Marathon Bound...Wish me luck!!!!

What In the World...

Ok. Once again, I fail as a blogger, but with no pressure to write (readers, I think, are few and far between), the blogging mojo hasn't been in full force.

So we've now been in these new parts for about 3 months. Before finding a house we joined a running club and I got a job. The running club is the absolute best though. I met fellow runners, made a friend and had a lunch date, found places to eat, and improved my speeds. Or did I...

When I first started running with the group, I was suddenly and consistently running 9:15-9:30 pace miles. Even for my long runs (oh long runs...yeah, about that, I happened to sign up for the Marine corp marathon again....). When my 5k race pace is 8 something and my happy pace is 10 something, running ALL training runs at 9 something probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. And after running with women who are seasoned marathoners, I had the funny little hip flexor pain. As in, if I wanted get into my husband's truck, I would have to use my hands to lift my leg. And it hurt to lift my leg to put on my pants and things. You know....basic activities of daily living were now not so basic. 4 miles into my 18 miler I had to turn around because running was more bothersome than fun.

I'm ok with aches. pain, not so much. I was upset; I had already booked a hotel room, and despite being scheduled to work on the weekend of the marathon, my manager worked with me and changed my schedule so I would have the weekend off. My husband's boss gave him the ok to take the Monday after the marathon off. The runners in the club knew I was registered (3 of them are running it). I couldn't back out!

Caroline, one of the runners told me to take a week off. "DO NOTHING" she said. No gym, no running, rest and ice. So I listened (sort of...I only took 4 days off and ran really really slow on day 5): lots of stretching and a nightly ritual involving tiger balm and ice, it's feeling better.

Than came the first 20 mile run. Alone, on a weekday, I left at 5:45am and ran what must have been hundreds of circles. I made the mistake of passing the house at 19.70 mi, had a "coughing spell" (which turned into noxious dry heaves) and stopped running at 19.75. Ice bath, rest, sushi lunch and I was ok.

This past Tuesday I did my second 20 miler. All of it (fewer circles this time). No coughing spells with dry heaves. No goosebumps. No mental lapses of "I already passed that house?! Where am I?!"

Tuesday night, we booked plane tickets, hotel, car. It got a little pricey, BUT I AM GOING TO DC TO RUN MY SECOND MARATHON!

Saturday Morning Fever

I experienced my first code this past weekend.

I worked in a hospital for nearly two years and never once saw a code on my old med-surg floor. It could have been the patient profile, the nursing care, or an incredible RRT system.

(RRT stands for Rapid Response Team; at my old hospital, when you knew something just 'wasn't right' with your patient, you would call an RRT via the paging system. A respiratory therapist, Medical ICU nurse, and resident would come and evaluate/care for your patient while you cared for your other patients. The RRT was used to prevent a code....and did so for many cases on our floors.)

Saturday I got report; was looking through my patient's labs and medications when I heard the charge nurse call for another nurse saying, "Come in here!"

I didn't even look at my preceptor; we dropped what we were doing and ran. I didn't understand what was happening, even though I saw the code cart being pushed in. The four of us, plus the respiratory therapist were in the room. The head of bed was being lowered and the bed was being raised. I was told to push the code button; my preceptor was removing the headboard from the board; the charge looked at me and said, "you've never done chest compressions; start!"

And I just put my hands down and started compressions.

The only other time I've done compressions was on a dummy.

The feeling and sound of the first two compressions (or the rest for that matter) are nothing like that of compressions on a dummy.

I eventually handed off compressions; and I stepped back to watch and help however I could; there must have been 15 staff members in the room: one running the code. 3 RTs. nurses. finally, a doctor.

I know it won't be, but I hope it's my last.