Seattle Half-Marathon Race Report

So, the last race of the year has come and gone. Shortly after the Rock-and-Roll San Antonio Half Marathon, I packed up Pooh and Monkey and headed up to Washington. As soon as we landed in Seattle, we headed straight over to my parents' place -- La Toscana Bed & Breakfast and Winery in beautiful Leavenworth, Washington. Within hours of our arrival, the snow started -- and pretty much didn't stop until we left more than a week later! Leavenworth is a beautiful German village in the Cascade mountains, and although it's idyllic, it's not necessarily a training Mecca. But we've all got to "suck it up" at some point, don't we? Undaunted, I headed out the next morning for a beautiful 10-miler through the mountains...19 degrees and breezy when I started, with light snow falling, it was gorgeous but COLD. Mission accomplished, and on to turkey and stuffing!


Shortly after our family Thanksgiving, I headed back over the mountains with Pooh and Monkey, with my sister and brother-in-law (and Team Michael Moyles co-founder) close behind. The passes were pretty icy, but we managed...


We picked up Linda -- stalwart TMM member just flown in from sunny Florida -- at the airport on the way in to Seattle. I've never seen anyone so bundled up for November in Seattle! But more on that in a minute...after a few relaxing days at home, we all headed out for the race...

Pre-Race Expo. The expo was crowded, and the location they chose -- the Westin in downtown Seattle, the same place as last year -- simply isn't adequate. The facility in comparatively small, the vendors are packed together, parking can be hard to find and expensive, and both the hotel and the expo itself were rather difficult to find. Packet pickup was well-marked, and the technical tee provided (Brooks) was comfortable. The biggest score of the night -- a pair of Gel-Kayano 16s, size 12.5 for $50! The savings on that purchase almost covered the cost of parking.

Race Day. Race day was well-organized and easy -- everything the expo wasn't. It helps that we ran the same race last year, so we knew where to go, what garage to park in, and exactly how to get to the start line. Sunday morning dawned cloudy and very cold -- low 30s -- and we made our way downtown. We all froze, and took turns teasing Linda about her attire -- two pairs of pants, three shirts, two jackets, a scarf, two hats, and gloves. I was in shorts and a t-shirt with a disposable jacket, and my B-I-L (brother-in-law) and sister were dressed similarly. Fortunately, we found a large 24-hour grocery store right at the start line, and made liberal use of their clean bathrooms (no porta-potties!) and their heater. With nearly 30,000 racers, there were only about 25 people in the foyer of the grocery store...perfect for us. The Team stretched, warmed up, and made a dash for the start line with about 10 minutes to spare.

The Course. The course was the same as last year -- only last year, I ran the full marathon, and this year I ran the half. The half-marathon course really just preserved the hardest parts of the full-marathon course, removing only a five-mile out-and-back across Lake Washington and a 7-mile loop around Seward Park, both almost completely flat. The race starts by winding from the Seattle Center through Seattle's streets out to Lake Washington, then a rather confusing series of loops consisting almost entirely of on-ramps and off-ramps from Interstate 90 and Interstate 5. I ran the first 7 miles or so with BIL, at about 7:55 pace, then pulled off to the side to wait for my sister. There is a miserably wicked hill at mile 7.5 -- basically straight up -- and I actually got to run it twice, once with BIL and once with my sister. The last half of the course is almost entirely uphill, starting with the big hill, then transitioning into Intelaken Park, which is about a 3-mile sustained, gradual climb. The views of downtown Seattle, the Space Needle, and the Puget Sound are incredible, and are a fit reward for completing the hilly portion of the course. From the top at Interlaken Park -- about mile 11 -- it's downhill back to the Seattle Center, and the finish line. BIL finished first in about 1:49, and my sister and I finished together in 1:56, easily blasting away her goal of sub-2. It was a very emotional finish, and a great way to end TMM's 2010 season.


What a great surprise to see Ade, one of the charter members of TMM, waiting at the finish line -- along with Pooh, Monkey, and other friends and family. Not long after hooking up with our supporters, we spied Linda sprinting across the finish line, still wearing most of the layers and clothes she had on when she arrived at the airport...but she was comfortable and finished easily.


Support along the course was great, both spectators and volunteers -- aid stations were well placed, well supplied, porta-potties were plentiful, and miles were clearly marked.

Post-Race. The "finish festival" was hardly a festival, but it was fair -- decent food and supplies, but just like the expo, the facility was simply inadequate. Crowded, too hot, impossible to move, long lines, poorly organized, just not what you'd expect from a major race. As the race grows, Amica and other sponsors will have to find better facilities for both the expo and the finish festival. At the end of the day, the Amica Seattle Marathon is still my "hometown" race, and one I'll probably return to every year -- but I'd love to see the race sponsors and organizers find better and bigger facilities now that the race is drawing tens of thousands of runners. We all celebrated (medals still on, of course) with a big burger and beer at the Elliot Bay Brewery, and toasted a great race, a great year, and a great team. Go TMM, on to 2011!

Race Report: RnR San Antonio

Editor's Note: Okay, so my posts are WAY behind. I've written a few, I just haven't posted them...so, ignore the posting date, and pretend I actually posted this when I wrote it a few weeks ago...

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Another race in the books! Rock-and-Roll San Antonio concluded on 14 November, ending my true "race" season. There is one more scheduled -- the Seattle Marathon on 28 November, but I'll run that race with the team, and won't really be racing.

Training for San Antonio has been an adventure. As long as I've been running marathons, I've trained by running on lunch breaks and Sunday afternoons after church. Well, that doesn't work so well in Texas, where it doesn't drop below ninety degrees until about 10pm, and only stays cool (relatively speaking) for a few hours. So, since moving to Texas in June, I've been getting up at about 4:30am and getting my runs in. I'm still using the "Run Less, Run Faster" training plans I've been on for the past year, and still think that program is one of the best around. Since starting those training programs, I've set a PR in every distance from 5K through half-marathon. So, on to San Antonio...

This was my first race in the Rock-and-Roll series, and let me tell you, these folks have figured out how to put on a great race. I've run literally dozens of races at all distances, including quite a few marathons and halves, and I can comfortably say that this was the best-organized race I've ever run. From expo through finish festival, every aspect had been clearly thought through, and was nearly flawlessly produced. The expo was quite crowded, and they really could have rented a considerably larger space, but they did well with what they had. Packet pickup was clearly marked, and if you couldn't see the well-marked signs, the volunteers were cheerful and helpful.

