Race Report: Houston Half Marathon

I am now beginning Week 7 of Marathon Training, but that also left me with the Houston Half Marathon to run last weekend. I was feeling pretty good in the week leading up to it. Had a great pace run mid-week, but then some sore hips later in the week. I was determined to HOLD BACK for this race. It should be a training pace run, a celebration of running with NO knee braces, but it was going to be a test of will LOL!

The night before Patrick talked about wanting to take the kids out for the race, but simultaneously we were learning (as was everyone in our area!) of the massive invasion of terrible mosquitoes!! Thankfully, when I took off at 5:30am the next morning, I had the carseats with me so I knew he wouldn't chance it!

This was probably the first race I've ever done completely on my own...drove on my own, no surprise family appearance, just me. I was impressed that I found an easy parking spot, and got to the starting line in plenty of time. I really hadn't mentally prepared myself for the race at all, and it hit me the day before.

As most of you know, I am fundraising for the Organization for Autism Research for the Houston Marathon this year...and we all know that I'm doing that for our Kellen. Well I recently received my OAR race singlet, and I thought the half marathon would be a great chance to test out my race shirt. What I didn't anticipate was the overwhelming emotion that came with putting on that shirt. As I walked through the crowd that early morning, I felt people looking...and I felt myself caving...

Did they think I was just looking for a cause to run for? Could they tell that I was a mom that this mattered to? Did they pity me? Did they have any tiny idea of what my life was like?

And as I pondered all of this during the pre-race routine, the line-up, and the first couple of miles of the race, I let the emotions come. I let myself cry a little, I let myself feel, I let my skin toughen.

Because I am a mom of autism, because I am a mom who will do something for every mom like me but more importantly for every child like our Kellen. Because I am not ashamed, I am not weak, and I am not afraid of yelling (on the front of my shirt) the name of my struggle.

And once we start moving...I'm just like every other runner. I was committed to keeping this run to training pace (easy long run pace). Last year, I "raced" this course, and I did it with 2 knee braces and felt pretty miserable after and for several days following. This year, I have my focus FULLY set on January 15th.

So I took off slow, kept it easy. I was all out bored and still breathing through my nose at mile 8 when I choked on a Gu Chomp...LOL! Then I decided I had been a good girl and I should have a little fun on the backside ; ) It was a lot of fun pretty much passing everyone in front of me for the last 5 miles. I had TONS left at the end, I was still breathing through my nose at mile 12. The little uphills (overpasses) that bugged me last year were of ZERO concern this year. It felt good, and while I took a couple of rest days after, I could have run the next day. Major improvements from last year (even though my time was 3 minutes slower), and I'm proud of myself for being smart. It was one of those mornings when I felt good, and I knew I just could have gone if I'd let myself...but I continuously held myself back, and as I sit here two days later, my knees are thankful.

I crossed the line at 2:10:54...smiling widely in my OAR race singlet.

Exhibit A: What a good girl I was...my first half split was 1:07:59 at a 10:23min/mile pace. Nice long run pace, very conservative.

Exhibit B: I told you that I got bored at mile 8 right?...my second half split was 1:02:55 at a 9:36min/mile pace. What's not to like about a negative split? ; )

Just one more step along the way of this journey...

Race Report: Ten for Texas

So while many other things have consumed my posting lately, I *am* still running LOL!

I was super excited to run Ten for Texas this past weekend, and the Thursday before I just maybe started feeling a tad bit under the weather...I was getting the kids' cold. Then I spent most of Friday at work in denial and simultaneously infecting everyone around me with this miserable cold (sorry everyone!). Stubborn as I was (am), I took cold medicine Friday night and still got up Saturday morning to head to the race.

I was a stuffy mess, but I used my Afrin spray in the parking lot (reclined my seat for the full nose clearing effect), and sucked it up (literally and figuratively). Thankfully my friend Jenn was happy to run together at a reasonable pace with plans to walk the water stations.

The weather pretty much sucked. It was pretty warm for October with an occasional breeze that had a habit of being a headwind. Oh well. Had I not been stuffy, I would have been content with the humid warm temps, but not so much with my 50lb head of snot.

Anyway, Jenn and I took off at a pretty normal training pace and managed to hold steady throughout the entire race. We walked each water station, but after mile 2, we were pretty much passing people the entire time. We actually had a great rhythm of weaving in and around people the whole course, so we were in a groove. Lungs did well, nose bugged me a little, felt sluggish overall with an ab cramp at mile 5 and a weird back cramp at mile 7, but overall, not nearly as bad as I expected. I was feeling pretty good around mile 8.5, and I think Jenn probably could have killed me. I certainly would have been more conservative in the early miles had she not been with me, but I have a tendency to always have a little kick left in me at the end, so I started to pick it up a little. That last half mile we were moving pretty good, Jenn started protesting a little, but I managed to convince her to stick with me. And just at the last turn before the finish, I see something I have never seen before...

