, the race started to really spread out and there would be only one or two foot prints at a time that I could see, the other shoe prints having been erased by advancing waves. I could not help, looking at those shoe prints, but think of that poem Footprints in the Sand. Do you know it? It’s the one where some guy is dreaming about walking on a beach and all the moments of his life are represented by pairs of footprints in the sand. The guy sees that during difficult periods, there was only one set of prints, meaning that he was all alone during his darkest hours. So he says to Jesus, “Where were you when I needed you most? You left me to go it alone when I was really suffereing,” and Jesus says, “The times when you have seen only one set of footprints is when I carried you”. 

You may be thinking, “What an uplifting story. That must have given you such comfort”. Initially, it only irritated me. First of all, I was not at my darkest hour on the beach, I just wanted to STOP MOVING but being the dutiful Protestant Dutch descendant I am, I did not. But I did think, “No one carries you! Jesus doesn’t come down and pick you up. It’s a metaphor. What good is a metaphor for me now?! This race is never going to end. Why am I so stupid? Why did make this life choice?!” etc., etc. But then I remembered something I have said, time and time again, to people who tell me, “I could never run a marathon”. My reply is always “It’s all in your head. If you think you can’t do it, you won’t”. I believe this to be true for most things. I’m not saying that if you believe you will win American Idol you absolutely will if you just try hard enough and really believe. What I mean is, if you set a goal that mostly does not depend on other people’s opinion of you, such as running a marathon, and if you commit long enough and keep going at it, and just do it, you will do it. Winning and finishing something are not the same. Winners are often chosen by circumstances beyond their control (I’m looking at you Marisa Tomei). But doing something, doing THE THING and finishing THE THING, even just enduring THE THING until the end, is a choice that mostly just relies on your mental determination.

 

So, there I am in the sand, thinking about footprints, and I realize that, yeah, in your darkest moments, when you mentally cannot keep yourself going, those are the moments God takes the wheel.  He gives you a break and lets you, even just for a second, relax. I don’t believe that God is some Santa-Wish-Granting-Genie that, if you believe hard enough, will give you everything you could ever want. Because that implies, if you don’t want it enough or don’t pray enough or don’t do something enough, you won’t get it, meaning you aren’t good enough to deserve what you want or need. No, that’s ridiculous and toxic and unhelpful in all ways. But I do think that the act of prayer is choosing to let go of the doing THE THING and refocus your energy. God will hold onto THE THING for you so that you can get your bearings. Instead, THE THING just becomes looking to God for peace. Looking to God for an Eye in the Storm. The storm is not over, but you get a reprieve. That is what prayer is, to me, and that is what those footprints mean: a mental pause from running in the sand. Because sand is the worst to run in, I cannot even tell you.

You know where this is going: Luke. Luke is not doing so hot. AML leukemia is dark and scary and aggressive and my family is walking through a lot of sand. Sometimes it looks like the sand might end, but then, oh no, sand for days. But you have to keep going. You can’t stop and stay where you are because then you will just be stuck with no possibility of getting free. The only way things change is going forward, and forward is unknown. You hope forward leads to the finish line that will end your misery, but life is not actually a pre-planned race during which you know the start and end point. Prayer does not change THE THING, but it changes how you see it and how you deal with it. Prayer and hope and faith and trust change you, not THE THING. 

SO THE THING IS LUKEMIA and many doctors around the world are struggling to change it. In the meantime, I can only pray that God will change me. And it sounds so simple and almost useless, but let me tell you, when you are running through what seems like the Sahara, even a second to focus on the grace that is peace and mercy and love will restore you soul. It won’t change THE THING but a changed mind can help you continue to keep moving.

Which brings me to my final point: FUNDRAISING! Did you know that Thanksgiving is coming? Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, New Years???? What better gift this holiday season than to donate a few dollars to children’s cancer research? It’s so easy, just go HERE, to my FirstGiving Team Baby Luke fundraising page, and you can donate as much as you want to Alex’s Lemonade’s Stand, a wonderful non-profit started by a little girl with cancer whose fundraising dreams lead to over $100 million dollars in donations going towards cancer research (Read all about it HERE).