Race day was, again, very well organized. I arrived later than planned, and couldn't quite get up to my designated Corral, but managed to start in Corral 4 instead of Corral 2, and the difference was negligible. Let me just say I'm a HUGE fan of the wave start -- each corral was separated by about 30 seconds, which almost completely alleviated the problem of spending the first mile dodging and dancing through hundreds of other runners, many of whom had probably "corralled up". I was off and running at race pace with the first half mile or so. The course wound through the streets of old San Antonio, including some mileage along the historic Riverwalk and (of course) a lap around the Alamo. Surprisingly hilly for Texas, but nothing steep or uncomfortable. The full marathon route includes a great run out along the San Antonio mission trail, which I'm actually sorry I missed. Both the half and the full finished at the Alamo Dome in downtown SA, with the entire parking lot dedicated to sponsors and family meeting areas divided by last name. Only a minor complaint here -- I couldn't discern any rhyme or reason to how the letter were distributed, and it certainly wasn't alphabetical. Regardless, the wonders of the iPhone and text messaging made finding Pooh and Monkey easy, and they were in full "cheer mode!" Monkey even had her "LiveSTRONG" outfit on and her "Team Michael Moyles" shirt. Too cute.

1:44.12 (7:57 pace) for the finish time -- nothing spectacular, but right on my planned pace of 8-minute miles. I was very happy with my splits, which were remarkably consistent:

Mile 1: 8:23

Mile 2: 7:48

Mile 3: 7:47

Mile 4: 7:50

Mile 5: 7:50

Mile 6: 7:49

Mile 7: 8:01 (up the hill)

Mile 8: 7:43 (down the hill)

Mile 9: 7:54

Mile 10: 7:52

Mile 11: 7:55

Mile 12: 8:12

Mile 13.1: 9:05

Pretty much the most consistent race I've ever run. One down, and one to go! On to Seattle on the 28th!

Too Hot to Trot

Wow, has it really been almost six months since my last blog? Well, so much has happened...just for starters:

1. Selected for reassignment from the Pentagon

2. Moved wife and baby to San Antonio, Texas

3. Tried a few runs and absolutely died in the heat

4. Spent three months trying to acclimate to the temps by running at 0430

5. Got a CLEAR brain scan in September!

6. Turned 29 (yes, again)

You get the idea...it's been a busy six months. The greatest news is, of course, the clear brain scan. There was no sign of cancer, though there are a couple of areas they want to keep an eye on, just to make sure the prosthetic is healing correctly -- but the important thing is no malignancy. Just some scar tissue and fluid buildup that, as long as it remains stable, shouldn't be a problem. I'm going back in December for my next update -- living 90 days at a time!

If you've never been here -- Momo, I suppose Arizona counts -- the Texas heat is positively oppressive. We arrived in June, so we've been here through the heat of the summer...over 100 degrees by about 9am, and it stays above 90 until about 10pm. Humidity hovers around 95%, so the heat index during July and August is usually around 110 - 115. I've never run in those conditions before -- it really saps both pace and distance. My first few runs left me laid out in the shade with a water bottle, wondering how I'm going to get home. Hitchhiking in south Texas can be dangerous! And, that's not all...there are really no hazards to running in Virginia or California. Here in Texas, you have to watch out for all kinds of crazy things -- on this past Sunday's long run, I passed four deer, then was nearly clobbered by a coyote, watched various rabbits and raccoons scamper out of the way, and to top it all off, came upon a sizable rattlesnake, sunning himself on the roadside, mere inches from my path. Yes, my pace quickened a bit!

Team Michael Moyles is doing well. We are approaching the 70% mark, with still three months to go in the year. Several Team members have completed marathons or half-marathons, a first for many, and a PR for most, even a podium finish for my sister! Next up on the docket is my buddy T running the NYC marathon in a few weeks, followed by LiveSTRONG Challenge Austin, then the Rock-and-Roll San Antonio Half-Marathon, ending the year with the Seattle Half-Marathon on November 28th. I also recently learned that Team LiveSTRONG has agreed to sponsor the Austin Marathon -- and the new "LiveSTRONG Marathon" will be in Austin in February. There NO WAY I can miss that one, so I'm already planning for next year! If you haven't had a chance to check out our website or donate a few bucks, we'd really appreciate it...we're really just a few donations away from our goal of $10,000.

Thanks for everything each of you do every day, inspiring others and posting your runs and other accomplishments. I don't always reply or comment, but I read your blogs every week, and love to hear from my friends in the endurance athletics community. I promise to update more often -- keep on running!

Not Bad for a Lunch Break

Good evening! Things are going quite well at this end. Our fundraiser is making significant progress, thanks to many of you, my faithful readers. My training is also going well, I'm up to 8 - 9 miles on my long runs now, and speed is slowly returning...this week's runs of 8 and 9 miles were both about 7:45 pace, so I'm getting back into shape.

This week's 8-mile run was a wonderful runner's tour of DC, and I just had to share it with you...if you're local to the DC area, I highly recommend it!

Starting at the Pentagon, I headed out through Ladybird Johnson Park (by the way, in the fall this place rocks the fall colors), and hit the Mount Vernon Trail just opposite the Pentagon. Heading north, the two-mile point is marked by the bridge to Roosevelt Island, which makes a great five-mile loop by itself -- but not today! Struggling up the steep switchback to the pedestrian overpass, I cross George Washington Parkway and head over the Key Bridge into Georgetown. The Key Bridge hits Georgetown right on M Street, and as you reach the end of the bridge you're staring directly at The Georgetown Running Company, a local icon...and a great pit stop if you need a gel, some socks, or a new pair of shoes...check their blog for some great advice on the DC running scene and local race reports. Pulling a quick 180-degree turn at the east end of the Key Bridge, a quick jog through the Francis Scott Key Memorial (located just feet from where his home used to stand in old Georgetown) lands you on the C&O Canal Towpath, right at mile 3.

This little trail is worthy of a blog all it's own, but for now just know that you're actually running on an old cartpath -- when mules pulled barges down the C&O Canal, and occasionally still do during tourist season. Nowadays, it's a great running trail, and nine days out of ten I'm the only one on it. You can see from the photos above and below -- on a beautiful spring day at noon, in the middle of downtown DC, there's not a soul in sight. Love it! The path crosses under several pedestrian overpasses, and even winds its way through a few restaurant courtyards and business patios, but still makes a great and historic section of the run, taking you from mile 3 almost to mile 4.

A hard right at the end of the towpath puts you on the Rock Creek Park Trail -- familiar territory to any Marine Corps Marathoners, who spend almost half of their marathon time on Rock Creek Parkway (at least, they did when I ran it in 2006). By the time you reached the halfway point at mile 4, turn around and look behind you -- historic Georgetown University and the Key Bridge on the left, the Georgetown waterfront on the right, and the Potomac waterfront you just ran in between.

Don't miss the fact that at this point, only halfway into the run, you've encountered no less than five National Historic Landmarks, and even ran through two National Historic Parks. Turning around and looking ahead toward the Rock Creek Park trail, the scenery gets even better and more historic -- that's the infamous Watergate Hotel complex on the left, the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in the middle, and barely visible in the distance is the Lincoln Memorial and the Memorial Bridge.

The trail takes you along the Potomac, and eventually up a gradual incline to the Lincoln Memorial.

No matter what bridge you run over in the DC area, you're bound to be greeted (or chased) by "the guardians." These towering (and often intimidating) statues sit on either side of the bridge, on both ends, and were usually gifts to the United States by foreign dignitaries or nations. The two greeting you as you reach the top of the hill -- one called "Music and Harvest" (pictured below) and the other called "Aspiration and Literature" -- were gifts to the United States from Italy in 1925, and both bronze mammoths stand nearly 20 feet tall, peering down on miniscule runners below as if to say, "Better keep moving, boy..."

