Why?

I've been asking myself that question a lot lately. No, not why me? Not why did I get MS? I quit asking that a long time ago.

No, I've been asking myself why I've decided to take on this challenge of a half marathon. The whole idea seems absolutely insane, even to me.


But I need to do this. I need to do it for me. I need something to aim for. I'll be honest--and this is not easy--I've struggled for the last few years. Is it depression? Maybe. People with MS do have a higher rate than most people. All I know is I'm not the same person I once was. I miss that person and I'm trying to get her back--for me, for Mark, for my kids.

As I walk, it has become clear to me that this is so much bigger than me. Sure, I want to prove to myself that I can do this. But I'm also doing this because I am bound and determined to show my kids that no matter what life throws at you, you are in control. Life is not always fair, so you have to choose what to make of every situation.

Kind of like that saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade," even though I really hate that saying and lemonade. But it's true. If I don't provide them with the best example of how not to roll over and throw up the white flag when life gets rough, then I will have failed them. Most of all, I want to show them that their mom is stronger than this damn disease.

And so I will walk and, who knows, maybe even run. Maybe I'll finish the race, maybe I won't. But I'll be damned if my kids won't see me give it my all. Maybe along the way I'll rediscover some things about myself again. That alone is worth the effort.

What My IPod Tells Me

So I upped the amount of time I walk on the treadmill and discovered quickly that I find walking on the treadmill BORING. But I persevered thanks to some inspiration and support from my musician friends on my IPod.

You see, apparently Pink and Katy Perry are very proud of what I'm doing. In fact, Pink not only thinks I'm perfect, but F***ing Perfect, thank you very much. And Katy thinks I'm a Firework.

Jared Leto (love him) and the guys of 30 Seconds to Mars helped keep me safe by continuously reminding me to be careful because my balance issues were causing me to get "Closer to the Edge." Thanks, guys.

Kool Moe Dee was less warm and fuzzy. He just kept telling me to "Go to Work."

Kris Allen hit the nail on the head when after about 40 minutes of walking he sang Live Like We're Dying, considering that's what I felt like at that point. Justin Bieber was nice enough to Pray for me. He's such a nice, young man.

As for Go Team!'s "The Power is On," all I can say is that song seemed so much more inspiring when I was sitting on the couch watching all the Atlanta Falcons jam to it on the bus. When I have to move to it, it seems oppressive.

We the Kings keep yelling at me to "Run, Baby, Run," which I do, but I can't figure out why they keep calling me Juliet.

Adam Lambert's apparently got a thing for me because he said if he had me that would be the only thing he'd ever need. I'm confused, though, because I didn't think I was his type. I am considering wearing my hair like his for the race, though. What do you think?

Usher and I both sing OMG when I'm on the treadmill, but my version is definitely not "Oh My Gosh."

By the end of my 45 minute workout, Nirvana thinks it "Smells Like Teen Spirit." Hmmm, is that what you call it?

So that's what I think about on the treadmill. Is that weird?

A New Journey

Today I came to the end of one road and started down another. I received my first Copaxone injection. I have spent nine years finding every excuse and reason in the book not to start taking the daily injections for my MS. Don't ask me why. I'm not even sure--fear, denial, vanity. Pick a reason.

I'll be honest, I'm still not happy or at peace with this. Can I do this? Hell yeah. Do I want to? Absolutely not. For some reason, even after all this time, I just can't seem to master that whole acceptance thing. But I will keep trying. I am a work in progress. And that is exactly why I have taken this next step.

In the wise words of Rafiki from the Lion King: "It is time."

Here We Go

My first injection was not as bad as I had imagined. That's not to say it wasn't overwhelming, though. My head is still swimming with all the instructions: Find the injection site and don't forget to rotate the sites, remember all the steps to prepare the AutoEject, apply a warm compress for five minutes beforehand, apply ice afterward if I bleed or bruise, let the alcohol dry before adminstering the shot, remember to log where and when I gave myself the shots, find a safe place for meds and container for needle disposal, and on and on. By the time the nurse left my head hurt worse than my injection site. Luckily, I had Mark by my side helping me along. He really is my prince.

He always tells me to look at everything as a new adventure. Well, let the adventure begin.

In time I know everything I learned today will become second nature and at some point I will find peace with this journey. For now I'm taking it day by day.

Suburban Crack

Hi. My name is Susan, and I am an addict. My friends and family are well aware of my addiction. It is one I have tried to tackle numerous times, but to no avail. I am addicted to fountain Pepsi. I hear report after report about the rising drug problem in the suburbs, but never do I see my own addiction addressed, which is sad.

I suspect my addiction has its roots in years of watching my mom drink Diet Pepsi for breakfast. (Luckily she conquered her Diet Pepsi demon years ago.) My sister has also fallen victim to the disease. Mountain Dew is her fountain drink of choice.

