Uncategorized – Cynsspace

Looking for My Pony

Shell-shocked. There is really no other word to describe my reaction after finally seeing the hip specialist in Hamilton. I waited for 3 months to get to the bottom of what was going on with my hamstring – a tear at the insertion of the ischial tuberosity. I waited another three months for a consultation with Dr. Bentley, whom I thought was going to prescribe platelet-rich plasma therapy to strengthen the tendon. I got more and more excited as the days to that appointment got closer; I felt like a 6 year old hoping to find her pony on Christmas morning. But I left his office feeling dejected. There was no pony waiting for me, not even a stuffed toy that could act as a substitute. Instead, I left with a piece of paper: a prescription for more physiotherapy.

During the examination, Dr. Bentley commented, “I don’t think you need an injection. It won’t help you. I think there is something else going on.” Like most runners who have been off longer than they want to be and are desperate for answers and healing, I tried to pry more details out of him. “Let’s finish the examination. Then we can talk.” But the words “won’t help you” kept my mind spinning. So I am that one in ten who PRP injections aren’t suitable for? I wasted all of this time waiting for nothing? Is there no hope of recovery? Will I ever run again?

During our debrief, Dr. Bentley explained that my pelvis is not aligned properly. I have an anterior pelvic tilt, meaning that my right hip sits forward; in doing so, the right hamstring is stretched and that, he believes, it the root of my problem. This also explains the occasional sciatica discomfort that I get, my tight hip flexors and, most visually obvious, the right leg swing when I run. The treatment, Dr. Bentley said, is pelvis realignment through physiotherapy, and he suggested 10 treatments would correct the problem. “Once a week?” I asked. “Oh no,” he said. “You need twice a week.” Between his words, I imagined hearing “Your pelvis is that messed up.”

“And what if this doesn’t help?” I asked. After all, I have gone through the rounds of chiropractic care, physiotherapy and worked with an osteopath, yet I am still considered injured. Dr. Bentley told me to book another appointment if I felt that the treatments don’t help.

It’s taken me almost a month to emotionally recover from his diagnosis and recommendations for treatment. I am angry that I had to wait so long to get to the root, or what seems to be the root, of the problem. I am frustrated that I have had to go to yet another physiotherapist, one who specializes in pelvic realignment, and explain the events of the past 9 months. And I am confused as to why he wouldn’t want to strengthen the tendon when it is going to remain a “less than 50% tear” for the rest of my life (since tendons don’t repair), especially with osteoporosis-arthritis showing in January’s MRI. But, as with all other wounds, time heals and we move on.

On Wednesday, I am starting my fourth week of treatments. Some days, I leave feeling optimistic and ready to start running again; other days, I leave feeling frustrated and wonder whether this will, in fact, let me return to running. There have been good days and bad, laughter and tears, and longing….a longing for good news, a wish for running health….and hope to find that pony with a pink ribbon around its neck.

Stress Test

Last week, after 15 months of heart tests, I was finally given a thumbs-up. Everything is fine.

The fact that doctors thought there was something wrong with my heart was an enigma. In November 2017, days before I was running Nationals cross-country, an 8k distance, I was scheduled for a routine asthma test at the hospital. During one of the baseline tests, the respirologist stopped the test. “We can’t do it,” she said. “Your heart rate isn’t normal.”

I was completely dumbfounded. How was that even possible? At that point in 2017, I had logged almost 2000 miles for the year and I was racing fast enough to call myself a competitive runner.

How could I possibly have something wrong with my heart? But during the baseline test, my heart rate dropped (spiked down, as she said) so that it was dangerous to proceed with the test. After answering what felt like a gazillion questions (Do you smoke? Do you drink? Do you workout? What do you do for exercise? and so on) and meeting with a cardiologist, they decided that it was safe for me to continue the asthma test. “It’s okay. There is a cardiologist next door if something goes wrong.”

Over the next 6 months, I had bloodwork, an echocardiogram, and an ultrasound of my heart. In simplest words, results showed that my outtake valve is thinner than my intake valve; the valves, by the way, are only 1mm thick, which I find absolutely remarkable. So running is good for me, but it meant that I needed to be monitored.

