New York, New York

It's been a busy fall, and I'm pleased to say marathon number 23 is in the books, and while it was not my fastest time, it was one of my more special marathons.  This has been a grueling fall starting with our big move 4 days after school started, and followed by Reach the Beach, two out of town weddings, and a marathon.  The New York Marathon was a culmination of this extremely busy season.

Believe it or not, after 22 marathons, I had not run one of the most famous - The New York Marathon.  I put my name in the lottery a few times, but didn't get in.  I decided I wanted to do it right, so I would do it when I turned 40.  I decided to run for Children's because not only is it a cause that is dear to my family, but it would guarantee me entry to the marathon.  It was only a $3000 fundraising minimum, but I knew I wanted to raise more so I set my original goal at $6000.  I applied in late January and found out I was in in early March.  I booked a hotel when I applied in January and started to make plans.  I kicked off my fundraising the day Reya had her third open heart surgery, which put a huge dent in my minimum goal.  Then Boston happened.  The weather was AWFUL.   Sitting on the bus to go out to Hopkinton, I learned that I had hit the minimum goal of $3000, 7 months before I was required to.  Like I said, the weather was awful, so I am glad I signed up and raised that much money so early on.  I don't know I would have actually done a marathon this fall if I hadn't already been signed up for New York.

I was pretty burnt out and turned off going into New York, but this one is special to me and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed that I didn't feel great through most of the day.  Going into a training cycle burnt out makes for a very loooong season.  My heart was in it when training begun in early July, but that quickly faded as we dealt with all that life threw at us. First, we had to say good-bye to Sanders, then we bought a house and had to pack 13 years of belongings in just over 5 weeks, while also getting ready to sell the house in Arlington.  Then we had to unpack all of those belongings, while still getting ready to sell our first home.  Then there was the laundry debacle - where we didn't have a washer / dryer for the first month and we had to go to Arlington to do wash (with two small kids).  The whole experience was intense and draining.  Finding time to run once school begun was almost impossible.  In the first few weeks, I was able to find a little time before picking the kids up.  I also did a lot of runs pushing them.  I had to learn all new places to run.

First race in our new town

I found myself even squeezing long runs in.  There were a couple of Fridays where I headed out after work, including the weekend we headed to New York City for our friends Ryan and Sabrina's wedding.   It was crazy - I raced home, dropped the kids off with Robbie and Tiana, ran 20 miles, showered and jumped in the car.  My weekly mileage never really got up to where I needed it to be, and my speed just kind of plateaued, maybe even went in the opposite direction of what I desired.  It was clear to me that I wasn't going to break any records at New York, and really, I was ok with that.  I had never planned to run it for time.  I wanted to enjoy every minute and come across with a smile on my face.

Training run in Central Park after a fun wedding weekend

However, despite this burn-out, as race weekend approached, I found myself getting pretty excited.   I was looking forward to the weekend away, alone in the city.  I rarely get true alone time, and I've never been alone that long in New York City.   Friday of race weekend, I ended up taking a sick day to take Reya to see her Otolaryngologist because she had lost her voice after her vocal cord procedure.  It was nice to have the day off to finish packing and to do some housework.   Chris got home around 4:30, I handed the kids off to him and drove down to the train station.  It was raining and traffic was bad.  I ended up making it just in the nick of time.  The train ride was very enjoyable and I was so excited when I arrived, I couldn't stop smiling.

I checked into my hotel on 37th St in the Garment District.   The room was reasonably spacious for New York.   After checking in and unpacking a bit, I decided to go out for a walk.  Unfortunately, I had to cut it short because it started pouring.  So I came back to the hotel and relaxed a bit.  I wrote names of all those who had donated on my singlet, which was such a therapeutic thing to do.

Saturday morning I slept until 7.  I headed out around 8 to get a coffee and see if I could find the muffins I had planned to eat on race day and forgot at home.  At 9, I was meeting the Children's team for a shake-out run and breakfast.    I did not find the muffins, but the run and breakfast were great. 

I made it to the expo

Finding my name at the expo

From there I walked over to the expo and walked around there for an hour or two before coming back to the hotel to eat some lunch and relax before meeting up mid-afternoon with Ryan and Sabrina. 

Flat Molly

We met up around the corner from my hotel and this cute little Italian trattoria and chatted for a couple hours.  From there, I jumped on the subway and met up with some of my Somerville tribe - Urvi and Jesse, and Amie and Ryan.  On the way there, I happened upon a natural foods store and they had my muffins!  I enjoyed my walk to the restaurant, checking out a part of the city I hadn't really visited.   We had a lovely dinner.  On the way back to the hotel, I stopped in Times Square to look at the lights.  In the subway station a crowd had formed around a band.  I listened for a while before heading above ground.  I stopped and picked up a coffee for the next morning since Starbucks didn't open until 6 and I would be on the bus by then. I was too excited to sleep, so I spent the time compiling names of the various heart warriors I planned on running for.

