Category Archives: Running

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Finally Running For Me

Shaken, Not Stirred!

 2012 TEAM Epilepsy Therapy Project 

Philadelphia Half Marathon 11.18.12

I used to run because my life felt like it was spinning out of control and I needed an escape. Now I’m running because I will not allow my life to spin anymore. I was shaken, and now I will not be stirred!

I was diagnosed with Epilepsy in 2005 caused by a Mild Traumatic Brain Injury earlier that year. I was only 32 years old, married ten years, with two sons, ages 7 and 2, and I was working full time. Our world was rocked in ways we could not have predicted. Seven years later, my fingertips can still recall the sharpness of the eleven life changing stitches hidden by my hair. I sat in a staff meeting unable to comprehend anything that was being said and worried that my life would never be the same. I was partially correct. I was definitely shaken!

I am still a wife and I am still a mom. I am no longer employed but instead focus my time and attention with those that I love. My days are filled with my family, including my 96 year old grandmother, with whom I spend several days each week helping age gracefully, and ensuring she has her afternoon cocktail when she chooses (a Martini, of course). I have been seen by more doctors than I can count on my extremities, been connected to enough wires to rewire our home three times over and weaned on and off drugs more times than the Octomom weaned children off bottles.  After my initial diagnosis, months of cognitive rehabilitation and some difficult trial and error with medicine, we eventually found the right concoction. With the exception of a few minor adjustments I was fortunate to have about four years with very few problems. For a while, I was not shaken and not stirred.

My world started spinning again last spring when I began having breakthrough seizures. It took me several weeks, and several seizures, to realize what was happening. I had become so accustomed to having controlled epilepsy, it never occurred to me that the day would come that medicine would fail to stop my seizures. I have tried four new drugs, all of which have serious side effects. We settled on the one with the least offensive side effects that still effectively controls seizures. I’m learning to grow comfortable with the fact that treating epilepsy will affect many parts of my daily life and it’s important that I remain vigilant. I have been shaken, and I have realized some valuable lessons.

Epilepsy is scary and confusing. Nearly 3 million Americans suffer from seizures, yet most people don’t even know the simple first aid steps to help a person having a seizure. I am blessed to be among those with epilepsy that can be controlled with drugs. I can help those that are not able to speak up; for the exhausted parents tending to their young child stricken with epilepsy and the variety of complications it brings, for the single adult trying to manage epilepsy and a job but unable to drive a car, for the teenager afraid the next seizure will happen in the school cafeteria or in English class, or for the young mom who just wants family life to be normal again. I am an advocate for epilepsy.

Combining my epilepsy advocacy and my passion for the pavement, I have formed Team Shaken, Not Stirred! We are running the Philadelphia Half Marathon on November 18th to benefit the Epilepsy Therapy Project! Seven of my running buddies have joined Shaken, Not Stirred and together we are setting big goals to raise big money and big awareness for the Epilepsy Therapy Project!

Please join me in this very personal labor of love by making a donation to sponsor me or to sponsor Team Shaken, Not Stirred. I am still in the process of changing drugs now, but that is not going to change my focus. While I am training for this race I will be in our community sharing epilepsy education and awareness. Change will happen when people are aware and I am certainly willing to speak up.

To donate (just like my children already have)  just click this link or copy it to your browser and click the “Sponsor Me” icon. https://epilepsytherapyproject.myetap.org/fundraiser/2012PHLMarathon/individual.do?participationRef=3917.0.251389979 .

I’m deeply grateful to my family and countless friends who have given me support in so many ways and especially this last year. Thank you for loving me when it has been hard to love me, for holding my hand when it would have been easier to let go and for listening when I didn’t make sense.  Thank you for letting me know it’s ok to be me even when I’m still not sure who I am. Most of all, thank you for giving me hope for an easier tomorrow.  A bold new journey is beginning and I’m thankful to be Shaken, Not Stirred!

Cheers!