So, yeah. I ran a marathon in Brazil so that I could convince you to give some money to help suffering children. Are you going to say no to that?! ARE YOU?! Please don’t. I have a goal to raise $10,000 but my real hope is just that I inspire some people to be generous and help those in need. It doesn’t have to be a life changing action on your part, but your donation, in tandem with the millions of others, will change the lives of those children struggling, those families struggling. Let’s all help each other get out of the sand.

Again, donations can be made here: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/runcarlarunproject/TeamBabyLuke-2

And you can follow me on Instagram @runcarlarunproject. 

Bone Marrow Transplant: Who, What, Where and Why

So………………..what is a bone marrow transplant? If you are like me then you are lucky enough to have gone 30 years of your life without ever having known someone who had a bone marrow transplant (mostly likely I knew someone but was too young or too self-involved to really empathize and understand their situation) and thus I really didn’t understand what a BMT entailed.

Let me tell you, while a medical marvel, it sounds terrifyingly painful and painfully terrifying.

What is bone marrow? This I already kind of knew due to my living in Italy and eating Osso Bucco (I am mortified that FOOD is my reference point for this procedure but I’m not going to lie to you people and pretend I know anything about medicine beyond Dr. House and ER, which basically means I am well-schooled in witty repartee and torrid work-place affairs). Bone Marrow is the spongy part of the interior of a bone. It is the fatty tissue, comprised mostly of stem cells which give rise to all of your blood cells. So, the marrow is incredibly important and nutrient dense.

Let’s break it down. There are three types of BMTs: Autologous where you cultivate and extract your own bone marrow to save for later use after chemotherapy and radiation treatment; Allogenic where you extract the bone marrow of a donor; and Umbilical where you extract stem cells from an infant’s umbilical cord after birth and store said cells for later use.

Baby Luke is getting the Allogenic which means he had a donor donate her cells for his use.

To continue the fun, there are two kinds of BMT extraction for donation: a Bone marrow harvest (the least fun of all of the harvests during the Fall season) where minor surgery is done to remove the bone marrow from the donor’s hip bones. This procedure allows the donor to be asleep and the extraction is pain-free;  and Leukapheresis, which involves  a series of shots to move stem cells from the bone marrow and into the blood. Then the blood is removed from the donor and a machine separates the white blood cells, which contain the stem cells, from the blood. Those white blood cells are then used during the BMT.

Luke’s donor chose Leukapheresis as it is known to have the best results in cultivating white blood cells rich in stem cells from the bone marrow. So thank you donor for going the extra mile. Really, thank you. You are saving the life of my nephew and I don't even know you, but you are one of the most important people in my life now. Thank you kind stranger.

Why do people need bone marrow transplants?  Well, when you get chemotherapy and radiation, you essentially destroy your bone marrow, so it needs to be replaced. Plus, donated white blood cells can attached to any remaining cancer cells, just like when white cells attack bacteria or viruses. So, the transplant not only helps you regrow lost and damaged bone marrow, it gives you extra umph (that is the technical medical term) to kill of any last straggling cancer cells that the chemo and radiation didn’t eviscerate.

Luke had several rounds of treatment to get his leukemia cell count down to zero so his bone marrow is pretty charred right now. Plus, getting the BMT has the highest level of remission rate.

Finally, if you are going to get a BMT, what do you have to do to prepare? Well, there are two choices (the options here regarding transplants are abounding ). First, there is Reduced Intensity Treatment, or a mini-transplant, which applies moderate amounts of chemotherapy and radiation to reduce cancer cells. Then there is the Ablative Treatment where high levels of chemotherapy and radiation are given to kill all cancer cells, as well as all healthy bone marrow. That means you’re killing ALL your cells. ALL OF THEM.

