Be Who You Are

Posted on July 29, 2020 by PattyRan

Be who you are, and don’t let someone else try to change you.

I wear multiple professional hats. I’m a coach, a realtor, and while living in Montauk, NY I also work in the restaurant industry. Currently I work at a restaurant an average 45 hours over 6 days per week and I track about 6.5 miles of walking per shift. Oh, and I also manage my Airbnb, which means that every week I clean and prepare for new guests. To say that I have time to do my normal workout routine of swim, bike, and run, would be a gross overstatement. I fit in what I can when my 60+ year old body allows. I love the pace of my life and the variety of things that I choose to do. You might find me on my computer at midnight constructing athlete schedules and reading logs. Or at 5am, preparing sale documents and repair negotiations for the properties I currently have under contract.

Three years ago I took a gamble and made a life changing decision to move my home base to NY. By the grace of God, the cooperation of a stellar business partner, and the most amazing clients in the world, I am able to successfully manage real estate sales in Portland, and keep my business going.

In the past year I have become a Certified Personal Trainer, in addition to my Running, Swimming, and Triathlon Certifications. I have taught group swim clinics around the US and in Canada as well.

Recently, someone I know called me lazy on FB. Here are the quotes aimed at me: “Sadly so many like yourself chose not to work hard” “You used to be a hard motivated worker” “please educate me with your vast knowledge of running a business.” I have thought about these words a lot.

Another person called me “Ignorant personified” “hypocritical”, and that I think the “world revolves around me” in one of three rabid emails after I blocked him on FB for saying horrible and untrue statements about me and my family.

This morning I went for a short run around the lake in front of my house. I felt energized and blissfully happy! I had no particular goal or focus for this run, other than to enjoy the slight cloud cover and the ocean breeze. To be able to live in the moment of this run was a bit out of the ordinary for me, because I am an extreme planner. GOALS,GOALS,GOALS!

During my run, the cruel (and completely false) words thrown at me by the two men came to mind. I got angry all over again. I am constantly telling my athletes that they have to “run their own race”, “don’t compare yourself to other people”, etc. I realized that these two people who happen to be men I’ve known for a long time, obviously didn’t agree that I should be who I am.

We all ride this giant ball around the sun together. There is beauty and there is ugliness. I’m an empath and an adventurer. It took me almost 55 years to shed some layers of damage and emerge to discover who I was as a woman. Those layers continue to break away and despite huge private challenges, I am absolutely in love with the woman that is emerging. I have energy, I have a family that gives me breath and love, and I have a body that is strong and resilient. If you can’t handle that, then bye bye. Nobody in this world has the right to demean other people for your own personal gain.

My message to anyone that cares to listen is this. Stop listening to the negative. Stop letting people bully you. Shut out the noise. Be vulnerable to yourself. Cling to your family. (Disclaimer-if you have a toxic family situation, this does not apply. Please find help) Spend time in quiet reflection. Ask your self ALL the questions. Allow fear to emerge. Find ways to tackle that fear. LAUGH AT YOURSELF. Get outside every day. Get in nature as often as possible. Sing. Stretch. Breathe. Reach out and tell someone your dreams. Listen to someone else’s dreams and fears. Be authentic. Look people square in the eye. Stand up tall. Believe in yourself and your journey. Get help to do the things you’ve always dreamed.

And for Heaven’s sake, if and when someone talks down to you, or belittles DON’T TAKE IT.

I Lied About Covid-19

Posted on July 13, 2020 by PattyRan

Today marks 3 months since I considered myself “recovered from Covid-19”. But I am still not fully recovered. And here’s the truth. I lied about it. I’ve come to terms with the lie, and I know why I did it.

Oh, I don’t mean that I lied about HAVING the virus. I mean I lied about how it affected me. Surprised? Well if you follow me, know me, or are related to me, you might be able to figure it out.

Let’s face it. I’m a survivor. I’ve survived two near death head on car collisions. Two failed marriages. A huge financial loss. An Auto Immune Disease. An almost catastrophic health crisis in 2016. A 3,000 mile, cross country solo move in 2017. I’m a self professed Warrior Woman. A Honey Badger. “I don’t give a shit”, right? Well I’m also a motivator, caretaker, and empath. When I took a career evaluating personality test 25 years ago, the analyzer told me that I required multiple outlets of significance. That’s me! “Squirrel!” Where’s the next humungous challenge?

People applaud my strength, my tenacity, bravery, adventurous spirit, and fearlessness. I do too. I wear my accomplishments like badges. They hold me up and I can look to them when I feel vulnerable and weak, and they help me face another day.

But I lied about Covid. To my family. To my friends. To myself. I wanted so badly NOT to be a weak, vulnerable, sick person, that I downplayed it. I posted videos on social media, pretending all was well. I brushed it off as being allergies, or a sinus infection. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me. I didn’t want the attention. I wanted to be inspirational and motivating during the self quarantine. It worked for a while. People liked my videos and message. I felt a responsibility to hold my followers and family up while everyone was scared, bored, frustrated, and lonely. Until I couldn’t.

But the truth is, I was more sick than I admitted. And that made me angry, frustrated, and very frightened. I just didn’t want to admit it.

I’m the only one that I know of in my entire extended family that contracted the virus. My family is spread out in over 7 states. Each state has its own Covid numbers and stages of infection. Nobody knows where this thing is going and I’m concerned about losing a loved one.

I downplayed my illness because I have to be the rock. I’m the one that holds everything together. I can’t let anyone see the cracks. Let me tell you the truth and you will know why I will continue to lobby for masks, social distancing, and yes, even closures when it is necessary.

I wouldn’t wish this virus on another human being. I have children and grandchildren that give my life meaning, and if any of them got this virus, I actually don’t know what I would do. I was lucky. I was never hospitalized. Had I driven the 40 or so miles to the nearest hospital, however, I have no doubt that they would have admitted me. While I told my kids and siblings that I was miserable but fine, I was really terrified that I was going to die. During the throws of the high fever days-about a week, the misery I experienced caused me not to care whether I lived or died. I’m talking abut losing the will to live because the pain was so intense. With all I have been through, this was the first time I have experienced this sensation. I DIDN’T CARE IF I DIED.