On the other side of the Memorial Bridge, take a right on the footpath just past the Arlington Cemetery Metro stop, and wind down the hill into Arlington National Cemetery. This stretch of the memorial bridge is a popular place for protests, by the way -- almost as much a DC landmark as everything you've seen so far. This one was for the crisis in Darfur...but tomorrow it will be something else. I just smile and keep running.

Arlington National Cemetery is a humbling and majestic place. On this run, at times you can look up the hill to Kennedy's eternal flame and The Arlington House, other times you can see gravestones that stretch to the horizon...and about 50% of the time I run this route, you can see the long processional from a military funeral.

Just past the 6-mile mark, you approach the Netherlands Carillon. Not a common or well-known landmark, it's really quite impressive....from its twin bronze lions guarding the entrance to its 127-foot bell tower, it commands quite a presence. With a little forethought and accurate pacing, you can schedule your lunchtime run so that you run under the carillon as it's ringing -- it didn't happen today, but I've been lucky a few times. The Netherlands Carillon is perhaps best known because it is rumored to have one of the best views in all of downtown DC -- standing between the lions, you can see -- from left to right -- The Old Post Office, Union Station, The Lincoln Memorial, the Washington Monument, and the Capitol building.

The path from the Carillon leads to one of the most famous DC landmarks, The Marine Corps War Memorial. I love this part of the run. I always slow down, and for my first year here in DC I would always stop, kneel and pray for my buddy Steve, a Marine who just returned from Iraq. Even now, I still slow down to pay respects to what Steve -- and Ty, and many others -- have done for us and for our country. God be with you, my friends, and thank you for your service.

A quick loop around the Memorial send me over the seven-mile mark and points me straight "home" to the Pentagon. Grand total -- 8.09 miles, 1:02.28, 7:43 pace. In one hour -- 8 miles, 11 National Historic Landmarks, one National Historic Park, 3 National Monuments, two angry horses, one protest, along with Watergate, the Kennedy Center, the Georgetown Running Company, and some great scenery. Not bad for a lunch break.

Living STRONG for Cancer

First, thanks to all of you for your creative and thoughtful suggestions on "The Bright Side" of not running. I didn't realize how much time and money I could save by giving it up! Still, I just can't help it...I've gotta get out there. Training has gone well lately, though the snow has forced me onto the hated treadmill a few times. I'm up in the 6 - 7 mile range, and averaging sub-8...not where I was before surgery, but getting there.

It's been a while since my last update -- I've had the time to blog since I've been at home recovering, but have spent most of my blog time setting up this year's fundraising effort. This has been a momentous year for me -- in the past twelve months, I've had three surgeries, 42 rounds of chemotherapy and radiation, and six weeks of IV infusions for immunotherapy. I figured a record-breaking year should be followed by a record-breaking fundraiser. So, I'm overjoyed to announce: TEAM MICHAEL MOYLES!

After a suggestion from my brother-in-law

CJ, we contacted the Lance Armstrong Foundation, and worked with them for a couple weeks to set up a LiveSTRONG team and arrange a major fundraiser. This is by far my largest effort yet -- so far, this Team consists of eight runners and at least nine different races, every race and every runner raising money to find a cure for cancer. I am so incredibly excited about this effort! So, why not shoot for the stars? I decided to aim high and try to raise a whopping ten grand by the end of the year...with over $1,000 raised in just our first week, we're well on our way, but still have quite a ways to go. That said, we've just scratched the surface of the potential this team may have...CJ, a brilliant graphic design artist, has taken it upon himself to design everything from our webpage to our team logo, t-shirts, coffee mugs, the works...being the geek that I am, I've taken over the Team Michael Moyles website, our Facebook group, and fundraising mechanics, using his logos and advertising materials. So far, it's a perfect match, and we're both very happy. Here are a few samples...what do you think?

We're not ready to "go live" with everything yet (the full website, products, etc), but the fundraiser is already up and running (you can use the Team Michael Moyles link above). I think just about everyone who regularly checks my blog is also a Facebook friend and/or on my e-mail distribution list, but in case you aren't -- check the page, and if you're inspired, make a donation! I don't think you'll find a better cause.

Can we do it? $10,000 in a year? I think so, with your help. I'm off to recover from my root canal/crown excavation this morning...and what better way that with a nice long run?

The Bright Side

As of today, it's been 10 days since my last run. For me, this is an eternity. I'll find out on Wednesday how long I'll have to wait before returning to the roads. So, in the meantime, I've been trying to find the silver lining in the whole thing.

Call me an optimist.

So, the bright side of not being able to run:

1. Recovery. I can heal, the incision won't split, my heart rate won't spike, the stitches won't come out, blah blah blah yada yada...that's a given. Moving on the more interesting things.

2. Time. Wow, running and training takes a lot of time! You don't really realize how much until you stop. I've been catching up on reading, schoolwork, blogging (yes, even blogging), podcasts, and especially playing with my baby girl...but in most cases (except baby girl, of course), I'd rather be running.

3. Toenails! What a novel idea. At least two of my toes are being-introduced to the concept.

4. Laundry. Okay, so I'm adding this one on Pooh's behalf, since I was banned from the laundry room about nine years ago. Let's face it, folks -- running generates a lot of laundry. At least two -- and sometimes three -- sets of socks and underwear a day, plus one set of sweaty/stinky clothes and at least one other set of clothes each day, plus uniforms...you do the math. And while we're on the topic, has anyone found a detergent that actually gets the stink out? I've tried WIN and SportWash, and neither one made any difference. Don recommends Pro-Wash, but I'm a bit put off by the price...other suggestions?

5. Hmmm. Ummm...shoot...

Okay, so I started this blog on Saturday with the title, "10 Benefits of NOT Running." I figured I could easily come up with 10 benefits of taking a break from training. I'm stuck at four, I've changed the title, and I need your help. What am I forgetting? Help me find The Bright Side! Six more...

Run For Your Life

So, recovery has gone very well so far. It's been nearly a week since my skull reconstruction, and I feel very good...the headaches are gone, I'm off nearly all meds (only seizure suppression remains), and not in any pain. We're not completely out of the woods, as there is still significant risk of infection or other complications, but we haven't seen any signs of them so far. I look pretty good too:

No real swelling or discoloration to speak of. I also maintained my track record of being discharged from the hospital early. So, five surgeries in, I got to thinking -- is having brain surgery something you just get good at? Is a procedure so invasive, injurious, and with such a high risk of complications something your body just "gets used to"?

No way.