Think I'm kidding? Ask me how much a fountain pop costs at any of the fast-food restaurants that serve Pepsi products. Ask me which one has the best syrup-carbonation ratio, resulting in the best tasting beverage. Ask me the name of the workers at my local Taco Bell. I'm not kidding, I can answer all of those questions.

Oh, and I am a bit of an elitist. I only drink gas station fountain pop (yes, we say "pop" not "soda" here in Cincinnati) on holidays--when all the restaurants are closed--and in the early morning to stave off a caffeine headache.

In typical junkie fashion, I even rotate the restaurants I frequent to hide the depths of my addiction, which now that I write that makes no sense because the only people I'm hiding it from are the workers, who really don't care. Anyway.

What's that you say? Fountain pop is not an addiction. Really? Well then why is it I catch so much flack from people for drinking it?

It's bad for my health? I know. But aparently so is peanut butter and everything else I eat and drink. And I already have lesions on my brain anyway.

So if you happen to ever see me in the drive thru please don't judge. We all have our issues.

The "F" Word

Fatigue, people, I mean fatigue. But for me--and others with MS--it's probably a worse word than the one you originally thought I meant. (Come on, don't deny it. That's what first popped in your head.)

Fatigue has been my biggest nemesis since I was diagnosed with MS. The other night I tried to explain it to my son by saying that when I get up in the morning--after eight or more hours of sleep--it feels like I never went to bed. I hate it.

The last time I went to my neurologist, I asked him how to battle the fatigue.

"Exercise," he said.

Excuse me? I thought, resisting the urge to flip him off. Maybe he didn't hear me say that I find the fatigue almost debilitating. I rephrased the question.

"When I wake up in the morning and feel like I've been hit by a loaded semi before I even get out of bed, how do you suggest I proceed?"

"Get some exercise."

Seriously? What is wrong with this guy? Mark grabbed my hand--this time before either my middle finger or my fist were extended.

I left the office in a huff. On the ride home, Mark, being the ever practical voice of reason, took an enormous risk and sided with the doctor.

"Maybe you should try to exercise and see how it makes you feel."

Not one to like admitting when I'm wrong--who does?--I dug in my heels. What do they know about how I feel? It's easy for them to offer suggestions.

A New Chapter

Fast forward to about a month ago to when I was told to start the shots, when I was emotionally and physically broken down, when I needed something--anything--to keep me moving forward. That's when I discovered this and things changed.

I started this blog, laced up my gym shoes and began charting a course for this next chapter in my life. It all came into focus this past week.

I did something that I haven't done in a very long time. With Mark out of town and me and the kids off for President's Day, I took the kids shopping--for a good part of the day. That was after I got up in the morning, walked for 30 minutes on the treadmill and then cleaned the house.

Now to most of you that may seem like whoop dee doo, big deal, I do that kind of stuff all the time. For me it was huge. It was the first time in I can't remember how long I actually had the energy to do something with my kids without hitting a wall halfway through the day or snapping at them because I was so exhausted. And it's happening more and more. I get up quicker, stay up longer, laugh more, have more fun, snap less and feel better.

So I will now publicly and begrudgingly admit to my neurologist and husband that I was wrong. (Take note, this will not happen often.) You were right. I've never felt better.

Multi-tasking Momma

One of the most important tasks of being a mom is the ability to multi-task. And I've discovered that adding exercise to my daily regimen only compounds that. So here is a list of five things I have done while exercising in the last week:

1) Write blog posts. I can honestly say most everything I have ever written has been mostly composed in the shower, lying in bed at night or while doing something else--like walking. It is both exhilirating and maddening to have ideas constantly popping into your head when you usually don't have any way of writing them down.

2) Mediate arguments. Apparently walking really fast on a noisy treadmill with earphones in is not a good enough indicator to my children that I am not available to determine who started the fight, who was wronged or who should be punished. I'm busy. Go find your dad.

3) Button jeans. Yes, despite all my balance issues as detailed in this post, I managed to button my daughter's pants the other day--while still on the treadmill--when she asked me to help her. This was in spite of all the above mentioned indicators that I really was not available to do such a task.

4) Start my 2011 Christmas list. My treadmill faces my overflowing craft shelf, so I am constantly staring at all the possible craft projects and gifts I can make to give to people for Christmas. Bonus: By transforming all the supplies on the shelves into great gifts, I will be also cleaning up the basement. The ultimate in multi-tasking.

5) Orchestrate lunch. Next to my craft shelf is our pantry. On more than one occasion I have witnessed one or all of my children stand in front of it and ask what they can have for lunch. Apparently I have a better viewpoint of what we have perched high atop the treadmill in addition to being able to read their mind as to what they want to eat.

Me and My Workout Buddy

This morning I went looking for a jogging stroller to help with my balance when I walk outside. No luck. So until I find one I have decided that it is probably best for all if I continue on with my walking regiment in my ghetto workout area in our basement.