Of course, the thing that kept those thoughts from fully surfacing was the all consuming love I have for my family. I truly credit them for giving me the strength to overcome this beast. I spent 17 days in Hell before there was any steady relief. Almost 10 of them were mostly in bed, except for the fact that I had 3 dogs that needed to be taken outside. The effort it took to get out of bed and walk out the door resulted in collapsing in bed for 3-4 hours of painful sleep. I was in so much pain, it felt like my bones were breaking. Breaking over and over again for almost a week. That kind of pain, where the skin on your abdomen screams for the mere fact that your shirt happens to be touching it, is indescribable. My cough was dry, constant, and rib rattling. It lasted a month. I pulled muscles from coughing. Each cough set my headache through the roof.

I experienced confusion to the point that I couldn’t watch TV, eat, read, or function. I was alone and didn’t eat for 5 days. I lost all desire to eat or drink anything, all the while experiencing incredible thirst. There was a metallic taste in my mouth and I was nauseous to the point of vomiting several times. The severe lower GI stress lasted 5 days. The headache and fever were fierce and relentless. I’d put the blanket over my eyes and stay as still as possible, hoping that would give me some relief. No amount of rest or Tylenol helped. In the midst of this, I also developed a sinus infection. My doctor called in a prescription, which took 8 days to give me relief. I forced myself to eat broth when I started taking the antibiotics, so that I wouldn’t have the side effects that are common with those meds.

The recovery began at day 17. It was slow. The cough lingered for another 2 weeks. The confusion- a little longer. My lungs are still not operating at capacity. I’m a multi marathon runner, Ironman, and distance swimmer. I can still barely run 4-5 miles or swim more than around 900 yards. I’m gasping for air after each 100 yard easy swim. THREE MONTHS LATER. I’m taking great care of myself these days and getting as much sleep as I can.

The lesson for me is that my ego is not bigger than this virus. It defeated me for while, even though I denied it the whole time. I lied about it. I’m not lying now. I was scared and afraid to go to sleep at night. I pray no one in my family gets this monster. When people talk about the relative low percentage of deaths, I wonder, what the heck is wrong with them? Are they forgetting about the one’s that have to live through it? Do people like me, or God forbid the unfortunate one’s that are put on ventilators, lose limbs, need dialysis, go blind, or any of the myriad other horrible effects matter? This is not an “all or nothing” virus. It is a cruel, ugly bastard that can take a healthy human being of any age, and completely ruin their life.

So when you mock me on social media and call me a “sheep” because I wear a mask in public, I don’t care. When I anger you because I push for mass testing, social distancing, and smart practices, now you know my motivation. Call me any name you want. I actually care about your health. I care about mine and my family’s. Wear the damned mask. Stop arguing with business owners who ask you to wear one. You have no idea who is vulnerable-and it could be YOU.

Would You Like to Talk to Mom?

Posted on September 1, 2019 by PattyRan

There are subtle changes and then there are transitions. I call my folks just about every week at least once, and we catch up on the mundane and the milestones of life. In the past few years as mom’s Alzheimers has progressed, I call my dad. Mom’s cell phone was cancelled a few years ago. After chatting for how ever long we like, my dad always asks, “Would you like to talk to mom?”.

Until yesterday.

I called dad to wish him a happy birthday, knowing that he was preparing for hurricane Dorian. He is in his mid 80’s and the last thing he should be doing is installing hurricane shutters on his double wide, but that’s what he was doing. His normally strong, confident, baritone voice has taken on a slightly shaky, weaker, more defeated edge these days. He sounded tired. He sounded sad. He sounded worn out and fed up.

How do you wish a man a “HAPPY” birthday when his wife of over 62 years doesn’t recognize him, has become mean towards him, doesn’t bathe, doesn’t know how to take care of herself, and often won’t let him out of her sight? She’s either calling out to him constantly, or she’s yelling “What are you doing here-get out-my brother is coming to get me!” This is Alzheimers. This is marriage. This is letting go of every perception of life as they’ve lived.

“Would you like to talk to mom?”

He has said that every single time I’ve spoken to him, every single week, for as long as I’ve lived apart from them. EVERY SINGLE TIME. Until yesterday.

The question is always followed by a brief silence and then I’d hear him say, “It’s your daughter Patty. Say hello”. Mom would get on the phone and in her always upbeat, joyous voice-where you can SEE her smile bright and beautiful, she’d say “HI DARLING! HOW ARE YOU?” And then the conversation would continue with the same scripted questions…where do you live? Are you working, etc. We stopped talking about anything real a long time ago. With the progression of her disease, I’ve navigated the narrowing path of conversation by following her lead. She hasn’t known who she is talking to for some time. But she always sounded happy to talk, and always ended the call with “When are you coming to visit?”. This made me sad because I couldn’t just pop over to see her whenever I’d like. Plane tickets, work, life…..

But yesterday hurt. Hurt like a baseball hitting my chest at 90 miles per hour. Hurt like a crushing, suffocating weight, preventing my lungs from working. Dad didn’t ask “Would you like to talk to mom?” For the first time ever. Was he just too tired to put on the charade anymore? He told me they have decided to put her in a facility. He just has to decide which one he can afford. It hit me. He didn’t ask the question. And for all those times when he DID ask, and I kind of dreaded the ensuing empty conversation, I wanted to SCREAM, “YES! I WANT TO TALK TO MOM!!!!” I want to talk to my mother. My funny, beautiful, Irish, laughing, singing, costume making, compulsive cleaning, daily church going, family loving, caring, nutty, baby loving, lasagna making, perfect penmanship, beach loving, fucking amazing MOM. I fucking want to talk to mom.