Impromtu concert in the Subway at Times Square

The night before in Times Square (using the new portrait mode on my phone)

I finally fell asleep, but woke up a lot, afraid the my clocks weren't right and that I was going to miss the bus.  Daylight savings time was ending and I didn't have a single clock in my room I could adjust manually.  I was finally up for good around 4:30.  I ate some oatmeal (my hotel room had a microwave!) and sipped my coffee (again, microwave!) and putzed around making sure I had everything together before calling a lyft and heading to Central Park South where I was to get on the bus.  The ride over was less than 10 minutes and the bus was easy to find.  The Lyft driver seemed clueless that the marathon was even happening or even the scale of the marathon.  I was pretty early to the bus, so I got a front seat and we took off right on time.   It was a long drive out to Staten Island, with a lot of traffic.  We drove through Times Square and then out along the East River, passing the Brooklyn Bridge.  We took a tunnel into Brooklyn and then went over the Verrazano, which I would run over a few hours later.

Times square from the bus

Brooklyn Bridge from the bus

Made it to Staten Island

When we got there, we headed over to the charity village.   The bus and the charity village are huge perks.   The bus was comfortable and not crowded and the village was away from all the madness.  We had our own heated tent in the village, which didn't matter that much since the weather was pretty nice.  The tent had coffee and then there was a charity village food area.  We had our own bathrooms in the charity village.  They still had lines, but the lines weren't too bad.   We took a team picture and just kind of hung out and waited.

Around 9:35, I headed over to my corral.  I was one of the first ones there, so I was able to get right into a portapotty inside the corrals with no line.  I got myself to the front of my corral and waited.   

In my corral

Wave 1 went off and we moved up to the start which was at the base of the Verazano Narrows Bridge.  It was pretty cool waiting there.  Then it was time to go!  A cannon signaled the start of our wave.   I was in the orange wave, but because of positioning the blue wave started running before us so we watched them run towards the bridge, then we took off to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York.  Going over this bridge is one of my favorite starts of any of the marathons I've done.  It's a huge hill, but I didn't even notice we were on a hill.  The orange wave went over the top deck.  We were on the left side of the bridge so we could see the skyline.  Everyone was taking selfies.    It was so beautiful and so exciting.  There was a fire boat spraying water down in the river below and a helicopter hovering over us.  At one point, the helicopter flew next to the bridge right at our level.  The helicopter door was open and I could see the guy's face.  He saluted us.  It was so cool.

On the bridge

Brooklyn
The bridge takes up the first 2 miles.  It was so fast.  Then we headed down into Brooklyn.  Brooklyn was amazing and the crowds were awesome.  I was having so much fun but managing not to go too fast.  Around 4 or 5, I started to not feel as good.  My ankle felt a little funny and I felt a little lightheaded and nauseous.  I focused on the crowds and my music and muddled through.  It was a little warmer than I thought it would feel.    I took lots of water, when I could - the water stations were a little crowded and in my opinion, there were not enough tables.  At mile 8, all three waves funnel into 1.  It got so crowded.   A one point, the spectators had crowded the street, a la Tour de France, and runners were getting by in about 3 or 4s.  We actually had to stop and walk.  It was insane.  Around mile 9, we ran through a Hasidic Jewish community.  They are not permitted to cheer, so it was very quiet.  I found it fascinating and that mile or so passed pretty quickly.  However, I still wasn't feeling great, so just before the half, I pulled over to use the portapotty, thinking that if I stopped to pee it might make me feel better.   I think it would have helped, but then we went over a bridge to head into Queens and so many people slowed down or started to walk that I couldn't get my pace going.  I was relieved to be half way done.

Queens
I don't remember much about Queens.  We weren't there for too long.  I kind of just slogged along.  It was quieter than Brooklyn.   Next stop - Queensboro Bridge.  This was my least favorite part of the course.  It was dead quiet here, which in some ways was welcome after 15 miles of madness.  I didn't feel great and I couldn't get any rhythm going because once again people had slowed or were walking as we climbed the bridge.  Like much of the course since all three waves had come together, I felt like I was wasting a lot of energy bobbing and weaving.  I couldn't believe that this was something I had to do.  I had seeded myself as a 3:50 runner, but was planning on running 4:15.  People should have been passing me.  Anyway, I was a little annoyed, but it came to my mind that mile 16 was for a heart family who had lost a child to CHD, but also had a second child with CHD and adopted three more warriors.  They got me over that bridge. 

