More home reno stuff

In the master bathroom, the shower runs the width of the room and has a glass door, which is mounted on a threshold of sorts. It was covered with tile pieced together on all three sides: the top, bathroom side and shower side, and the door mounts were screwed into the top part on the grout line. (That's problem number one.) The threshold or step or whatever you call it was supposed to slant a bit toward the shower so that water would stay in the shower. Only that's not what happened; instead it ran under the rubber sweep and into the grout line in the front of that step. (That's problem number two.) Because yes, whomever did this tile work ran the seam right down the middle on top of the step/threshold. It was perfect for catching (most of the) water. Over the last few years, that seam had begun to fail, crack and sort of pill up.

And in the second bathroom, the one with the original pink tile, the tile surrounding the tub only went up about five and a half feet and the shower head was mounted at the top of that tile. So anyone taller than me would need to sort of squat or bend to get under the shower. 

Now both are fixed, and both look so much better. 

The tile is the same color as the wall behind it, so it just vanishes which was the goal. We couldn't match the pink tile, even though it's possible to get it. But our tile has been on the walls for 64 years so they've faded a bit. That's why we went with the bone color.

I wish I had a before picture of what that threshold looked like in the master bath but I don't. 

Next week, we've got a plumber coming in to install a sort of J shaped shower pipe that will lift the shower heads up higher. We did that in our apartment in Boston and it made a world of difference. They'll also install new shower faucets, and fix them so it's easier to adjust the water temperature. 

Hope is a potent thing

Warning: this is a longish post about running

I have been struggling with running since I fractured my pelvis in 2018. I started recovering from that, and of course got derailed by breast cancer in 2019. I was coming back from that and broke my foot. And as I’ve been trying to come back from that, I’ve been really slow and struggled with my heart rate.

There’s a sweet spot for aerobic work; my Garmin watch has my aerobic range from 138-ish to 153 beats per minute. Threshold (which means I’m working harder but not necessarily building fitness) starts at 154 and goes up to 170 (I think). Above that, is maximum and that’s not good at all. That range is one of the reasons I stopped taking tamoxifen, which is the drug my medical oncologist wanted me to take after the lumpectomy and radiation. But I had serious heart rate issues and my heart rate would spike to 180 and higher within the first 30 seconds of my run.

So all of that is background and I’ve posted it elsewhere. This isn’t about the past but about what I’ve been doing. 

My heart rate was still not great this winter, partly I’m sure to having lost my baseline fitness. I’ve been doing strength and cardio work ever since my orthopedist cleared me to do that, it’s not that I lost all fitness. But I lost running fitness.

I’ve been determined to build my running base slowly and safely so I’ve been running 2-ish miles about every other day. But my Garmin would show that my dang heart rate would spike. I dealt with that by pausing my watch and my run and waiting, usually about 15-20 seconds, until I thought it was low enough and then resuming the run and the watch. 

But that’s discouraging. Sure my pace was OK, not great, not where I was but I felt like I was making no progress and what’s worse, I was not enjoying running. Yes, I run for fitness but I also run because I love it.

I was telling Ben about this last weekend and he suggested just not looking at my watch—well actually, he suggested not wearing the watch but nah, that wasn’t going to happen. So his second suggestion was to not look.

Last Monday I did just that. I ran for fun, by how I felt and as I posted on Strava, I felt amazing. My times were still slower than I’ve been, which is to be expected, but I didn’t stop once and my heart was A-OK. 

I skipped running on Wednesday (I was tired) and did HIIT instead (see? Listening to my body right there), weights Thursday and then Friday I ran, again without looking. And wow, my time was faster than Monday and my run, even by Garmin’s standards, was productive. The photo on the left is from Friday's run.

Today I decided to run a bit slower, see if I could do that and know I was doing it by how I felt, and to run a bit further—mission accomplished AND my times were much better than I expected. Photo at the bottom is from that run.

All of this gives me hope, and hope is the best training tool there is.

