Happy Thanksgiving

I do have much to be thankful for this year. I’m thankful that you’ve thought enough of my blog to visit it. I’m thankful for all of my offline and online training partners, my oh-so-loyal friends, a steady month of work ahead, and my family. Right now, I am especially grateful to the Denver Jewish Medical Center's doctors for consulting on my mother’s case back in Massachusetts. She has a rare lung condition called NTM and is in the fight of her life right now.

For a long time, I’ve made a point of keeping my blog light and tri-focused. However, this is such a rare condition that there needs to be more awareness about it. It predominantly affects thin, white women over the age of 50. Her symptoms included shortness of breath and a cough. It is often misdiagnosed as pneumonia. It is not contagious. It has become more prevalent since water heaters were set to lower levels to conserve energy. It’s caused by a bacterium that is in our soil and municipal water. You can't kill it with bleach. You can get it from the mist of showers, gardening, and indoor hot tubs. It’s a cruel, cruel illness. Especially when I think of how my mom has taken such good care of herself all these years. A woman who always drank her milk, ate her fruits and veggies, wore sunscreen, played tennis and gardened doesn’t deserve this – of course, no one does.

Since one can be genetically susceptible to it, I just cancelled my 11-year membership to the gym where there’s a whirlpool right next to the pool. I’ll swim outdoors at the school. I’ll lift weights at home. Anyhow, sorry my blog has been a bit dormant the past couple of weeks. Otherwise, life is good. Very good. And for that I am so thankful.

Tomorrow, I will take Wendy Ingram’s advice and try to pack on a few pounds for the upcoming season. I will meet my family in the morning for the Long Beach Turkey Trot. My pace may be nothing more than a trot, too. And in keeping with tradition, energy permitting, we may gather on a grassy field for a game of football. I hope. Then I can wear jeans with holes and grass stains to dinner instead of nylons. When dinner is served, we will give thanks and pile the calories on the plates. I prefer to float my food. And knowing my dad, I'm sure Mom won't be eating hospital food tomorrow!

* Picture of me in Massachusetts last week, taking refuge in a tree fit for a hobit.