The Results: Ragnar 2012

"Thank you!" to all those that had me and other Ragnar participants and volunteers in their heart, mind, and prayers. I know I received many blessings from this.

Thank you!

So how did the Wasatch Back Ragnar turn out? Our team raised well over seventeen thousand dollars for cancer research. We had some cancer survivor as well as cancer previvor runners join our team and they did just fabulous! Here's a glimpse at the side of our van, which was a dedication to who the six in our van were running for. Also, here is a quick video recap of the event happenings.

In my last blog entry I made a plea. I would like to let you know how the run turned out for me.

All of my anticipated running distances seemed to have been extended for some reason. For one reason or another the time of day in which I was running was delayed some as well. 

In short I ran 19.72 miles in a combined time of four hours, seven minutes. Depending on the run my elevation was between four thousand, seven hundred six and six thousand, seven hundred fourty-four feet; mostly moving up. 

The way I left it with those in my van was that in efforts to save my foot and be able to do all three runs I would take it slow. Come to find out, I couldn't have gone any faster if I had tried. The heat and combined total of maybe four hours of sleep in thirty-five hours kept me humble.

Leg Three - My distance ended up at 6.91 miles (run time 1:19:16). I started running around nine-forty in the morning. The heat was too much for me on this one. At about four miles my right ear started ringing, by five miles my arms were tingling, right eye hurting, left leg weakening, and there was a pinch at the nape of my neck that means a migraine is brewing. 

All of this meant finish quick or I'm in trouble. This is the run that made me realize I need to stop putting off buying a cooling vest, if I intend to continue running in temperatures above seventy degrees. Good thing was that my foot never hurt; this was a surprise. 

Wearing my cooling scarf and catching my breath.
Just finished Leg #3 - Hyrum to Paradise, UT.

Leg Fifteen - My distance ended up at 5.06 miles (run time 59:09). I started running around eight at night. Thank heavens for whatever delays made my start for this leg an hour later than scheduled. 

At seven o'clock, it was still too warm for me as I was still sensitive from the earlier run. This was a nice and very beautiful run. I had some nice conversations with myself, God, and my father-in-law Don. I learned a lot in this run. I love these silent conversations with good company.

In the middle of Leg #15, running through Morgan, UT.

Leg Twenty-seven  - My distance ended up at 7.75 miles (run time 1:41:34). I started running around eight-thirty in the morning. This run made me say a very bad word at the end. 

When I started this run, I had a little reserve and I was hoping that somewhere along the way I would find the strength to finish. I never did. I can honestly say that during the majority of this run I was carried by someone else and in between was raw nerve. 

I had nothing left. In facing this run I was mentally prepared to run a 1fifteen-minute mile or slower, but somehow I was at an average of twelve and a half to thirteen minutes. How? I do not know. 

About a mile after the picture below was taken I was yelling at Don, telling him that in last nights' run we had an agreement that he was going to push my rump up the darn hill. At that point I swear I could hear his little sinister chuckle and the words, "then get going". Then I just got angry. Don knew that would get me going; the little snot.

I used my arm to push (paddle) me forward. I leaned further into the hill to let gravity pull me up. I was so concentrated I never noticed that my van (that wasn't permitted to support me on this leg) was watching and cheering me on. 

I'm certain their cheers and thoughts were accepted as prayers to support me through this run. I know there were family and friends devoting energy and well wishes for me during this time. I received all of those blessings in this run as well as my first. 

Here too, all the ear ringing, nape of neck pinching, eye pain, arm tingling, leg weakening returned. By the time I crested the big hill I felt like someone else took over. Then came the downhill... 

It was a blur. I should have fallen. I couldn't feel much of anything in either leg than just pressure and tingling - not true, my right leg was still semi-present. I threw water over me again and kept going. I climbed the last hill and saw the exchange - which meant my finish line. 

I could see the runner (Stephanie) that I was to pass the wristband off to, I could see one of my teammates - as it turns out there were two. I yelled ahead for Stephanie to be ready because I wasn't stopping. 

I yelled again to my teammates Casey and Aaron, to be ready because once I stopped, I didn't know if my legs would be there. Snap! Stephanie was off on her last run. 

Plop! Casey and Aaron caught me. I couldn't feel much of anything from just above my knees down. Then I said a very bad word. Somehow, I made it. I wanted to cry. I don't even know if I did. Via help from Casey and Aaron, I got to the van. It also helped that some hot guy in a Tarzan outfit walked by; that was sure motivating.

Starting up the initial hill near Jordanelle Reservoir
for an overall 840 ft elevation gain.

Thank you to all who had me in their thoughts and prayers. You helped me finish. This medal belongs to you.

My biggest take home message from this run is that: 

Life is tough, but if we keep moving 

just one foot in front of the other (figuratively), 

even relying on others with each step, we will finish. 

And we'll finish with big rewards.

Ragnar Runner #3

Good heavens what have I gotten myself into!?! So - this blogpost is purely informational... Okay, so this is exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. 

By way of the Huntsman Hometown Heroes (HHH) I'm running the Canyonlands Half Marathon and I have found myself on the Myriad Genetics team for the Wasatch Back Ragnar also via HHH. For the Ragnar, I'm currently slated as Runner number three which is set to run a bit over nineteen miles of the total two hundred mile relay race. 

O'-my-holy-freakin'-cow! 

Here's our team video clip. I am in this video clip as well. Good times! Here's the Myriad team fundraising page, if you would care to donate in support of cancer research.

