10 Ways Running is Like Having a Brain Tumor

In an unfortunate turn of events, I have the unique ability to make this list. As a once-upon-a-time runner and a current brain-tumor-train-wreck I am finding there are many similarities between my experiences training for races and the issues that come from navigating life with the strange challenges of having a brain tumor. I also believe it's important to laugh when things are miserable...and this blog has always been about laughing at my misery so here goes...

1) Nausea: 
          Brain Version: In my particular case, I am constantly nauseous. It is so bad that should I forego my meds, I literally shake and vomit from the extraordinary nausea.

          Running Version: I don't know how you run, but I am always about to vomit when I run. Training runs that work on speed...vomit. Training runs that work on strength...vomit. Training runs that extend the distance...vomit.

2) Conflicting Advice:
          Brain Version: People really want to help. And from their excitement to "heal" me, come many interpretations of how to handle a brain tumor. Some say do the surgery, others say meditate, while others still believe diet will be the trick. Any option I go with will always be met with "you should get another opinion". It's actually pretty entertaining to see your community of friends, family and work colleagues cris-cross with varying ideas that so completely contradict each other. It's like my own private soap opera! To be perfectly honest, prior to all this, I had zero idea where the pituitary was located, I had no idea what a tumor on the pituitary would make my body feel and I sure as hell didn't know how a tumor located on the pituitary would be removed so I am never mad at people for not understanding. That said, I hate kale, please stop telling me to eat kale. I hate kale so much that eating it could possibly make my tumor grow bigger.

          Running Version: Again, people really want to help! And with running, everyone is an expert. I bought my 1st pair of running shoes after being professionally fitted and BOOM, I was telling everyone how their running shoes should fit. People tell you your stride is too long just as others are telling you it is too short. There are opinions on what to eat before, during and after and then there is the opposite idea of not eating at all (well not EVER, just not before, during or right after a run). It's impossible to decide the path to take, but you have to make your own decisions that feel right for your body. That goes for running or brain tumors.

3) Contemplating Death:
         Brain Version: This one is obvious, you could actually die. I have contemplated my own mortality in the way we all do, 'if I only had a few months left to live, what would I spend that time doing?'. I think we all quit our jobs and escaped to a beach in that fantasy. But when the reality of creating a will and writing goodbye letters to your young son slaps you in the face, it takes on a gravity of its own. I have to work to pay doctor bills, I have to try to keep some amount of normalcy in my son's life because we plan that I will NOT die, in which case it would be bizarre if I pulled my son from school and we spent months watching movies and eating only chocolate. I do take every single second to hug my son and tell him how much I love him.

          Running Version: You feel like you could actually die. Long runs test the limits and after every single one, I have laid on my living room floor, sipping wine through a straw and contemplate my impending death. Short runs I have always push too hard and that's when my body fights back with the threat of a heart attack. The risk is real people.

4) Lots of Crying:
          Brain Version: After #3 you may be crying with me. I cry A LOT. I cry out of pain (I feel like a character in a Stephan King book that has been crumpled into a distorted figure, like a piece of paper wadded up to be thrown away), my body hurts. I cry out of frustration. I cry out of fear. I cry out of desperation because I love my family so much and I never want to say goodbye. I cry because my body has been hijacked. I cry because this is beyond hard.

          Running Version: Anyone that has read this blog over the years, knows I'm all about the crying...before, during and after I run. I cry from pain, from frustration, from fear and because it is too damn hard to handle sometimes. You see? Same, same.

5) Pain:
          Brain Version: #4 kinda nailed it on this topic already, so let's leave it at "pain, a brain tumor's best friend"

         Running Version: Shin splints, heel spurs, pulled tendons, knee screaming (yes that is a thing...my knees scream), headaches, tummy cramps, back spasms...running is all about pain! Wake up early to run, PAINFUL! Wait till after work to run, PAINFUL! Skip a run, then feel bad about yourself so you eat foods you shouldn't to numb the bad self talk and wash it down with a couple too many glasses of wine so now you have to run the next day fat and hungover, PAINFUL!

