Installment # 31

I referred earlier to the Three Rs of trail running: Rocks, Roots and Ruts.  (Did you ever notice that only one of the Three Rs of scholastics, reading, writing and arithmetic, actually begins with ‘R’?  Ain’t that weird?).  Anyway, as much as I love trail running, since my mid-fifties I have been overly cautious about the Three Rs, especially downhill.   When I was still working, we used to enter the Quicksilver Park on winter work days with small hand-held flashlights, because it was still dark.  It was fairly safe, because it was virtually all uphill until the turnaround point, which varied but was always at least 30 – 45 minutes out, by which time it was light.  Falling uphill was not nearly as treacherous as falling downhill.   But the older I get the more fear I have of falling.  I only run in broad daylight now, but I am very cautious on the down hills.

Running has been called a “positive addiction,” and now I can see why.  I haven’t entered a race for several years now, but I sometimes have realistic-seeming dreams where I am preparing for the start of a race, looking for some missing piece of equipment, or running late and trying not to miss the start and so forth.  I have even dreamt I was in the middle of a marathon and been sidetracked by a friend who needed me to help look for something, all the while being eager to get back on the course and continue the race.  These dreams confirm to me that running is an addiction because I had similar dreams about smoking during the first ten years after I was able to quit.  I hear that is fairly normal.  I would dream that I was smoking again and be so disappointed in myself, and so relieved when I became awake enough to realize that I had been dreaming.  This may be evidence in favor of the idea that I am not addicted to alcohol, despite the struggles I describe elsewhere.  I have rarely if ever dreamed I was drinking, so I think it is not a physical addiction for me.

A dream that is quite common, based on my informal surveys, has to do with being a student and being unable to find your classroom.  I have that a few times per year.  Most recently it was a college class where I had been unable to get the book; it was getting near the end of the term, and I was probably going to fail the class.  The fact that such dreams are so common suggests to me that the structure or process of formal education is not in line with the way humans are designed.  It seems like we are forced into a mode that is unnatural for us.  I have had a similar dream just a few times since I retired that I have taken to calling “The Long-Lost Client.”   I am returning to a client that is happy to see me and that represents a good opportunity for me to be of assistance and to earn good money.  The location and the people seem so familiar to me that, upon waking I try to remember the name of the actual client and the names of some of the people, then reluctantly realize that there never was such a client.  I guess that is not an addiction; I am certainly not addicted to working, though I regret that Sandy is not happy about our reduced income.  Maybe that particular dream is borne of regret instead of addiction.

I used to have little patience or sympathy for people who had phobias, by which I mean irrational or excessive fears, until I developed one myself.  I ran for maybe 20-25 years in the Almaden Quicksilver Park with no concern about mountain lions (also known as pumas or cougars), despite periodic reports of sightings and even attacks.  I would happily run by myself, entering the park as soon as it was light enough to see - a prime time for mountain lions to be out foraging for food.  But one day I was walking our old dog, Hank, who at 15 or 16 years old was slowing down a lot, when a coyote started stalking us.  He was so bold I figured he must be quite hungry.  I also figured that Hank looked like easy prey because he was old and slow, perhaps even giving off a confirming odor that the coyote recognized.

Well, I walked Hank out of the park, keeping an eye on the coyote, who continued to stalk us until we were out of the gate.  In speaking about it to someone afterwards, he said that a lone coyote is smart enough to try to get a large animal to chase it, and then lead it to his pack, where they can easily overpower it.  He also mentioned that a dog’s jaws and teeth are no match for the power and sharpness of a coyote’s jaws and teeth.  This experience and discussion rather unnerved me, and while I felt fairly confident that a coyote or even a group of coyotes would not attack a man, I began to think about the attack of a mountain lion and how I would handle it.  We had heard that if confronted by a mountain lion, never turn your back on it or try to run.  Instead try to make yourself appear as large and scary as possible by standing tall, raising arms high overhead, making loud noises, waving something like a T-shirt or a water bottle if you are holding one.  I guess the idea is to help the creature realize that you are not what he is looking for in a meal.