Gatewood

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Shaken, Not Stirred

When I was pregnant I read “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”.  People offered advice, whether I wanted it or not. Guess what?  There isn’t a book called “What to Expect When You Have Epilepsy”.  That might have been helpful for me, or maybe not. It might have scared me, or maybe I would have been better prepared.

I was cruising along just fine when epilepsy hit me right on target (pun intended) and distracted me from my very organized, multitasked and planned out life. For 7 years I’ve been adjusting to the changes epilepsy brought to my life. The first couple of years certainly weren’t easy breezy, but it’s all kind of a big blur to me now. I remember lots of doctors, pills, post it notes and catching rides with people. After I realized I couldn’t juggle work and epilepsy, and left the 9 to never-ending grind, I had very few problems for about 4 years. I had regular checkups with my neurologist and just routine blood work to make sure my medication levels were where they needed to be. I felt good. I couldn’t multitask but I could plan and organize enough again. Life was good.

Last Spring things slowly began to change and it caught me off guard.  I was not prepared for things to change.  My medicine quit working and I was having breakthrough seizures. The last year has been a learning experience. Those 4 good years gave me a false security that I had this thing licked. Don’t get me wrong, I believe I can have this thing licked, but I’m not there yet. Over the last year I have spent every month weaning on or off multiple anti-seizure meds in search of the lesser of the evils. It’s the great hunt for seizure control versus manageable side effects. Ask my family, it’s a pleasure to experience. One did a great job controlling the seizures but made me want to crawl out of my skin and I couldn’t sleep at all. Another controlled seizures really well, but it caused me to pretty much wake up without any patience or filter for appropriate speech (and pretty much tell off anyone I saw). That was a really bad bad medicine. Another one made me slur my speech, delay my word retrieval, limit concentration and pretty much screw up all of my processing skills. I’m still suffering the effects of that one. Another one gave me the shakes. My current drug of choice upsets my stomach and I have to time my meals exactly to limit the nausea. Some days I can’t fight the nausea, even with food, and I just have to stay in bed. The medicine makes me sleepy and I need a nap to get through each day. I get dizzy moving from a seated position to a standing position. My gums bleed and stay swollen and are sometimes so painful it’s hard to eat.  I have lost some taste and appetite. My hair thins a little more each day. The blotchy deep purple in my hands and feet is another nice free bonus I guess. And this is the medicine I chose, because the others were worse.

I am not complaining, I am explaining. I count myself among the fortunate patients with epilepsy. Mine is controlled with medication. Although, clearly it’s not the perfect medication. Epilepsy is a disorder in my brain but in order for it to be controlled, I basically have to surrender the rest of my body to medication. Well, that’s just not good enough for me, not long-term anyway. I need more options, we all need more options and I need to find a way to make that happen. I’ve spent the last year researching and networking with others in the epilepsy community and I learned about The Epilepsy Therapy Project. I am thrilled to combine my love of running with the opportunity to raise money for a deeply personal cause.

I have formed Team SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED to run the Philadelphia Half Marathon on Sunday, November 18th and raise $3,000 for The Epilepsy Therapy Project!  I already have one recruit! Sharon McGowan has signed on to Shaken, Not Stirred, which seems appropriate since she is one of the few people who knew me well before all this and has been by my side through it all!

Click this link to visit our own TEAM SHAKEN, NOT STIRRED page to donate, to join our team and to learn more about The Epilepsy Therapy Project. https://epilepsytherapyproject.myetap.org/fundraiser/2012PHLMarathon/team.do?participationRef=3917.0.251389978

I hope to use my involvement with this project to spread awareness and education about epilepsy while I prepare for the race. I’m just beginning this project and my brain is still fried, though over-easy, from the variety of  drugs I have been on, and I’m still weaning off another medicine now. There will be lots more information and updates to come. This is a very exciting opportunity for our family to get involved with the epilepsy community. My hope is that something I do will help someone else be better prepared or perhaps need not be prepared at all.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, May 2012

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Reaching Beyond Comfort

There have been two hot topics in our town recently. One is just annoying, and the other raises moral and ethical issues and also gives all of us the opportunity to push ourselves beyond our comfort zone.