How they play

 The COVID kittens aren't always Shittens.

The price of admission

I’m 99% certain Stevie was removed from her mother too early. Since we first got her, she’s suckled and kneaded the cat beds, the little blankets we have tossed around for the kitties to sleep on, the bathmat—you name it, she’s probably suckled and kneaded it.

She’s about seven months old now, has gotten to 9.3 pounds (!) but hasn’t outgrown that suckling. In fact, it’s gotten more destructive probably because she’s bigger and stronger. 

So far, she’s chewed/suckled holes in our new bedspread (which is now covered by a blanket), the blanket covering our new bedspread, a pillow sham that matches the bedspread (yes, also new), one of Kent’s running socks (Icebreakers, they weren’t cheap), and sock of mine, a merino wool one from Feetures. Scroll down to see pictures of all the damage.

She’s also obsessed with shoelaces and destroyed a lace on my brand-new running shoes. Plus, she’s chewed the ends off a couple of ties in hoodies we own.

That doesn’t include the damage both girls have done with their sharp murder mittens. We’ve replaced the sheers in our dining room and hung the new set so that they cover about 2/3 of the window; they’ve used my old crappy office chair as a climbing post; they practice shredding on the leather bench at the end of our bed; they also started shredding our fairly new yellow upholstered chair in the living room. They’ve done all of this despite the bazillion toys we have around, the two cat trees with sisal rug fibers for awesome clawing, the cardboard lounger which is perfect for shredding, etc. etc. etc.

Last Friday, we took them to the vet to get Soft Paws put on. But after consulting with them, we’re going to get their nails trimmed at the vet’s every month. Turns out those Soft Paws don't last very long (like one to four weeks) and require the kittens being under anesthesia to put them on. The vet tech I talked to strongly urged us to do regular nail trims; she can get a much closer trim than we can, and the kittens can be mad at her and not us. I can trim Stevie's nails, no worries, but Annie (now 8 pounds) absolutely loses her mind and wails in such a heartbreaking manner, which also upsets Eddie. So we'll let the vet do it. 

I hope it helps. It’s also a good thing they’re cute kittens with big purrs. 

Here's the damage: you can see I've knotted my severed shoelace together, just hope it doesn't come undone on a run. I'd probably trip and fall.

Example of how she's bitten the blanket that's covering the bedspread (which is chewed, not neatly severed like this). Her teeth are as good as scissors, aren't they?

Here's the chewed pillow sham. Jerk.

She went to town on my poor sock. Not shown is Kent's running sock, which suffered less damage but still had a giant hole chewed through the sole.

Fortunately this chair is basically trash already, but still! 

And so much for having our gorgeous yellow armchair. Instead we have three bathmats and a cat cubby. Welcome to my world.

Rebuilding again

This is much of what I posted on IG, with a bit more added in.

This photo is what rebuilding looks like to me.

I am once again starting to rebuild my running base, which is tiresome I will admit. 

In May 2018, I fractured my pelvis after running too many races that spring. That was definitely an over-use fracture and took forever to heal.

I started rebuilding in February 2019 only to be diagnosed with breast cancer in April that year. While I ran after surgery and all through radiation treatments, it knocked the stuffing out of me and my progress was sporadic. I kept trying but would have to stop and regroup. I did well enough to win my age group in the Heartland 30K challenge but I wasn't as fast as I'd been not even two years before. But I was out there. 

I knew I wanted to run a marathon, I’ve never run that distance and I thought it would be cool to run one the year I turned 60. So I started training again with the goal of running Grandma's Marathon last June. I ended up in Manila for most of January and running there was a challenge—first, because I worked nights; second, because of the heat and air quality; and third, because Taal erupted 35 miles from where I was staying. That definitely wrecked the air quality.

But I got a running coach, I had a plan and I started training. As you probably know, last May, my foot also fractured. This was not an overuse injury although my orthopedist still calls it a stress fracture. I prefer to just go ahead and say my bones are shit.