What are the possible complications? Everything it would seem. All the terrible things you can think of, including severe damage to internal organs, intestinal problems, bleeding of the brain, early menopause, stunting of growth, and serious infections that can be fatal. That’s why, after a transplant, patients are quarantined and isolated so as to limit exposure to germs and try and mitigate infections.

Now, what does this all mean for Baby Luke who is only 7 months old and who burgeoning immune system, while already immature, is now totally obliterated due to months of chemo? Yes, Baby Luke just had a BMT and so far, it’s the expected aftermath of high blood pressure, fever, and general discomfort. While unsettling, this is not overly concerning. Additionally,  Luke's parents have quarantined themselves with Luke so they can hold him close for the next few months of recovery. It doesn’t make it any less terrifying that your infant child underwent a procedure that wiped out all his cells but at least you are in the bubble with him on your tiny island of healing and recovery. That’s what my brother and sister-in-law are doing, floating on a singular lifeboat of hope and prayer, waiting together with their little baby in their little medical bubble.

And what can we do? Well, praying is what many people, including myself are doing. But if you are like me, impatient and stubborn and fully of worry, I would also suggest you pray while you run, pray while you work, pray while you make an omelet, pray while you do your yoga, tax returns, make tea, do laundry, etc. Prayer is not a mental Hallmark card you send via mind email. For me, it’s become a physical task. It is a mindfulness, an awareness, and a surrender to accepting that life is not yours to control.

But what else can we do? Well, if you’re like me, you can blog. You can also donate money towards research via the Alex’s Lemonade Stand Donation page HERE, you can sign-up for the Luke 5k HERE and you can always reach out to those in your life and help them.  Does this seem like enough? Nope. But the only way from here is forward so forward with an open heart we go.

I can’t think of anything else funny to say. These are rough times. I suggest we all call, immediately, someone we love in our life and tell them we love them and remember how wonderful that love is and how, even during the darkest days, love is our map to finding our way back home.

What did you just say to me?

Traveling can be fun, but the mode of transportation is often filled with horrors. Airports, for example, are high-stress, extreme-security locations where humans from all walks of life intermingle, and the result is often every level of appalling. Fortunately, up until this point, I have only been a bystander watching this train-wreck of human interaction. But recently, on a trip to Greece, I was upgraded to participant. Oh goody.

Now, despite my height, muscular build, and what some would describe an "intense" demeanor, I am not prone to engage in conflict. I much rather prefer to run away, literally and figuratively. Maybe that's why succeed in running marathons: my evolutionary history has endowed me with the innate sense to flee trouble. Usually, during any kind of conflicting situation, my ever-present thought is "what will make this conversations stop?" SIDE NOTE: this does not apply to people I know. With people I know, I am usually Miss-Know-It-All and I try to subdue you with facts. I WILL WIN WITH ACCURATE INFORMATION is my battle cry. This is, by far an away, the most annoying thing about me and I apologize to everyone in my life because I am sure I have tried to bitch-slap you with my superior intellect at least once. One particular story comes to mind when I was out with a guy on a first date and he said he wasn't sure he believed in certain elements of Global Warming. Instead of, oh I don't know, having an actual discussion about it, I launching in to FACTS! and scared the hell out of him. It is a miracle we are still friends. He distinctly said, at the end of my FACTUAL INFORMATION SESSION that we should never speak of it again. Yikes. But with strangers, I just want to get away from you. Flee, flee!

Anyways....so, there I am in the Athens airport with my 40 students I have brought on a trip, my coworker who is chaperoning the trip with me, and the travel agent who organized said trip. We are all standing in line at the check-in to get our boarding passes. Up waltzes this very thin, very tan, very bleach-blonde haired woman. She has just cut in front of all our students and is standing alongside us three adults. The travel agent, a very no-nonsense kind of person, turns to her and says "Excuse me, we are all a group. You just cut in front of our students. The line starts back there". Shots. Fired.

