Taking a deliberate step back

I ran my first 10k today. Well, ran is probably a little bit of an exaggeration. I ran about five of the six miles, but my time was terrible, and I dragged my poor friend Becky down with me. I told her she could go ahead and run faster and leave me behind, but she said it was ok and stuck with me. Becky is a good friend. Here we are in our post-race glory:

I’m pissed about the fact that all of my careful training completely fell apart over the last few weeks, leaving me struggling with what should have been a pretty easy race. However, I’m trying to let it go. I’ll do better next time.

After the race we went to John’s mom’s house to pick her up and take her back to the hospice. She had gone on and on about how she had to go home to sort through some papers, so we arranged for her to go home for the weekend. John’s sister was back from Colorado and could stay with her. Unfortunately, as soon as she got home, she started refusing to go back to the hospice. We spent the whole weekend arguing with her about how she can’t stay at home by herself. And she really can’t. She can’t make food for herself. She can’t make it to the bathroom and back without getting exhausted. She’s incredibly frail, and easily confused. The steroids that control the swelling in her brain could stop working at any second, leaving her unable to talk, or perhaps unable to walk. The doctors have said very clearly that she needs 24 hour care. She doesn’t believe us. I’m not sure what reason she thinks we have for lying to her about it, but I can tell you that she can be extremely unpleasant when she puts her mind to it. And then there you are, trying not to yell at this frail little old lady who is dying, who you care about so much, and who is completely irrational.

Anyway, the stress of arguing about this with her for three days has finally pushed me over the edge. I got sick after we left her house yesterday, and by this morning I was so upset I threw up as soon as we got to back there. And so I’ve had it. After what may have been one of the longer and more uncomfortable days I’ve had in a while, she finally went back to the hospice, and there she will stay until we can arrange 24 hour nursing care. And then she will leave the lovely hospice with its caring, kind and highly trained staff to go die at home in her crappy little house while being tended by some underpaid but still extremely expensive nursing assistant. But she’s going to do it with less involvement from me. I’m going to make sure I get my workouts, and I’m not going to go see her every night. No more getting home at 10 after a long frustrating evening, eating dinner, and then crawling off to bed. I’m determined that John and I will have time for ourselves. Next weekend I’m getting a massage and a long overdue pedicure, and I’m going to take some time to work in my garden. I am most definitely not going to spend part of every day throwing up, that’s for sure.