I’m working on that too, taking my daily injection, using my (second) bone growth stimulator (here's where I said good-bye to the first one), and doing all the right things. I’ve been rowing or doing HIIT during our nasty weather or when it’s snowy or icy outside. Also lifting. So I’m strong. But my running is basically in the toilet. I’m starting all over from the beginning again.

I am not ever giving up. Today I ran one lousy mile (slowly). But I ran. And I will run again.

It goes both ways

So Rush Limbaugh died. There's much rejoicing among a lot of my friends and much wailing among others. Rush was from Cape Girardeau, which is where I went to high school. In fact, one of his nephews was in the class behind me. But I only lived in Cape for four years so any connection to either the city or the Limbaughs is long gone.

Those I know from high school who are upset and angry that others rejoice in this loss call it unfair and mean and cruel. They think it's awful that people are celebrating this death.

I rejoice in no death but I am not sorry he's gone. 

Do you recall in the mid-90s when he celebrated the death of gay men from AIDS?  It was a segment called AIDS Update and was set to music as he celebrated those deaths. That's hate right there, pure and simple. And yes, he later said it was the "single most regrettable thing" he did. Points for some remorse, I guess, but I haven't found anything that says he tried to make it right. So zero points for repentance.

Which takes me to this. These same high school friends who are so angry about the nastiness being said about Limbaugh's death? I know of at least a couple who said very similar things when Ruth Bader Ginsberg died last year. And they all definitely knew my first boyfriend, Mark, who was born and grew up there in Cape. Mark was also gay and he died of AIDS in 1999. I doubt they would think it was OK to celebrate Mark's death from AIDS. 

I'm not going to post examples of the other nasty, hate-filled things Limbaugh said. I'm sure if you're really interested, you can do a quick Google search yourself and find plenty of examples. I know I did. And the point is, he was not a nice man. He did not make things better in our world.

So I'm not sad he's gone. I hope we don't get a bigger source of hate in his place. And I hope those who followed that hate will repent and turn away from that path.

Bonus shitten post to cleanse your palate (and mine).

Annie in one of her
normal pretzel positions

Learning to accept reality

Boy this pandemic has really been—well I don’t even know the right word. 

When we first all quarantined way back on March, I read the guidelines on who was considered high risk and who was not. I didn’t seem to fall into the high-risk category as I’m not quite old enough and was no longer in active treatment for cancer.

But in May, St. Luke’s (which is where most of my care team works) said that anyone who was 60 or older was in the high-risk category. I thought well OK, they said it and they’re the medical professionals.  

As more information came out, it seemed as though the definition for high-risk got tighter and that I sort of did/maybe didn’t fit. I am over 60, I do have reactive airway disease (which is not asthma and mine is under excellent control) but aside from all the surgeries and the two cancers, I’m quite healthy.

So, I’d pretty much decided that I’m not in the high-risk category and I’d resigned myself to not getting the coronavirus vaccine until June, in the last wave of immunizations here in Kansas.

Bonus Annie picture

But wait! On Tuesday I got an email from St. Luke’s. In that email, they said that since I’m considered high-risk (!!), I could get the vaccine on Sunday. They urged me to schedule that appointment immediately as openings were limited and they were first come, first served to the people who received this notification.

I immediately scheduled the appointment and then had to take in the knowledge that yes, I am high-risk. 

As silly as this may sound, I’ve struggled with that and it took Kent pointing out to me that I was equating high-risk with frail and being in poor health. Since I’m neither frail nor in poor health, it’s been difficult to accept that yep, I’m high-risk.

This has been an ongoing struggle; I minimize and discount the seriousness of various medical diagnoses or I outright deny them. Really, that’s just stupid and I need to stop. 

I get my first dose of vaccine on Sunday, yes Valentine's Day, at 10:40. They will schedule the second dose then. I don't know which flavor I get; fingers crossed any side effects are minimal.