Tan-Bleach-Blonde lady is not amused. "You expect me to wait in line behind all those people!? I am just one person. I am cutting ahead". You can here the indignity in her voice, like Marie Antoinette scoffing at a peasant who is begging her for bread. Now it's my coworkers turn. Cristina is a petite sweet-faced Italian-American who will cut you if you cross her. "Oh god," I think. "We're now all going to witness a homicide. Maybe it will be like Serial. Is someone going to interview me for a podcast?" Cristina retorts back, "That's how lines work. We're all waiting in line." TBBs face is getting more pursed, like she's tasting a lemon. "My flight is soon, this is ridiculous". Mind you, we're all waiting in line for the same flight...which leaves in 2 hours. TBB just doesn't want to wait with the plebeians.

I finally make my move. "You don't just cut ahead. You ask first". Now, I am 100% sure I meant this to come across as informative and assertive, but by the look on Cristina's face, I might as well have slapped TBB right across her lemon-pussed snear. Oh no, escalation, here it come. TTB looks me square in the eye and says "So, are we gonna fight about it?"

For the first time ever, I was ready to respond "I think we're already fighting", as in, bring it the fuck on lady. This woman was half my size, I could manage this, plus I had Cristina and the travel agent for back-up. Maybe it was all my students looking at this ridiculous hot mess of 4 women squabbling over line priority and manners or maybe it was that I had been shuttling 40 students around Greece for 4 days and was at my absolute limit to tolerate rudeness. But I was ready to BATTLE. Leave it to Cristina to simply say "Go ahead, please, go ahead of us" in the most sickly-sweet tone of voice. She also added in a dramatic bow so as to usher TBB forward in line. TBB was appalled, but she had gotten what she wanted, so she moved up and continue to glare back at us.

OH WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN! That was my moment. I was ready to bring out my inner Khal Drogo and let her have it. But, it's probably better I didn't. I have gone this far without getting arrested. I don't need to start a criminal wrap sheet now. My problem is I have no "moderate setting". I'm either tolerant or ALL LEVELS GO ANGRY. Charming, right? Maybe that's why I run away. I know I cannot water-down my insanity. God knows what would have happened to TBB if I had kept going. Probably nothing, but I'm sure security would have been called at some point to quell the tall blonde screaming at a wispy, middle-aged, overly tanned woman, chastising her on her inability to follow line etiquette.

Are we having fun yet?

Alriiiiight. So, Elba. What's up with that?

Elba, for those of you not in the know, is a small island off the cost of Tuscany. It's claim to fame is being the first isle of exile for non other than Napoleon Bonaparte in 1814. However, Bonaparte escaped after only 300 days. He was later re-captured and permanently exiled to the island of St. Helena in the south Atlantic. However, during his stay in Elba, Napoleon enacted several successful social and political reforms, much to the delight of the locals. Go figure.

 Haters gonna hate.

Anyways, my sojourn on Elba was only 3 days and I had zero effect on municipal law, that I know of.  But I did run a half marathon. More importantly, I rented a scooter and drove around the island. Why is this more important? Let me explain.

I have a habit of, while on vacation, forcing myself to do things that I justify as character building. Mostly, I force myself to do things so that I am no longer afraid of them. About 5 years ago, I got into a car accident while on vacation in the US. I had my mothers car, her brand new car she would like me to tell you, and I was driving in an unfamiliar location in the rain. Well, I accidentally ran a red light at the bottom of a hill and I hit another car. It wasn't the worst car crash and no one was hurt, but it imprinted on me a sense of fear that I didn't like. While I would have liked to "get right back on the horse" as they say, I was FORBIDDEN from driving my parents cars. Ever.again. This moratorium was lifted last summer when my Dad said, "Sure, drive my convertible". And I did. And I didn't crash it. And it was only after this event that my mother permitted me to drive her car again. Thanks for having faith in me mother!

