Lights out on 359: A Testimony

My eye lids blinked open to a pair of gray and yellow Brooks Adrenaline 13's. I was on a gurney in the middle of a small intersection being helped to sit forward as my body expelled a few ounces of what little fluid remained in my stomach. Despite the medic’s best efforts, I had a hard time comprehending what was happening. My left shin felt like a truck ran over it, my legs were the color of asphalt and I had a bag of fluid being pumped in to my arm. I was moved to an ambulance, I laid there staring at the ceiling I wondered how the "Hell did I get here"?

The night before, Brian, Deidre, Kent and I found convenient parking in Philly which made for a short walk to the expo. I equate the excitement of getting your race bib and shirt to Freshman year orientation, walking around finding out where everything is, trying to imagine what the next day holds. The excitement that a $30 shirt gives to runners is deranged. We pay upwards of $170 to enter a race like this and punish ourselves for months for a medal and a shirt that we can attain as easily as a WaWa cup of coffee. My three friends and I put a cap on a week of carefully planned meals and gallons of water drank and an exclamation point on the morning's itinerary.

All went as planned: breakfast, commute, parking, security and start line. We were ready, this was my third marathon in 13 months and I was as prepared and in better shape than I had ever been before. I set a difficult but reasonable goal of 3 hours and 59 minutes that throughout training seemed attainable. I was armed with experience garnered from the previous 26.2s and a race belt filled with appropriate supplies. I wasn't going to feel the bottom of my stomach on mile 16 like I usually did and I had a pain relieving rub to combat any pain in my left calf.

As we passed the start line the theme music from Rocky blared loudly and the sound waves seemed to bounce off of every historic bell and building in downtown Philadelphia. The adrenaline coursed through my veins and chills went down my back, it was as though Ben Franklin himself was the Maestro leading “Gonna Fly Now”. All the hard work done, this was the fun part!

The first six miles were a breeze, I enjoyed the playlist, recording videos and taking pics of Brian and the surrounding chaos while breathing easy and stepping lightly. No problems through ten or even at the halfway point. Mile 15 is when the first signs of distress started to appear which is not unusual in any of my long distance runs. It's important to note that I hydrate more during the race than I do during training. I attended to my calves, drank a good portion of water and was instructed by Brian to go on ahead. I followed his instruction. At this point, I was running a faster pace than I had run in training or in any of the other marathons. I was happy with how things were playing out.

Mile 17: Dark Clouds
As I replay the fight in my head, I realize with a clear mind that I was ignoring signs. For me and most, powering through pain or soreness or exhaustion is difficult. You have to stay rational enough to decipher when your body is reaching a limit or if your mind is screaming "stop, sit down, why are you doing this"? My body was telling me that I was reaching a limit and I failed to decipher the message.

Mile 20: The Wall, Misapplied Pride
I remember now, (I couldn't that night) staggering after hitting the final turn, mile 20, only 54ish more minutes. Adrenaline kicking in, this is what I trained for, (these last six miles). I remember now, (I couldn't the next morning) thinking "George you need to walk for a few minutes, compose yourself, drink some water, 359 is not what is important, JUST FINISH"! I hypnotized myself into believing that attaining this training mantra was what mattered, and ignored my safety. I remember now, (I couldn't the next day) making a decision based on false pride. Instead of coming out of my gait and walking, I planted my forefoot in the asphalt and headed toward the cheers. I ignored this last WARNING!

I don't remember, I've tried and I can't remember anything else. He has played a big role in everything, the marathons aren't different. In the first he comforted my wounded calf to aid in me limping across the line. After calling the angel that was in Ashleigh’s belly to be by his side this March, he dispatched an army of his to make sure I retained my wits so that I could cross the finish line on my second marathon in April.

He did for me what I was unable to for myself on the third. Like a Father sometimes has to sit his out of control teenager down to tell him he's heading off course, GOD told me, "son, have a seat, you're not on course".

I'm not typing and thinking about a lost opportunity to achieve 359. I learned more running 20 or so and collapsing than if I had I somehow managed to cross the line at 26.2 and incurred damag kidneys and on the verge of a heart attack. I'm typing through glazed eyes, THANKFUL that he threw the towel in for me.

I remember now, and I hope I never forget, the sirens roaring, and the horn beeping deep, I laid in that ambulance, saying the Lord's Prayer, thanking him: for protecting my heart from my misdiagnosis of countless signs that are obvious now, but weren't then, for making sure that it wasn't more serious than it could have been for my sake and my family, for my wife and my son.