You Matter

Posted on January 29, 2019 by PattyRan

I recently started following Brandon Burchard, and am finding his books and podcasts to be a valuable source of inspiration and motivation. He has taught me three questions that I am now asking myself every day. Did I live? Did I love? Did I matter? I find that without some kind of daily self examination, I can drift through life without purpose and intent. My father would frame these questions differently. He would call it “Examining my conscience.” As athletes we might review our daily workout logs, look at our progress charts, do time trials, and check race data. Most everyone has some sort of evaluation system, whether it be personal or professional. Once in a while something happens that causes us to seek deeper meaning from our life experiences.

Tragedy struck this past weekend with the untimely death of someone close to my inner circle. This person fought the demons of depression and addiction for many years. The fight ended for her, but now the impact of her death is rippling through the community of people that knew and loved her. Did she live? Most definitely. Did she love? Yes, she did. Did she matter? Absolutely. So what happened? While we may never know the answer, as I grapple with the aftereffects. I have questions. I feel sadness. I feel anger. I feel compassion. I feel….I don’t know…

I find myself reflecting solidly on the third question: Did I matter? More importantly, I am wondering, did I make you feel like YOU matter? I have always made it a point to try and make someone smile everyday. I can’t remember when I started doing this, but it is a habit that is ingrained in me. Sure, I get some kind of gratification out of it; the recognition that I made someone feel good. But even more so, in these days where negativity rules our world and clogs our social media, our politics, our neighborhoods, and our news sources, I believe it is profoundly important to help people feel valued.

Did I make you feel like you mattered? I sure hope so, because you do matter. A lot.

Everything we do has an impact on the world. It’s been said that we never really appreciate something or someone , until we no longer have it, or them. People aren’t replace-able. EVERYONE has value. That smile you gave a random stranger might have been the only positive thing that happened to them today. When you praised that kid for their off-key flute performance, you might have started them on a life long love of music. When you high five’d the runner as he ran past you at that last race, you might have given them the strength to keep going when they didn’t think they could. When you gave moral support to someone going through a struggle, you might not know that years later, they credit you for keeping them going. That phone call you made to “just check in” with a friend or client might have come at a life saving moment. BE the person that makes those calls. KNOW that what you do in your life matters.

You matter to me. You matter to your friends. You matter to your families. You matter to your teachers. You matter to your co workers. You matter to your neighbors. You matter to your fellow athletes, to your classmates, to your baristas, to your clients, ,your Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Linkedin friends and contacts. You matter to your pets, your customers, your church. YOU FREAKING MATTER! Believe it.

Well, What Are Ya Gonna Do?

Posted on July 2, 2016 by PattyRan

My dogs look at me with distain every time I walk out the door without them. The huge (almost) floor to ceiling living room window frames them as they stare me down. It’s so pathetic, and while I love the living crap out of them, when they do this, I just think they are assholes. Trust me, they get lot’s of love, and lot’s of exercise.

This week, my workout gear, bike, and running shoes are harassing me even more than my dogs. There are 3 bikes in my house and every time I pass one, it hisses at me. My Cervelo may never speak to me again. I don’t even charge my Garmin anymore!

On Monday, June 27th, I had Endoscopic Sinus Surgery and a Septoplasty. After years of of debilitating sinus issues, and way too many round of antibiotics, I sought expert help to find a solution. It was only a few weeks ago that I got word that my septum was deviated, and my sinuses were anatomically deficient. Well ain’t life grand?

After the diagnosis, and consultation, I decided on the recommended surgery, but because of my Ironman Arizona training schedule, I either had to do it NOW, or wait until after November. Luckily, there was an opening and I grabbed it. Now, I may seem like a badass and all, but the idea of surgery up my schnoz, close to my BRAIN, didn’t give me giggles. At my pre-op consultation 3 days before the procedure, my doctor asked me if I was ready. “No. I will NEVER be ready.” was my answer. He cocked his head, a little surprised, and asked, “What will it take for you to be ready?” My exact answer was, “I will only show up if you can guarantee me that the minute I am admitted, they will hook me up to an IV, and give me some kind of happy juice.” He laughed, and said he would make sure.

Not exactly an Ironman bracelet

LIAR!!!! I checked into the hospital at the scheduled time, and after an hour delay, which I spent chewing off and spitting every fingernail , I was finally called in. They tell you not to wear lotion or deodorant before surgery. They may have regretted those instructions, once I polluted their sanitized air with my anxiety sweat stink.

My legs were shaking so hard, I had to hold them down.

I asked the nurse for my cocktail, and she looked at me like I belonged in the Psyche Ward. When she said there was no order for a sedative, I began shaking, screamed profanities, threw rubber gloves at her, and kicked the intern in the head. “PAGE DR SMITH NOW.” I took my gown and wrapped it around my head, climbed up on top of the computer table, and threatened to hang myself until they produced and anesthesiologist!

The page was sent, and my nurse, who undoubtedly had years of experience was so unsettled by my unearthly transformation, that she couldn’t get the IV in my arm, despite two tries. THAT’S TWO TRIES. Poking and twisting around inside my arm, while I held my non-sedated breath and called upon all that is holy to calm me down. I finally threw my shoes at her and bellowed, “I HAVE AN ANXIETY DISORDER!” She promptly left the room and sent in an older male nurse who most likely served on the front lines under General Patton. This guy zero’d in on my feral eyes, grabbed my other arm and said, “How about this arm?” With my best Lagertha Lothbrok stare, I told him, “Get it done.” Fearing for his life, he shoved that needle into the back of my hand, set the IV, and disappeared in seconds. A third attendee arrived and pushed the sweet “Mother’s Milk” into the tubing, and finally, the puffy, soft clouds and winged fairies floated into the room.

Who doesn’t like a nifty accessory?

The surgery went according to plan, and within a few hours, I was home, babbling non stop about everything and nothing, (a side effect of general anesthesia) and my darling friend Lauren settled me in and quietly escaped. I was so hopped up on whatever the hell they gave me, that I wandered around the house for several hours, slowly picking up stuff, doing laundry, and cleaning the bathrooms. Mind you, I was supposed to go to bed right away. Yeah, sure, like that was going to happen.