Do you see that look of fear in her eyes? I'm sure I just asked to borrow her car.

Moving on....when I went to Thailand, I rented a scooter and drove around one of the southern islands. Let me just clarify that this was the first time I had EVER driven a scooter and, in Thailand, they drive on the left side of the road, so it was a trial-by-fire kind of moment. But I did it. So help me God I did it and I did not crash. I actually got to see some cool waterfalls up in the mountains. But did I enjoy it? This riding around? No. It was a test of my mental fortitude and sheer will to suppress my every impulse that screamed "GET.OF.THIS.VEHICLE.OF.DEATH!". Still, I reasoned that there were hundreds of drunk tourists who careened around the island on scooters at night and (most) of them escaped injury so, therefore, I should be able to avoid vehicular manslaughter in my very sober, very paranoid, very focused state. And I was right. Though it is, to date, one of the most stressful moments I have ever had on a vacation.

 Thai nature. Ohhhhh, ahhhhh.

Jump ahead to Elba and I decide to rent a scooter again so as to continue the tradition of raising my cortisol levels while on vacation. Part of my desire to keep driving is that I don't want to totally loose the skill and be one of those people who absolutely CAN'T DRIVE. I want to maintain, in some small way, a sense of autonomy when it comes to transportation. You would think then that I would rent a car, but a scooter is good enough for me right now.

Just like in Thailand, there was this sense of "Here we go I'm going to die". It took me a solid 5 minutes to figure out how to turn on the scooter...AFTER I had been shown, minutes earlier, exactly how to do so. When I asked for more help, the rental attendant looked at me as if to say "Is this the best life choice you could be making right now?" It was a look that does not imbue one with a sense of self-confidence. STILL I had already paid and I am not going to forfeit money due to my delicate sensibilities. FORWARD WE GO.

 Is this the part where we start having fun?

So imagine me, riding this scooter at EXACTLY THE SPEED LIMIT, thank you very much, with no sunglasses, squinting in the wind. I had concluded that sunglasses would impede my vision, so I forced my eyes to focus without UV protection. This caused my mascara to run, so, basically, it looked like I was crying, this terrified, sobbing blonde girl riding a scooter very slowly around a nearly deserted island, her knuckles white from gripping the handle bars so tightly. I am sure I have never looked so glamorous or daring.

#maybeshe'sbornwithit

However, with time, or maybe just exhaustion (being extremely nervous and tense is very tiring) I relaxed and re-learned one of the most important rules of scootering: people can go around you. Stay to the side, in your own lane, and let those speed-demons rule the rode. This is the same principle I apply to running marathons. Go your own pace, run your own race. Clearly I'm not a competitive runner, or scooter driver for that matter. "GO AROUND ME" I kept thinking in my head as tiny smart cars tailgated me. Eventually they did, and eventually I got to my destination. I also eventually acquiesced and wore sunglasses, finding them to be more helpful than distracting while riding in the sun. Go figure.

So moral of the story: you can always drink afterwards to quell your night terrors after having forced yourself to do something you hate.

ALSO ALSO ALSO good news of the best kind! My nephew has been found to have NO Leukemia cells in his spinal fluid, so go Luke! Remember we are raising money for Alex's Lemonade Stand, a charity that funds children's cancer research. Go to http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/runcarlarunproject/TeamBabyLuke-2 to donate. You can also follow me on Instagram at @runcarlarunproject. TEAM BABY LUKE ALL THE WAY!

Team Baby Luke

It's happening people. Team Baby Luke is happening. It's happening all over the world. It's happening in Massachusetts where Luke is currently undergoing chemotherapy, it's happening in Italy where I'm blogging, it's happening in all the places I'll be running, and it's happening wherever you are, right now, reading this.

So what is Team Baby Luke? Team Baby Luke is everything you are doing, in your small way to help. Maybe you're praying for Luke, maybe you're sharing Luke's story with others, maybe you're visiting his tired parents in the hospital. Maybe you're his doctor, saving his life, or maybe you're just someone who found this blog and you're reading it on your lunch break. Whatever you're doing to help, thank you.

