-In early February, my wife, seven months present, was a t-boned in our new car, driver-side. The car was totaled, and she was taken to the emergency room and released about five hours later.
-Two days later, my wife was readmitted to the emergency room in Denver with pregnancy-related complications. She had to stay there for the weekend.
-We were forced to temporarily relocate from Salida to Denver.
-Three more times in February, she was readmitted to the hospital and twice more had to stay overnight for extended stays.
-Eventually, because of those same complications, on 2/27/2020, she had to have an urgent C-section.
-Our first child, Eoin Michael McCarthy was born that day, 36 days premature (Eoin is just the Irish spelling of Owen – or, to be more etymologically precise, Owen is the English spelling of Eoin).
-Little man spent the first 16 days of his life in the NICU (he’s now home and doing well).
-Around the same time, global pandemic engulfed the world.
-About 10 days ago, my father, who lives in Santa Clara county, CA, came down with coronavirus symptoms (he appears to be through the worst and recovering).
-Last week, one of our dogs was given a terminal cancer diagnosis (you wouldn’t know it by looking at her, but her clock’s ticking).
So yeah, that’s a lot of shit.
And yet, through all of it, I still feel somewhat fortunate. Not lucky—as that’s a lot of shit to go through. But I’m left with the feeling that through it all, things could have been way worse. If all this had gone down 50 years ago, I’d almost certainly be a widower with a dead baby. Thank goodness for modern medicine.
Ultimately, Mom and little man are home and doing well, and that’s all that really matters.
Little man's still on oxygen, not because he has any health issues, but because we live at 8,000 ft. and he was a preemie. The process for getting off oxygen would normally be to go to the birthing center at Heart of the Rockies Medical Center and get a pulse-ox check. But right now, that's the same place all the COVID-19 people go, so that's not safe. So we're just going to take our time weaning him off oxygen, since he's not leaving our house until June anyway.
Now, we're just dealing with normal parent problems—and the same problems everyone else on the planet is dealing with from COVID-19. And compared to life in the NICU, none of that seems all that bad.
And I’m still running.
Less than usual, as would be expected. But the training hasn’t totally fallen off a cliff, either. There aren’t going to be any races again in the next few months, so nothing to prove and nowhere to go prove it.
I’m signed up for two races this year, both slated now for fall. I’d bet big money the Bolder Boulder ain’t gonna happen this year—at least not in the traditional way. 50,000 people gathering in the same place isn’t going to happen again in 2020. And I’d probably wager a few bucks on Pikes Peak not happening, either.
I think full lockdown will end sometime at the end of April or in May, but I highly doubt that gatherings of over 500 people are going to be happening any time this year. I've heard smart people say 50 will be the limit until we get a vaccine or similarly effective treatment. And if a vaccine is developed tomorrow, it'd still be a year or more before it'd be ready for the general population.
If you're a race director, now's the time to start getting creative.
I do ok staying motivated even without any races on the calendar. I went five years without racing between 2012 and 2017—and eleven years without racing between 1998 and 2009. I’ll still run whether they’re holding races or not. It's my excuse to get outside. And it's one of the only legal ways to do that now.
For now, I'm adjusting to my new normal and THE new normal and that keeps me busy. That's enough ambition for now.
Stay safe and sanitary!