One is the new quadrant left traffic pattern which someone in Raleigh claims will alleviate congestion. That remains to be seen, amid a sea of solid red brake lights. I can’t speak directly to this as I have managed to completely avoid this area of town for 9 solid days and will continue my boycott as long as possible (on the advice of all those who have attempted to navigate said quadrant).

The other hot topic is the Town Board’s decision to deny a rezoning request that would have allowed a mental health facility offering both inpatient and outpatient care. The Town Planning Board recommended the rezoning 8-1 yet the Town Board voted down the request 4-2. I didn’t attend the meetings, but I did keep up with the information that was published and I was bothered by what I read.

The rezoning became a debate because the 17 acres in question is adjacent to a neighborhood. Here it comes, Not In My Back Yard.  Oh yes, loud and clear, that’s what the neighbors said over and over and over again. Some said they weren’t against the need for the facility, again, just not right in their backyard. I cringed as I read comments from opponents who said they were afraid of patients who might do something stupid. Stupid? Oooo, I didn’t like hearing this word used when discussing this issue. I get it. The problem is fear. We fear what we don’t understand. We steer clear of what we don’t understand. It makes us uncomfortable, so we dodge it.

Here is what I do understand. People with mental illness are still people, living breathing people. They have families who love them and are searching for qualified professionals to help them get better. They need proper facilities to help them, whether we are comfortable or not. The whole thing really struck a chord with me. Why is it ok to turn our heads or close our eyes and not look at the need, whatever it may be? 

I was disappointed that I didn’t hear anyone offering solutions or compromises that would have swayed the Town Board’s decision, or perhaps educated both sides of the issue. I was frustrated that 60 much-needed inpatient beds as well as outpatient facilities in Mecklenburg County will not be ready in 2013 which puts even more people out of help. I was frustrated that our town had a chance to employ over 150 people and missed out on it, not to mention the construction that it would have brought (as well as broken equipment, cha-ching CAT). My Grandfather spent many summers volunteering his time at Broughton Hospital to relieve the overworked Chaplain. My Grandmother and I talked about it last week. She cried as she recalled the desperation she saw in families who needed professional care for their loved ones. She shook her head and said it was a shame Huntersville had missed out on the chance to really make a difference for a lot of people in need. When you have seen it first hand it always brings a different perspective. She has seen the other side and it made her weep.

As I thought about this over the last week, I had to take a long hard look at myself. OK, Miss Priss, just what are you doing to make a difference for someone else?  Was I guilty of turning my own head too?

BOOYAH! OUCH!

Guess who else has a comfort zone? Uh huh! I can give you a list a mile long of reasons why I have a comfort zone and they all make sense, medically, emotionally and Gatewoodally. But seriously, I had to look at myself and wonder if I was going to ask others to step out, then I had to be willing to do the same myself.

Do I have any extra time to do anything else? Well, what exactly do I do with my time? I go to the gym 3 times a week and aside from the really old lady keeper and the obvious endless chores and tasks of a car-pooling and sometimes seizing stay at home mom of 2 boys who sits at home and eats ice cream all day, I guess nothing much. Oh yea, and I run. OH YEA, I RUN! That’s what I need to do! It hit me like a sign blown over by the wind! There is a 5K/10K at our local high school this Saturday to benefit the Exceptional Children’s programs in our local schools. I’m running a half marathon the following weekend so the 10K would even be the right mileage for my schedule. Perfect, except that I didn’t know anyone else running the 10K. That threw a mild kink in my plan, but Johnny and the boys planned to go with me so I wouldn’t be there by myself. Great, I can use my running to help a wonderful cause! Fantastic! So I signed up for the Run TOO Overcome, this Saturday, March 17th at 8 am.

Together Overcoming Obstacles!

The mission of the Run TOO Overcome is to provide awareness and support for the children, families, and teachers whom meet the daily challenges, and celebrate the joys, of supporting our special needs community. The Run Too Overcome unites our community each year to raise funds to provide our special needs teachers with the equipment and supplies needed to provide differentiated instruction to enrich and engage students of all ability levels.