What makes my body able to handle these procedures with relative ease? Why do I recover so quickly? Why have my stays in the hospital always been cut short? After removal of the right frontal lobe, why was my stay in the hospital the same as someone who had their tonsils removed? Why am I still the only brain surgery patient in the recorded history of Cedars-Sinai Medical Center to skip ICU completely? How can I have brain surgery and run a half-marathon six weeks later, or train for and run a full marathon while undergoing twelve months of chemotherapy? I've discussed this with my neurosurgeon here, and with those at Cedars and elsewhere...and the answer, quite simply, is fitness.

You all know by now that I'm a man of strong faith, and I believe God has preserved me in this world to serve Him and testify on His behalf. No doubt in my mind that plays a role. But, to bring this blog to a close, let me say it quite clearly:

I believe fitness -- running, in particular -- has saved my life. After my first surgery, I made a decision to put my body in the best possible physical shape to fight cancer, and I think much of my success in the fight is a direct result of that decision.

Would I have made it through five brain surgeries if I had been out of shape? What about 22 rounds of chemotherapy and 42 rounds of radiation? Had I not been in marathon shape through all of it, would I have recovered as quickly? Likely not. Would I have recovered at all? Who knows. Would I even be alive today? Perhaps not. A few months ago, I watched the movie "Run For Your Life," the story of Fred Lebow, the founder of the New York City Marathon. The title of the movie indicates that running defined him, and was his primary reason for living. For me, it's not my reason for living -- it's the reason I'm alive. Don't miss the difference.

Alive and Well!

Hello faithful readers and supporters! It's me, Mike -- out of surgery, out of ICU, and on the recovery floor. Now, if only I could convince the docs to put me on a regular diet and stop the IVs! Yes, I'm still causing problems...but in a good way.

From what I'm told, surgery went just fine. There were some delays initially, but once surgery started it went without any difficulty. ICU was, as always, a difficult time -- you're disturbed every hour for a neuro exam, and you're hooked up to every machine imagineable -- so sleep is basically impossible, and that's all you really want to do. To make matters worse, I was setting off alarms every few minutes -- if your heart rate drops below 60 beats per minute, or if your respiration rate (breaths per minute) drops below a certain number, it sets off an alarm. As many of my endurance athlete friends know very well, a heart rate under 60 beats per minute is quite common for us -- a resting heart rate of 44bpm, in my case. So, even if I could get to sleep for a few minutes, shortly after nodding off my heart rate would drop into the low 50s or high 40s, acting like an alarm clock and waking me up, not to mention the nurses and orderlies rushing in to see what was wrong. Same thing with respiration rate. Well, I guess I've found the downside of being in shape. All this to say that last night was a very long, very restless and very uncomfortable night...but I made it!

The biggest victory today was the removal of the EKG leads and the Foley catheter. With those two things gone, I actually have freedom to move and walk around...even run, if they'd let me! I'm up on the patient recovery floor now, where I have a TV and my own room, without the hourly wakeups and heart rate/respiration alarms. Much more peaceful and restful. I've spent most of the morning napping, and now I'm in the lounge on one of the computers furnished by the Wounded Warrior project. Yes, I'm on the Wounded Warrior wing again -- these guys are just incredible! I even had lunch next to a guy who had lost an arm to an IED. Please support this foundation if you can, and say a prayer for them. Hereos, every one.

So, the goal is to be home in time for the Duke game tomorrow night at 8pm. Any bets? Also, it looks like I'm teaming up with a few friends for my next race...the details are still in work, but stay tuned! Potentially big news shortly, if we can work it. Stay tuned, and thanks for your prayers! Pictures soon, I promise...

And the winner is....

Whew-what a long day! For anyone who has had a loved one undergo surgery, you know what it's like to "wait" and waiting is what we did a lot of today.

Starting at 730am, Mike checked in, changed into a "beautiful" gown and was sent to the "holding" area. Yes, we were definitely in a military hospital this time. No fluff, no pampering, just "get it done". Once settled there, the doctor came in and told us that Mike's surgery had been bumped (much to his dismay) until noon. We were heart-broken. Mike was hungry, tired and begging for coffee. The neurosurgeon is outstanding and was very upset that the hospital had rearranged his schedule, but he was going to do his best to get Mike in early. With a 3 hour wait looming on us before they even came to get Mike, my dad and I decided we'd venture off for some breakfast of our own. Mike welcomed the quiet for some much needed sleep. We returned right at 9am, to find the "orderly" there to take Mike back to surgery. Great news for us-no more waiting for the day to get started!

Once again we said our tearful good-byes and parted ways. Now mind you, we have been smack dab in the middle of Beverly Hills for all but these last 2 surgeries and believe me, the thought, "Todo, we aren't in Kansas anymore" comes to mind. We headed to the "waiting room", which was crowded, loud and HOT! After two hours, which felt like seven by now, my dad and I headed to the desk to see if Mike's case had even begun yet. 11:45am: "yes, they just took him back"...Great news, again, no more waiting on the surgery to begin...

We decided to go downstairs and walk around. An hour later, while talking over lunch, we see the neurosurgeon walk by. I shouted to him "Hey, aren't you supposed to be in surgery?" but, he didn't hear me, so we decided to "follow" him. The whole time thinking "Is Mike already done? Did another surgeon "open" for him? Has he NOT even started yet?" Very confused at this point, we lost him, so we headed back to the desk. This guy must have thought I was nuts, but he politely told me that "yes, they were still "in" there!" Okay, back to WAITING!

Oh the waiting...sleeping, eating, talking, eating, watching TV, reading, eating, praying. Yes, there is a definite pattern here-eating. I eat when I'm bored and nothing was filling that empty, worrying void. Yes, praying helps, but your mind does these weird things. I was SO tired of waiting...

Finally, 230pm: "Mrs Moyles?" "Yes". "Let's step out in the hallway..." (gulp-even knowing this is standard) "Mike did great, he's in ICU, awake, semi-alert and almost completely out of anesthesia." WHOA--what a great surprise. The neurosurgeon had decided to wait an hour after surgery to come tell me things were fine due to the high risk of stroke in "head surgery" patients. Mike had not only come through the surgery fine, but was already well on his way to recovery. The "plate" fit perfectly in the forehead and the skin came together beautifully. The crown is a bit higher than it used to be (says the surgeon), but who cares...he's fine! :) He has a pump, to eliminate the fluid buildup. He'll be in ICU overnight and then to a patient room tomorrow and hopefully home on Sunday.

230: We got to lay eyes on him for the first time since morning. What a wonderful sight, bandages and all! Mike was awake (sort of) and talking. As usual, he wanted to be sure that I knew he was okay, so he says..."where am I?" I say "ICU". Mike-"What? They promised me NO ICU" (insert BIG pouty lip). I just laugh and say "oh dear, they didn't tell you that, but you can think that if you want." After giving the nurses some grief over being in ICU and doing EVERYTHING he can to bribe them to get out, he fell asleep!