...as a complete surprise to me, there is my sweet husband with KK in his arms and Larkin standing beside him. I could not believe it, I totally spazzed out and did the goofy wave with Larkin finally seeing me (he was apparently in awe of all the runners), and then I had to pull myself together to not be doing the ugly cry in the finish line photos. They totally made it worth it, and I was so happy to have that moment! They had never seen me in a race before, and I still dream of seeing them somewhere along the course at the marathon this year (the weather and timing were terrible last year).

We hung out at the post-party a little, saw my ob/gyn who delivered both kids (LOL! We see her at races all the time!), and then headed home. I was already feeling pretty rough but was doing a decent job hiding it. We got home, I took a shower, Patrick took Larkin to soccer, I struggled to get KK through lunch and down for his nap, and then headed to bed myself. I soon realized I was headed downhill fast. I took my temp and was not surprised to see 101.2, CRAP! Took some meds and spent most of the afternoon in bed. Thankfully after some great rest, I recovered decently on Sunday (just congestion and little cough), and was fully functional by Monday.

So running may not have been the best decision, but we live to race (or not race) another day!

Final time: 1:45:05 I am proud that I maintained my training pace and did not try to "race". Mostly I have my illness to thank for that because had I been feeling good, the crowd and the adrenaline would have most likely pushed me to go too fast too soon and that could have been catastrophic for my knees. For now, I'm happy to say that I made it through 10 miles WITHOUT knee braces for the first time in my life!

Rewind: The Autism Evaluation Process

Another retrospective post in order to shed some light on how we got here...

So I've caught you up on how I knew something was wrong and how I decided that I wanted him evaluated...well...then what?

Finding the right place for his evaluation
I work for a large nationally acclaimed hospital that has a huge autism/developmental pediatrics department. Naturally, that was where I would have Kellen evaluated, right? I had a hard time digesting the fact that there was potentially a few month's long wait list to be seen, but when I was told that the current waiting time for evaluation was ONE YEAR...well I can't remember if I cried, cursed, or drank (oh please, that's easy, I did all three). No amount of complaining, string pulling, favor calling was going to help that because #1 an eval is not like sneaking in for a quick ENT appt and #2 all of those people on that waiting list were people just like me, who had been waiting a lot longer, and you know what, it just wasn't fair to jump ahead.

Thankfully about the same time, Patrick spoke with some colleagues at school and they recommended another independent center. I don't want to list places here, but if you'd like to know where, then contact me via email, message, facebook, etc. and I will happily share our story (and center contact info, etc.).

I put our name on the waiting list of both places the first week in May. The last week in May I got a call from the independent center that a couple of appts had opened up and we could be seen the following week...our eval process would most likely be completed by the end of June...less than 2 months from my first call to them. It's October, 5 months since I called...I'm still waiting to hear from my hospital...

Appointment #1: Initial Intake Interview
This appointment was hard to prep for...the thought of having to walk into a center like that. Patrick met me there with KK, and I remember sitting in the waiting room looking out the window, waiting for them to get there. And I had a thought that has stayed with me the past few weeks....at that exact moment...mothers everywhere were sitting in waiting rooms...the waiting room of the emergency room...of the cancer center...of the funeral home. I would take sitting in that waiting room over any of those other options, I would be grateful for my son who I know loves me, who I know needs me, who I hope and pray I have decades with. So I sucked it up and put on my scientist mode as we began the interview process.

We met with a psychologist who asked all the usual questions, listened to our greatest concerns, and walked us through what the arena assessment would be like the following day all while Kellen proceeded to destroy her office (apparently her office was made for that, she had bins of toys, but Kellen still managed to knock a table over on that poor woman's foot...LOL!). This was not an appt to get any potential diagnosis, just an appt to set the stage for the following day, let us know what to expect, for her to get to know him to try to help him the following day (he loves cars, he doesn't talk at all, he's not generally afraid of new people or closed spaces, he really likes cars...). But she said a couple of things "Does he usually walk on his toes like he is now?", "Are those guttural sounds typical for his speech pattern?" To which my inner monologue said "Toes? He doesn't walk on his...does he...is he....well he's just tentative right now because he's someplace new, he doesn't usually do that...I don't think...crap, I don't know...and those sounds, well that's just KK, he makes silly sounds, why is there something wrong with that?" I don't think I said any of that, I think I just looked like a deer in headlights while thinking 1) she thinks he's autistic and 2) she's a psychologist so she's currently evaluating my reaction to the questions she's asking and I hope she doesn't think I'm crazy or defensive or in denial (I may be/have been all three...).

We left that day with an idea of what to expect the following day...and I tried not to freak out for the next 24 hours. What did I want from the assessment? An answer...I still held out hope (a lot of hope) that they would tell me what everyone else was..."Oh he's just a boy with a chatty older sister, a late bloomer, we don't see enough to classify him as autistic, he'll just grow out of it..." I hoped to hear that, but I think I always knew I wouldn't...so then I just wanted confirmation, I needed to hear the words, and I couldn't move on until that happened.