I finished my registration and picked up Justin from baseball practice and he told me when his next practice would be – yep, Saturday morning, 9am. AH, HELLO? Guess what that means? No Johnny and no kids with me at the race on Saturday. God really does have a sense of humor folks because I’m going WAY outside of my comfort zone for this one. It’s all solo on this one. OK, so I had to get over myself and move on. The Run TOO Overcome isn’t about my comfort zone anyway, it’s about celebrating the awareness and support of the special needs community and raising funds for our local schools. If reaching beyond my comfort zone celebrates others who have overcome adversity, Amen to that!

(Don’t worry Mom, I’ll carry my phone with me during the race just in case, though seriously, I’m with Michael Scott, In Case of Emergency, just call 911).

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, March 2012

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He Will Renew My Strength

“But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

 

I waited. I hoped. I prayed. I tried to be patient. I was afraid I was too weak. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever be able to do it again. It’s been 3 months since I have felt secure enough to run alone. I missed the calm of my solo runs. I longed to soar like an eagle on a windy day.

It’s been 3 months since I felt that weird feeling in my stomach that I recognized as trouble on the horizon. I looked at my image in the rearview mirror and saw the twitching in my face and neck. I felt it moving down my shoulder into my arm. I felt the numbness in my face and lips and I knew what was coming. I got off the road immediately and turned the car off, pulled the keys out of the ignition and put them in the seat beside me and let nature take its course for the next little while. I’ve learned to handle life’s emergencies and not freak out. Hey, I don’t mind sitting on the furniture display in a store and waiting for my husband to come and get me either. Move along people, there is nothing to see here, and by the way, don’t buy this furniture because it is not comfortable, in case you wondered.

After the seizure several months ago there were 3 more over the next month. We added an additional medication and after playing around with the dosing, I think things are better under control, but it comes with new side effects. This time I’m not the devil’s twin sister, at least I don’t think I am (no comments from the peanut gallery please), but it does make me very dizzy, very very dizzy. I’m not afraid of working out at the gym because I’m in a class setting and the instructor knows about my health condition. I run with a group and they all know about my health issues, so I am safe when I run with them. But, I haven’t been ready to run on my own. I have always carried a cell phone if I am alone, but these new meds are different and this dizziness is different and I have to be sensible.

This morning I felt good. I felt strong. The hills didn’t seem quite so steep and the mileage didn’t seem quite so long. When we got to the 8 mile mark it was time to turn left and head back in. My two runner chicks were ready to head in, but my legs weren’t, and my head wasn’t. I guess my face showed it. Sharon, who first introduced me to running in 2004, saw it in my eyes because she looked right at me and said “You are not done are you?” I looked to my right, and the only place to run is uphill, and I knew I would be running solo for the first time in 3 months if I decided to do it. Hmm…. “Yeah, you two head in and I’m turning right and running up this hill and adding on a mile.”

As I turned and began running alone I only heard my breath, my footsteps, the swishing of my arms and legs. This was so different. Even though we may separate some as we run, I can always hear others nearby, but when we go in opposite directions there is complete silence. I was alone. For the first time in 3 months I was on a solo run. I was over 8 miles into my run, solo for the first time and feeling stronger than ever, heading up the dreaded Knox Hill, because I wanted to, because I could, and loving every minute of it. WHAT?! Who said that? Did I say that?

OK. Wait for it. Wait for it. This is the moment when I remind myself that I’m supposed to buckle my seatbelt, put on a helmet and HOLDFAST for a wild ride.  “But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

On this beautiful windy February morning, God reminded me that I have put my hope in Him and He has renewed my strength. He gave me wings to soar like an eagle and I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I was not weary, and I was not dizzy, and I did not faint.