The first few nights I “slept” on the couch. There really wasn’t much sleep involved, because my head was so stuffed up, I couldn’t breathe through my nose.

I had the best nurses to tuck me in for naps

A parting gift! I discovered this the day after surgery, when I took a shower.

Post op instructions called for complete rest for a few days, no lifting, or exertion for 7, and no working out at all for at least 14 days. Here’s how it went:

Day 1: Cleaned house, did yard work. (VERY slowly, mind you, with no bending over!)

Day 2: Met clients and gave keys to their new house. Went shopping at 4 different discount stores, and Home Depot, to buy stuff for the back yard and garden. Napped.

Day 3: More shopping, a walk, several hours working in the back yard. Showered with the dogs. Stopped in at the running store’s Thursday night beer run, to support the cause. Napped.

Day 4: A 2 mile walk to my office with the dogs, an hour or so of work, and another 2 mile walk home.

I have no pain, only discomfort. I’m not allowed to blow my nose and sneezing has taken on a whole new meaning. I am keeping my heart rate down as best as I can, and following the antibiotic and sinus rinse prescription. I refused to take the Prednisone they gave me, so that was a waste of money.

The fact that I am only on day 4 of a 14 day work out restriction gives me cause to panic. I am seriously not cut out for the sedentary life. When the Hell did that happen? My mind has the energy of a 10 year old with hypertension, and my body needs the rest, or at least a short nap. I crave a run in the forest.

For now, I have to feed the beast with small household projects and blogging. Well, rehabbing from an injury is why I started this blog, back in 2013. I guess this is just one more episode of life getting in the way. If you see me around town this next week, with wild eyes, and bad hair, clenching my teeth, you’ll know I am once again, runninginmuck!

I love that you chose to visit here and read my posts. I hope you can tell the difference between truth and fiction. HA!

What a Panic

Posted on June 8, 2016 by PattyRan

Do you remember as a kid saying things like, “That was a panic!” Or, “What a panic!” when you and your friends had a crazy, fun, spaztastic time? I’m talking about those times when you laughed so hard, snot came out your nose, and maybe you accidentally peed your pants? I’m not sure of the origin of this expression, and I don’t recall how old I was when I stopped using it. It came to mind recently, though, for reasons that weren’t too funny.

If you are familiar with my blog, you know that I started writing when I was rehabbing from a nasty foot injury, caused by (ignorantly) overtraining for my first marathon. (Read about that here.) You would have learned about my injuries, diseases, allergies, asthma, and other obstacles that I regularly deal with in my life and in my athletic training. I have dedicated countless hours to learning how to overcome these challenges, by studying the science of exercise, nutrition, training, hypnosis, and meditation, all in an effort to not only help MYSELF, but to arm myself with the tools I needed to coach others in the running and triathlon community.

Very proud to have earned this certification

Lots of my friends and fans believe I have it all together. Flattering, but come on, do you really believe that anybody has it ALL together? No way; some of us simply master the skills of making it look that way.

Training for any athletic competition takes dedication, time, discipline, and perseverance. Throw obstacles in the way, and there are ALWAYS obstacles, and the athlete has to find a way to overcome them. For me, the three main obstacles I am faced with are: allergies, asthma, and blisters on my right foot. OK, no biggie- there are things I can use to treat these, right? Well, not so simple. Regular use of most allergy medicines has been linked to early onset Dementia and Alzheimers. Flonase is linked to Cataracts- and I have the start of one in my left eye from long term use! Blisters? Well, I continue to try just about everything out there….

During my Ironman training in 2015, I suffered from severe seasonal allergy symptoms, which put a serious strain on my running training. I found myself getting asthma attacks while training out doors all Spring and into mid Summer. I’m talking stop-in-my-tracks-bent-over-gasping-for-air-to-the-point-of-almost-passing-out attacks. Consequently, my long distance running abilities suffered. After long training bike rides, I would often end up with my eyes swollen , red, and itchy, and three times wound up with sinus infections. (That’s another story that is unfolding as we speak)

Bound and determined NOT to suffer the same ill fated training season this year, I decided to get a complete physical, and bring my entire list of complaints to my doctor and see what she recommended. While I do have allergies, and exercise induced asthma, it turns out that the biggest surprise diagnosis is PANIC ATTACKS. What? Yeah, those ATTACKS I kept having where I start wheezing, gasping for air, getting hysterical, and nearly fainting? Panic attacks. They start out like asthma symptoms, but quickly morph into the most terrifying, heart palpitating, can’t breath, throat closed, “fear of imminent death” panic attacks. I can’t describe the absolute all encompassing primal terror that I experience during these attacks. They can last for minutes or hours, and the severity of them can bring me to my knees. Both my boyfriend and my coach have witnessed the episodes, while we ran together, and now we know what is actually happening.

I have had these attacks a few times in my past. I remember having one on an airplane flying home from China. It was like the plane was closing in and suffocating me, and I was completely helpless to survive another minute. I hyperventilated, and death-gripped the tray table in front of me, all the while struggling to suppress a guttural scream. Another time was in an elevator in Denver, and a few times while driving in Portland. The driving one’s prompted me to seek medical attention immediately, fearing I was having a heart attack. BUT, these were all years ago and so much in my life has changed since then. I am healthier, happier, and stronger. So what the heck???

This past weekend, it happened again, and it came out of nowhere, at a time that I never would have guessed. It started in the swim portion of the Pine Hollow Triathlon, after warming up for several minutes in the crystal clear, comfortable water, in the most peaceful, serene setting.