Now I've seen some pretty swanky workout rooms in people's basements--not mine. No, my workout room is tucked in the corner of our laundry room next to the furnace and hot water heater. Pretty nice, huh?

And this is my workout buddy. Hopefully I'll be able to get my stroller soon and the weather will stay nice so I can leave the basement--and find a better class of workout companions, preferably ones with two legs.

Houston, We Have a Problem

The weather was beautiful here in Cincy today, so I thought I'd take full advantage of it and head outside for some exercise. After dinner at my parents I helped Mark load the kids in the van, turned on my IPod and headed out for the 1.8 mile walk home.

I got about .3 miles before I realized there was a problem. See, MS affects your balance. When you walk on the treadmill there are those nice handrails you can grab onto when necessary. Not so out in the great wide open. I tried to maintain a decent pace, but the faster I walked the more off balance I became. Luckily it was dark, so no one could see me weaving all over the sidewalk like I'd been on an all-day bender.

Halfway home I started to cry. "This is so embarrassing. I look like a fool."

Three-quarters of the way home I got mad. "Damnit, why won't my body work like I want it to?" And then I pushed on. I was going to do this. I need to do this, I told myself.

When I got home, I did what I usually do when I'm not feeling so hot--I fell into Mark's arms. He always seems to know just what to say.

"Give it time," he said. "You're just starting. Your body needs to get used to it." (He then threatened to call the cops on me the next time to report a lady who was obviously intoxicated. Thanks, dear.)

In the meantime, I have to come up with a plan of action so I don't run the risk of being picked up by the po po every time I go out for a walk. I have a walking stick that my in-laws bought me last time we were in Gatlinburg, but somehow I don't think the mean streets of Delhi are the appropriate venue for using it.

So while I'm figuring out my plan, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't point, stare, laugh or call the cops if you drive by me. I'd rather you just honk or wave and wish me luck.

Musical Inspiration

As I mentioned in a previous post, my goal is to run the Disney Princess Half Marathon next February. So now it's time to get down to business--important business. Like what music should I put on my IPod for such an endeavor?

Of course, being a girl of the '80s, I've got my fair share of MC Hammer, TLC, Beastie Boys and Rob Base on there. I've also got some AC/DC and Van Halen.

But it's certainly not enough music to carry me for half a marathon. Any suggestions for some really good running/workout/get you revved up songs?

The True Meaning of Love

I could write a long blog post about what I think love truly means, but I don't think anything I could write would sum up love better than this picture. I hope everyone has a wonderful Valentine's Day, surrounded by those they love.

Off and Running

In two weeks, women are going to be lining up very early in Magic Kingdom getting ready to run--mothers and daughters, sisters, friends. They're not going to be running to be the first on Haunted Mansion. They're going to be running in the Disney Princess Half Marathon. God willing, next year I will be one of them.

I know, I know. I'm not a runner. In fact I don't do much of any type of exercising these days. I am one of the people for who those couch-to-marathon programs were invented. So what do I know about running a half marathon? To answer that question, "Absolutely nothing." But I need this.

In the next couple weeks I will be starting my Copaxone shots in the next step toward battling my MS. And while I know it is the right thing to do to treat my disease, it's still scary as hell. To say I've been a little bit bummed is an understatement. And then I found this link when I was researching this year's summer vacation to Disney.

I LOVE Disney. I've loved it since the first time I saw my kid's eyes light up when they saw Cinderella's castle. I wrote about that experience here. So what better place than the Most Magical Place on Earth, I thought, than to take on this challenge that will probably leave me broken and vomiting at the end? But I can wear Mickey ears or a Tinkerbelle costume while I'm doing it. How cool it that?

That is if I even make it that far. I'm just hoping I don't get picked up on the first mile by the running police who determine I'm not keeping up my promise of a 16 minute mile and whisk me off to the finish line. Still, would that be so bad? I'll still be in Disney. But I digress.

I'm going to be blogging about this journey to keep myself accountable--and, quite frankly, to make you all feel better about yourselves when you read how horribly out of shape and unfit I am. I hope you'll all come along for the run.

Let's Start at the Very Beginning

“Beginnings are scary, endings are usually sad, but it’s the middle that counts the most.”

That line from the movie Hope Floats pretty much sums up my view of life. Well, this blog is about all that middle stuff.

And if you’re wondering about the name of this blog? Well, let me explain a little. I’m a mom of four. I work a second full-time job outside the home…oh, and, by the way, I happen to have MS. Know what one of the most common symptoms of MS is? Fatigue. Add that to my kids and job and you get why I’m tired—all the time.

If you care to read about my MS journey up to this point, you can read it here.

This blog is about everything that's happened since I wrote that and everything that lies ahead. I started this blog because one, I’m a writer, and that’s what I do, and two, because it’s a lot cheaper than therapy.

So I hope you’ll join me on this journey--on the days when I find enough energy to blog.