Manhattan
The Queensboro Bridge dumps you onto First Ave.  It is a wall of noise.  At one point I counted and counted it to be 11 deep.  As I came down around off the bridge, I was looking for Chris' cousin, Emily, who was out on the course cheering for her husband Joaquin.  Somehow we missed each other.  I continued down 1st Ave.  I was still not feeling very great, but just kept trucking.  We came in at 64th or so and I knew I had friends at 100th, mile 18.  So I clung to the left side, where I knew they would be.  It was hard to be on the left side because it felt like everyone was clinging to the sides.  Every so often someone would spot their loved one and stop dead in front of you.   Urvi and Jesse ended up being a little earlier than I expected, so I was already passing them when I heard them cheer for me.  After I passed them, I moved over to the center. The running was a little easier in the middle.  Mile 19 was when I started to run for warriors I knew that are all doing so well.  These are the children of some extraordinary heart moms I have become friends with over the past few years.  Over the next 7 miles, I was channeling their energy, thinking about the battle each of their families has fought.   Mile 19 was for Tyler and Will - two awesome no-longer-little boys, both of their moms' have been such an inspiration to me.  Tyler heads to the cath lab this week.  Mile 20 was for Marlee, who is the same age as Reya.  Mile 21 was for Devynn, a 9 year old girl who had the room next to us on the CICU this past April.  We ended up recovering on the floor at the same time and their story helped get me through some tough times in recovery.  Mile 22 was for Dana and her family.  Dana is my age and a warrior herself.  Both she and her brother have the same CHD as Hope, as do two of her children.  Her third child has Downs' syndrome and I have learned so much from this family.  True warriors.  Mile 23 was for Gabe, Reya's "twin".  Of all my heart mom friends, I had been able to connect most with Melissa as Gabe is just a few months ahead of Reya and anatomically very similar.  Our kids have been on the roller coaster together.  Miles 24 and 25 were for Mireya and Hope.  Running for these families really kept me going.

One of my favorite heart warrior quotes, fittingly appropriate in a marathon

The Bronx
At 19.5, we headed over another bridge, the Willis Avenue Bridge, into the Bronx.  As I turned onto the bridge, I received a text from my friend Kimi, who was following along at home, welcoming me to the Bronx.  I was really struggling and getting that text really lifted my spirits and made me smile.  I dug deep and pushed through the Bronx, willing myself forward back to Manhattan.  The Bronx is the shortest section, only about a mile and a half, then you're back in Manhattan on the home stretch.  That mile and a half is a blur.  I remember a Biofreeze station - an ointment to help with pain.  I had never seen this before in a marathon.  I contemplated stopping but I didn't think I was in enough pain and I really didn't think it would help me.  Then there was a water stop - I was stopping at pretty much every one by now.  I felt thirsty from the moment I woke up on marathon day.  I thought maybe it was nerves, but it never went away.  I took in a lot of fluids through the race and my thought is that maybe I didn't take on enough salt to balance those fluids.   It was warmer than I expected and really wish I had chosen shorts over capris.  The only other thing I remember in the Bronx was a band of drummers banging on buckets.

Back to Manhattan - the final stretch
We finally made the turn to go over the bridge back to Manhattan.  I barely remember this bridge.  I was really struggling at this point.   I think I walked over this bridge.  I was feeling really awful.  My heart was racing.  I tried to walk to slow it down and it wouldn't slow.  I felt light headed and even though I was only a few miles away, I was really afraid I wouldn't finish.  Considering my cause, not finishing didn't feel like an option, so I dug deep again.  Starting at mile 22, I walked a lot.  At this point we were in Harlem.  There were all kinds of bands and entertainment set up and I wish I had felt better so that I could've enjoyed them.  It was really festive and people around me seemed to be having a good time.  I was just focusing on staying upright.  I've never felt quite like this.  But I took it easy, and pushed forward.  I knew Urvi and Jesse were at mile 23, so I just tried to focus on getting to them.  Somewhere within the 22nd mile, I passed a med tent.  They were handing out salt packets.  I thought to myself - it can't hurt, so I took one.  It was pretty gross and it was another few minutes before I got to a water station to wash it down.  I continued to walk, my heart still racing, fighting nausea.  I felt like I was one of the only people walking.  As I was walking, I was passed by a group of three runners.  It was an Achilles runner and his two guides.  The Achilles organization is amazing - it supports runners with disabilities.  So I was really surprised when the guide closest to me pushed me rudely and said "excuse me, get out of the way."   The Achilles runner was able bodied and looked really strong, and at this point there was plenty of space, so the guides could have gone around me.  I was shocked by the guides' apparent assumption that they had the right of way to the entire course.   She pushed me so hard that I collided with a runner on my other side, who pushed me back and also rudely said ''excuse me''.  As I was pushed, both times, it was really a concerted effort to stay on my feet.  I was worried if I went down, I wouldn't get back up.  That push could have ended my race.   Miraculously, I didn't go down.  I was a little bit mad, but didn't have the energy to be more than a little mad, so I pushed forward, trying to get to Urvi and Jesse.  Shortly after this incident, I finally saw them, like a mirage ahead of me, just a little before we entered the park.  I pulled over to talk to them.  I had a little over 2 miles to go and I wasn't sure I was going to finish.  I told them how bad I felt, and they encouraged me, telling me the worst was over.  I thanked them and said good-bye.  Seeing them lifted my spirits so much.

