While I love writing as humorously as I can, sometimes something comes along that just doesn't allow me to. This topic is one of those. I appreciate those of you who will read this blog post in its entirety, since it is something I feel passionately about. This is my cause...
When I came back to triathlon, and set my sights on Ironman, my reasons were simple: fulfill a goal I had wanted since I was in college, and to prove those who said I couldn't do it wrong. As I have been on this journey, I have begun to realize the enormity of what it's all about, and how it becomes more than just you, the individual.
Approximately 90,000 people race in Ironman each year. That's about .02% of the US population - not 2%... but .02%. Out of those, 1800 qualify for Kona. Scary stats. To keep myself motivated while on restriction, I would watch the race recaps of as many races as I could stand. It helped to remind me of why I loved this sport, and kept that desire burning until I could train again.
Then I started listening to the stories. A lot of these people allowed Ironman to refine them, and in the process, gave them a platform to bring bigger issues to light. Team Hoyt is probably the most famous, and anyone who can sit there stone faced while listening to how a father trained for an Ironman to be able to carry his disabled son the whole way just doesn't have a heart. Then enter Blazeman, the man who completed an Ironman while suffering through ALS, and died a year later. He inspired others to race for ALS, in his memory.
There are countless stories of those who trained while on chemo pumps, or did lunges and walked the hospital corridors while going through cancer treatments to inspire other cancer patients and survivors, and went on to complete Ironman. Military veterans who had amputations during their service race to motivate other amputee veterans to strive for a full life. And then there is the firefighter who does the marathon portion of the Ironman in full gear to raise money for the children and families of those firefighters who bravely lost their lives in 9/11.
So what was my cause? I thought about this for a long time, wanted to pick something that would give a group of people a voice, one that may not have one. And then one day, I came across Project Unbreakable.
Project Unbreakable is the brain child of college student Grace Brown. It is a website that allows victims of sexual assault/molestation to become survivors by finding their voice. They write down what was said to them by their attackers, or those that they turned to after being attacked, and have a photo taken. These are uploaded to the website in a gallery. When before these brave women and men thought no one would listen and so they kept quiet, now they have a voice, and they can reclaim some of the power in themselves that was taken from them.
The statistics are scary, and saddening. One out of every three girls, and one out of every five guys will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime - and those stats are skewed by the fact that those are only of the reported attacks. Many go unreported out of fear of retaliation, shame, or blame. For those who are brave enough to report it, they find themselves let down by a horrible legal system - fifteen out of sixteen rapists NEVER spend a day in jail. Often, the police look at these situations as "he said/she said" and fail to do the proper investigations. This leaves the victim even more traumatized, because they are not protected by the very system that should be protecting them, and the rapists go on to rape others, or sometimes worse, because they have become bolder by getting away with it.
Audrie Potts is a very sad example of the legal system failing to do its job. Audrie, 16, was at a house party, and drank alcohol laced Gatorade. When she passed out, three boys sexually assaulted her, and wrote lewd comments on her body, took pictures with their phones, and then text those pictures to their classmates. She did not remember the attack the next day, but after being shown the pictures being sent to the rest of the school, she committed suicide. The two younger boys (16) got 30 days in juvenile detention that they got to serve on weekends so as not to disturb their weekly schedule, and the older boy (17) got a 45 day sentence in detention. Bad check writers, and those with unpaid parking tickets get stronger sentences.
Some people will say, "what was she doing there to begin with?" or"why was she drinking? That was stupid." Those are not the right questions to be asking. Because no matter where she was, what she was drinking, or whether it was a smart move or not to be where she was, none of that adds up to her deserving being attacked and ridiculed the way she was. Perhaps the right question to be asking is, "what are we doing as a society that would allow these boys to think that doing this to a girl was acceptable?"
We teach our children as they get older not to take drinks from people they don't know (alcohol or otherwise), if they are going to drink have someone to watch over them, not go into dark areas alone at night, etc. But what we fail to realize is that these attacks happen during the day, in parking lots and homes, and often by people we think we know and can trust.
I hope by promoting Project Unbreakable I can help more victims become survivors, and to help them find their voices. The more victims charge their attackers, the more they speak up against the injustice done to them by the legal system, I believe there will be no choice but for there to be more action taken against these predators. We, as a community, also have to make sure not to blame these victims, be their support and comfort as they deal with something that will alter their lives forever.