I started swimming competitively in Kindergarten. In open water in the Long Island Sound. With jelly fish, and seaweed. I am not afraid of swimming in open water, like many people. So, after my first few strokes that morning, when I started hyperventilating, and wheezing, I was caught completely off guard. The intense panic set in suddenly, and in less than a minute after the start, I rolled over onto my back, and briefly thought about quitting. I was terrified, gasping for air, and confused-desperate, more like, and frantically tried to find relief. I did a few breast strokes to try and keep myself afloat, and summoned every ounce of my will to move forward and continue the swim. I know how to swim; I know how to make myself relax in the water. I know ALL the tricks. Nothing worked. I swam, trying to breath every stroke, all the while fearing that I couldn’t get enough air. I sighted the red buoy that marked the turn around point, and it never seemed to get any closer. I felt my wetsuit crushing my neck, my chest, and my shoulders. The breaths I took sounded like screams. I prayed that it would end. 850 yards. Just under 16 minutes. No relief. When I exited the water, I was dizzy from hyperventilating, and in an agitated state. I don’t remember much of the run-or walk, I should say, to my bike. I got out of the wetsuit, got my shoes, glasses and helmet on, and took off. The bike course was hilly and I never caught my breath. This aepisode lasted until the 9th mile, when it fizzled. The rest of the race was more brutal because it was 91 degrees with no shade, and the 4 mile run, was on a technical trail with lots of gravel, steep hills, downed trees to climb over, and my body was spent. Here’s the funny part. In all my hysteria, I managed to be the 2nd overall female finisher, and 1st in my age group.

2nd place finisher

There you go. I couldn’t believe it.

SO! I am learning to identify the warning signs. I have started to take proactive actions when my body starts spiraling. I now have medication for the times when it comes on suddenly, and I need the help. Thankfully, I do NOT need daily medication, as many people with anxiety disorders require. (Been there, done that, thank you very much) I also have a new app on my phone called Calm that reminds me every day when to meditate, and guides me through a 5-10 minute relaxing meditation.

Strangely enough, I am more excited about this diagnosis, that you would think. Up until now, I thought that I was powerless to the negative effects my seasonal allergies had on me, and doubted the benefit of my Albuterol Inhaler. I felt doomed to suffer and fight through every Spring and Summer. Now, however, I know there is something I can do to fight this thing and hopefully become equipped to defeat it! I am not powerless to this challenge anymore! This past weekend gave me the chance to test it, and once again, I was able to power through.

IF you suffer from anxiety disorders, please get help. Talk to your doctor. Meditate. Do yoga. Equip yourself with tools to get you through it. I have a lot to learn, and hope to beat this.

A Weekend in Phoenix (With a Health Scare)

Posted on November 20, 2015 by PattyRan

If you have followed my blog, you know that I planned to compete in Ironman Arizona 2016. IMAZ registration, like many IM races usually sells out within minutes of opening, but if you volunteer, you get a guaranteed spot at early registration. I signed up to volunteer this year. Jeff was doing THIS year’s race, and I wanted to be there to support him. Phoenix is where Jeff’s business partner, and my coach lives, so we all planned on spending time together. I was scheduled to fly in Saturday, volunteer Sunday, register Monday morning, and fly out that night. Jeff would be there for a week, to also conduct some business.

I arrived excited about the race, but also excited about visiting my alma mater, ASU. The hotel where we stayed was just a few blocks from campus. Jeff and I met at the hotel, walked down to the athlete’s village, enjoyed seeing people we knew, and checked out the vendors. Then we went back to the hotel so he could rest and make final preparations for his race. It was fun NOT competing, and watching someone else stress out for a change. Pre race jitters are normal!

We had a nice dinner with team mate Jerry and went to bed early, after setting the alarm for 4am. Jeff woke up at 3:30 and quietly got ready. We left the hotel around 5am. It was chilly-in the low 50’s and the water temperature promised to be in the low 60’s. The forecast was for mid 60’s and possibly a shower or two starting around 7pm. Perfect racing weather! Jeff checked in and put on his timing chip.

Ready to go

Before we knew it, they called for the athletes to line up. 2600+ wetsuit clad people headed for the swim start, and we said our final “good luck’s” and exchanged hugs and kisses.

Seconds before the start and ready to crush it.

Once Jeff got in the water, SheriAnne, two of her kids, Jerry, and I went to the hospitality tent for some breakfast. Jeff hoped to complete the swim in 1:40. At about 1:15, we all walked over to the bike area, where we could watch cyclists start their 112 miles, AND see swimmers enter the transition area. It was colder now, a little windy, and threatened to rain. We cheered on the cyclists and chatted happily, waiting to see Jeff running to transition. Once his “planned” finish time past, we started getting nervous. Ironman allows 2:20 to complete the swim or you get your timing chip taken from you, and you are listed as a DNF. (Did not finish) I couldn’t believe we hadn’t seen Jeff at the 2:00 mark. By 2:10, I ran to see if his bike was still in the transition area, thinking we might have missed him. Sadly, it was still there. My heart sank. How was this possible? A few more minutes and the cut off time passed. Jeff didn’t make it. Now I was worried. We all were. We went over to the swim exit in time to hear his name called as being one of the last to exit the water. He looked horrible. SheriAnne said he was pissed, but I saw something else. His face had a grayish black pallor. When he met up with us outside of transition, he explained what happened.

Upon entering the lake, and feeling fine, he swam out to the open water and started swimming steadily. 800 yards later, his heart rate suddenly spiked and he couldn’t breath. His chest felt constricted. He flipped over onto his back to rest for several minutes, and try to calm things down. He settled finally and tried swimming again, and made it to the turn around with plenty of time to finish. When he had 300 yards to go, it happened again. Vertigo, nausea, difficulty breathing. He had to stop again, and get under control. Finally, he was able to finish and exit the water. He was more angry than I’ve ever seen, and “humiliated” in his words.

After a few minutes of rest, he started feeling horrible again. He managed to get to a trash can before spilling the contents of his stomach. His dizziness continued and we stayed in the park for several more minutes. Once he felt well enough to stand, we went back to the hotel, he showered, and decided to try and eat. After lunch, he mentioned that he still felt dizzy, his chest was tight, and he had tingling in both arms. I text my daughters, (both nurses) and they recommended that he return to the medical tent to get checked out. Once in the tent, after taking Jeff’s history (which included his current stage 4 Prostate cancer) they determined he needed to go straight to the hospital.

Getting checked out by the medical volunteers

Off to the hospital with a thumbs up from SheriAnne

He wouldn’t let me come with him and insisted that I go ahead and do my 5 hours of volunteering. SheriAnne followed in her car and promised updates.