Team Baby Luke is also a fundraiser. I have started a Run Carla Run Project: Team Baby Luke fundraising page on FirstGiving.com. All donations go to Alex's Lemonade Stand. I know you read that and are now very confused.

What is Alex's Lemonade Stand? It's a charity started that comes from humble beginnings. Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation (ALSF) emerged from the front yard lemonade stand of cancer patient Alexandra “Alex” Scott (1996-2004). At the age of 4, Alex announced that she wanted to hold a lemonade stand to raise money to help find a cure for all children with cancer. Since Alex held that first stand, the Foundation bearing her name has evolved into a national fundraising movement, complete with thousands of volunteers across the country carrying on her legacy of hope. To date, Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation, a registered 501(c)3 charity, has raised more than $100 million toward fulfilling Alex’s dream of finding a cure, funding over 475 research projects nationally. For more information, go to www.alexslemonade.org.

So let's recount: a 4 year old, a VERY SICK 4 year old, started a charity that has gone on to raise more than $100 million dollars. That is more than inspiring. That is a miracle. And it's proof that one small person can set into motion a tidal wave of love, success, achievement, and hope. That's what we need right now, a tidal wave of hope, a bright light to shine through the darkness and light the way.

And what will I be doing along the way? Running. So much running. I will explain more about the adventure of running in Elba, but let me just say, Elba taught me that you just have to keep going. If you can take one more step, than you can keep going. Don't think about the mountain you have to climb, think about the next tiny step you can take. You can take one more step, can't you? Then take it. And keep taking the next step, and then next, and the next after that.

My next step is to encourage you to check out Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation and then my fundraising page (http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/runcarlarunproject/TeamBabyLuke-2). The goal is to raise $10,000 by the end of the year for ALSF. I know, you're thinking, "Carla, that is a lot of money. Maybe temper your expectations." EXCUSE ME?! Did we not just discuss how a 4 year old instigated over $100 million dollars in donations. ONE HUNDRED MILLION! $10,000 a drop in the bucket. Plus I'm sure I'm going to be taking AT LEAST 10,000 steps as I train for my next marathon in...BRAZIL! Also, just to titalate you, I'm going to run a half-marathon in Transylvania. It's called the Dracula half-marathon. THAT TITLE ALONE IS WORTH $10,000.

So, check it out. Check it out on Instagram (https://instagram.com/runcarlarunproject), check it out on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/groups/150453051730323/) and DEFINITELY check it out at FirstGiving (http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/runcarlarunproject/TeamBabyLuke-2). Even if you just read it, that's the first step. Maybe telling people is the second step. And maybe finding your own Baby Luke in your own life and helping them in your own way is the next step. Take whatever steps you can to help whoever you can, whenever you can. I am taking these steps for this little guy. Who are you taking steps for? Go and set out on your journey. I hope to see you along the way.

We need to talk about Luke

So, sometimes in life, you see challenges coming, like student loans or preparing to run a marathon. You  know, in advance, it’s going to be hard, and often, you instigate the process and accept the challenges. Other times, you are surprised by unexpected road blocks, like being fired from a job or breaking a bone or being forced into rehab. Still, life has somewhat prepared you for these setbacks; you are aware that they exist and maybe you even know someone who went through it. You marshal your mental fortitude and carry on.

Then, there are the moments that come from absolutely nowhere and knock you off the face of the planet. No amount of planning could have ever prepared you for this. Let’s talk about one of those moments. My 6 month old nephew has been diagnosed with a rare, aggressive form of Leukemia. 

WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

Well, the truth is that people do get sick all the time. But, we rationalize it: oh they were old, oh they didn’t take care of themselves, oh it’s just a thing that happens…to other people. When it happens to the youngest and most innocent member of YOUR family, it feels misplaced and wrong. Like, this is a mistake. Nope. It cannot be. But it is. It really is and there is nothing you can do to rationalize it. And by rationalize it I mean escape the feelings of utter dread and fear.