Central Park
Other than the Verrazano, this was my favorite part of the marathon.  Shortly after I entered the park around mile 24, I realized this mile was for Reya.  There was a cool, gentle breeze.  It felt like my feet grew wings.  I finally had my heart rate under control, or maybe I just wasn't noticing it anymore.  Through this mile, I thought about everything Reya has gone through and everything we have gone through to get her where she is today.  The pain just disappeared as I thought of the pain and discomfort that she has endured.  At this point, the course is rolling hills and it was so fun to wind through the Park.  I started passing people left and right, including the group who had pushed me earlier.   

Mile 25
As I passed the mile 25 marker, I filled up with tears.  This mile was for Hope.  For the little girl who started my quest for this cause, who made me a mama, for the little girl who has been so brave and so strong over the past 4 years.  While she doesn't remember the physical pain, the emotional weight she carries is more than most adults.  She understands and knows about things no little girl should know about.  Thoughts of her carried me along the perimeter of Central Park South and into Washington Circle, back into the park.

Mile 26
Because it was not a full mile, I did not dedicate it to anyone in particular, but instead to all of the warriors at Boston Children's, the culmination of these last 7 months as I carried the honor of wearing the checkered Children's singlet.  At this point, I was flying towards the finish and finally having so much fun, but I still just wanted to be done.  I kept searching on the horizon, around every bend for that glorious finish line.  Unlike Boylston St in Boston, where you can see the finish for the whole .2, the finish at New York was hidden around a bend, up a small hill.   Finally I spotted it - a glorious sight in a race that it was never guaranteed that I finish.    I raced towards it, enjoying the crowds.  I realized I had seconds to break 4:15, and since that was my goal time, I wanted to be just under.  I crossed the line in 4:15:47. 

Sweet, but painful, Victory
As we came across the finish, I recognized Peter Ciaccia, the long time director of the New York Marathon, who is retiring this year.  He was shaking finishers' hands, so I made sure to shake his hand and thank him for all he has done.   Then I promptly pulled out my phone and took a selfie with the finish behind me. 

Finished!

I walked a little further and grabbed my medal.  Another selfie :)   

Got my medal!

Then I proceeded into the chute.  It took a while to get water.  I was so thirsty so this was disappointing.  We didn't get any water until we got to the food bags, but when we got there, there were a bunch of empty tables.  There were volunteers standing in front of them not doing anything, so we finally asked a volunteer to get some of the bags out.  Another volunteer yelled as us to go further down the road to get a bag down there.  There was a huge clump of runners and seemingly not enough volunteers for that clump.  I finally got my bag and dug out the gatorade in the bag.  Orange.  I don't care for orange, but I chugged half of it anyway.  I knew I needed the electrolytes.  Then I pulled out the protein shake.  It was awful, but I drank it anyway because I knew my body needed fuel.   I didn't much feel like eating the food in the bag, most of it was glutenous and my stomach was pretty queasy.  So I kept walking.  People were moving soooo slowly.  I just wanted to get out of there, but it was packed and I felt trapped.  I needed a bathroom bad, but there were none readily available.  I asked a volunteer, he said up by the exit.   We went up a hill and finally got our ponchos.  Again, there were volunteers just standing around and others with huge clumps of runners in front of them.  When asked, they said that they had to save those ponchos for wave 3....which seemed crazy to me.  Why not just have all the volunteers handing out all the ponchos at all times?  At New York, you can choose to check a bag or choose a poncho.  To get the bag, you have to walk even further.  The poncho is actually really nice - it is fleece lined and water repellent.  I was getting cold, so this was nice to snuggle into.  I finally spotted a portapotty - relief.  I hobbled over there.  I finally was getting some energy back so I started texting my loved ones.      Next stop - hobble back to the hotel.  There was no subway nearby and no easy way to get a cab or uber, so I walked the 2 miles back.  It was miserable, but lots of other runners were doing it.  I was hoping to pass a McDonalds so I could get some fries, but I didn't really pass anything where I could get something quick and to go.  I finally got to my hotel.  I didn't have a ton of time, so I quickly showered - as quick as you can post marathon, got dressed, packed the rest of my stuff, then headed down to check out and head off to my train.  Since Daylight Savings time had ended, it was already getting dark.   My hotel was only a few blocks from Penn Station.  I had every intention of sitting at a bar near the station to wait for my train, but didn't really have the energy, so I grabbed something to eat, bought some ibuprofen, and found a red cap to help me get on the train when it arrived.  While I waited, I chatted with another finisher waiting for a train.   The red cap service is great - they take your bags for you and get you down on the train before everyone else.  This means you have your pick of seats and can settle in before everyone else gets on.      I chose a window seat on the right side.

It was a long ride home.  My feet hurt and my muscles were seizing.  In New Haven, my seat -mate moved back a row, so I was able to stretch out.   It was a very unproductive ride.  I had no energy to do anything but look at Facebook.   We had a slight delay, and finally pulled into the station around 9:45.  I was home by 10:15 and in bed by 10:30 since I had to get up and go to work the next day.

