I'mmmmmm baaaaaaack!
The last few months have been a blur, but now that I'm getting back on track physically, it's time to revive the blog.
A few months ago I posted about my back not feeling right. That was probably the greatest understatement I've ever made.A herniated disc, two bulging discs, misalignment, nerve spasms over 1000%...fun for the whole family. I have to be honest, I was actually kind of relived at the diagnosis. I knew my back hurt, but through January and February I was training anyway, under the delusional belief that I could therapy my way through this one like I had with previous injuries. It was just a case of mind over matter, right? Ummm, no.
February came, and I couldn't push my body past 50 miles on the bike. It just stopped. Runs ended at about six miles, and while I could still do the 3000-4000 m swims, I paid for it. At that point I thought I just wasn't mentally strong enough to push myself through. My body wasn't listening to me. I was supposed to do the Half Marathon in Pharr in February, but woke up that morning and knew that just wasn't going to happen. I had seen Sandy Overly the day before at packet pickup, and she suggested Martin Chiropractic. I will always be grateful. The next night was a swim night, and I found myself sitting by the side of the pool, talking to Michael and saying something I never thought I'd hear myself say. I was afraid to get in the pool. Afraid.
Over the past two years, I had gotten a small sense that I was impervious. I asked my body to do these hard workouts and train like a madman, and it did it. Injuries came and went, but with therapy, my body just kept going. After IMFL, I was riding pretty high that this was going to be a great year. Now I sat by the side of the pool, dreading getting into the water, because deep down I knew I wasn't impervious. Something was seriously wrong. So I went home, and the next day, walked across the street (I had probably seen the sign a million times) and made my first appointment.
Getting the news put me in shock. I dabbled in denial for a few weeks, but reality finally set in. My year was gone. I was broken, and this wasn't something I could could stubborn my way through. It shook me, because that was kind of my survival instinct, just keep pushing ahead. Now I couldn't do that. I felt lost in this new territory. Selling the house made recovery harder, and I'm so grateful to those that came out to help me get things ready, you really were lifesavers. Even still, old Lori did too much, and wound up on the couch for two weeks.
When you have that much time to think, things become real clear real fast, and thank goodness for Netflix because otherwise Jerry Springer and I would be on a first name basis. Ironman life as I had known it was over. If (because at that time I dealt with ifs) I could heal and get back, did I want to? There were many reasons why I started this journey, and many of those reasons had seen fruition with the races I had done. Maybe it was time for a new, less taxing hobby? I could be Michael's Sherpa, do smaller distance races, join a dance class, do weights...
I'm glad for that dark time now. It helped show me that Ironman isn't what I do, it's who I am. I remember being 18 years old, and dreaming of Ironman. There were a couple of people who scoffed at me then because I couldn't run, and had DNF'ed my last Olympic distance. But I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the person I was a year ago. Accepting that I am an Iron distance triathlete helped me accept that I would have to rest....a lot. And the way I trained doesn't work for me anymore. It also changed my why, and I think it will make me a stronger, better racer because this why has no expiration.
Michael and Gina helped me so much. Gina would send me encouraging messages, and let me vent when I needed to. Michael was and still is my rock. Knowing Galveston was coming up, he arranged (with doctor approval) for me to come to Georgia so I wouldn't have to be alone thinking about it. As excited as I was for how awesome my friends did, I cried. I admit it. I felt like I had failed not showing up race day. Michael has been amazing through this whole process, encouraging me to rest, keeping my spirits up, helping me with whatever I need...I'm very very blessed.
But what happens to someone who can't exercise? No matter how I restricted my diet, the weight slowly crept up. And during my dark time, I gave up on even trying to restrict the diet. So now, I'm almost back where I was when I started this journey weight wise. UGH!
A couple of weeks ago, I was cleared to start light training again. Weights and strength training and now a daily part of my life....forever. The birth defects found during my medical tests mean that I will always need to have a strong core, or else my back will deteriorate. Which is perfectly okay with me, because I actually enjoy weights.
My first day at the gym was comedic to say the least. Here are all these people lifting their 50-120 pound weights.....and then there's Lori, limited to ten pounds....wheeee. Nevertheless, I was happy to be back. Biking has been going well, I'm up to 35 mins steady, all trainer work. Once I hit an hour, I'm planning on joining the Turtles in my area's cycling group (I didn't name them, but will be thrilled to ride with them). The hills here are no joke, and I want to rebuild right.
I swam for the first time back last week. I was a little scared about it since this is the one exercise that involves some twisting and that could trigger my back. It was, to say the least...magical. I felt like I had come home, and wanted to keep going.
I'm learning my body in a whole new way now, sometimes I think Michael laughs at me because I will get this look of concentration on my face as my body and I are "talking". Every time I get down, I think about where I was four months ago, when walking through HEB made me cry in pain. Or where I was a month ago, when folding laundry meant an hour on the couch with an ice pack. Daily life is almost normal now with some adjustments, and I have Helicopter Michael to make sure I don't push myself too hard. We go for walks often, and the scenery here is so beautiful, and the hills work those glutes!
It hasn't be fun doing these things with the little voice in the back of my head telling me where I used to be. I struggle with that a lot. Lifting 10 pounds when I used to lift 40, swimming 500 m when that wasn't even my warm up before, dealing with the concept that when I start trying to run again at the end of the month, I will be lucky to get a mile in using the run/walk method. The mental regrowth is almost harder than the physical.
Don't get me wrong, this is no pity party. I know that I will get stronger, and like both Martin Sr. and Jr told me, "If you trained liked you did all last year while broken, imagine what you can do hitting the starting line healthy."
I thought about not starting the blog back up, because I didn't want to admit how far back I've gone, or open up about the emotional struggles that go with it. On one of our walks, Michael told me that maybe it might help someone going through something similar, and I hope it does. I'm hoping that someone facing a rebuilding process like this can find some company here, or I can be a word of caution to those who may be putting off getting that pain checked out.
I really needed something to focus on to keep myself motivated, so Michael found a micro sprint in October. The great thing is that they have all the distances at the same race, so he will be doing the 70.3. 200m swim, 9 mile bike, 1 mile run....back to basics. In some ways I think I will feel more elated to cross that finish line than I was at Florida or Texas Ironman. Looking ahead, the plan is for us to do Chattanooga 70.3 next May, and 140.6 next September.
In the meantime, all of us are adjusting to the new life here in Georgia. We are working on Michael's dog Buzz to not see Lady as the agent of evil that must be destroyed (Buzz is okay with the boys, but Lady is another story altogether), and the dogs are loving having more people in their pack with Michael's wonderful kids, meaning more attention, more belly rubs, more people to sleep with and more treats thrown their way. The version of doggie paradise.
Setbacks are going to happen, sometimes they will be a small jump back, and sometimes they are wipe outs to your foundation. While I struggle with what was lost, I'm excited about what I'm gaining - a new found knowledge and understanding of my body, and being able to rebuild it right. Soon, this time will be a laughable memory, but the new path will make me stronger and take me farther than before....I'm all for that! Mike Reilly, here I come!