I saw him one more time before leaving for the evening. Mike was still complaining about being in ICU and desparately trying to get some ice chips. A quick kiss good-bye and a few more reminders from Mike to get him out of ICU and we parted for the evening. Good luck nurses! :)

Oh, and more reason I know we aren't at Cedars Sinai anymore... 830pm: "Hi, this is Mrs. Moyles...how is my husband doing?" "hold on please"...(silence) "Mrs. Jones, he's resting now". "okay, but I'm Mrs. Moyles", "yes, he's resting now, we'll tell him you called-click!" Hmm... sure hope Mike gets the message! :)

We "Thank you" all for the prayers and support! We couldn't have done any of this without God and all of you. I will end with this....

"And the winner is... Mike!" Praise God for being The Great Physician and keeping Mike safe through another trying time.

Good night all and you'll hear from Mike tomorrow!

Round 5

Well, Michael "Ali" Moyles has been through four rounds and gotten up every time -- tomorrow starts Round Five! Cancer has knocked me down three times, and I've gotten back up, then radiation and subsequent infection, and again I came back strong -- tomorrow, Round Five (reconstructive surgery) begins. I'm ready for it.

Pre-op started on Tuesday. The appointments were long -- over five hours' worth -- but we have a clear road ahead. I spent most of the time with the neurosurgeon and the anesthesiologist, who will be the most critical players in tomorrow's "game". There were a few amusing moments -- first, the EKG showed that I have "sinus bradycardia" -- as some of you other marathoners may know, this simply means my heart doesn't have to beat very often. With a resting heart rate around 44 bpm, I guess the EKG was a bit concerned. Second, my body type -- that is, part wookie -- wreaks havoc on EKG leads, which never stick. Fortunately, I have good veins (large and easily accessible). The nurse politely told me, "The problems you cause in EKG you make up for in labs." In other words, I'm hairy but have good veins. Nice!

Bottom line, everyone is comfortable and confident, and I think the team is the best available. There are three primary concerns:

1. Infection. Apparently, about an hour of the operation is actually replacing the plate, the other three or four hours are all consumed by "infection avoidance" -- sterilization, cleaning, and making sure the plate, sutures, screws, and other items are properly positioned and so forth. The sutures will be internal to minimize the opportunity of bacteria getting under the skin through holes (from staples or stitches). External will be steri-strips only. These surgeries have an extremely high rate of infection...by far the biggest hurdle.

2. Fluid. The body's natural reaction to a foreign body (like an acrylic plate) is to surround it with fluid, much the way an oyster responds to a grain of sand. So, they expect that there will be significant swelling after surgery -- if it's a knee replacement or something else, the swelling eventually just goes down...but they can't afford to let it swell since it's the skull. Therefore, I'll have a drain (like a shunt) placed into my forehead to help drain any excess fluid that builds up around the plate, potentially increasing cranial pressure. The bad part here is that I have to remain in the hospital until the drain is removed and the fluid buildup subsides -- probably at least 2 - 3 days, not the overnight stay I was hoping for.

3. Seizures. The foreign material, the cranial swelling, and pressure differential caused by sealing the brain inside the skull again all create a high risk of seizures. I've never had one and have proven amazingly resistent to seizures, so let's hope that trend continues. I'll be on some pretty powerful seizure suppressants after surgery, which should help.

If we can sidestep those three landmines -- infection, fluid buildup, and seizures -- then I should be in fine shape. I'm second on the schedule Friday morning, with an 8:30am showtime and 10:00am surgery time. I should be in the hospital about two or three days, just long enough to get past the window where infection or dural tears could cause major complications.

Pooh will be keeping up the blog and Facebook regularly...and if past battles are any indication, we all know who's going to win this round. Float like a butterfly...

A Bump in "The Road Ahead."

There's good news and not-so-good news. First, the good news: for those who haven't heard, my scan on the 11th was clear. The cancer is still at bay, I'm still in remission! This is an incredible blessing...perhaps the triple threat (surgery+chemo+radiation) has done the trick. 90 more days, baby!

In the "not-so-good news" realm, the 18th came and went -- with no new forehead. The short version of a long story is that the prosthetic fabricator made the frontal plate out of the wrong material. For those who are interested in the long story...

Here's the original plan:

The image above is from the 1-mm brain scan I had a few weeks ago -- that's actually my skull, you can even see the scar from the bone saw used in previous surgeries. The gold portion is the plate they've created out of titanium mesh. Now, for nearly every cranioplasty patient, titanium mesh is the best option -- lighter, stronger, and integrates well with natural tissues (bone and skin). In numerous consultations with the neurosurgery team, the prosthetic fabricator was able to make a solid case that titanium mesh is the best way to go. Unfortunately, I am not your standard cranioplasty patient. Simply said, titanium mesh is the best way to go, if you never have to remove it. My neurosurgeon here is a fabulous guy and very experienced, and has put many of these plates in -- but, admittedly, has never had to take one out. With my history of tumors and prior brain surgeries, we are realists and understand that (despite the good news above) it is entirely likely that we'll need to go back in at some point to remove additional tumors. Titanium mesh integrates with the healthy bone, and the scalp actually settles into the mesh -- it really becomes a part of your head, which is a great thing for most patients, but not for me. In addition, titanium could mask a recurrence -- since it's metal, it can introduce imperfections and "false positives" into an MRI, and could even mask recurrent tumor tissue. So, for at least a few reasons, titanium mesh is a bad idea for me, and the neurosurgeon has made the right decision to cancel surgery and order an acrylic plate. We're back on the calendar for 15 January, so stay tuned!

Training has gone quite well over the past month or so. Those of you who know me are well aware of the fact that these little "bumps in the road" like cranial reconstructions and brain surgeries don't slow me down much...and you may remember from a previous blog that I've decided to specialize in the half-marathon. My goal is to break 1:30 next year, which starts with the National Half-Marathon in March. Goal for this race is somewhere in the 1:37s, around 7:25/mile pace. I'm focusing on the Furman Institute's of Running and Scientific Training (FIRST) half-marathon plan, and it really seems to be working so far. Has anyone used FIRST before? The book "Run Less, Run Faster" is largely based on Furman's research, and I must say I'm pretty impressed. PRs at both 5 and 8 miles just in the last few weeks (36:11 and 59:24 respectively), so it can accomplish some pretty good results on only 3 runs per week.

That's all for now -- of course we thought we'd be in recovery from surgery this week, so didn't make any plans, and will be spending a quiet Christmas at home with Pooh and Monkey. To be honest, I wouldn't have it any other way. Be thankful for life and loved ones today, my friends!

The Road Ahead

Well, I promised an update after last Monday's appointment with the neurosurgeon. Good news -- I'm fully healed, and ready for reconstructive surgery! A concern and a praise at the same time, I suppose...I'm very ready for this whole ordeal to be over, but not necessarily looking forward to another major surgery -- my third one this year. But, if you know me, you know it won't slow me down. Here's the road ahead:

23 November: 1mm-cranial scan. This is like a CT, but a CT is usually done with 3mm or 5mm "slices." To reconstruct a 3-d image of my skull, they need to do one with 1mm slices...that just means a really long CT scan...probably two hours or more. They'll use the 3-d imaging from that scan to construct the prosthetic that will go where my forehead used to be.