This past fall, at another asthma appointment with my respirologist, she asked whether I had been showing any symptoms? “Of what?” I asked. “I really don’t know what I am looking for.” My waking up and gasping for air in the middle of the night could be asthma-related, or it could be a symptom of a heart problem. So could the dizziness that I sometimes have during the day (which is likely attributed to a low heart rate). My doctor wanted to “cross the t’s and dot the i’s) so she referred me to a cardiologist. Continue reading “Stress Test”

Let Them Be Kids

In the past six months, Ontario universities have lost students who took their lives. We can’t begin to wonder why or guess the circumstances. But what we can do is find ways to improve. We, the adults, we need to do better.

The stress that our youth face is no joke. Ten years ago, as a teacher, I saw Grade 8 girls put so much pressure on themselves to get marks as close to 100% as possible that I worried that they might have a breakdown before they even got to high school; that was before the pressures of social media. A few years later, I watched a parent criticize a Grade 8 son for his 80% average because “it isn’t good enough for the top universities.” Yes, he was only in Grade 8. And, as a parent, I have watched my son and his friends devour their books so that they can have the 90% averages needed for university entrance while accumulating hundreds of volunteer hours and working part-time. I have read resumes of university students who make my own – a resume of someone who has been in workforce for over 30 years – look dull.

Today, without meaning to, we have put pressure on kids as young as 12 and 13 to start thinking about their career choices. We expect our kids to be well-behaved, have high marks, play a sport or instrument (and often more than one), volunteer at school or in the community, and, if they are able, work at a part-time job. Every parent wants his/her child to be the best, but is the best right for every single kid? And when exactly do our kids get to be kids?

I often feel that, as parents, we have lost touch with what really matters in our children’s lives. We need to let kids play – not an organized soccer practice or robotics club kind of play, but completely unstructured “run around and be silly with your friends” kind of play. Let them complain about being bored because kids can always find something to do; it may not be what we want them to do, but they’re making their own decisions and, if they get in trouble, so be it. Let them face the consequences and help them to understand and accept those consequences. It’s part of growing up. So is failure. By all means, we need to support our children at school so help them with their homework – if they ask for it – but don’t do it for them. And if they don’t get the mark that everyone wanted on a test or assignment, let it go. We need to stop helicoptering around our kids and rescuing them every time things don’t go they way we want. We need to let them fail if we want them to succeed. With our support and encouragement from their teachers and other adults in their lives, our kids will figure it out.

This is what builds resilience in our kids: being independent, making their own mistakes, failing, and using each day to try something new. Resilience is most definitely not gained from larger class sizes. If that happens, we will have taken away time from the second-most important group of people who interact with our children: their teachers. (And let’s be real about this: there are many kids who see their teachers more than their parents.) Increasing class sizes increases the demands and the pressures that we are placing on our youth. The failure that is bound to happen comes from our government’s decision to increase class sizes and, since that decision is not our youth’s control, it is only going to lead to greater stress for our kids through high school and more urgent feelings from their parents who will feel an even greater need to hover around them, protect them and help them get through high school.

As mental health is becoming, if it is not already, a crisis among young adults, whether in the work force or at school, we – the parents, the teachers, the coaches – must prepare our students for this step in their lives. But we do that through the connections that we have for our youth, through our care and understanding of who they are and what they need to succeed. We do not build resilience by creating larger class sizes where kids – yes, kids – become one of too many to teach and get to know. But we can build resilience by letting kids be kids and enjoy their high school years. We build resilience by spending time with them, guiding them and allowing them to see that they have our support, the support that they will carry into the next stage of their lives.

Do I Laugh or Cry?

“There is value in learning to accept gracefully those things that cannot be changed.”

This were the first words that I read in my son’s psychology text on the weekend. He had rushed off to work and left his book on the kitchen table, open to a section on anger and frustration. Being a psych major, I couldn’t help but look at what he was studying and, somewhat appropriately, these words jumped out at me.

The past few months have been a test of my mental strength. How much frustration and disappointment of being injured (July), re-injured (October) and learning that it was way worse than anyone originally thought (January) can I handle? I like to think of myself as a positive person, one who looks for an upside, thinks happy thoughts and believes that “things happen for a reason.” The upside of my hamstring tear is it has given me more time at home with my 13 year old and let me watch him grow as a student, an athlete, and a person. But I am now in my sixth month of healing, almost 3 seasons later, and while I have accepted my injury, my frustration is still there.