Thank You for my Medal Brian. Way to Finish!

My experiences are new to me; the lessons learned are probably not new to you. Most of the time, I'm just working out what the Silver and Black lining is.

A mother of two: my struggle with grief

I remember going to my first pregnancy office visit with my second child. I was excited and nervous. The nurse was running through her long list of questions and she asked me how many children I had, living and/or dead.  I was so struck by the question I couldn't  respond.  I had people very close to me that would have to give a sad answer. It gave me that sick feeling in my heart, and I patted my little rounded belly, reassuring myself and baby no.2 that we would be ok...

Two short months later I was back at the dr, so excited and eager. I had my phone out to record his little heartbeat and was making jokes with the midwife. Life was happy and good and blissful.

The  longer God has allowed me to  live, the more moments, good and bad, I've collected.  You know the ones I'm talking about, that leave those lasting impressions. Some of my favorites include meeting my husband at a high school football game when I was 14. I still remember his smile, how he said "hi" in that nonchalant way.  Or when I walked down toward the beach on our wedding day, the breeze blowing my hair, holding my dad's arm, and seeing that tear trickle down George's face. The moment I held my baby sister, how warm she was and so tiny. Giving birth to Pierce, my husband's excitement, holding him for the first time, his chubby cheeks and sweet face.

When I was five, my parents knelt down in front of me and explained to me that my grandfather had passed away. That moment has been one of the most defining of my life. I learned so much in a few short moments; what it meant to die, what it meant to grieve, how very much I loved that man and what he meant to me. I could never go back to the time when I didn't know those things, and losing that innocence, that hurt, too.

On March 19th, 2013, it was the same. The laughter stopped when the little monitor was silent. The image of my baby laying lifeless in my belly, it will never go away. My sweet husband's whisper " there's no heartbeat anymore, is there?" still echoes in my mind. The way my first angel boy patted my back as I cried big heaping sobs and his tiny whispers of " it okay, mommy, it okay" are etched on my heart.

My second baby's lifeless body was removed the next day. I never got to hold him, kiss him or hug him. But I'm still his mommy.  And he is still my Angel.  

The little chair I ordered for him came the day after he was born. It sits along side his big brother's at their playtable. A constant reminder that I'm a mother of two, one living and one waiting to be with us again.

This Mother's Day, I celebrate all of you, sweet mommies. The ones who have grieved as I have, the ones whose mamas are with my angel, and those that never have been blessed with the joy and pain of motherhood. If you are a woman with love in your heart for the little creatures that have come in or out of your life, you are a mom. I thank you for being you, because we could all use a little more understanding, patience, and love in our lives.

Marseille

After a night of living as high rollers, Ashleigh and I took advantage of a tour later in the afternoon. This gave us an opportunity to catch our breath. We had a relaxing breakfast and decided to enjoy the serenity of the panoramic lounge on the ninth deck. I took my free time to web log and Ash kicked her feet back and read.

It was a drizzly morning and we were both thankful to take a leisure attitude for the day. The Port of Marseille in the largest in the south of France and has held that title for centuries. Marseille is the second largest city in France, behind Paris by a large margin.

Our tour departed at 1:30 and as lovely as our easy go morning was executed neither of us wanted to spend an entire day on the ship so the risk of getting a little wet while walking around the quaint town of Aux didn't deter us.

We did get off to a less than ideal start. The rain was heavy which caused our driver to be hesitant and quick to depress the brake, which made Ash car sick. The tour guide was unsure about what to do with us. At that point, the rain was coming down in blankets and she wanted to audible the walking tour of the city but didn't really have a backup plan.

We exited the bus during the shower's respite and crowded into a local bistro for cappuccino. While we sipped our tiny cups the sky unloaded it's heaviest assault of the day which put doubt into our heads about how grand of an idea it was to leave the comfort of the ship.

The doubt was dried away as French rays of light began to dry the town. Our tour continued and we never looked back. An hour of education was followed by 90 minutes of free time. As it is with most of our checklists, having local cuisine was high on the list and we both wanted to indulge in a French crepe; I had nutella and banana and Ash had nutella and strawberries.

The crepes fueled us while we shopped for authentic French gifts and explored the beautiful city of Aux. We boarded the ship right at curfew and headed to our room. The sky's pigment changed to gray and the wind picked up. Ash decided to lay down before dinner and I explored the upper decks before the sunset. When I came back to check on Ash it became apparent that the rough Mediterranean had taken its toll on her tummy. I went to the rear of the ship, sat in the comfy deck furniture, sipped my vodka martini and read. 

