Banishment

In an earlier post, I wrote that my cat is stinkin’ cute and often makes me smile. Yes, Rechina has brought me so much joy over the last 11 years, and I’ve often thanked God for her, as crazy as that might sound. She’s been with me through many ups and downs and I really can’t imagine not having her in my life.

Whenever I walk through the house and see her in one of her many favorite spots, I often have to just stop and look at her for a minute with a big smile on my face. For example:


She is also quick to take advantage of new and interesting locations as they present themselves:


But really, she just likes to be wherever I am. Being a cat, she sleeps most of the day, but she does wake up and come into the office or wherever I am every few hours for a little lovin’:


Which is why I feel so guilty for having to banish her…

See, Rechina is not always the perfect little princess she appears to be in these photos. No, years ago, she started peeing places she shouldn’t. At first it was on the rug next to her litter box in the bathroom, which was easily solved by removing the rug. Then she started actually going on my bed, so I would just lock her out of the bedroom whenever I wasn’t in there. Recently, she’s decided that the dining room carpet makes a good toilet. I rented a carpet cleaner, but she could still smell the pee and picked right back up again. Racking my brain, I concluded that I couldn’t make her an outdoor cat since she’s never been outside in all her 12 long years, and I doubt I could find a new home for an old pet with such an offensive habit. Hopeless, in tears, I started to accept the fact that I might have no other option than to have her put to sleep. I knew the day would come when she would pass away, and as sad as they day would be, it pales in comparison to the pain I feel simply at the thought of having to be the one to kill her in effect. Yet, I didn’t know what else to do.

Still, I had to try everything. I took her to the vet and they first tested her urine for bacteria. There were trace amounts, though probably not enough to be causing this problem. Still, an antibiotic was the first course of action. If that didn’t make a difference, she was to be put on Prozac. Supposedly, the Prozac helps calm animals down enough so that they abandon these bad habits, and it has a 75% success rate according to the vet. During all of this, she was also to be isolated, to hopefully retrain her to go only in her litter box. And so began the chapter of Rechina’s life banished to my garage. It’s quite a lot of space, actually, and I tried to make it as comfortable as possible, though I’m sure she’s still unhappy being secluded like that. I mean, I assume that most of the time she just sleeps the day away as usual, only in the garage instead of the house, but whenever I walk past the garage door I can hear her crying loudly inside, and of course she tries to sneak out whenever I open the door to go in. I feel bad for her out there all alone, and I miss her presence in the house, but I figure it’s better than the alternative.

So, we’ll see. I rented the carpet cleaner again and also drenched the carpet and pad with a odor eliminator to hopefully get rid of the remaining smell. And when I get back from my trip to Yosemite for my brother’s wedding, I’ll start her on the kitty Prozac. This whole thing is so frustrating, and I just can’t understand WHY she’s doing it. This most recent increase in the frequency began shortly after I started dating Derek, and while she seems to like him just fine, I wonder if she’s jealous because she’s receiving less of my attention since he’s come into my life. I don’t know. In the garage, I put a blanket down for her to sleep on, the only soft place in there for her lie down, and still she peed on it. I replaced the blanket with a suitcase, but she went on that too. Why would she pee where she sleeps? I just don’t get it! I get so angry with her, and yet I still love her…

Anyway, I’ll keep you posted. But in the meantime, thanks for allowing me to vent.

Delayed Success is Even Sweeter

I started training for the 2008 Flying Pig, but had to drop out after an achilles injury. After some physical therapy, I was good to go, and had a great triathlon season last summer. I also started training for the October Marine Corps Marathon in D.C., but had to give that up after some other foot issues, including plantar fasciitis. It was mostly better after a few lazy months last fall, so I began training again in January with the Fleet Feet group for the 2009 Flying Pig. My feet still gave me problems at times, but running didn't seem to make it much worse, so I kept at it. I'd be in quite a bit of pain after the longer (14+ mile) training runs, but I'd be o.k. again after a couple days. The twenty-miler hurt, but I wasn't about to give up at that point. I didn't run the Tuesday or Thursday after that because I wanted to let my body fully recover before submitting it to the rigors of backpacking the following weekend. That, however, proved even more strenuous, and I was sore for another week following our return. So two weeks after our last long run, I tried running 8 miles and just about died. It was like my body had forgotten how to run! I got a bit concerned, but everyone told me that I was ready. I made sure to get my last two weeks of shorter runs in, and did feel better by race day, but I was still nervous. I figured it would be hard, and I assumed it would hurt, but I knew all that would go away after a few days. I just wanted to get through the thing to say I'd done it and put that silly goal behind me.