I had a glimmer of hope that my weeks of being side-lined are coming to an end when I finally got an appointment date for a PRP injection: April 16th @ 12:00PM DURING HIS LUNCH. I had no idea what was meant by “during his lunch.” Am I suppose to feel extra grateful that he is seeing me at 12:00 rather than make me wait another week or two? Is this a underlying message that I better not be late? Or he is so busy that he is likely to be behind and I better not dare complain because he is seeing me “during his lunch.” Or maybe, just maybe, it is a subtle hint to bring him a coffee, a snack or even a lunch. Well, I am grateful that he is seeing me at this time rather than have me wait for another appointment at a later date so I happily confirmed it, I won’t complain if he is behind and maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop at Tim’s to bring him a snack. I could only laugh.

However, when I called to confirm, I learned that this is not my appointment for the injection; it is a consultation. Since 1 in 10 people are turned away, I have to meet with the doctor first and go in later for the actual injection. I wanted to cry. If my injection is at the end of April, I can assume that I will be off for another 6 to 8 weeks, which means that I still won’t be running until the end of June. And that is only if I need one PRP shot. If I need another, it will obviously be even longer.

This whole process has been frustrating beyond belief and it is now being overshadowed but the occasional fear. What if I am that one in ten? What if I can’t run again. What if? What if? I hate the “what if?” game. “Stay positive. Look for the upside,” I tell myself.

Last night after yoga, I spoke my about thoughts with Kelly-Lynne and I found the positive again. I realized how much fitter I have become in the past 6 months. My leg strength is coming back; I can feel it when I cycle, and I can sit for longer periods of time without being in pain. My core is firm, I can do a lowboat again and my upper body is stronger than it has been in years. I threw myself back into the deep end when I came out of my comfort zone and started swimming. When all things are said and done, I feel like I am in better shape than I have been in years. So even though I still am not running and am quite unhappy about it, I can accept the delay. If it means that my hamstrings are going to be that much stronger and I am going to be that much healthier, then I can absolutely wait a few more weeks.

Many years ago, when making a group decision at work, we voted for acceptance. “Can you live with it?” was the question asked. At school, I teach my students that you don’t have to always like something, but you have to be able to accept it; my Grade 7’s understand that. Well, I do not like this time to heal and this waiting game one little bit, but I can live with it. I have accepted it and, one day, I hope, that will make me a better athlete.

When a Runner is Not a Runner

The past 8 months have been a test of my commitment to running. I have been off since that mid-July massage, intended to help my muscles, resulted in a hamstring tear that sidelined me for the rest of the summer. Now there was probably something brewing anyway but the massage tweaked something and I could not run for the rest of the summer. In September, I made what now seems to be a superhuman rebuild to run Chicago, only to tear my hamstring days before the marathon. In mid-December, I was cleared to run again by 3 medical professionals: my sport medicine doctor, my chiropractor and my physiotherapist. Strength was good and my cardio was fine, but running just didn’t feel right; I had no power. Sure enough, an MRI at the beginning of January showed that I had less than 50% of the hamstring, a tear that meets the Ischial Tuberosity. I pulled myself off the road again on January 15th.

It has been another two months since that diagnosis has been made and it is going to be another 6 weeks (April 16th) until I have a PRP (platelet-rich plasma) injection. Who knows how long my recovery after that will be? I am guessing that it will be another two months, which will bring me to sometime in June – if I am lucky. And if that is the case, that means that it will be almost a year since that first injury, the catalyst that sent me into this dark hole that I just can’t find my way out of, a year since I have really, truly run.

During the past two weeks, I have thought a lot about my status as a runner. Am I? By definition, a runner is “a person who runs” and that is something that I am not doing. I think about running all the time; I dream about running again and chasing my dreams; I read about running, talk about running and support people who are running. But I am not running.

When I finally got my appointment date for the PRP injection, I was thrilled. But the waiting, the recovery time and the uncertainty of knowing whether I will actually help strengthen the tendon have turned to frustration and fear. What if it doesn’t work? What if I won’t be able to run again? What if????

The what if’s are always going to be there. But until I have answers, I have to squash them. I need to focus on the things that I am able to do: keep up my cardio and conditioning: bike, yoga, swim, weights; be a mom, a wife, a dog-mom; coach; love my job. It should be no surprise that every single one of these things connects me to running.