I am blessed, because He has blessed me. It is that simple. He has blessed me.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, February 2012

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Chicago Recap

Another 26.2 is history! The Chicago Marathon was a tremendous success in every way possible! My friends and family, AKA Wookie’s Warriors, donated a whopping $4627 to support my marathon honoring my Mom!  The North Carolina Chapter raised $66,236 and the National total topped $990,000! Team in Training was well represented with 401 runners from across the country decked out in purple from head to toe. This was the biggest marathon I’ve ever run, with 45,000 runners and 1.7 million spectators lining all 26.2 miles! I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to digest the sights, sounds and emotions of the weekend that you made possible.
 
We arrived in Chicago on Friday and took care of race business and prep right away so we could enjoy some of Chicago’s sights.  Saturday evening we loaded up on carbs with TNT runners, coaches and Honored Heroes from all over the country.  Mom was even recognized on the big screen as our North Carolina Honored Hero!  The speaker was John “The Penquin” Bingham, whose quote “The miracle isn’t that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start” is a favorite among noncompetitive runners like me.  We also heard from the father of the Illinois Chapter’s Honored Hero. His son was diagnosed with aggressive leukemia at just 18 months old.  Now he is a healthy and vibrant 3 year old who screamed for his daddy and ran onto the stage in the middle of the program. I loved it!  It was a perfect example of why we had all worked so hard on behalf of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.
 
As usual, there is never a dull moment when I’m involved in a race. As we walked back to our hotel after dinner, I was nearly run over by a skateboarder who lost control of his board. Thankfully Mari (my TNT coach and constant running partner for the last 10 months) heard the noise and saw him with enough time to scream for me to move and push me out of the way. I glanced back as his board hit a light pole and he stumbled behind me. We just had to laugh!  Seriously… Only I would come to Chicago to run a marathon and nearly get run over by a skateboarder!  I fear Johnny is going to start insisting I wear a helmet every time I leave the house if this keeps up! And so it goes…
 
Early to bed, early to rise. We met our group at 5:30 Sunday morning for the 1.5 mile walk to the starting line. Yes! We had to walk 1.5 miles to the start. I was quick to calculate that the walk home from the finish line would be close to 2 miles. I was certain I had only agreed to 26.2 miles and I wasn’t sure how those extra 3.5 miles got thrown in the mix.  Oh well, not much I could do about it then. Onward!  I finished up my traditional pre-run breakfast of orange juice, coffee, grits, yogurt, half a banana and 3 peanut butter crackers as we followed the masses headed to the starting line. The sun began to light up Grant Park and we made our way to the starting corrals where we lined up based on our estimated pace.
 
As the clocked ticked closer to 7:30 AM, we could make out the sound of the National Anthem and the applause began to flow back through the crowd. Here we go! The music started pumping and we finally began inching our way to the starting line. The slow, crowded walk to the starting line is my favorite moment of race day.  OK, well the finish is fabulous, but the energy and emotion at the starting line is spectacular. There is a little bit of everything going on in those minutes on the way to the starting line. I love to really breathe in the excitement, anticipation, anxiety and fear that surrounds me. This is the best people watching place in the world!  Every runner has a story behind their quest for the marathon medal and I always wonder what prompts each person to put one foot in front of the other and go for it.  Everyone looks sharp in their specially chosen race day attire. I can also spot the new runners right away and know that by mile 3 they will sorely regret their outfit of choice.  I love seeing the smiles, laughter, chit-chat, high-fives and fist-bumps as well as the tears, memorials and pictures. So many people, so many stories, so many places and yet all our paths have led to this one place at this one appointed time in our lives where 45,000 runners will cover the same distance on the same day.
 