If you would like to follow what our team is up to during training for the Ragnar, you can visit our team website that our team leader is hosting. Collin is a very good guy and bringing us home as Runner #12.

That's all I have to say folks! This is a big year and I need lots of motivating cheers, 'cuz I feel a bit overwhelmed... yet, at the same time, I am excited for all the opportunities that lay ahead.

~ Diana

A Thanksgiving Tribute: To Don, With Love

Don & Roxie

My father-in-law (Don) was one of the greatest men I’ve known in my life. I would have liked more time with him. Unfortunately, he passed away this past February from cancer.

Question: What does Don have to do with Multiple Sclerosis?

Answer: Everything.

I witnessed courage, strength, defying odds, tenacity, etcetera in such a way that I think I will spend the rest of my life finding out all the ways that Don has impacted the way that I live with my MS.

There are two key philosophies that I can say I learned from Don, which are: 1) the mind is a powerful tool and 2) the way we live our life is our most precious possession, not the “things” that we accumulate.

~

The first time I met Don, he was sitting in his humble trailer. He spoke to Josh and me just as he would have if he were in his Sunday best. At first I wasn’t sure what to think of him. 

However, I could sense that I was speaking to a man who knows exactly who he is, immediately accepts me for who I am, genuinely wants to learn as much as he can in that moment, and he loves me, his son, his dog and his own life equally. I know that last one sounds a bit odd, but that’s part of the beauty of Don.

The Mind: A Powerful Tool

About a year after Josh and I married, Don was diagnosed with Inclusion Body Myositis (IBM) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inclusion_body_myositis. Doctors told him many things, but the main idea was that it would be less than a year before he would be severely disabled by this disease and in a wheelchair. 

He also was told that this disease, although a form of ALS (Amyyotrophic lateral sclerosis), would attack and destroy only the muscle with the exception of the heart muscle and that it could leave him a total vegetable but would not take him. 

With this devastating news he and his wife left the doctor’s office. From that moment, Don was determined to defy the odds of that disease… and he did.

Don never willingly submitted to his body’s decline. He relied on his faith and religious beliefs which told him he still had work to do in this life. He kept serving and doing. 

He complied with the doctors when the advice made sense to him. He followed his body’s own instincts into the realm of alternative therapies and was blessed. He filled his time with service and continued living life. The biggest point is that he was as proactive as he could possibly be.

“Things” Don’t Matter; It’s What We Do With Our Life That Counts

Though rapidly losing muscle mass Don predominantly walked with just the aid of a cane after his IBM diagnosis. He eventually used a wheelchair, but not exclusively – he preferred to get up on his own two feet. 

After a time it wasn’t safe for him to drive, but it wasn’t the collection of cars that he lamented; it was the journey and the company in the car that he missed. One day he decided that he would take his trusted dog Roxie out for a walk; well Roxie walked and Don supervised from his Jazzy wheelchair. 

After a time Roxie became so tired that she wouldn’t walk any further. To solve the problem and get her home, he had Roxie stand her hind legs on the footrest of his wheelchair and her front paws essentially hugged Don. 

That was a special time and memory that simply emulates the core of who Don really was on so many levels. Don loved, lived, did and made special memories out of most everything.

The last two years of his life required the use of a walker indoors and his body’s deterioration then forced him to a wheelchair when leaving the home. This did not stop him. He kept pushing to meet every commitment he had made. 

His great desire was to continue living life with his wife and his family. He did not want to leave that which he had come to love so very much.

In January 2009 Don called to tell us that he had just been diagnosed with an advanced stage of cancer. He sure kept pushing though. Up until the last few days of his life, he used a walker to get about. 

In his fight with cancer he was unable to eat and went from approximately one hundred sixty-five pounds to about one hundred twenty-five pounds. Don had really no muscle on his body in the end, but he moved, he walked and was determined to engage.

Don never limited himself in the years that I knew him. When he believed in or wanted something, he went to work - even near the end. In fact, Don’s brother Ray and a friend took Don for a ride in the friend’s Humvee. 

The Hummer ride was kind of a “last wish” and hurrah. The Sunday before Don’s passing his brother and friend picked him up and put him in the vehicle to take him for a ride and off they went! They were gone for about five hours. 

They went off-road with him! Snow fell through Don’s window as he stretched his arm out as far as he could; laughing and loving every minute! When they got back Ray told me that Don’s only regret was that he didn’t have the energy to get under the vehicle and “see how it all worked...” He wanted to know how the tires inflated and deflated as needed according to snow depth.

During our six-week vigil, Don would just lie on the couch and listen to his kids talk about the good ol’ days and all the trouble they’d get into that Don didn’t know about. The last night he sat on the couch with us in the living room, then decided he was done and needed to go lay down. 

As usual, he refused all help to get off the couch, except for a strong and steady foot against his own to prevent him from slipping. After several attempts and many minutes he was able to steady himself at the walker and go into the bedroom. 

While watching him I saw pure nerve and determination move his limbs. It was raw nerve, not muscle, driving his ability. It was just a day or two later when he passed on surrounded by those he loved most dearly.

This next to last memory of Don as well as the entire six-week vigil will be one of the things that I will ponder for the rest of my life. I have many more lessons to learn from this experience alone. 

The impact has motivated me to take better care of myself, treat those around me with more respect and to live in the now despite how difficult it is to get off of the couch.