From that time on, whenever I went running in the park by myself I started mentally rehearsing what I would do if I saw a mountain lion; then I began to look and listen for any signs of one; then I started wondering whether the presence of deer was a good sign or a bad sign.  Were the deer present because there were no mountain lions around, or would the presence of deer attract mountain lions?  Was it true that the most dangerous times were dusk and dawn, and that mountain lions would be off sleeping somewhere during broad daylight?  If other runners had come by earlier, would that have scared the mountain lion away, or would it have attracted his attention so that he was crouched in the bushes waiting for me?  Is an overcast day similar to dawn or dusk?

Then I happened to ask about the cat symbols used fairly extensively in Los Gatos, and after all these years learned that Los Gatos in Spanish means “the cats.”  But, “Why cats?” I asked.  “Because there are a lot of mountain lions in the hills surrounding Los Gatos” was the answer.  That is the kind of “cats” they are talking about.  Yikes!  Those are the hills I have been running in for 25-30 years, never knowing how Los Gatos got its name!  I have tried to reason with myself, but phobias are not rational.  I read that a mountain lion will roam over 100 square miles or so of wilderness, and is very unlikely to hang out near running paths.  I remind myself that I have run these hills for 30-35 years now and have never seen one, so they must be quite rare and probably shy away from humans if they hear you coming.  Then I wonder how many times a mountain lion may have watched me run by, but was not in the mood to see if I would make a good snack.  In other words, I may not have seen them, but they may have seen me!

My larger point here is that I no longer scoff at other people’s phobias.  I know someone who literally cannot drive or ride in a car across a bridge over open water.  I am embarrassed about my reaction years ago when I heard that.  I know someone who simply cannot be in a hospital as a visitor.  Sandy and I went to visit his grandmother in the hospital, but he could not go in.  And then there are people who are afraid of clowns, of owls, etc.  It is very hard for me to believe, let alone sympathize with, but since I cannot explain or overcome my own phobia, it is not hard for me to accept others’. The last two times that I have flown by myself and had to select my seat, I have found that row 13 provides the best chance of sitting next to an empty seat.  Row 13 is the last to fill up.  We all know that ‘13’ is “supposed to be” an unlucky number, but not seriously.  Yet it seems that most people would rather “not take a chance.”  In this case I am aware of the superstition, but am able to reason through it and use it to my advantage.  I have no qualms about sitting in row 13.

Given my literal bent, I have been exasperated by the charge that anyone who takes exception to any aspect of homosexuality is “homophobic.”  Literally, it means a fear of homosexuals or homosexuality.  That accusation may be a good way to get someone to shut up, but it is not right.  Most of us, at least in California, have come to like gay people as people, as long as they keep their physical relationships behind closed doors.  I have come to the place where I can appreciate and enjoy gay people in social settings, but I don’t want to see public displays of affection (PDA, we call it now), and I don’t want a gay person hitting on me.  Tina Fey has called it “half out of the closet.”  I don’t mind knowing you are gay; I just don’t want to see it.  To me, that is not homophobic.  It is more like the idea that someone eats worms, or something.  The fact that I don’t want to watch someone eat worms does not mean that I am fearful of worms or of the person who claims to eat them.  It is difficult enough trying not to imagine what that would look like – I really don’t want to see it.  That is not a phobia; it is a sensibility, if anything.

On a lighter literal note, I get a kick out of the way people on opposite sides of an issue will use positive labels for themselves and negative labels for their opponents.  For example, we are pro-life, not anti-abortion.  You don’t want to be “anti” anything.  The other side says that it is not about abortion, it is about a woman’s right to choose.  “Choice” is a more universally accepted value.  “Abortion” sounds so negative; “Choice” sounds so positive and democratic.  In California we used to have the Unemployment Department. Now it is called the Department of Employment. In the book 1984 the government agency responsible for distributing scarce food resources to the near-starving population was called the Ministry of Plenty.  One more for now: the local cemetery here advertises for pre-need services and at-need services.  I guess that is pretty clear.