It took us 15 minutes to make our way to the official start. By then the lead runners were already past the 5K mark, but I already knew my time wasn’t going to bring home the winner’s purse, so I didn’t let it hurt my pride. As we passed under the first tunnel and ran into the city streets I was overwhelmed. I have never seen so many people interested in runners! I knew my family and fellow TNT peeps back home would be tracking me online and receiving automatic text messages throughout the race when I passed various points, but I never dreamed thousands of people would get up at the crack of dawn to watch lunatics traverse the streets of Chicago! I’m used to dodging bikes, dogs and annoyed drivers who can’t stand waiting an extra couple of minutes to get to a drive-thru where they remain seated in their comfy cars waiting for an egg mcmuffin with a side of fried hash browns.  In Chicago, every part of the course was lined with spectators ringing cowbells, blaring stereos, screaming our names, passing out pretzels, oranges, skittles, cookies and cold water. Crowds were sometimes a dozen people deep with people perched on the side of bridges, hanging off balconies and standing on chairs. The entire city embraced the marathon in ways that I can not begin to describe. There were over 13,000 volunteers offering words of encouragement as they gave out water and Gatorade every mile or so (I even saw beer offered, but I refrained since that had not been part of my standard training practice).  Even the runners were cheering on each other. Several of us ran parts of the course together and we all had “Wookie” printed on the back of our shirts. People would see us and yell “Go Wookies!” How great is that?!
 
I saw lots of quotes on signs and on shirts in Chicago. My favorite of the day was “One day I will not be able to run. Today is not that day.”  It served as a constant reminder that I was running for those who could not, or one day would not be able to run. I was running for those who wished they were healthy enough to do what I was doing and I was making it count for a bigger cause than just myself.  I won’t deny that I needed to conquer Chicago to prove to myself that I’m bigger than Epilepsy. I needed my Chicago medal as proof that regardless of my circumstance I could still beat the odds. I knew that October 9th was NOT going to be the day that I could not run.
 
The highlights of the race came at miles 1, 11, 17 and 25. There she was, in this packed crowd of 1.7 million people. This wild woman wearing purple, clanging her TNT cowbell, screaming at the top of her lungs and waving a purple sign that said “Go Gatewood!” Yep! That’s my Momma! I have no idea how she made it around the city so quickly and managed to grab a front row spot every time. I don’t know how she was able to find me in a crowd of 45,000 or that I was able to find her in the crowd of spectators. Obviously the Gatewood sign helped, but still, there were lots of people and yet we always saw each other. At mile 25, when I was practically counting the footsteps that were left until the finish, I heard a familiar voice and looked off to the left side of the road. That wild woman again! Mom was standing out in the street waving and jumping and squealing. That sight made it worth it. Eight months of hard core training, an entire summer rearranged according to a training schedule, lots of early morning alarms, several pairs of shoes, six months of fund-raising and a lifetime worth of spaghetti. All of it was worth the chance to see my Mom, healthy and energetic, cheering me on in the final mile of the Chicago Marathon. This experience was what I had envisioned back in 2006 when I ran my first race with Team in Training. I’ve logged a gazillion miles and raised almost $15,000 for LLS since then and I have no regrets. It was worth every step (and every blister)!
 
When we got back to Charlotte, we took the elevator in the parking deck to our car. As we gingerly began the post-marathon limp towards the car, the lady beside me stopped and made eye contact with me. She pointed to my coach’s backpack logo and asked if we were with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I told her we were returning from running the Chicago Marathon to raise money for LLS. She said “Thank you for doing that. My brother died from leukemia a couple of years ago. That’s a good thing you are doing.”  Here I was, on the top of the parking deck at the Charlotte airport with a stranger, and one more vivid reminder that the challenge was worthwhile.
 
26.2 miles wasn’t easy. Cancer isn’t easy, but running in hopes of a cure just makes sense. I would do it all over again (and yes, I probably will) if just one doctor can tell one patient that they have reason to hope.  Hope still exists for those who believe and I believe.
 
I’m thankful for Wookie’s Warriors.
I’m thankful for $4627 for LLS.
I’m thankful for the ability to run.
I’m thankful for the power of my purple peeps.
I’m thankful for the lessons I have learned from a brain injury and Epilepsy.
I’m thankful that running restores my mind and energizes my spirit.
I’m thankful for my family that supports my insanity.
I’m thankful that 26.2 miles (actually closer to 30 miles) is behind me.
I’m thankful that I set a new personal best marathon time.
I’m thankful that my Mom is a SURVIVOR!
I’m thankful and I’m blessed.
 
Copyright  © Gatewood Campbell, October 2011
 

Mom on the big screen at the National TNT Inspiration Dinner!