Today, I am not running. I am an injured runner. I am a runner not running. But until I am told otherwise, I will continue to dream about running and racing again and focus my fitness towards the goal of pulling on a running skirt and lacing up my shoes again. I am defined by running and always will be.

The Grass is Greener on This Side of the Fence

Throwback to a cold tempo: January 2018.

This is the first winter that I haven’t run in a long time and, truth be told, I am not complaining. I do not miss the piles of laundry which come with 2 base layers and 4 tops from every single sub-zero run. Nor do I miss the trails of frozen snot that are stuck to my jacket. But I do miss the feelings of power and satisfaction that come after finishing something that, to most, seem unhumanly possible.

A few years ago, my friend, Erin, drove past as a few friends and I were just heading out for a run. It was a mere -19 below and she yelled out her window “You’re crazy! You know is 19 below, right?” Since then, she has also become a runner and, on our Snow Day this week, when 2o-25 centimetres led to road chaos and school closures, she headed out for her run – in temperatures hovering below -25C. From my side of the fence, she looked crazy.

A few days later, when temperatures were even colder, my heartrate jumped when I saw friend Walter bolting along the road. His face mask was covered with condensation turned snow and frozen snot. Only a runner can understand the excitement that comes from seeing another running doing something that the general population would describe as insane. I sent Walter the friendly double-honk, waved, and cheered him along.

During this week’s deep freeze, I have often thought that I am glad that I am not running. Then I qualify that thought with an “almost.” Had I been running through the fall, I most certainly would have been running in this seemingly coldest winter ever. I would have embraced the cold, struggled with the footing and finished feeling mighty. And I would have complained about the laundry too.

Instead, this year, Tammy the Hamstring and I get to drop into a downward dog at the yoga studio, where temperatures are 30c. As we get ready to leave, covered in a hot, sticky sweat, and someone opens the door, the cold rushes in and I watch the steamy air turn to an Arctic breath. For a brief moment, I think “I’m glad I’m not running,” pick up my shorts and tank, and head home.

And almost every time, on the drive home, I wonder if I would be running in this cold. Would I take a day or two off? Would I turn to the treadmill? Would I crosstrain instead? And every time, I have the same answer: I would most certainly be running.

But the fact is I am not running and, while I miss it, I really don’t miss running in the cold. This winter, I am happy to have my little escape to a hot, humid studio – and my little pile of laundry.

Feeling Like a Rock Star

Every now and then, out of the blue, someone makes me feel special. I end up carrying those feelings with me for days or weeks, maybe even longer, and they end up driving my energy.

On Thursday, as a group of Grade 7’s was leaving my Math class, one of the boys stopped, looked at me in the eye and said, “Thanks, Mrs. O’H.” I was caught off guard because he doesn’t usually talk to me at all. But what came next was even more of a surprise. “You’re a good Math teacher. Ya. So thanks.” And off he went.

I really don’t know where that comment came from. He isn’t a top student and he never comes in for extra help but he works hard. I guess Math is starting to click for him. Regardless, he made me feel great and, let’s face it, I’ve been feeling down in the dumps since I got my MRI results back so I needed this “feel good” moment.

My second rockstar moment came on Saturday when I went for my ultrasound. The technician looked at my history before she started so that she knew exactly what images she needed. “How did you tear your tuberosity?” she asked. “It’s a running related injury,” I answered, only to find out that she had the a similar injury and is just starting to run again after being off for a year. So, of course, during the ultrasound, she spoke about her running, cross-training, and rebuilding – and she suddenly stopped. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should be focussing on you. I mean, you’re here for your ultrasound and I’m busy talking about me.” I insisted that I didn’t mind; I love to talk about running. Besides, it took my mind off the whole procedure. But she continued anyway. “You look really fit and fast. How far were you running each week?” I could only laugh.

We chatted some more, mostly about the Chilly Half Marathon and Around the Bay. We both really want to run Around the Bay this year because it’s the 125th anniversary, but her mileage isn’t high enough yet and I’m just not running. I asked if she thought about walking the 30 kilometres instead and her face lit up. “I never even thought about that! I can do that! I’m sure I can!” I suggested that she try walking the Chilly Half Marathon in Burlington at the beginning of March and, if it went well, then she would still have time to register to walk Around the Bay at the end of the month.