After enjoying the company of new friends and donating to the ship's casino, I called it a night and joined Ash and her tummy in a restless and rocky night at sea.  

 

Shaken Not Stirred

We benefited from having a room located on the ship's port side, as I stepped onto our balcony I had a panoramic view of what 40K euro a square foot looked like. I took my first drink of coffee while scanning the mountain side, I made note of the 100 foot black yacht "Ice Angel" exiting the harbor. I don't think I know a number high enough as to what a floor plan of the inventory in the Monte Carlo Yacht Club would be?

The Monaco Walking Tour was first on the agenda. After a leisure day in Tuscany, Ash and I were ready take the city as our own, something that no country has successfully accomplished. We started outside the Oceanographic Museum, founded by Prince Albert I and contributed to by the legendary oceanographer Jacques Cousteau.

The diverse gardens that lined the walkways were home to a variety of Cacti and Olive Trees. All exceptionally manicured, lending a perfect compliment to the picturesque Italian Alps on the Eastern Horizon and the Southern edge of Monaco's French ally.

After absorbing less than fifty percent of what the tour guide explained to us about the history of the 450 acres of land, we walked through the Cathedral that still serves the town today.

I'm unsure if it is I that travels back in time or if the 11 year old George travels to the future to take control of my person when I'm on any kind of tour. I'm sure most all of my educators would remember all too well the blank look that comes over my face when the depth of the subject broaches the seven minute barrier. This is what I was thinking about as Stephanie explained the history of the Grimaldi for more than ten minutes.

Monaco's Palace was the next stop and the "changing of the guard" the next event before departing to Monte Carlo's most famous attraction, The Casino. After thanking our guide (Merci Stephanie), we had lunch at the Cafe de Paris and decided to come back to the Casino in the evening. We walked our lunch off around the famous square, had a drink on the terrace of the Hermitage hotel, overlooking the harbor and immediately across from us the Oceanographic and Palace.

  

The French Pastry shop that we purchased our Eclair's at was more commercial than we otherwise prefer but their taste was authentic enough. As we descended down the hill side, we walked around the harbor to get back to the Silver Spirit (there's got to be a billion dollars worth of yachts).

The couple's massage courtesy of TFS preceded changing into our formal attire for the evening. Ash in a stunning white dress with silver shimmering accents and I in my first ever "slim fit", navy Calvin Klein.

We were both the best dressed couple in the Casino that night. I had visions of a grand lobby and gaming area so when we walked by the Bentleys and Lambos, up the stairs and in the main room that consisted of at most six open tables, I was a little underwhelmed. I realized it was a Thursday night and the end of the tourist season but despite that, I assumed it'd be larger with a bit more grandeur than a 1920s Boston Speakeasy. When James Bond walks in and says "shaken not stirred", there is at least a game of craps going on but nay, not on this night. If for nothing else then to say that I did it, I placed my bet and watched the dealer spin the tiny ball around the roulette table. Ashleigh placed a bet as well and we talked to a couple from Staten Island. After burning through the 50 Euros, it was time for a drink.

We joined our new friends from Houston for the remainder of our time in Monte Carlo, their company enhanced our experience (thanks Steven and Ashley). Ordering Martini's on the terrace of the Fairmont Hotel (Fairmont Hotel sits on top of the tunnel that has been made famous by the most popular Formula 1 race), taking in the Mediterranean after sunset and sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the world made my pupils go into Supernova mode, it was too much.

The Silver Spirit gave us a 9:30 curfew and we were on the deck of La Terezza Restaurant enjoying our scallops at 9:15. Our view this time, the lights of the city. As the engines churned the sea, seven decks below us and we pulled out of the harbor, the city receded in to the horizon, I thought to myself "we did it all".

Tuscany

Florence was the fifth stop on the Ashleigh and George Italian tour of 2007. That vacation was two weeks long and as much as I hate to admit it, we were unable to capture the same exuberance for Florence that we had for Rome. The train riding did take a toll on our 24 year old bodies and as a result we didn't attack the city with the same zeal.

So, we left a little on the table last time in Florence. Our goal this time was to: experience more of the Tuscan countryside, leave nothing on the table and not a drop at the bottom of our wine glass.

An hour journey from the Port town of Liverno in to the Chianti region is all it took for our group of 20 to reach one of the most distinguished vineyard's under the Tuscan Sun. The scenery was like a younger vintage table wine: simplistic, beautiful and satisfying. 