By the time I got to my station-the run “Special Needs” area, the rain was coming down in sheets.

We wore black lawn and leaf bags for most of the day.

I spent the next several hours texting with SheriAnne as I helped runners try not to freeze to death. The rain was relentless and I saw numerous cases of hypothermia. Those poor people!

Jeff was tested for arterial blockage and the levels of Troponin were significant enough to require him to stay overnight for further observation. I called the airline and changed my flight.

Bright and early Monday morning, after ZERO sleep the night before, I arrived at the registration tent and paid the $740 to register for 2016!

Oh boy, here I go again

While waiting for the new tests, I needed to burn off some steam, so I went for a run around ASU. Wow, it sure has changed in 35 years.

I hardly recognized anything!

I did, however find the apartment building that my cousin and I lived in while we were there. Oh, the memories!

3rd floor balcony.

By mid day, SheriAnne picked me up and we went to see how Jeff was doing. He had just been taken in to have an Echocardiogram, and an Angiogram. After several excruciating hours, they came out and told us that he had 2 arterial blockages, but not so badly blocked to require a stent. He would go on medication and need to follow up with a Cardiologist when we got home. WHEW! They released him at 7pm, with instructions to rest for a few days and follow whatever the Cardiologist prescribed.

OUT OF HERE!

We had separate flights but both were home safe and sound by 6pm. We were exhausted, cold, and needed to decompress significantly. Jeff was sore from the wrist to the shoulder, due to the Angiogram, and that lasted 2 days. He is waiting to find a Cardiologist that will accept him as a patient.

The lesson here is, once again, it doesn’t matter who you are, how healthy a lifestyle you live, you are still at risk for illness. We don’t exactly know whether Jeff had a real heart attack or not. What we do know is that he did have subtle symptoms in the past few months. Some shortness of breath. (“Of course I’m winded, I’m running uphill.”) Some unexplained coughing at night (“It’s just a left over cough from my cold.”) Some stiffness in the neck (“Body aches are part of my Cancer medicine side effects.”) Some dizziness (“Again, I’m working out hard! I’m Ironman training.”) Simple, subtle symptoms that most athletes have at one time or another. Even the doctors don’t give us stress tests, because they don’t work.

My advice is to be aware of ANY changes you experience in your health. No matter what your age, you can have latent issues just waiting to surface at any time. Please get regular check ups. Tell your doctor EVERYTHING, no matter how insignificant you think it might be.

I’ll be riding Jeff’s back until he has a follow up and a plan in place with a Cardiologist. I can be very persuasive.

Be healthy. Train smart. Have fun. Thanks for following my journey.

Ironman. It Happened. Part 1

Posted on October 3, 2015 by PattyRan

If you have been following my blog, you know that I have had some interesting hiccups leading up to Ironman Chattanooga. (Catch up here) The jinx continued as we prepared to ship our bikes. We contacted FedEx and made arrangements to have them pick up our boxes at the house in Montauk the day before we flew to Tennesee. We used my dad’s account number for convenience. When the driver hadn’t shown up in the given time frame, I got worried. Then my dad called and said he arrived at home, IN NEW HAMPSHIRE, to find a note from FedEx on his door, telling him that they had come by for a pick up. Oh boy! Now we were left with figuring out how to get the bikes shipped, and we were supposed to head into the city that night to stay with my daughter before going to LaGuardia early the next day. SCRAMBLE!!!

At the same time, I contacted the Jitney, to make reservations for an evening ride into Manhattan. I was told that there were no seats left on ANY of the buses that day. WHAT? Are you kidding me? Another reason to send me over the edge. The short answer to how we solved this last flurry of “oops’s” was this: We rescheduled FedEx, skipped the visit to my daughter’s, and reserved seats on the 4:15 am Jitney for the next morning. Oh, yeah, and there was a car that I also had to take to the local shop for repair to deal with as well. The day turned into a blur, but we managed to make it to the airport the next morning, with several hours to spare.

I found these at the airport. Thought about buying it for the race.

Arriving in Chattanooga, I was struck by how small the airport is. We quickly got our bags, and walked up to the Hertz counter, where the most delightful woman set us up with an SUV, gave up a free upgrade, and threw in a few other perks. The process was quick and easy, and we were on our way to the hotel. Jeff got us a room at a Residence Inn, so we could have a full kitchen. Eating the way you are used to is VERY important before a race, and we wanted to have full control over this detail. My bike was waiting for me when we arrived, and we piled everything into the room, and headed off to the Expo.

How much crap does one need?

Athlete check in was quick because the bulk of racers hadn’t arrived yet. We got some great swag too.

This is really going to happen!

My coach, SheriAnn was there, working a booth for NormaTech,, and I got to try the boots out for the first time. PURE HEAVEN. After checking out the vendors, we headed to the grocery store and then back to the hotel to unpack and settle in.

If you EVER get a chance to try these out, you will love them.

Friday we went back to the expo and it was raining. It was a soggy mess. Later we brought my bike to a shop to have them put it together and make sure everything was ready for the race. Jeff picked up the bike he was borrowing from a friend there, as well. Naturally, there had to be another “Uh oh”, as we discovered that the wedge that holds the bike seat in place was missing. As I got back in the car to drive back to the hotel, I was stunned. Kind of in a daze, actually, trying not to cry. Trying not to throw up. I hoped and prayed the entire drive that the wedge was somewhere in the bike box. To my extreme relief, it was. So, BACK to the shop I went, and within minutes, we wheeled our bikes out, and headed back to the hotel.

Saturday morning, the rain was pouring down, and while we intended to try out the river before Sunday’s race, I was not interested in doing so in the cool, crappy weather. I opted for a swim in the indoor hotel pool. We then drove to the Expo and checked our bikes and transition bags in,triple bagged because it was still raining. Mid day, we went to meet with the other athletes that also had partnered with Zero, the Prostate Cancer charity. We had a yummy lunch and shared our excitement and nerves, about the next day’s adventure. The rain had started to subside as we headed back to the hotel for the final preparations, and to rest.

