Dear Deb: A Letter To My Coach

Dear Deb,

Congratulations on your upcoming retirement. This letter is simply to say thank you for all that you gave to me, to my innumerable teammates and to Colby's track and cross country programs. Although I didn't choose Colby simply for the cross country team, you had a big influence on my decision; an athlete's ability to work with a coach is so crucial for the success and happiness of the individual and the team. I immediately knew that I was in good hands with you. You were the adult presence that we wild and crazy college kids needed: someone to tell us when to stop and when to go,  who challenged and supported us and genuinely cared. The girls on the team were my sisters, and you were our mother; I think the credit is due to you that many Colby track and cross country friendships still run so strong after graduation. You created a safe space for us. Personally, I often felt like I had failed miserably or felt confined by my own limitations, but you kept pushing me, and your presence and support kept me going. And when I succeeded and "crushed my goals," as you once said about one of my races, you were so happy and proud. You celebrated all of us, and not just on the track or the course. You made sure that we were on track with our studies. It felt good, and I was always proud, that you ensured that we were students before athletes, and that you expected us to be our best in both aspects of our lives.

You also made sure we enjoyed and appreciated our beautiful surroundings. I loved always visiting your camp for the long runs, the lake time and your incredible coking. I was never bored on our runs, marveling at the fall sunsets or the sparkling icy winters or the random goat on someone's porch. Because of you, I got to know Maine in a way that I had not anticipated when I decided to go to Colby. Running in Rome was always an out of body experience, running by the horses and striving to reach the water at the end of the run. Even Upper and Lower trails became meditative in their own stubborn way.  I never knew I could love Maine as much as I did. All of my best memories from college are from the cross country and track teams.

As a cross country coach now, I appreciate you in another way as well. It is no secret that you knew what you were doing with your athletes, and it was no question for me that I would adapt your training model for my high school runners. My girls have run well and whenever I have a question about how to prepare for a certain race or how to best take care of my girls, I ask myself what you would do. I found success with your support and so I trust that my runners will do the same with my guidance. Although I work with a different demographic, the care of athletes and love of the sport still holds true. If my girls graduate being half as fond of me as we were of you, I will know that I have succeeded.

With you, after graduation

After each season, you would always give each of the seniors a yellow rose for everlasting friendship and thanking them for their contributions to the team. I still have all three of mine, dried up and drooping in my bedroom. This letter is my yellow rose to you: a reminder of the friendship, camaraderie, support, and Mule Love that you gave me and all of my teammates. I wish you happiness, lots of family time and beautiful runs in your retirement. Because of you, I am proud to be a Colby Mule.

Sincerely,
Rachel

Standing up against pancreatic cancer - Welzel Strong

Dear friends and readers,

I wish I could write you with better news, but unfortunately that is not the case this time. Just a few weeks back we found out that my goofy, thick-Boston accented, marathon ace Aunt Jane has pancreatic cancer. It certainly wasn’t what I expected to hear that afternoon, and the feeling of déjà vu was unpleasant and unnerving. You see, several years ago, my mom got the same phone call about her brother, my uncle Andy, who eventually lost his battle with pancreatic cancer. Thus, this diagnosis is a double-whammy for my family. Pancreatic cancer can be genetic, and having two siblings in a family afflicted means that we need to jump into action for genetic screening and perhaps routine monitoring for the rest of us. You better believe that the first thing I did after finding out was to pull up PubMed and start researching the success rates of treatment, stats on increased risk for familial inheritance, the latest in screening options, and success of early detection. I won’t lie and say the numbers are favorable…

While the odds are against us, I know that if anyone can fight this, it’s Jane. She certainly has everything that can work for her, working for her. After all, if anyone is going to stand up to cancer, it’s going to be a Welzel. (Long-running family joke that Welzels regularly refuse to sit and would rather stand: maybe restless leg syndrome is hereditary too). Besides, this wouldn't be the first time Jane has overcome extraordinary odds. First of all, she qualified and ran in 5 U.S. Olympic marathon trials.  Not impressed yet? She broke her neck in a terrible car accident in between Olympic trials #1 and #2, and spent three months in a cast. I can still recall some hilarious stories my mom told me of taking full upper-body cast Jane out for walks: with a few falls and ensuing hilarity in trying to get back up since her legs still were remembering how to function. And that’s only a drop in the sea of the endless “crazy Aunt Jane” stories (like the time she spent a night in a tree after being chased on a run by a moose during mating season, or when she taught my little cousin Kate an age-inappropriate catch-phrase:  “kick-ass Kate”, or the shorts with fake plastic butts that she wears with her friends to  trick people into thinking they are being mooned). In her professional life, she is up against another difficult statistic – the prevalence of eating disorders in athletes. As a psychotherapist, she specializes in counseling those with eating disorders. My point is, look up resilience in the dictionary and don’t be surprised to see a Welzel standing there (yep, still not sitting!).