6) Denial:
         Brain Version: The 'maybe this is all in my head' is so much more than a funny pun. My symptoms started slow and then sped up...like they saw the finish line and decided to make a good PR (Personal Record, runners speak for 'prove your worth in minutes'). The bummer was none of the symptoms seemed all that important and tests aren't clear cut so over and over again I was faced with the questions "Am I crazy? Am I imagining these things? Can I will it away?". Let's face it, just saying 'I have a brain tumor' is so odd that it sounds like the build up to a joke, it begs you to lay in a big comfy bed of denial. And when the doctors talk about the risks, it is hard not to stick my fingers in my ears and shake my head no...denial makes it possible to handle this bit by bit, without it I would be frozen in fear.

         Running Version: Everyone has their own level of denial with running. Mine is that some day I will enjoy running...wait, no, mine is that I will one day be a fast runner...wait, no, it's that running...sucks and I keep sugar coating it in denial so I can force myself to experience hell over and over again. But that's just me. Other people are on the other side of the spectrum, running all the time, always faster, always longer distances, always with a smile on their face...these people are sick and are in denial of their sickness.

7) Depression:
          Brain Version: uhhhhh der, do I really need to explain this one?

          Running Version: You can be depressed because you had a hard run when you didn't expect it. You can be depressed when you don't PR a race. You can be depressed if you get injured. I get depressed knowing I have to hit a big run, or a speed day and I can get really depressed if a cold takes me out and I can't run at all. That's how we should have known I had a brain tumor, I hate not running as much as I hate running.

8) Need for Wine:
         Brain Version: I am still allowed to have my wine, my beautiful liquid gold (errr...that comes in red, yellow or pink). Wine is supportive, always understanding, always available at a moments notice. Wine soothes your worries and makes the world a happy place. What? We own a winery, you think I'd say anything other than the fact that wine is magic?

         Running Version:Why would anyone attempt running without knowing a glass of wine was waiting for them at the end? I chose to run Napa Valley Marathon as my 1st full Marathon because it is in wine country. They have wine at check in for the race, need I say more? The allure of 'which wine will I have at the end of soul jolting experience' has always been a rewarding game during my runs. And it is proven that wine heals the muscles after the tear down of a training run as well as settling the tummy after long distances. It's proven by me, but I'm a wine professional so you can trust it as fact.

9) Headaches:
          Brain Version: Supposedly it is NOT the tumor in my head that is causing the headaches, but rather what it is telling the pituitary to do which is telling my body to keep making crazy amounts of cortisol which in turn gives me headaches...so it could be argued that it IS the tumor making my head hurt, just not the way you imagined it.

          Running Version: You know that thumping at your temples, the grip over your skull that won't release? Maybe you had it as a child when you would run your very hardest while playing soccer or tag? Or if you are a runner, during speed work? Or if you are me, the feeling after I've run to the point of throwing up and I've been dry heaving on the side of the highway while trucks blow exhaust in my face.

10) Lack of Memory:
           Brain Version: This is the ridiculous part. As my body tries to cope with a crazy amount of cortisol, it affects my memory. While I used to be a type A person who enjoyed keeping many balls in the air, I have been reduced to a total dumbass. I say the wrong word, I make mistakes at work, I say the completely wrong thing yet am sure I said what I meant and I can't remember the names of people, places or things. Good times! I now have more compassion for elderly people. I'm still that type A person inside, peering out at the mess I'm creating and rolling my eyes.

          Running Version: Like childbirth, after the horror of the event itself is over, the celebration has washed you in a glow and the pain fades into a memory...you forget how hard the training was. You decide to look into other races. Blissfully you sign up for a new torture session of training and it all starts over. Kinda like each new day with a brain tumor.

Not everyone can have a brain tumor, I know you are all jealous, so you will have to take my word for it...Running is just like having a Brain Tumor. Only running might be worse.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com