I don't know if I'll want to run it again, but the New York Marathon was a great experience.   Boston and Philly are still my favorites.  No, it was not my day, but I had the energy from all of those who donated to my run and from all of those I was running for to get me through the tough spots, of which there were too many.   I channeled that every opportunity I got and I truly think I would not have finished without it.  I had one goal for this race - to smile through the whole race and to finish with a smile.   Even though my body didn't cooperate and the day was hard, in every picture I see I have a giant smile plastered on my face, so mission accomplished.  Running for Children's was so meaningful to me.  Boston Children's is a second home to us and to be able to raise almost $10,000 is amazing.  I had set the bar high.  When I set that goal, I thought it was unimaginable that I would make it, but with all of your help, I am almost there.

Now, I rest.  I am taking next season off and will reevaluate come June as to whether I would like to run a fall marathon.  If I do, it will be Philly.  For now, I'd like to work on getting my speed back up and run a few spring half marathons.  I'm looking forward to the opportunity to explore the trails that Bedford has to offer, perhaps even getting lost from time to time, without the pressure of running a certain distance.  Most of all, I'm looking forward to running just for the love of running.





            

Good-bye sweet boy. A tribute to our first warrior

On Saturday, July 14th, we said good-bye to our best friend.  He was our first born child, our first love,

our pride and joy, our only son.  Over the past couple of months, he had been declining, rapidly,

January 2018

so we had known this day was coming soon for a while, but of course, that does not make it any easier.  I miss him so much already and no doubt, this blog post is going to be difficult to get through. But I owe it to him to have a record of everything he gave us and everything he meant to us.    

August 2017

He came to live with us exactly 9 years ago.  I had been asking to get a dog since we moved into our

house in Arlington, and even more fervently once we were married a year later.  Chris’ third anniversary

present to me was to grant me permission to start looking for a dog. Somehow I stumbled upon a

rescue organization called Adoptalab, which mostly rescued labs out of the south.  I knew I wanted

a yellow lab, especially since Chris’ parents already had a black lab (Maddie). I searched their site

every day and inquired about a couple of dogs, each of which had already been adopted, then I saw him.  

The photo from his adoption listing

I was instantly in love. He was big and handsome and his eyes shone with love, despite an uncertain and likely unhappy past. No one knows what the first two or so years of his life were like - he was dumped at a shelter, though I don’t think he ever made his way inside before being scooped up by the rescue and carted off to a foster family.  After I learned he was available, I was interviewed by a volunteer from the organization, and approved, then I exchanged emails with his foster mom.

Dates were set and he finally came home to us on July 11, 2009.  He traveled in a converted RV from

North Carolina with many other dogs who were also traveling to their forever homes across New

England.  They stopped frequently to walk the dogs and we got several updates on how the journey

was going. Finally, late in the evening on a stormy night, the RV pulled into a mall parking lot in

Southern NH.  Several families were waiting and as the truck pulled in, they formed a line in front of

the truck, waiting for their new best friends. Sanders came out of the truck with a smile and

immediately flopped onto his side in the wet parking lot for a long awaited belly rub.  

Chris let him into the car and he quickly settled into his seat, perfectly content.

They came home, and Chris showed him around the house. I came home from Ocean City 2 days

later.

Swimming in Mystic Lake

First trip to OCNJ.  He LOVED the boat

He settled into our family seamlessly.  Shortly after we got him, he started to run with me and we

loved taking him places to be active.  I took him everywhere I could and quickly forgot what life was

like without him. I felt so lucky.  I missed him when we were apart and couldn’t wait to see him when

we’d come home. The feeling was mutual.    I had waited so long and he was just what I wanted.

He was big, he was handsome, he was affectionate, he was loyal.  He did not have a mean bone in his

body and I don’t think I ever heard him growl or saw him bare his teeth, at least not at a human being.

A fall hike in his younger days

  

Hope's first solids

A girl and her dog, October 2016

Hope and Sanders, November 2016

Baby Reya, February 2017

He was never far from Reya's high chair.  She loved to feed him.  It looks like they're conspiring here

The whole family, April 2017

June 2017

This is not to say he was perfect.  He had plenty of flaws and plenty of quirks.  He was a challenge to train, and consequently, was never really all that well trained.  He was intensely food motivated and would do anything for food. Chris used to say he would deal cards for food.  So while he would

Never far from the high chair!

happily perform a command if there was a food reward involved, he could have cared less if there was no reward or a non-food reward.  We tried. Even the trainer we took him to said they had never seen such a food motivated dog. He was top of his class, performing all of the commands on the first or second try, but take away the reward, he ignored you.  Due to his love for food, he got himself into more than a few sticky situations. We had to put a child lock on our trash can long before there were children in our home, and he always seemed to know if we forgot to lock it.  I think he checked every day. He was still getting in the trash up until a few weeks ago. Up until a few months ago, He would patrol the house after we left, looking for snacks, especially in trash cans. Used tissues and paper towels were his favorite.  We got new trash cans last year to keep him out and even in his old age, he figured out how to knock them over so he could get his treats.