It was inspiring to meet other athletes that raised money for the cause.

Within seconds of entering our room, Jeff said, “There’s a knock at the door.” I didn’t hear it, but went to the door anyway. I opened it, and nobody was there. I think I was about to tell him he was hearing things, when the knock came again. So I opened the door, and to my absolute and complete shock, my son Mike was standing at the door. All 6’5″, 200+ pounds of him: grinning from ear to ear. Behind him, were BOTH of my daughters, Dede and Audrey, all sporting huge smiles. I can’t tell you how surprised and completely happy that moment was for me. they had flown in from Minnesota, New York, and California! THIS was the best and most precious moment. Of course, I cried, and laughed, and hugged them tightly. WOW, they came to support me. I was over the moon. Once the shock wore off, we hung out and had fun, just being together.

THIS is how I still see them sometimes…

The “Kids” done growed up!

After the kids left, (LOL, kids. All adults, over 5’10”, with careers, and their own lives, and I still call them kids) we put the rest of our race nutrition together, and talked about our hopes for the next day. Mostly, I hoped it wouldn’t rain-at least until the run. When I went to bed that night, I felt nervous, scared, excited, and vulnerable, but most of all, I felt loved. We set the alarm for 3:15 and tried to get some sleep. Let’s just say that we didn’t need the alarm. Ironman Chattanooga, Patty’s coming to get you…..

Less Than One Week Until Ironman

Posted on September 22, 2015 by PattyRan

The past 9 months have come and gone. The work has been done. I am ready. That’s what my coach tells me. If you know me well, you won’t be surprised that I have moments where I doubt everything that I have done thus far to prepare for my first Ironman Triathlon. Every missed workout. (There haven’t been many) Every time I didn’t complete the entire planned workout as scheduled. (There HAVE been several) Every glass of wine, margarita, candy bar, bowl of ice cream, extra pat of butter…..I obsess just a bit over details. Me thinks I “overthink”.

What I AM celebrating, however, are the countless hours that I DID do the workouts. Since early this year, I have completed up to 12 workouts per week, sometimes exceeding 16 hours total. I’ve managed to do this while still maintaining my business, my health, and my sanity, although those close to me might disagree on the sanity part. I can recall many a time where, when working, I fell asleep at my desk, and nodded off during continuing education classes.I barely make it to 8PM every night without sneaking off to bed.

I am sure some of my real estate clients wondered why I sported dark circles under my eyes( from my goggles), and reak of chlorine. None of them ever asked me why I often didn’t accompany them up or down stairs in the homes I showed them, or why I would loudly groan if I dropped keys on the ground-(after a particularly long training ride or run.) I hope they understood.

I have never eaten the mounds of food that I am currently eating.You could not possibly fathom how much and how often I shovel food. I am terrified that these habits will continue and I will blow up like a tick once this race is over. (There I go overthinking again.) I joke that I eat like a high school football player. The thing is, I have a son that was a high school football player, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t the human vacuum cleaner that his mother has become. Oink Oink.

Case in point-today’s lunch

My plan was to come to Montauk, NY for 2 weeks prior to Chattanooga, train there on the hills and in the Long Island Sound, relax on vacation, and arrive in Tennessee free of stress, and feeling well rested.

Reality went something like this: We boxed up our bikes and Fed Exed them to Montauk. They arrived on time and 2 days afterwards, we set out for a 70 mile bike ride. Jeff’s bike had a broken shifter, so he couldn’t change into the small ring. My bike made a funny noise, and 3 miles after we started, I felt a big CLUNK, and my whole bike seized. I was just starting up a hill, and luckily I was able to unclip my feet before tipping over. Turns out, my bike frame broke, my derailleur snapped, and the bike was totaled. No long ride for us.

This frame is toast

So there I was, 16 days from Ironman, and I was without a bike. Since the carbon frame in all one piece, there was no way to fix this problem. We immediately took to social media and looked for a solution. To my amazement, team mates and friends from all over the country and in Canada offered to ship me their bikes! I was astounded! I had offers from people I had never even met. The triathlon community blew me away. We started communicated with the bike manufacturer too, to see about a warranty. Over the course of the next week, we exhausted every option, weighing the pro’s and con’s until we decided to buy a new Cervelo P2 at Sunrise Tri Shop, in West Babylon.

Getting a custom fit

I can’t say enough about the service Frank gave me at the tri shop. No wonder people fly from all over the world to buy and get fit on specialty bikes from him.

The running in Montauk is scenic and offers a mix of rolling hill roads and an abundance of trails, through woodsy forests and along ocean view cliffs. There are miles and miles of them! In all the years I’ve been coming to town, I had never explored the trails, and now I can’t wait to come back to them.

Got a little lost on this trail. Found the mosquitoes though.

My last long run of my training was a 3:15 on a Sunday morning. It was HOT and 82% humidity. I managed to get 17.29 miles in, and let me tell you, the last 4 miles were CRANKY! Run, shuffle, walk, curse, limp, whine about my blisters, my knees, and my sunburn, bla, bla, bla….typical long run for me. I imagine Chattanooga will have some moments like this, so in the end, who cares? I’ll get it done.

When I went to pick up my new bike, we decided to stay in Centerport at my friend Kathy’s house because it was much closer to the bike shop. The other bonus was that the Cow Harbor 10K Race was taking place. This nationally ranked race is in my home town of Northport and I have run it the past 2 years. Jeff and I signed up and ran the race, in CRAZY hot and humid temperatures, and had a blast. I ended up not only with a personal best but a course PR of over 10 minutes. I couldn’t have done it without his help pacing me along the difficult course.

Official time 52:24

We had many visitors during the trip, too. My parents, daughter Dede and her husband Evan, cousin Jill, sister Terie, nephew Richie, and his dad Rich, plus we spent time with a local Montauk friend, Kathy. What a whirlwind.