The day before the marathon, 5 of us who'd been training together met up for a nice slow 2-mile jog. Someone suggested we come up with a team name for our group, and I threw out Team Cheetah, which ended up sticking. All along we'd been training by running 3 minutes and walking 1, and we figured the cheetah was a good mascot for us since they run really fast for awhile and then stop to eat their prey. Or something like that. Only we never really ran very fast, least of all me. Oh, well, it was fun, and created an even stronger bond between us I think. I know that for me, anyway, I felt so much better going into this thing having a team of friends around me who kept telling me I could do it. We met up Sunday morning with Team Cheetah signs on and set off for the starting line.


Somewhere at about mile 5, the team got separated after a water stop. Marty, Angela and I were together, but we'd lost Doug, Laura, and Dick. Just before heading into Eden Park, the three of us stopped at the portapots, and Laura and Dick passed us as we waited in line. I ran with Marty and Angela as long as I could, but finally at about mile 12 I let them go on ahead of me. I told myself, "This is your race. Run it your way." I could have pushed myself a little more, stuck with them a little longer, but I didn't want to hurt myself or make myself more miserable than I needed to be. Sure, I kind of had a goal of 5 hours in my mind, but really I just wanted to finish what I'd set out to do more than a year earlier. I felt victorious already as I thought about how far I'd come. Of course, my right heel was hurting pretty good by that point, so that I had to step only on the ball of my foot whenever I walked, but it was definitely manageable. And, perhaps miraculously, I noticed near mile 14 or 15 that it didn't hurt anymore!

No doubt about it, though, I was tired. Between miles 17 and 18, as I ran through Mariemont, I felt pretty strong, like I got my second wind, but that's all the longer that lasted. I gladly accepted half a banana from some nice supporter, even though I'd never trained with anything other than my Hammer Gel. Oh, and I also had a Twizzler. And a few orange slices a little later on. They all tasted delightful. The second half of the race is kind of a blur (and I think only partially because I waited 2 weeks to write up my race report). After that I just remember giving myself short goals, like getting to mile 21 where the Fleet Feet folks were stationed. I think I even managed a pretty good smile as I ran past Jeremy and the other amazing people out there to cheer us on that morning. My short-term goals got shorter, to where I was really only thinking about the next 3-minute run till my next walk break, but it worked: I think I can do anything for 3 minutes.

With only a mile or two left, I suddenly saw Coach Jen jogging toward me from the direction of the finish line. She had only run the half marathon that morning since she'd run her full a week or two beforehand, but she was heading back onto the course to check on the rest of her team. I think I was just super emotional at that point because I started having trouble breathing as I fought back tears. Another Fleet Feet runner met up with us at about that point, and the three of us slowly but surely made our way toward the finish line. Jen got off the course before we reached the end, and the other girl ran ahead of me. I crossed the finish line alone, and a flood of emotions swept over me: No, I don't want a blanket, just my medal please. Yes... water... thank you. Oh, hi Marty, yeah, I made it. Where's the food? Where's Derek? Oh, there, on the phone outside the fence. I'm so glad you're here. Where are my sandals? Can I please just sit for a moment? Will you take my picture? Yeah, I'm fine, just really tired and a little sore. But none of the foot pain I usually have. Wow, no blisters even. Yeah, I actually feel pretty good. But we're gonna have to take it really slow walking the mile or so back to the car...

Home. Quick shower just to rinse off. Eat some leftover pasta. Sleep, maybe 1.5 or 2 hours. Another shower. Get ready for Derek's friend's wedding. And we're off. Just let me walk slowly and I'll be o.k. Delicious, free dinner I didn't have to cook. Nice!

So, yeah. I did it. It took me 5 hours, 23 minutes, and 45 seconds, but I did it. And even though there was very little about that race that was actually fun, since it didn't hurt that bad and since I didn't finish it in 5 hours like I'd hoped, I'll probably have to try again. 'Cause I'm just kinda crazy like that.