I also hope to create awareness in those who it hasn't happened to; make them even more aware of their surroundings and who they are with, and to avoid any situation where a predator would have access to them. To ask parents to speak openly with their children about this topic, and to teach both genders the value of respecting one another. If we all stand together, we can make a real difference in making sure our children/family members never become one of those awful statistics.
To that end, I am offering to carry the names of anyone who wishes to have a voice, anyone who wishes to become a survivor and no longer a victim, with me as I race in Ironman. If you know of anyone who has had this happen to them, I will take their name - initials if they wish to stay anonymous. I will write all of the names on a card and carry it with me throughout the races. You can message me through Facebook, or email me at unbreakable1013@hotmail.com.
I wish to bring awareness to a topic that so many don't wish to talk about. Maybe we don't want to because if we talk about it, we have to admit this happens in our society - one we pride ourselves on being so much better than others. But it does happen...it happens to our daughters, our sons, our sisters and brothers. It happens to our mothers and fathers (there is no age limit on sexual assault). And the only way to make that change, the only way to make it stop, is to raise up our voices, to stop the silence. Stop looking at the victims in the "what did you do to deserve it" mentality, and to pressure the legal system to take stronger measures against those who shatter another person's life against their will.
Unshakable...unsinkable....unbreakable. Survivors have a voice, and when they use it, they will find that while they are bent for a time, they have not been broken.
Here is the web address for Project Unbreakable:
www.projectunbreakable.tumblr.com
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Monday, January 6, 2014
The Nail in My Shoe
Growing up on farmland, we were taught at a young age to be of hardy stock. You fall, you get back up - don't expect anyone to coddle you. I remember falling down the stairs of my grandmother's house and catching my wrist on a nail. It gave me a nasty two inch scar, but my mother washed it, wrapped it up and told me to go play with my sister - no doctor, no stitches, no tetanus shot. You had to be fairly close to death to go to the doctor.
So back in May, when a pain started flaring in my foot, it just made sense to me to ignore it, it would heal on it's own. Except it didn't. I stretched, I rolled it with a hard ball, I iced it - nothing worked. Going to the doctor just didn't cross my mind, even though it was said to me enough times. Turns out I'm kinda stubborn....go figure.
The pain was really bad during those last few weeks of training, but it was so close to the Austin Half, I was scared that the doctor wouldn't let me race, so I was going to leave it until after. It was only a few weeks, how bad could it get? Granted, every step felt like I was stepping on a nail, but hey, no problem!
So when my IT band locked in my left leg during Austin trying to compensate for my injured right foot, I began to pay attention. I have a relatively high pain tolerance (genetics says it has something to do with red hair), but this was something I had not experienced before, and I've given birth, and had kidney stones. Ironman would not be my reality this way, I needed to heal. Still, I hesitated. It wasn't until I could barely walk in the mornings that I finally broke down and saw the doctor.
The news was of the good/bad variety. Plantar fasciitis in my right foot, but no heel spur (YAY, no surgery). It was thought the pain was originating from my hip, so I was placed on full torture - I mean restriction. No workouts...at all...for weeks...ARRRGGGGHHHH! My fridge had never been so clean. Once I was released into PT, it was determined that it was not my hip causing the problem, so I was cleared to bike and swim. The stabilizer muscles in my foot and calf were weak, and for me to continue, they would have to get stronger.
PT is awesome, and Joey and Chris have been doing a great job of challenging me. I look at each exercise as a stepping stone to get me healed and back into training, so I attack them the same way I do my regular workouts. You wouldn't think such seemingly easy exercises would make you work so hard, but man, some of them caused me to say a lot of bad words (under my breath of course). The Bosu ball and I had an interesting introduction - sure, she looks sweet and innocent, but don't be deceived, she will chew you up and spit you out if you aren't paying attention. We have come to terms, and I can honestly say I have come to love working on it.
Mentally, it was tough going. Fears and doubts ran through my head constantly: would my foot heal in time? Would I get my paces back? Is my dream over before it even began? Would the pain come back? Were those who said I would not be able to do this right? Over and over...
A couple of weeks ago, I was allowed to start running a little on the unloader. It was a tough moment - something I wanted so bad, but at the same time, I was now confronted with reality. Having not run much for almost two months, I had no idea how my foot would respond. I didn't let these fears show, because I really wanted to see if I could do it, and I thought if I expressed doubt, Joey would hold off on letting me try. Running on the unloader is very different from regular running- you aren't carrying your body weight. But at this point, I'll take it, I thought.