As we were finishing up, the technician asked, “Should I know you? I mean, are you famous?” I just laughed. “Only in my dreams,” I replied. “Well, you are so motivational. I am so happy to have met you today. I really hope that you are going to be running soon.” And that was that. We parted without exchanging digits or handles, but as two runners who found a commonality and connected.

Meeting this technician was a gentle reminder of how supportive the running community is and how much I need to be a part of it. It’s made me realize that, despite everything, I still need to get involved with the running scene either as a volunteer or a coach (or both) as I work my way back to being a healthy runner.

Until that happens, though, I am going to continue to bask in magical moments like these that leave me feeling like a rockstar.

When the Wind Changes Direction

Don’t you love that feeling when you are out for a run and, after fighting the wind for miles, you turn around and let the wind blow you back home? Other times, we aren’t quite so lucky and turn around to find that the wind that we thought we were running into was the tailwind, which means that running back is going to be that much harder.

Emotions can be like that too. Almost anyone who lives with a teen has experienced the noise which can follow them home from school, similar to the sounds of an explosion after a 747 has crash landed in your living room. As adults, we are better at controlling our emotions. We can run with the feeling of the wind being on our back for months or years on end until, without any warning, a plane crashes into our home and leaves us feeling broken.

Last night, I got my results from the MRI of my hip. This was requested months ago, at the end of October, and I finally had imaging done at the beginning for January. Since I had started running again, I thought about cancelling it, but my husband and son both said, “Why not? It’s only going to give you more information.” So I went ahead with it, hoping that I would find out exactly why it still hurts when I run.

I got what I wanted – and more. First, I learned something new; there is a tear in the labrum. The doctor says I don’t need to worry about that because it isn’t an area that is bothering me. Secondly, I got more information about my old friend, Izzy. While I thought that Izzy had moved out, she is lying low and creating havoc. There is inflammation between the gluteal insertion at the tuberosity, which is diagnosed as enthescopathy. This seems to be caused by osteo-arthritis, which is starting to show in the hip, and by overuse from running. And, even though I thought I was getting better, the tendon at the ischial tuberosity is still partially torn. It involves less than 50% of the tendon which, to me, sound like it is between 25-50%, or the results would read “less than 25%.” So, in a nutshell, my hip is a bit of a mess.

It isn’t the hip results, though, that are weighing on me. I also got some unexpected results. A round structure was found in an organ. I’m not ready to talk about it yet, other than to say a more detailed ultrasound is in the near future.

Dr. Elliott and I looked at a treatment plan for my hip. First, I am off running, and he thinks it will be another 3 to 6 months before I will be able to again. We decided to go ahead with Platelet-Rich Plasma Therapy to strengthen the hamstrings so he sent in a referral to the specialist at McMaster Hospital. Hopefully, I can get an appointment soon.

This was a lot of information to digest. In some ways, I am not surprised by the hip results. I feel better knowing why running has been hurting, why it doesn’t feel right, and why I have been so hesitant to push myself. It’s not because my muscles are waking up; it’s because there are some structural weaknesses. I’m glad that I followed through with the MRI as now I have a concrete plan to correct the aches and pains that we know about and, I hope, eliminate the other concern.

Last night was the first night that I crawled into bed before 10:00 in a long time. I needed a quiet spot, a place to rest, a place to think. Like the plane before it crashes, I felt myself start to shake while fighting to maintain control. And then I cried. By the time I got out of bed this morning, I was over it. For now, I will salvage what I can and do what I am able.

This is a new day, filled with questions and hope and I am reminded of the words “Focus on the things you can control, not on what you can’t.” Today, I will focus on me, my thoughts and my actions. I will focus on finding inner strength and moving forward – one day at a time.

Oh, What a Feeling!

After finally being able to run consistently, every other day, for the past 3 weeks, I have a renewed energy. I can’t get too excited since running still hurts, but it isn’t the “Ow, I am broken” kind of hurt that I had all fall; nor is it the “I’m so out of shape” feeling that we often get when we have been off for a while. It’s a stiffness, a type of knot, a sensation that I really can’t describe. I like to think of it as a “healing pain” to remind me of Tammy and Izzy, my unruly tenants who moved in during the summer and fall, and of all the work that I have been doing to evict them. It’s a message to not push myself just yet – to be careful.