I talk elsewhere about the fears we experienced in the paratroopers; how I would think about what could go wrong and how I might die.  If ever real, rational fears could stop me from doing something… that would be it.  But these were rational fears, so I was able to put them in perspective.  Irrational fears simply defy logic.  In a similar vein, I only experienced real depression once in my life, but it was enough to make me stop disrespecting those who suffer from it.  My depression lasted only a few days, but during those few days I was completely incapable of talking myself out of it.  I was helpless.  I would try to identify the causes so that I could deal with them, but nothing came to mind.  I always remember that experience because it helped me accept and empathize with a person who is prone to depression.  It is not something that you can talk yourself out of, and I can appreciate now how a good therapist might be able to help.

Around mid-sixties I noticed a dramatic drop off in my running ability and decided through Kaiser to find out if I had any physical condition that I should be aware of.  It seemed like I was just not able to take up oxygen and distribute it to my working muscles in sufficient quantities to fuel performance.  Other possibilities included vitamin or mineral deficiencies, nerve issues, spine issues, muscles, lungs, etc.  In the course of various tests, a CAT scan indicated a small clot on the back of my right lung, and I was put on a blood-thinner.  At first they said 3-6 months, then 9 months, and then there were suggestions of “the rest of your life.”  I did have people tell me that more often than not, once you go on blood thinners you stay on them for life.  The rationale is: If you are prone to “throwing clots,” you had better stay on blood thinners.  Why take a chance? 

The original reason for starting blood thinner medication, the doctor told me, was to dissolve the clot, but the literature spoke almost entirely of preventing clots, not dissolving existing clots.  I asked how I would know when the clot was gone, and was told that I would feel better.  What does that mean?  My original complaint was that my running had slowed to little more than a shuffle.  Did they mean that when my running improved, I would know that the clot had cleared up?  After a recommended rest period of about 3 weeks, I started running again, building up to so many minutes at a somewhat better pace.  However, that is when I became really cautious about taking a fall.  I was told that if I ever fell, whether in running or off a ladder or whatever, I would need to go to the emergency room and be checked for any internal bleeding.  Well, I didn’t want that.

After about 9 months I took myself off the blood thinners.  That was 3-4 years ago, and I seem to be fine.  I asked the doctor whether it was possible that there had been a speck of dust or something on the screen that they misdiagnosed as a clot.  He just laughed.  I asked if we could do another CAT scan and see if the clot was gone, but he said that the exposure to radiation from one CAT scan was bad enough; Kaiser did not want to run the higher risk of exposing me twice.  I asked whether it was a good idea to add the D-DIMER test to my routine blood work ups.  (That is the test that triggered the CAT scan in the first place).  I was told that, while there was no risk of what they call a “false negative,” there was always the risk of a “false positive.”  In other words, negative findings would be good, but positive findings would be problematic.  He asked whether I would want to go back on blood thinners if the D-DIMER came back positive, knowing that it might very well be a false positive.  I said, “No,” so he pointed out that there was no point in ordering that work up again.  If it came back positive, he would not order another CAT scan to see if it was false, and I would not go back on blood thinners, so there was no point in testing for it.

By the way, one of the other potential issues we checked was my lung capacity, and they found that I have a slight, but noticeable obstruction or limitation that they attributed to the smoking that I did from age 16 to 34.  But I quit 30 years ago, I protested.  I had always heard that after 10 years of not smoking, the lungs are back to their intended pink, health selves.  She said that no, they now find that the damage is permanent.  I told her about growing up in a second-hand smoke environment, and she said I definitely have some permanent residual effects of both the second-hand smoke and the 18 years of direct smoking, even though it had been 30+ years earlier.  Well, I had been running well from age 34 to almost 60, so whatever limitations I had in that regard must have been minor, and are still minor.  She agreed with that.