This is the part where I am supposed to tell you that I have faith in God and “He never gives you more than you can handle”. Well, yes, I have faith in God, but I have no idea what he is doing. Faith is not understanding through proof or verified science. And this whole “He will never give you more than you can handle” is a myth. Nowhere in the Bible does it say that. Jesus never said “Don’t worry, if you can take it you can make it”. That’s Louis Zamperini you’re thinking of. If we could handle everything given to us, we would all be fine! Does the world look fine to you? I think it does not.

I’ve realized that telling yourself “I can handle it” endows you with a false sense of control. People tell themselves all the time “I’m fine, I can do it.” In my case it would be “I can do anything through God who gives me strength”.  “I can handle it” is often used in place of “I can fix it”. I cannot fix this. I cannot handle this. The helplessness is overwhelming, mostly due the reality that I’m across an ocean from my family. But even if I was there, I’m not a doctor. I’m not a therapist. I’m not really even a very sensitive person (the term Viking has been used to describe me more than once).  So what can I do that would matter in any measurable way?

Here we are, in the darkness of the night, with a 6 month old baby who is very, very sick. What can I do? Well, I am choosing not to focus on why, or how, or even what I can do to resolve it. I am only looking out for what I can do, period. What do you want me to do God? How do you want to use me? I can’t handle it, this disaster in front of me! So you handle it. I have zero percent plan other than to just keep looking for opportunities to do…anything. Because it’s the “God who gives me strength part” I need to focus on.

My mother likes to say we are God’s skin, that we are the physical body through which God communicates and reveals himself. God will be revealing himself though the doctors that care for my nephew, God will be revealing himself through the food that family and friends make to feed my distraught brother and sister-in-law as they wait in the hospital. And God will be revealing himself in all the ways we look for opportunities to do good. Every day is an opportunity to the work of God but you can only realize it if you’re open to doing anything and everything. So, while I would like to think I can actively do something to make everything better, I know I can’t. I can only do what God has empowered me to do. I’m not really sure what that is…….right now……but…..for the time being, I’ll keep writing. That’s what I’m going to do. Writing and running. This is coming from a person who a) is the antithesis of a natural-born runner and b) has the spelling prowess of a 3rd grader.

BE THAT AS IT MAY, this is still a running blog. And now I am running for Team Baby Luke, my sweet nephew who is now undergoing chemotherapy at Boston’s Children’s Hospital. How will my running and blogging help my nephew? I have no idea. But there are a million Baby Luke’s in the world, a million suffering who can’t handle it. Maybe I can be God’s skin to one of them.  While I would like to think everything I’m doing is absolutely for the benefit of those I love, that would be rather selfish and self-serving. There are several billion other people in the world who need help, after all. In fact, most of the time, I realize I’m doing things mostly with the intent to help myself.  I am in no position to decide what and how and why anybody should be doing anything to rectify and abate horrific life events. 

So, more to come on future running adventures and Team Baby Luke updates. 

First up, I will be running a half marathon on the island of Elba. Able was I ere I saw Elba. Even the old adage gives me hope that I will be capable to do something: Able was I. Able am I through God who gives me strength. Able am I ONLY BECAUSE God gives me strength. Able am I, able are we, Able is Luke. 

How do you know if Spring is has arrived?

Every year, Spring arrives, and I have noticed there are several markers to effectively determine that, yes, in fact, winter is over. Based on experience, here are some ways you too can tell if it's time to pack away the parka and break out those "spring scarves" you got coerced into buying a few months ago by some pushy salesperson at Banana Republic ("Oh, this reserved yet playful floral pattern will look great with any trench coat or boat shoe!" What?! Now I have to buy a trench coat and boat shoes?! I DON'T EVEN OWN A BOAT!)