I am telling you all of this because in support of my entire family for what we have been through, what we’re going through, and the future unknown challenges, I am fundraising money for pancreatic research and awareness. As a scientist, I know first hand the impact that public awareness can have on funding levels. The most fitting way that I can see to try to help my family is through running: on June 14^th, I will be toeing the line for the second time at the PurpleStride 5K in Washington D.C.. I ran this race last year  in honor of Uncle Andy and in my first time breaking 20 minutes on the roads. Little did I know just how much more special this race would feel to me one year later. And that is why, despite all the odds against me (being out of shape from having pneumonia in February and an unrelenting work schedule), I am going to attempt to break 19 minutes for the first time at this race. Besides, what’s post-pneumonia lung compared to a broken neck? In these next two months, I’m going to be training “Welzel Strong” to beat the odds at this race. I'd love to have anyone who lives nearby join me!

Thanks for reading my story! I hope you will consider donating a few bucks to my fundraising page if you can afford it. The link to donate is below.

http://purplestride.kintera.org/dc/welzel_strong

Jane - nicknamed her tumor "Pigpen", from Peanuts, for when she beats it, the dust will settle.
(unlike her opponents, who she left in the dust)

The Anti-Gravity Experience

As I mentioned in my last post, one of the ways that I got back on my feet (literally) as soon as I did was because I ran on an anti-gravity treadmill. Its huge advantage is that you can run at a percentage of your body weight to minimize the impact on your legs. I ran so much more than I thought I would be able to, but before I recount my weightless experiences, let's go back a little farther.

The summer before senior year of high school, my mom connected me with a colleague and friend who coached and ran. Her guidance and support, among other influences, helped me reach the next level of running and training, and senior fall I finally had the cross country season I was hoping for, and got my 5k times down enough to run in college. This mentor, Marcia, helped me think about my training, connected me with a sports masseuse, and got me in the pool the first time for aqua jogging. Marcia is the queen of aqua jogging, due--unfortunately--to the many injuries that have plagued her over the years. She has since stopped running, but we've kept in touch and she always inquires into my running when she sees my mom.

December, when I broke my leg, was the first time I considered an anti-gravity treadmill. I knew that elites often ran on them, but never thought that I, a mere D3 college runner, could or should try it out. My mom brought up Marcia and her connection to a local AlterG (that's the brand) at my very first orthopedist appointment. I was barely on crutches, but was already planning on my return to running via an anti-gravity treadmill.

No sooner was I given the green light to run (3 months to the day that I broke my leg), than I contacted Marcia and booked an appointment on the AlterG. For those of you in the Boston area, this one is in Woburn, right off of I-93. It was surprisingly affordable for 60 minutes, and I visited once for free to work with the physical therapist to figure out the machine and focus on my stride. To get set up on the AlterG, you put on wetsuit-like shorts that zip into the bubble. You turn the machine on and it weighs you and calibrates. This is where it starts to feel exciting, because as it's figuring you out, you're being raised and lowered by the seat of your pants. I elected to run at 80% of my body weight, and it didn't feel particularly special. Any lower percentage and I felt like my feet were barely touching the ground. But at 80%, I was able to run without pain for 3 miles. We won't talk about how slow those miles were, because that short distance was a huge milestone in and of itself. Once I turned the machine off and came back to 100% gravity, I noticed the difference; all of a sudden my legs felt so heavy and leaden. This is how our legs normally feel, and the difference of 20% body weight makes me realize how much stress we put on our bodies on a daily basis. The AlterG is undoubtedly a great advantage for elites or recovering runners, and it turns out that anti-gravity treadmills are way more accessible than I thought. Many marathoners will often do one anti-gravity run a week to minimize the pounding in a high milage training plan. The treadmill looks badass, but isn't just for those hardcore folks out there. I encourage everyone to try it out, either for the thrill of weightlessness or for the recovery advantage.  

Marcia accompanied me on the last day, and as I slogged through the miles, she took pictures of me and we caught up and talked about running and life (one in the same, right?). I am so grateful to Marcia for her support over many years despite her own athletic ups and downs, and for introducing me to her secret recovery weapon. She refers to the AlterG as "Mariah" because it can be a lifesaver. This is certainly true in my case, for it not only got me back to running and kickstarted my running recovery, but it gave me the confidence and strength to tackle the humbling and invariably frustrating experience of a slow comeback. Thanks to Marcia and Mariah, I have many miles ahead of me once again.