Best parents in the world

There’s ALWAYS time for Dom Perignon

I got to ride my new bike for a few hours and it felt better than any other bike I’ve ridden. We got a good swim in at the YMCA of Easthampton, and today we are getting pampered with massage at Gurney’s Inn.

The “hay is in the barn”, so to speak. The pit in my stomach isn’t as big as it was several months ago, but make no mistake; it’s still there. I suppose that’s a good thing. I’m a few days away from completing the most difficult physical race/challenge of my life. Send me some good vibes, will you?

One last thing. I’m doing Ironman Chattanooga for a charity, to raise money and awareness for Prostate Cancer. Would you consider making a donation? The men in your life will appreciate it.

Donate here

See you on the other side of Chat!

Stair Steppin’

Posted on June 25, 2015 by PattyRan

This month’s training is brought to you by: Oregon has the Highest Pollen Count. Lucky me! Let’s celebrate! Since the beginning of May, my eyes have started out burning in the morning, and if I’m lucky, by mid afternoon, still remain functional-albeit almost swollen shut and on fire. I submit for you, exhibit A:

While I deal with this every year, 2015 has had me questioning my choice of geography. By mid June, the allergy circus escalated to the degree that, BAM, I found myself sitting in front of Zoom Care, too sick to get out of the car. I managed to do so however, and a half hour later left with my every-few-month-dose of antibiotics, for the explosive sinus and ear infection that I seem to be fond of attracting quarterly. You see, training for my “A” race, Ironman Chattanooga, requires several hours per day running and cycling outdoors, inhaling the lovely and caustic pollen that coats my sinuses, lungs, eyes, and skin.

I spent the next three days in bed.

One week later, I was set to race the Olympic distance in the Clackamas Cove Triathlon. All week leading up to the race, I tried to take good care to ensure my nutrition, rest, and hydration were perfect. I slept a lot, took my Allegra, Flonase, and vitamins, and didn’t drink alcohol or eat anything outside of my Metabolic Efficiency Diet.

My training schedule is focused on Sept 27, 2015. THAT is the bulls eye. All of my training is geared toward that one race. I am stair stepping my racing schedule to MOSTLY include only triathlons, starting with the Sprint distance that I did in February. This Olympic is twice that distance. My next race in August will be the Lake Stevens 70.3 (a half Ironman), and then the BIG MAMMA, Chattanooga!

The day before the Clackamas Cove tri, Jeff (boyfriend and coach extraordinaire- with PRSFIT ) and I went to the site so I could run through some of the swim, run and bike transitions, and tour the course to set up my race plan. The swim was supposed to go from a cove to the spill into the river, and downstream to a boat ramp, where we were to exit into the transition area. The low river levels left part of that course without water!

I practiced swimming up to the shallows, running out of the water, across the rocks, and back into the river. We decided I would bring a pair of shoes to leave on the beach, so I could run across the rocks without hurting my feet, and then kick them off as I dove back in.

We drove the run course, and part of the bike course and I felt pretty good about the plan that Jeff and my coach SheriAnne mapped out for me.

The morning of the race, I woke up at 4:15, so I could eat my normal breakfast and do my, ahem, morning “routine”. Well, I’m a nervous type, so I did my routine 4 times before I left the house. Nervous? That’s an understatement.

Have I ever told you how much fun it is to put on a wetsuit?

(You have to slather the equivalent of Spray Pam all over your body, to aid in the rapid removal while you are transitioning from the swim to the bike.)

VOILA!

Due to the ever changing river conditions, the RD decided it was too dangerous to navigate the river portion of the swim, so they kept the swim in the cove. My race was now a two loop swim of approx 1600 yards. This created an interesting situation for the athletes, since we were no longer exiting at the transition area. Now we had to get out of the water and run .4 miles to T1. CHANGE OF PLANS. No problem. I brought some water sandals to throw on, to protect my feet. Running .4 miles in a wetsuit is pretty hilarious.

The bike portion was a 24 mile out and back, with some rolling hills and the promise of a huge hill at the turn around. While I had heard about this hill, I didn’t preview it the day before. THANK GOD. As I approached it at mile 11, I looked up and thought, “Are you freaking kidding me? I have to ride up THAT?” To be honest, I wasn’t sure I COULD. Fortunately, my fears were unfounded, and I managed to tackle it will all of my dignity in place. After the turn around, I let loose and rode like a mad woman back to T2. My legs felt great, and I was hydrating as planned. The only snag was the redneck in the F350, towing an RV, that didn’t like bikes on the road, who nearly ran me into a ditch, while cursing me out. Share the road!

Having severe allergies AND asthma presents some challenges for me, particularly in the run portion of a race. I struggle to keep the asthma attacks under control, especially when I am stressed. (I also have a seriously messed up intestinal system, as a result of years of undiagnosed Celiac disease, so fueling my body for long periods of intense activity is a constant challenge) Here I am heading out for the run portion, sucking down some GenUcan, while shaking up my Albuterol Inhaler.

How’s THAT for multitasking? I had two loops of the run course to go, which included running up these stairs (100+ of the buggers) TWICE.

That aint no Stairway to Heaven, let me tell you. The first loop went great, and as I ran back through the transition area, I didn’t get directed to the right place, and ended up going the wrong way. (oops, should have scoped that out beforehand!) At this time, I thought I was at least in the lead for my age group, and with every second counting, I got a tad bit upset. You DO know how high strung I am, don’t you? Well, this set me off on a lovely asthma attack, which had me wheezing starting to choke up and get dizzy, which escalated into me getting emotional, bla bla bla. Jeff was right there to calm me down and encourage me, which worked, and I just kept running. I managed to get it all back together, and finish well, even winning second in my age group of women 50-59.

Overall, with the changes to the swim, the hills, the maniac redneck, and the stairs, this was a fantastic race. I loved the challenges, and testing my body. I’m thrilled with how my training is proving to be spot on, and I’m looking forward to the next adventure.

Thanks for sharing this journey with me. As always, I welcome your comments, and I’d love to hear about your training.

Lastly, please consider making a donation to help fund Prostate Cancer research. We need to find a cure for this horrible disease. Thank you.