11 December: Brain scan (MRI). Remember the "90 Days at a Time" blog? Well, my last scan was 16 September...so you can do the math. We've made it another 90 days in remission, and we need to check again to make sure the cancer is still at bay. This is basically unrelated to the infection and the reconstruction, but a significant event nonetheless.

14 December: Neurosurgery and radiation oncology consults. Basically, appointments to go over the scans and learn the results. Hopefully, we'll restart the 90-day clock!

18 December: Reconstructive surgery. They'll open me up again, place the prosthetic in, "trim to fit," and close me back up. In general, the shortest and simplest of all the surgeries I've had, but there are some potential complications and risks. If all goes well, I'm only in the hospital overnight for observation, and home that weekend.

31 December: The Fairfax Four road race! What, you thought I'd let surgery stop me from training and running? Come on...

So, there you have it! A new forehead for Christmas. There's a song there somewhere...

Race Report -- Richmond Half-Marathon

Greetings bloggers! First, the running news. I've made the decision to specialize -- meaning I've probably run my last marathon. My challenge is to find a distance long enough to satisfy my love for the long run, but short enough that I can still be competitive. I realize that to be competitive at the marathon distance, I need to be in the 2:30 range -- something that is just not realistic for me. However, if I move down to the half marathon, in the 35 - 39 age group, I can place (and maybe even win a few) if I get under 1:30. I think that's well within my ability. So, let it be done -- I'm now a half-marathoner.

That said, today was the Suntrust Richmond Half-Marathon. I had not quite trained as much as I would like -- I ran the Leavenworth Half-Marathon in October with almost no training, then trained about five weeks after that race for Richmond. Still, I as hoping to break 1:40 -- about 7:37 pace. Well...

You've all probably heard of Hurricane Ida. It's been wreaking havoc across most of the east coast, and here in Alexandria it's rained for about five straight days...Richmond too. But, a little light rain isn't much of a deterrent...it actually makes for pretty good running weather, most days. The race started bright and early at 0730 -- parking was plentiful and easily accessible, and only a few blocks from the start. It seemed there were fewer porta-potties than there needed to be given the number of runners, but I was early enough to wait it out in line.

The course was flat and fast...beautiful fall colors, some of the course along the James River, and most of it in either historic oldtown or in one of the many city parks in Richmond. Live music was plentiful, and the water stops were well-placed and well-stocked. Unfortunately, there was almost a complete lack of any fan support -- perhaps because the half-marathon started 30 minutes prior to the full, or perhaps because of the weather, but it was really just a few hardy folks standing on their doorsteps and a couple dozen at the entrance to Joseph Bryan Park.

No problems during the race, but my legs started to get heavy around 10 miles...not sure why, but it made the last few miles some pretty tough ones. I can't really blame the course or the weather, so it was probably just a lack of training, lack of sleep, or nutrition issue. Final time was 1:42:23, about two and half minutes over goal time...398th out of 4578 total, and 45th out of 366 in my age group. Not too bad -- and the five weeks of training since Leavenworth paid off by knocking almost 10 minutes off my time from that race, but still a couple minutes short of my goal. Next up -- the National Half-Marathon, 20 March 2010.

In other news, my next neurosurgery appointment is on Monday (16 November). Hopefully, they'll do a physical assessment and schedule me for reconstructive surgery. I'm really not looking forward to another surgery and another 4 - 6 weeks of recovery, but I'm ready to get this episode over with. Put me head back together, and let me get on with living!

For the "Monkey Fan Club," you'll be happy to know that she is growing like a weed and expanding her vocabulary daily. I'm also afraid she's hit the "terrible twos" about six months early...it's becoming quite a challenge, but an enjoyable one.

Will let you all know the results of the Monday appointment!

90 Days At A Time...

My brain tumor was first discovered almost 10 years ago -- in December 1999. It was a complete stroke of luck, if you believe in such things (I don't, but that's another post). While playing basketball with a city league in St. Louis, I dove for a loose ball and collided with another player, losing consciousness for about 15 seconds. When I regained consciousness, I couldn't move my right arm. An ambulance ride and a CT scan later, I learned that I had sustained significant damage to my C5 cervical nerve, weakening my right arm to the point where I couldn't lift a 16-oz can of soda. I was a Captain in the Air Force at the time, and Air Force policies dictated that I also have an MRI of the brain to rule out any hemorrhaging or potential complications from the concussion. What followed can only be described as surreal.

An MRI of the brain can be an intimidating experience for the uninitiated (of course, I sleep through them now). Your head is immobilized by a plastic helmet, and you are slowly moved into a tube about 24" in diameter. You must be completely motionless -- for about 55 minutes. In my case, there was a small mirror just above my eyes, which allowed me to see out the tube, between my feet, into the MRI room where the technician was sitting. I tried to count the minutes as they crawled by...15...30...40...and about 45 minutes into the scan, a Colonel arrived. Five minutes later, another Colonel. And then another. And another. An hour into the scan, it was finished -- but I was still in the tube, watching with growing desperation as four Colonels pored over the screen where I can only assume my brain was on display. Born in and raised under the care of military hospitals, I knew Colonels were the Chiefs of their various divisions within the hospital -- neurology, neurosurgery, radiology, internal medicine, family practice...who were they? What did they see? After an eternity, the table started to move and I slowly slid out of the tube. The Colonels were gone.

The next day I received a call from a doctor in neurology, who wanted to test my right arm to determine the extent of the nerve damage. He also provided me with a referral to Barnes-Jewish Hospital in St. Louis to see a neurosurgeon. After repeated questions, he divulged that they had "seen something" on the scan, but didn't know what it was. The subsequent neurosurgery appointment confirmed the rumor, but diagnosis remained elusive -- an arachnoid cyst, a birth defect, a hamartoma. A year and a half later, along with second and third opinions at Deaconness and Sacred Heart Medical Center, and still no real confidence in what the thing was. But it was there. And it was growing. And it had to be removed.

Thanks to an article I ran across in Time Magazine and the sheer brilliance of Dr. Keith Black and his team at the Maxine Dunitz Neurosurgical Institute at Cedars-Sinai, we finally got a diagnosis, and scheduled surgery -- going under the knife in April 2001.

That first surgery was followed by serial brain scans (basically MRIs) every 90 days, and for the last eight years, I have been undergoing a similar routine. Life really only exists until the next scan. Is it clear? 90 days of remission. Is there a recurrence? Then the process begins again. Surgery? Chemotherapy? Radiation? You literally learn to live 90 days at a time. Each clear scan is 90 more days of living. 90 more days of running. 90 more days of fighting.

Which brings me to the point of the historic tale. I had another brain scan just a week or two ago, and recently got the results. We're all clear! The infection is gone, and there is no sign of any recurring cancer. No more tumors. The surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and antibiotics have all done their job. 90 more days, baby! 90 more days...

I'm Back!