1) Construction everywhere.
If you live in Rome, like me, you will notice that suddenly, all of those urban transportation projects will suddenly make a reappearance. In an obvious display of great intelligence, the Roman city council will decide to suspend the metro service past 9:30pm FROM APRIL TO FREAKING AUGUST so that they can work on "Maintenance Issues". Genius. Thus, spring, and summer, will become about getting to know your fellow man as you squish into crowded buses or awkwardly stumble down the sidewalks together en mass.

2) Allergies.
I have no allergies in Massachusetts. I was born and raised in a literal forest and that surrounding flora and I have an understanding that I don't antagonize them, and they don't antagonize me. Not so in Rome. Rome met me and said, "That tiny nose of yours looks way too not-inflamed". And thus, I have become my father by adopting his enormous sneezes that wake the dead. So, If you're traveling this spring, when the hay fever kicks in, now you know. Plus, you'll also get to wade through the matrix that is foreign pharmacies. Italy believes very strongly in organic, natural, herbal remedies. Italy also believes that the underlying cause for 99.9% of all illness is either a) going out with wet hair or b) suffering from a "bad wind". Like, it was windy and my neck was exposed and now I have kidney failure. Do you know what they prescribe for kidney failure here? Honey. HONEY!

3) Unpredictable weather.
Spring time in Italy is now a game of Russian roulette. Should I wear my down-coat or my linen tank top? Should I bring my umbrella or just sunscreen? WHO KNOW!? Yes, Italy likes to surprise-attack you with all kind of weather. In the morning, you are jauntily skipping along, sun high in the sky, and then 20 minutes later it's hailing so hard it looks like snow. I was just in Paris, and Paris in the spring is predictable: rain. It will rain and you will go eat cheese and drink wine and always have your umbrella with you. The end. In Rome...it's a mine field. I've become a kind of urban nomad, carrying around amenities with me everywhere so I'm prepared for either a flood or drought. But that's because I am Susie Can Do Everything Over-Achiever. Italians prefer to just not do the thing they were going to do and simply rationalize "It was raining. How could I go to work? Water was everywhere!"

4) Tourists.
We all know, tourists everywhere are the worst. But next weekend is Easter. Pilgrims from around the globe are migrating here for Holy Week. At least with normal tourists I can feel rightfully disgusted at their behavior when they take up too much space on the side walk or yell loudly on the bus, or stop to take pictures of EVERYTHING. But, when those tourists are hundreds of nuns coming to pay  homage to the Pope and the miracle of the resurrection, now I am the intolerant jerk. Here I am, boozing it up in the Eternal City and these Christian devotees are dedicating their life to service and poverty and chastity. I have made it a priority to avoid ALL those things and now I'm surrounded by people who make it their daily life. So, yes, Spring is also a time to feel bad about your life choices. Remorse, reflection, REPENT! Cry.

5) Eating all varieties of cute tiny animals in chocolate and marshmallow versions.
There is a brief respite in the calendar between Valentine's Day and Easter where you look in the mirror and ask yourself "How did it come to this?" You ate yourself nearly to death during Christmas, drank all the alcohol during New Years, and gave into all the heart-shaped truffle-filled chocolate during February. Then you have a intervention with yourself and stop. eating. everything. And for a while, you do survive on just kale and telling everyone about your new diet and how great you feel and how they should really try it. And then... chocolate. eggs. Chocolate eggs everywhere. Chocolate eggs the size of your head! Eggs surrounded by a tiny army of marshmallow baby fauna: chicks, bunnies, fawns, baby everything. Did I mention you suddenly notice that every woman on the planet is now pregnant as well? Babies, of all species, are everywhere and it overwhelms you to the point you just console your senses with every possible variety of chocolate egg: dark chocolate, chocolate with nuts, white chocolate, milk chocolate, chocolate with fruit, chocolate with spicy pepper, chocolate with mint. I'm waiting for chocolate flavored Pepto-Bismol at this point.