Appointment #2: Arena Assessment
This was the appointment I dreaded. I dreaded that we were going to walk in this room and have multiple people evaluating my son's every move, and I dreaded even more that it would be weeks after that appointment that we would actually discover the outcome...but it didn't actually happen that way. An arena assessment allows multiple therapists/specialists to perform simultaneous evaluations. I can't even remember how many evaluation tools they ended up performing, but it was beyond thorough. We had one person interviewing us while observing Kellen's responses/reactions to the various trials they were putting him through. She was someone who had been doing this for 20-30 years, so she knew what she was looking for, knew what she was seeing, knew what to ask us.

It's a hard thing to sit there and answer questions while you're simultaneously trying to watch your son to see if he's reacting appropriately, doing as well as you know he can. And then you're watching them to see how they're reacting to his reactions...good, bad, confused, someone tell me something!

He walked in that room and charmed them...that boy is his daddy through and through...he was cute as can be, and I thought he was doing well. One of the evaluation team members actually favors me quite a bit, and he went over and grabbed her hand to get her help with something, then did a double take and realized that I was across the room and ran over, everyone thought it was the cutest thing ever. He had one tantrum, but nothing too major. He ran into a door in the play kitchen (leaving a pretty angry red mark on his cheek) and it didn't phase him (oh crap!). He started losing it over the lack of juice/snacks (oh crap!). He was playing and ignoring most of what they were asking him to (well, that's pretty typical KK).

And so you sit there worrying about what they're thinking of him, and then worrying about what they're thinking of your reaction to the situation (they're therapists after all!). The team was just great, and in the end, they said they would compile all of their results and let us know the final diagnosis, but the most senior evaluator basically laid it all out at that moment. She said that she felt like "a diagnosis on the autism spectrum would most likely be appropriate". I remember that moment...because I wasn't expecting it. It was just the assessment, we weren't told we would even be provided with a tentative idea much less a point blank, "He is". It felt like the wind was knocked out of me, but I was grateful. After that cat was out of the bag, all of the team kept saying he had so many strengths, and that he would most likely be extremely high functioning. But I think I stopped listening somewhere along the way. They decided they'd like to perform an additional evaluation in his daycare setting. We smiled, collected our happy toddler, and left with a plan for follow-up, knowing we'd get the formal feedback session in a few weeks...
I turned 35 the next day...

Appointment #2.5: Daycare Evaluation
No surprise and no need to go into detail...they saw what I saw...it only contributed to what they'd already seen in the arena assessment.

Appointment #3: D-Day
Diagnosis day. My parents took the kids for a couple of days, so Patrick picked me up for the appt, which was at the end of the day. We walked into the office where the team was already assembled around a round table. There was folder placed in front of each seat, and in the center of the table, sat a box of Kleenex. I proceeded to stare down that box of Kleenex repeatedly over the next hour...there it sat, willing me to cry, telling me it was okay to cry, expecting me to cry because everyone did...but I refused to do it.

Pages and pages of data from the various evaluation tools...each one suggesting the same conclusion...so finally we turned the page and we saw it...and they said it. Kellen met the full criteria for a diagnosis of autism. I sat there and nodded, acting unsurprised, being the most stoic I may have ever been in my entire life.

Screw you Kleenex I'm not crying. I'd break down in rivers of tears everytime we got bad news while trying to have a baby. I would be overcome with agony and emotion and despair and could not hold it back...but that was then. I had survived that, and I had a gorgeous daughter and amazing son...and they needed me to be strong...and that I could do...for them.

So I sat there and listened to all of the results, all of the recommendations, all of the potential strategies...and I did not shed a single tear. I didn't cry because my heart already knew. I didn't cry because my son was autistic not dead. I didn't cry because he needed me to someday tell him the story of how we found out and I wanted him to know that I could handle it, that we could handle it, that he could handle it.

In the end, they went on and on about how many strengths he had. Physically he's amazing. He has so much potential. They called it his baseline evaluation because it was pre-intervention. He's supposed to be evaluated annually...and while I don't know what "normal progress" is, it gives us something to work toward...something to dread/look forward to...because I will be whatever he needs.

I will be strong for him, I will endure his meltdowns, I will keep searching for what might help him, I will not give up on him...because someday next summer we'll walk into another assessment...and I will not cry.

Patrick and I went to a wine bar after the assessment. It was a nice evening, we enjoyed some good wine, a nice atmosphere, and we digested. We didn't sit and feel sorry for ourselves...we talked about what we wanted to do next, and how much we knew that he would be okay. I don't think I really cried until the next day...when we went to get them from my parents. The moment I had him in my arms, the waterfall came. I needed him in my arms for it to feel real. But I dried my eyes, sucked it up, and I started us all on this journey...thanks for coming along.