After six weeks of daily IV antibiotic treatments, I'm DONE. Finally. The good news is that the infectious disease docs think the infection is on the run, I've had the stitches removed, and the incision looks great. As you can see below, my profile still leaves a lot to be desired -- but that will all be fixed with some plastic surgery in December/January to rebuild my skull. The reconstructive surgery itself carries some pretty significant risks, but I won't bore you with those details. Here's the great profile shot:

Well, looks were never my strong suit anyway...and it makes Halloween easy...and GEICO has already contacted me about doing some commercials (just kidding).

I feel fine, and am even slowly starting back to work. Most importantly, the central line (PICC) was removed, which means I can run again! Yes, after, six weeks of sitting on my derriere, I laced 'em up again a few weeks ago. I sure didn't set any land speed records, but was able to run an easy four miles at 8:55 pace...much slower and shorter than my usual Sunday run, but it felt great just to be on the road again (thanks Willie Nelson). The challenge now is to run the half-marathon -- and finish with dignity -- next weekend. I usually train 16 weeks for a marathon, and at least 8 - 12 for a half-marathon...and somehow I'm going to give it a shot after only four weeks of training. I had my last long run today, and did 10.3 at about 8:15 pace. I'm definitely not going to meet my goal of breaking 1:30 for the half, but I'll at least finish. Stay tuned for the race report...it should be an interesting one! I've also registered for the Richmond Half-Marathon on November 14th, so maybe I'll be sub-1:30 by that time, but that's still pushing it.

Many of you who have contributed will be happy to hear that the helmet is truly a work of art. I've added stickers from Washington, Oregon, Texas, Kentucky, and Ohio, as well as a very special one from New Zealand (thanks !) and a few others. I also added a monkey, of course! Sticker count is now up to 30, with room remaining...though I did receive one Texas sticker that was bigger than the helmet itself...not sure what to do with that one. So, here's how it looks right now:

Your support and encouragement has been instrumental in my recovery -- thanks to everyone! Another blog soon, I promise...

Live Strong Action

My wife is so awesome!
I've been working with the Lance Armstrong Foundation for a number of years, raising money and raising awareness. The LAF is now initiating "Live Strong Action," where you can pay tribute to those who have inspired you. Take a look at the dedication page my wife did for me. So cool! Even better, if I've motivated or inspired you in some way, feel free to add your name...it doesn't cost a cent!
LIVE STRONG...

Helmet Head

Well, first and foremost -- I think I found the perfect helmet -- thanks REI!

It's even been approved by the neurosurgeon! Of course, you'll notice that it's completely blank -- no stickers yet. More on that in a moment.

Status Update: I'm doing pretty well. I'm not in any pain, just dealing with fatigue and the daily grind. I have medical appointments at either the National Institutes of Health or the National Naval Medical Center almost every day, with visits and deliveries from the home healthcare folks at CORAM at least once or twice a week. I also get daily IV antibiotics, and Pooh is a pro now -- we've got the whole IV thing down to an easy routine. The side effects of the Invanz antibiotics aren't too pleasant, but I won't bore you with the details.

Today was supposed to be a fairly big day...the day I get my stitches removed! We took the hour trip up to NNMC, waited for the neurosurgeon, and upon examination found that about half the incision had not yet healed adequately for the stitches to be removed. So, they took about half of them out...well, it's a start anyway! Back next week to get the other half out. Here's how it looked:

As you can see, I haven't been able to cut my hair for a few weeks. I think this is the longest it's been since high school! In any case, I'm doing well, feeling fine, and resting as much as I can. I'm off the roads and off the bike for at least four more weeks, but I'm still hoping to keep my race schedule intact. I might not meet my goal of breaking 1:30 in the half this year, but it's still on the books...it just might take a bit longer.

Finally, about the helmet. THANK YOU so much for all the stickers and support! Here's the current tally:

1 Ohio State Seal (thanks Jen)

1 Ladybug (thanks Jen)

1 Kentucky Wildcat (thanks Aunt Barb...tough one to use for a Duke fan, but I used it!)

1 "No Brainer" logo (thanks Pooh!)

1 "Good as New" logo (thanks Pooh!)

1 Band-Aid (thanks Brian)

2 Stars (thanks mom)

1 Mickey Mouse (thanks mom)

1 bunch of grapes (thanks La Toscana Winery)

1 Major rank, soon to be upgraded to Lt Col (thanks Don!)

2 American flags (thanks Brian)

1 "Custom Cruiser" (thanks Brian)

3 words: "Conviction," "Hope," and "Commitment" (thanks Sharon)

We're up to 17 stickers, with LOTS of room left. Keep them coming!

And, if I haven't told you before, all you bloggers are wonderful people...as are those who read and comment, but don't blog. The support (and stickers) you all provide is tremendous. Keep running and keep fighting!

Foreheads are Overrated -- And A Challenge to Bloggers!

So, here's the latest -- along with pictures this time, finally!

After a great deal of research I don't pretend to understand, the petri dishes grew whatever they needed to, and we have a name for the bug that attacked my head and face -- enterobacter aerogenes. Go ahead and click the link or Google for yourself -- it's not pretty. Highly destructive, high mortality rate, all the nasties you don't want to read about. Fortunately, it's only really dangerous if you have "a prior history of surgeries in the area, cancer, or an immune system compromised by chemotherapy or radiation treatments." NICE! I'm batting a thousand on that one...but I'm doing well. The infectious disease docs at the National Naval Medical Center were outstanding, and isolated the bug in time to treat it appropriately. Once they found the bug causing my infection, they prescribed the right antibiotic and installed a Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter (PICC) line. That was quite an impressive process -- a 43cm catheter that goes from my armpit to my heart -- but in the end it was far less traumatic or painful than I had expected.

With the right antibiotics in hand and the PICC Line inserted, I was discharged from the hospital last night and sent home. This morning a home healthcare nurse from CORAM Home Healthcare infusion services arrived, and provided

me and Pooh with all the equipment and instructions on how to administer the antibiotics -- 30 minutes once a day -- not bad at all. It helps that Pooh's mother, who is a 30-year OR nurse, is staying here with us -- and our next-door neighbor is a transplant and PICC nurse. We're covered! The CORAM nurse walked us through the process this morning, and we're on our own tomorrow!

I'm not in any pain and I feel fairly good, but I sure don't look pretty. Here's the latest shot, taken just before I left the hospital:

There is still some swelling from both the surgery and the infection, but once that swelling goes down, there will be quite a canyon between the top of my head and my brow. I'll probably look like something between a cro-magnon man and a klingon, but that's okay...I was never much to look at anyway, and I've already got a wonderful wife who loves me to matter what I look like! At least, that's what she tells me...

A CHALLENGE TO BLOGGERS

Okay, here's where the fun begins -- because my brain is basically exposed and unprotected (only covered by a thin layer of skin), I have to wear a helmet whenever I'm out and about or doing anything active (including running). So, I'm going helmet shopping tomorrow. Here's your chance to "get involved" -- send stickers! I'll get a plain black biking, climbing, or skating helmet, and decorate it with all the stickers I receive from fellow bloggers against cancer and everyone else. Feel free to get creative as you like -- a state sticker from where you are, a sticker from your last race, a photo, your favorite slogan, whatever -- just please use good taste (no profanity), and I'll find a way to fit all the stickers on my helmet and show off the great support I've always received from blogland. If you don't have my home address, please send an e-mail to moylesm@hotmail.com and I'll send it to you. I'll even upload periodic pictures of the infamous cranium cap! Thanks to Peggy for the great idea...and start sending!