I know his antics entertained so much of the facebook community.  He certainly had his Marley

moments. Some of my favorites - the Old Bay incident, where he took a can of Old Bay off the

counter and opened it in his bed - he wouldn’t even look at Old Bay after that, the time he atea whole

batch of brownies and was high for 3 days, and the time he opened the Christmas presents.    

The Christmas presents

I still laugh about these, though the brownies and the Christmas presents almost had him sent back

to North Carolina. We couldn’t keep anything on the counters. He was tall enough to reach into the

sink if he got up on his hind legs. He’d retrieve what he found in there and bring it back to his bed.

We’d always look in his bed the moment we got home to see what trouble he had gotten into.  Some

of the things we found - wine glasses, my sharpest knives. Then, there was the time he got into

prescription strength ibuprofen. That landed him in the hospital for a couple days and almost killed

him. It really is remarkable that he never got an obstruction. He always managed to get whatever

non-edible item he had eaten out.

But as much as he made us laugh and kept us entertained, he also taught us some important lessons.  

Sanders and Hope, January 2015

He taught us how to live life to the fullest in the face of critical illness. How to thrive despite heart

disease.  He taught us what a true warrior is like. You see, a week or so after we brought him home,

at his first check-up, the vet found a significant heart murmur.  She decided to do a chest x-ray and

found out his heart was significantly enlarged. We were advised to have him examined by a veterinary

cardiologist. The veterinary cardiologist did an echo and determined that the murmur and enlarged

heart were congenital.  They told me we’d need to monitor it and it would significantly shorten his life.

It was devastating. Our handsome, strong boy was not as perfect as he seemed. They told us it was an enlarged right atria, which meant nothing to us at the time, except that he was sick.    This past year, we had the kids’ cardiologist take a look at his echos. He was able to help us better understand it, especially with our acquired knowledge of cardiology. He had an AV Canal Defect as well as an ASD

Two brave warriors

and a VSD. In humans, this is surgically repaired. If it is not, it develops into Eisenmenger’s syndrome, which is irreversible.  With one look, the kids’ cardiologist told us Sanders had Eisenmenger’s. He was impressed that he was alive and still doing pretty well. Sanders was our introduction to the heart world. In receiving that diagnosis, little did we know how perfect he was going to be for our family. He was a gift. And just like it hasn’t stopped our kids from living mostly normal lives, CHD didn’t stop him.  During that fateful appointment, the cardiologist and vet gave him a life expectancy of 6-8 years old. He was estimated to be 2-2.5, so that meant at most, we’d probably only have 6 years with him. We had NINE. We got 3-5 extra years out of him.

Living life

Lake Winnepesauke

Arethusa falls

Overlooking the mountains of NH

Our warriors

When he died, He was at least 11 years old, maybe even 12, which for any lab is a ripe old age.

I'm still so grateful to his vet for telling me to treat him like a normal dog. He lived life to the

Hiking in NH

fullest and we didn’t let his heart condition define or inhibit him.  He easily hiked through the mountains of MA, NH and Vermont at a running pace, usually covering twice the distance as us, he was so delighted to be there. He ran regularly with me up until 2 years ago.  At his best, he covered up to 12 miles with me, and regularly ran 6-8, often pushing the pace. He especially liked to run with the Fembots, the group of (mostly) women I often run with. He always had to be in the front, usually with a big smile. One time he epicly chased two of our running buddies down, so that they were no longer in front of us.  Up until the last year, he’d get super excited any time I put my running shoes on. He took any opportunity he could to go for a swim, even it was March. He loved to go for a walk, no matter how long and loved to go for rides in the car. He loved visiting our local wine store, Menotomy Wine and Beer, for treats. He even loved going to the vet (they had treats, too!!) Up until very recently he was an active and happy dog, always ready for an adventure. His zest for life was contagious. He taught us to laugh in the face of adversity, a lesson I am glad we learned well before we welcomed two children with CHDs

He loved to run

Mt Watatic, May 2015

Our lives for the last nine years, especially the last 6, have been no picnic.  We have been greeted by

more bad news than I ever thought possible. He loved and supported us through all of it.  I don’t know

how I would have survived it without him. Through our journey through infertility, he would snuggle

beside me after each retrieval and each transfer.  When we experienced miscarriage, he was there

Head on my knee, July 2014

to comfort us. Through my pregnancy with Hope, then Hope’s surgery and recovery. Through my maternity leave with Hope, though I know this was not his favorite season of life.  Through my pregnancy with Reya, and through her endless surgeries, catheterizations and hospitalizations. He was always there for us to come home to. I’d bury my nose in his neck and breathe in his warm, musky, dog smell and be instantly comforted.   I don’t even know what to do with myself now…

My running partners, June 2016

Halloween 2017

The last two months have been hard.  As I had always predicted, ultimately it was not his actual heart

that took him away.  Sometime last year, he had developed laryngeal paralysis, ironically or not so

ironically.  This condition, possibly attributed to his enlarged heart, but also prevalent in labradors,

Home after the January episode

progressively worsens.  It started with a weak voice and this coughing / throat clearing thing,

which he did mostly at night. At the same time, his heart also had gotten progressively worse,

causing him to have a syncopal episode and pass out on a walk in the center of town last September.  