At my chiropractic visit on Saturday, Sandy asked how my legs and hips were feeling. “It’s just my glutes,” I told him, “and the very top of the back of my thigh. I feel like I have gone for circle.” In July, I went for a massage because those were the two areas that were bugging me, but that treatment led to a chain reaction of a tightness, pain and tears. “That’s it?” he replied. “That’s good.” “Well, my quads were killing me earlier in the week, but that’s because I am an idiot.”

You see, I am running but it isn’t enough – in terms of distance or intensity. I need more of both. While I love that I am back on the road and running, I don’t feel like I am getting much out of that time healthwise, so I am keeping up with the lunges, bridges, planks, cycling (windtrainer) and yoga that I have committed through the fall. Somehow, through my determination to get stronger and a touch of bad planning, I somehow managed to do everything within 24 hours.

On Monday night, I hit yoga class (warmed up with my bridge routine) at 6:00 and rode on my windtrainer after that. Tuesday morning, I did my 360 lunges at school, ran 5K after school and had a chiropractic treatment at 6:00, 24 hours after my Monday night yoga class. Then, to top it off, I rode for an hour before going to bed because it seemed like a good idea at the time. When I woke up the next morning, my legs were sore! But it was a good kind of sore, the kind you get when your muscles have been pushed and are tired, the kind of sore that feels better as you move around through the day, the kind of sore that feels great!

I haven’t had that feeling in months. Sandy laughed after he heard my insane description, especially with the treatment details in the middle. “You are obviously doing everything you can to get stronger and that’s okay. It’s okay to feel sore. Just overdo it.”

I don’t think there is a chance that I could ever repeat that Monday/Tuesday- at least, not in the near future. But the satisfaction of thinking about what I did makes me smile. It’s made me realize how far I have come in my overall fitness in the past 7 months and it gives me hope for chasing dreams and crushing previous times. It makes me feel great! So I won’t say “never again.” We’ll see how long it takes me to lose my mind again.

Setbacks

On Thursday, I had a follow-up visit with Dr. Elliott. At this point, I think that Tammy and Izzy have moved back to their respective homes and are following the rules. But my right leg remains slightly tight through the upper hamstrings and that has me on my guard.

I am fairly certain that this tightness is not running-related but parenting-related. Last Saturday, I took some marking with me to my son’s soccer game. As I do at every game, I looked at the hard metal bench and thought “No way am I sitting on that,” so I stood like I usually do. But marking while standing is tough so I entertained the idea of sitting on the turf. “Nope, my pants will get dirty.” So I went into a squat and marked until I heard the whistle.

“Have I really been squatting for twenty minutes?” Slowly, I started to get up and I realized how tight my right adductor had become in that twenty minutes. Part of me was impressed that I was able to hold a squat for that long and another part of me was doing some pretty serious name-calling.

On Tuesday morning, I went out for an easy run and I could feel the tension in my adductors by the end of my first mile, along with a general tightness in what I thought was the top of the IT band. Just after I decided to turn around and head back to school, my Garmin died. “It’s a sign,” I told myself. “This run was just not suppose to happen.”

When I saw my chiropractor, he explained that my glutes are starting to work again so my adductor and tensor fasciae latae, which is next to the IT band and below the pelvis, are working to support them. Saturday’s super squat irritated them; yes, I overstretched. A few days later, when I saw Dr. Elliott, he said the same thing.

“I don’t know what else I can do,” I told him. “I’ve been doing everything right. And, then, something stupid like this happens.”

“You just need more time,” he answered. “Hamstrings take a while. Just be patient.”

Patience. I thought I was but it looks like I have to find some more. I need to take a deep breath, sigh and a step back for a little while longer. I am not willing to take any chances and, at this point, another week or two off will not make a difference. So I am looking for positives:

I have more time for my family. My oldest came home from school yesterday; my youngest has a birthday this week; Christmas is coming. Even though it means I am not running, I am grateful for the time I have with them.
I should be back on the road by next week. This is a huge advantage as I will be off work and have time to start slowly, stretch, and re-establish some running routines before I go back to work in January.
The end is near. I can feel it. In 2019, I can get back to chasing my dreams.

But I won’t just be chasing them. I’ll catch them, find new ones to go after and chase them down too. 2019, I am coming after you.