Next blog will have a few race reports and more photos. Signing off with a farewell from the Monkey...love to all!

Made it Through Another...

Greetings fellow bloggers! It's Mike this time...blogging from the National Naval Medical Center (NNMC) in Bethesda, MD. Wow, what a turn of events.

Angie ("Pooh") gave a pretty good summary in the previous blog. Basically, I was fully recovered from December's surgery, feeling fine, the what appeared to be just a headache snowballed into a craniotomy #4! Far be it from me to place blame, but from what we now know it appears that something unsterile was introduced into the cranium during my last surgery. That was enough to foster an infection under the frontal plate, which has slowly festered for the past few months. It then exited through my right temple and began to attack the soft tissue above and around my right eye, which is when I first became aware of it. By the time we noticed and got to the ER on Monday afternoon, the infection had destroyed the entire frontal plate and done some damage to the sinus cavity and even the dura (sack surrounding the brain).

Surgery yesterday morning was actually not craniotomy #4, it was craniectomy #1 -- the removal of the frontal plate. After some pretty serious labwork to figure out which bug (or bugs) have been throwing a party in my head for the last seven months, I'll be put on targeted antibiotics and sent home -- probably 3 - 4 days. I'll come back in 14 days for a checkup and to get the sutures removed, then back in about 6 months for a cranioplasty. They've made a mold of the bone that was removed, and will recreate it with either titanium mesh or a plastic polymer. The idea is to make me look basically the same as I looked before the event -- I asked if they could make me better looking, but apparently it's pretty hard to improve on what I've already got ;-).

I feel just okay. Not a lot of pain or discomfort, this struggle is far more emotional. I wasn't ready for this. I didn't have time to educate myself or prepare, mentally, emotionally, and psychologically, for this event. The hospital is not nearly as nice as Cedars-Sinai, and it's pretty lonely. I think things will improve as I spend more time here, but more than anything I just want to go home.

I owe quite a few blogs, including several race reports. In short, training has gone very well -- I've hooked up with the FIRST folks, and their training plans have been working for me so far. They've been profiled a number of times in Runner's World, so you may have heard of them. I'm focusing on half-marathons right now -- did the Marine Corps Half, and was happy with 1:41, and had planned to do the Air Force Half on 19 September, but will probably have to miss that one to recover. I hope to follow with the Richmond SunTrust Half and the Oktoberfest Half-Marathon, but we'll see how recovery goes.

I'm on a public PC at the hospital, so can't upload photos...but if you're on FB, I've put a few there. More to follow...I may actually have time to catch up on my blogs now! Thanks to all the bloggers who have already sent me notes and posts on FB...you all ROCK, as usual. Keep praying!

Craniotomy #4

Okay, this is Angie, so bare with me. I'm a bit tired, but am hoping this will all make sense.

To start, Mike wants to say he is sorry for the lack of updates since March.

Everything was going great, expect for a minor bone pain on the temporal area, right by his eye...we were starting to settle back into our "new normal". Mike has been training like mad and was preparing for the Leavenworth, WA half-marathon in October.

This bone pain was checked at his 3 month appointment and nothing was found. The MD said it was just still healing, some post surgical changes. So, he kept dealing with it, hoping it would go away. Thursday or Friday of last week he was having enough pain that he asked for some Ibuprofen. Okay, so that sounds minor to most, but for those of you that know Mike, taking even and Ibuprofen is a "sin"! Well, along came Sunday, he had such a bad headache, with some slight swelling, that he decided it was time to call the CA MD. They said it was unlikely that it was anything too serious since he had no symptoms...hmm...where have we heard that before? "Oh, nothing to be worried about", says Mike, "off for my 12 mile run". He had a miserable run. Chalked it up to lack of sleep and possibly, not enough to drink. Later that day we spent the afternoon downtown with my brother's family and his forehead and eye became swollen. By the time we got home he wasn't feeling good at all. He looked like he was in a boxing match--and he didn't win! (I'll try to post pics later--got to figure that out again :))

Well, Monday rolls around and we had another big day planned to see the "sights" of D.C. But, Mike woke up with his entire right eye swollen shut and the swelling was half way down his face (again, picture later). Needless to say Mike KNEW something was wrong. Made an appointment at the MD for that afternoon... As suspected his GP (general practioner) could do nothing, so up to National Navy Medical Center's ER. Some labs, a CT, LOTS of waiting, an MRI, neurosurgery consult with Walter Reed Medical Center, they determined that Mike had osteomyelitis. At about 4am...they FINALLY admitted him to the hospital to start massive IV antibiotics. There were several questions still to be answered... is the bone (in the forehead) dead, if not will the antibiotics save it? Did the infection cross the dura into the brain tissue?

Well, my brother and I went home to catch some zzz's, not knowing what to expect. Mike was NOT optimistic about this. Finally home at 5am, and asleep by 530 or 6, my phone rang at 855am...it was Mike stating that the head of neurosurgery at Walter Reed Medical Center reviewed his case and they were doing surgery immediately. My heart sank, I was hoping he'd just have to do antibiotics. He said they'd wait on me to get there..."I'm thinking, what, is this a dream?" I hop in the shower to wake myself up, grab my brother and off we go in rush hour traffic on I-495 north. I'm mad, scared and nervous...and I-495 was a parking lot. Thank the good Lord my brother was with me. 930am and only to I-66 (those of you who know the area, feel my pain)..Mike calls..they are doing surgery at 10..I thought, "no way I'm gonna make it"...Mike trys to stall and I push a little harder through traffic. Finally I get north of Tyson's Corner and "free" road. I get there 1015 am and rush into Mike's room where we both share our feelings, crying and then get strong for one another. 1040 and off he goes...

The MD said that he can't save the bone and removing it is the best thing to avoid further infection. This means that Mike will not have a forehead bone for 6-8 mo. He will be in the hospital for the rest of the week getting heavy antibiotics while the Infectious Disease MD's figure out what is growing. Once that is determined and he heals from the surgery he will come home with a pic-line so that we can do more specific IV antibiotics at home for 6-8 weeks. He will be off work for 4-6 wks and, I assume, no running for 8 months, or more. He will wear a helmet to protect his head from any head trauma. Once the infection is gone for good they will put in a titanium plate.

The infection could be a delayed onset from surgery or, before the bones fused back together Mike could have gotten dust in his eye, nose or breathed in something that caused this. It's hard to tell and at this point not worth worrying about.

The surgery went smoothly, he did well. The infection was localized, and did not cross the Dura. I saw him in the ICU briefly where he was quite the comic as usual. Good to see though.

I don't know much more about his treatment/care/post-op process at this time. All I know is that he made it through and has all his functions! Thank God!!

Thank you all for your prayers! We love you all...