The vet put him on a bunch of meds and he came home. He was mostly fine until January, when

he had two more of these syncopal episodes. As Chris loaded him into the car, I was pretty sure this was it and he wasn’t going to come home. Another hospital stay, more meds.   The cardiologist was off the grid and the ER vets didn’t know what else to do for him, except to wait to hear from her. Finally they did. She told them to try diltiazem. It worked! He almost died that time, but he got to come home once again. We really wanted to get him to nice weather, so he could be a dog again, even if just for a little while.  The vets at Blue Pearl thought we were crazy. He came home from that stay in January good as new - his quality of life was still good. We went for long walks when we could and tried to do as many of the things he loved as we could. He spent two weeks at Chris’ parents while Reya was in the hospital in April and came back looking so good. While I was home with Reya recovering, we went for lots of walks.    But at the end of May, he started having these breathing episodes if he got too excited, overexerted himself, or if it was too hot out. The first one happened in Ocean City over Memorial Day weekend. It was scary - he couldn’t breathe, was gasping for air, his tongue turned blue, and he was

How I'd like to remember him, May 2018

foaming at the mouth. Eventually he snapped out of it. We took it easy with him and got in touch with the vet when we got home.  They wanted to see him the following week. In that week he had several more episodes like this. Some days were better than ever and he could go around the block, but mostly it was just a few houses. Once again, I said goodbye to him the morning Chris took him to the vet, thinking I wouldn’t see him again. Once again, he defied expectations. His heart and lungs looked better than ever. It was his vocal cords. They sent him home on an anti-anxiety medication and told us to check back in 6 months.  For the first day or two he seemed as good as new. He could get around the block again, and even into the center of town and over to the playground. It was slow, but he could do it. But it seemed to come and go. Some days were good, some were not. The anti-anxiety caused his back legs to be really weak. We kept hoping that adjusting his dose would help him, and we tried

4th of July, one week before we said good-bye

everything, but to no avail. The final straw was the very hot first week of July. We traveled to Ocean City. I kept him cool in the car, but when we got there, he was a mess.  He got out of the car and had diarrhea everywhere, then went into an episode. He recovered quickly, I got him upstairs, and he had a syncopal episode and collapsed. The week he was in Ocean City, we had to carry him up the stairs more often than not. Finally the weather cooled off, and he seemed to be better. But he wasn’t. We tried to decide what to do. Put him down right away? Get him home to MA? We decided that he would fly home with Chris. The morning they were to fly home did not get off to a good start. I took him to the beach, just so he could smell it one last time.  He seemed great on the way there, but went into an episode when we got there. We waited it out and started to walk home. Another

handsome boy

episode. Waited that one out. Got to the corner by my house and he passed out. Chris had to carry him upstairs. The rest of the day he was ok, until it was time to go.

Ice cream last supper

He knew we were leaving despite our efforts to conceal it from him. He didn’t even make it to the driveway without an episode. I had to get him in the car in full episode mode. He finally came out of it at the airport. But I had to get him to pee, and he had another episode getting back in the car.  We had to load him into the plane in full episode mode. It didn’t get much better on the flight home. I was pretty certain he wouldn’t make it home and I wouldn’t see him again. He did make it home, but it wasn’t pretty. Chris was ready to take him to put him down and gave him until 11PM. He snapped out around 10:40, but had another episode on the trip up the stairs to bed. Yet he woke up Monday like nothing had happened. I am beyond grateful to my friends Carrie-Anne and Melissa who stopped in to see him while Chris was at work. They spent a lot of time with him, undoubtedly making his last week much better than had he been alone.  I came home Friday. I knew when I saw him it was time, and I felt like he knew it too. He didn’t get up at first, mostly because I think he was sound asleep. When I came over to him, he lifted his head and looked at me in disbelief - almost like he had thought he wouldn’t see me again. We exchanged a look - I could tell he was tired. The girls and I gave him lots of love. He finally got up and then followed me around like a shadow the rest of the afternoon. When Chris came home we made the decision to take him in the next day.

snuggles

We knew it was the right decision, but it is nonetheless a really hard one to make. We gave him ALL the scraps at dinner.  Chris and I ordered take-out ice cream and I gave him the end of mine. We also ordered him one of his own. On Saturday morning, his walk was only out to the curb and that was really all he wanted to do. He had hamburger for breakfast, then about an hour before his vet appointment, we gave him a whole ice cream sundae that we had ordered just for him - chocolate and all :) We gave him lots of love and took some pictures.
We made sure he knew how loved he was. When it was time to take him, we left the girls with our friend Melissa so that we could both go, once again, we are so beyond grateful to the support she provided us. He had an episode in the car and refused to get out, and never really recovered until he was well sedated by the vet.  Our vet was wonderful, she sat on the floor with us and comforted us. She told us how amazing he had done and how he had exceeded everyone’s expectations, and some of that could be attributed to the care we gave him. When he was finally calm, it was time to say our final goodbye. I don’t know I’ll ever forget watching the injection go in and seeing him slip away. But I also won’t forget his comforting smell and the silkiness of his ears. Even up to the day he died, he had the most beautiful, soft coat. He never got that old dog coat that some dogs get. When he was young, you couldn’t take him anywhere without someone telling you how beautiful he was. And he was. Such a handsome boy.

