Training, Part 1

In October, I began doing something I haven't done since college.  I started training.  Distance walking training.   I'm not just walking for exercise, anymore.  No, this is honest to goodness training with the goal of walking a marathon in early 2010.  

In college, I trained.  Granted, I was one of the slowest runners on the very first Davidson College women's cross country team, but I worked hard, encouraged by a star track and cross country runner who later became my husband.  It was with him, one lovely Sunday afternoon that I ran the 10 mile loop on country roads around Davidson.  That's still the longest distance I've ever run.

Anyway, through the years, I have always exercised.  Its sort of a "given" when you are married to a man that has run a bunch of marathons and who took our young children on "Iron Kid" hikes for fun!  Though never as hard-core or disciplined as Coty, I've stayed reasonably fit over the years by running, walking, working, out and swimming.

Back when I had access to the Williams College gym, I was one of about twelve regulars who showed up at the fitness center as soon as the door opened at 6:00 AM to log in miles on the Stairmaster, do a couple of circuits with the Nautilus machines, and then swim.  Come to think of it, that was pretty hard core.  It may have been what helped me maintain my sanity with six children in various stages of babyhood, toddlerhood, and beyond.  It was good for me to get out the door and exercise.  Probably made me a nicer person to live with.  I will always be thankful that Coty made sure I had time to do that.

So now, thirty years (since college), six pregnancies, many years of nursing babies, life on two continents, and a rheumatoid arthritis diagnosis later, I am beginning again to really train for something.

Why, you ask?

Well, the rheumatoid arthritis (RA) diagnosis has something to do with it.  Back in the spring, when I was told I had an autoimmune illness that could permanently damage by body, an illness that was, in fact, my own body attacking its healthy cells, I felt pretty low.  I have never been one to take medicine and it took me three weeks before I could bring myself to go to the pharmacy and pick up my prescription.  I just did NOT want to take a drug long term.  I felt like I was being betrayed by my body. 

I did finally start taking the medicine, and after about a month and a half on the drug, I started feeling better.  Well, maybe this drug thing isn't so bad, after all, I thought. Wrong! My first liver function test after being on the drug for a couple of months was really wacko and my doctor told me to stop taking the drug immediately!  My body couldn't tolerate it.  Well, I didn't want to take it anyway.  I threw the rest of the pills away and headed off to China and India for the summer...free from meds, but not free from pain.

When I got back home, I went back to see my dear rheumatologist.  I'm not a person who likes to go to the doctor (do you detect a theme here?), but I do really like this rheumatologist.  We talk.  I ask questions.  She explains.  I ask more questions.  She listens patiently and explains some more. She thinks about what to do.  She treats me like a person with a brain. We come up with a plan together.  She wanted to put me on a stronger drug but I held out for something weaker.  We negotiated and I won.  I'm on the less "toxic" drug.

Now the thing is, I knew that I was not only going to take medicine.  I've done lots of reading and know that there are many things that help improve the outlook for folks with RA.  Exercise, diet, fish oil (isn't it good for everything??), herbal supplements.  So, I knew that I could hold out for a less toxic, invasive drug and come at this malady in lots of other ways.

And that's where the walking comes in...