Ornellaia is by Italian standards a young vineyard started in the late eighties with the help of California wine mogul Robert Mondavi, it quickly became the standard bearer for the region. Its complexity and depth are direct results from the care and quality of execution from harvest to aging to bottle. The vineyard is a great parallel on a trip provided by TFS to Toyota Manufacturing.

After the tour and the tasting, we enjoyed a Tuscan lunch with some new friends from Texas that made me want to sleep on the way home but instead I found myself conversing with the head of TFS on a range of topics that lasted the entire bus drive back.

Winemaking is a great metaphor for life; while there are variables that you cannot control for the most part, what you put in, is what you get out.
 

Portovecchio Corsica

To hear the Italians describe the weather in France, the skies opened up like a pig slit from ear to groin and as the rain came crashing down so too were our hopes for a tour of the French Island's wineries'. Like any vacation abroad (or anywhere in fact) adapting to the circumstances and overcoming the obstacles is essential to a successful day.

It has been my great pleasure to have traveled to so many of the most beautiful cities in the world with my soul mate, to have experienced a soggy morning on a day that (for no other reason but that it was her 30th Birthday), should otherwise have been filled horizon to horizon with only the most vibrant and softest golden sunshine.

You can look out your port or starboard, see a gray sky and be depressed that a tour was canceled or you can view it as an opportunity. Anyone can experience a canned tourist speech about how beautiful the countryside is or how marvelous and historic the Port town of Corsica has been for centuries.

I punch these keys and scream about perspective so much that the idea of it all, I fear is more tired than a cruise ship butler (at least coming from me AGAIN, like I know so much more than everyone else). If I would have gone on a French Winery tour, than I could have easily been typing about how incredible my experience was but that wasn’t in the cards today.

On this unexpected rainy morning, I took my birthday bride for a tour into the city of Corsica France. We walked by the Police station and the tourism bureau. We talked with shop owners and enjoyed the memories that resurface as a direct cause of being back in Europe for our third time.

As we journeyed deeper in to the city, we came upon a beautifully manicured French Cemetery. The head stones and mausoleums were well maintained, there was one that dated back to 1906 that had fresh flowers on it. I was moved by the depth of both the detail and vulnerability that were clearly evident.

After taking advantage of authentic Primo sandwiches at a local market of which we enjoyed as we walked up, down, around and thorough the tiny yet maneuverable streets of the tiny port town, we stopped long enough to take part in the commerce aspect of visiting a foreign city.

 

As the tender navigated the short choppy waves back to the Silver Sprit, we reconnected with some friends that we met as we boarded our vessel. Experiences were exchanged and goodbyes executed back and forth.

Ashleigh experienced firsthand, the hospitality that exists amongst the upper levels of TFS. Her birthday did not go unmentioned as all 37 dealers applauded the occasion prior to our formal dinner. Diane and her daughter from DC and Armando and Louise from West Palm were exceptional dinner company.

As the evening drew to a close and that familiar feeling of being efficiently exhausted began to set in, we bid our farewells for the evening and retired to our quarters, only to find that the crew and Captain had not forgotten Ash's milestone. Balloons taped to the ceiling, cake at the ready, bath drawn with rose petals strewn about and candles lit, it all screamed "SURPRISE, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Bonjourno Roma!

It feels amazing to be back. We touched ground and proceeded to the ship without one hiccup. I am a little bummed that we didn't get the 2 hours or so in the city but that only makes me more thankful for our previous trip. It was special on many levels and We'll be back one day!

The ship is amazing, I haven't been one to compare but I have a feeling that there isn't much that is nicer. After a quick settle and reboot of our bearings, Ash and I headed to the pool deck on nine.

We ordered a Caprese Salad Buffalo Mozzarella, tomatoes and olive oil and: prosciutto, mushroom, artichoke and olive pizza, complimented with Italian wine.

The meet and greet was next on the agenda, it was short and sweet and before we knew it, we were dining on the seventh deck restaurant "La Terezza". We initially were turned away because of a lack of reservation but Ashleigh flicked her eyelashes, twirled her finger inside of her loose curl and very sweetly informed the 70 year old host that "it's my birthday tomorrow", after they performed CPR and brought the poor man's heart back to a fast beat with the on board defibrillator, we were seated and given a four course meal.

Kate and Leo Moment

Conversation that husbands and wives share ensued. The kind that don't come on normal nine to five days but aren't extinct either. We all know the kind. It's going to be a great week!