One last trip to Great Brook

So now where do we go from here?  I am constantly reminded of his absence even after putting all his stuff away and vacuuming up his hair.  There are crumbs on the floor now after meals. The house is painfully quiet, even with two small kids. I miss the sound of his heavy breathing.  The jingling of his tags, which I’ve been hearing phantomly. His moving around our room at night. Stepping over him in the middle of the night to get to the kids room.  So many times I tripped over him in the middle of the night - he always ended up next to my side of the bed. Despite vacuuming on Saturday, his hair is still everywhere.  I miss his excited greeting at the door or having him following me excitedly every time I go out. I miss our long walks just he and I, or the walks with him on my waist while I pushed the kids in the stroller.  I miss his snout next to me in the kitchen, checking out whatever I was cooking. I never realized how many scraps I gave him while I was cooking, or how many things I just let fall to the floor, knowing he’d clean it up.   We all miss him so much.

The whole family, pre-Reya

In some ways, there is relief too.  We spent much of the last 2 months obsessing over how to make

him better and worrying about whether he would have an episode during his morning or afternoon

walks.  He is no longer suffering - he is at peace. Mornings are faster without another child to take

Reya comforting Sanders

care of. His morning routine took about 20-30 min each morning - feed him, dole out each of his 9 pills (trazedone, benzapril, pemabendin, diltiazem, spironolactone, viagra, gabipentin, lasix, doxepin), go for a slow walk for as long as he could handle.  I don’t know what to do in the mornings anymore, I kind of feel lost. While there are crumbs everywhere, the floors are a whole lot cleaner, though I’d gladly have the dirt that comes with a dog back again. We will be going on vacation soon, and it is a relief that we did not have to make this decision based on that vacation and that he will not be a burden on either of our families.  The vacation will be well timed. We will still be grieving him, but will have had time to adjust. We will also have had time to adjust to him not being in the house anymore, so it won’t be a shock to our system when we come home and he’s not here. But I am telling myself all of these things just to make myself feel better...I’d give anything to not have any of these things be true.

Hope drew Sanders the day after he died

The kids have handled it well.  Mireya is way too young. She just knows he is not there anymore.

She gets super excited when she sees his picture.  Hope was the same age as Reya when we lost Pablo and reacted about the same.  Hope understands a little bit more and keeps saying she misses him (but she’s glad he’s not here to bother her while she eats...lol).  She does keep remarking on how quiet it is and she does repeat some of the things we say. She has said she wishes she could pet him again.  We told them that he was too old and tired to stay with us anymore and we were going to take him to the vet to give him some medicine to go to sleep.

We will eventually get another dog.  I can’t imagine living another 40 years without a dog at some point,

and I really want the kids to grow up with a dog.  There are so many lessons to be learned from dog

ownership and dogs are such loyal companions. It will probably be awhile before we bring another

dog into the family.  Maybe in a year or two. ‘

I try not to, but can not stop thinking of him. I keep seeing cardinals - maybe they are him. Today is a

gorgeous day. He would have loved to have been here at my feet on the patio enjoying the nice weather.  

He loved the plane, May 2018

We would have gone for a long walk this morning with the kids. I miss having someone to talk to when the kids are asleep.    I know he is there, somewhere. His heart is now whole and he can run, jump, and swim to his heart’s content. He eats whatever he wants and is surrounded by love.  Maybe he has found Pablo (though I hope he didn’t pee on him) and maybe he even found the baby we lost. He will be waiting for us when our time comes. Until then, I think he is watching us and maybe, his passing was the last event in a series of turbulent years for our family.  Without him here to support us, maybe it is a sign we are finally heading into a more peaceful time. Reya’s health has improved and it seems like it will be years until Hope needs another surgery. Maybe the stressful, scary stuff is over….

We chose to have him privately cremated.  They picked him up from the vet yesterday and will return

him to us on Friday.  That is likely to be a hard day, but I know it was the right decision. When we are

ready, we will take him to all of his favorite places to go with us and sprinkle him there so that he will

always be with us in those places.  When we eventually move to a new home, we will find a place for

him so that he can be there with us too.

Soooo may pictures to choose from. Rest easy, buddy. We'll see you again some day.

Superdog!

Christmas dog

Cool dog

Rest easy Sweet Boy