Last session, Joey told me that they had basically progressed me as much as they could - I'll most likely be released next week, and then just continue to do the exercises on my own in my gym workouts. The scarier news - in time for my runiversary, I would be allowed to start running again. Just three miles (which sounds like a blip compared to the mileage that I was doing before Austin, but I know I will earn that run).
Today it is four months to Galveston Half - my next step to Ironman, with Texas Full just six weeks later. I am under no illusions; I have a ton of work to do to get ready in time. Fear toys with me, waiting for me to let my guard down and then smacking me upside the head with doubt. While my foot still has it's moments, and there is always a little pain, the nail is gone from my shoe, and I can feel those little muscles getting stronger. Thanks to my doctors, my PTs, and everyone's great advice, I think my foot is almost there.
Challenges make success taste that much sweeter. This last quarter of 2013 gave me some of the biggest challenges of my life - physically, emotionally, mentally. So I know that when I cross the finish line of each of my three races scheduled for this year, I won't focus on the time (well, yeah I will, but not JUST on my time), it will be more of how I came smack up against my fears, and I didn't let them have power over me.
Someone asked me what I would feel when I cross the finish line at Ironman. Before October, I would have given a different response. Now, I think I will feel....gratitude. I will feel grateful that God gave me the strength to face my worst fears, and allowed me to reach the first of my goals. Ask me again in May, then I can tell you exactly what I felt when I became an Ironman.
So back in May, when a pain started flaring in my foot, it just made sense to me to ignore it, it would heal on it's own. Except it didn't. I stretched, I rolled it with a hard ball, I iced it - nothing worked. Going to the doctor just didn't cross my mind, even though it was said to me enough times. Turns out I'm kinda stubborn....go figure.
The pain was really bad during those last few weeks of training, but it was so close to the Austin Half, I was scared that the doctor wouldn't let me race, so I was going to leave it until after. It was only a few weeks, how bad could it get? Granted, every step felt like I was stepping on a nail, but hey, no problem!
So when my IT band locked in my left leg during Austin trying to compensate for my injured right foot, I began to pay attention. I have a relatively high pain tolerance (genetics says it has something to do with red hair), but this was something I had not experienced before, and I've given birth, and had kidney stones. Ironman would not be my reality this way, I needed to heal. Still, I hesitated. It wasn't until I could barely walk in the mornings that I finally broke down and saw the doctor.
The news was of the good/bad variety. Plantar fasciitis in my right foot, but no heel spur (YAY, no surgery). It was thought the pain was originating from my hip, so I was placed on full torture - I mean restriction. No workouts...at all...for weeks...ARRRGGGGHHHH! My fridge had never been so clean. Once I was released into PT, it was determined that it was not my hip causing the problem, so I was cleared to bike and swim. The stabilizer muscles in my foot and calf were weak, and for me to continue, they would have to get stronger.
PT is awesome, and Joey and Chris have been doing a great job of challenging me. I look at each exercise as a stepping stone to get me healed and back into training, so I attack them the same way I do my regular workouts. You wouldn't think such seemingly easy exercises would make you work so hard, but man, some of them caused me to say a lot of bad words (under my breath of course). The Bosu ball and I had an interesting introduction - sure, she looks sweet and innocent, but don't be deceived, she will chew you up and spit you out if you aren't paying attention. We have come to terms, and I can honestly say I have come to love working on it.
Mentally, it was tough going. Fears and doubts ran through my head constantly: would my foot heal in time? Would I get my paces back? Is my dream over before it even began? Would the pain come back? Were those who said I would not be able to do this right? Over and over...
A couple of weeks ago, I was allowed to start running a little on the unloader. It was a tough moment - something I wanted so bad, but at the same time, I was now confronted with reality. Having not run much for almost two months, I had no idea how my foot would respond. I didn't let these fears show, because I really wanted to see if I could do it, and I thought if I expressed doubt, Joey would hold off on letting me try. Running on the unloader is very different from regular running- you aren't carrying your body weight. But at this point, I'll take it, I thought.
Last session, Joey told me that they had basically progressed me as much as they could - I'll most likely be released next week, and then just continue to do the exercises on my own in my gym workouts. The scarier news - in time for my runiversary, I would be allowed to start running again. Just three miles (which sounds like a blip compared to the mileage that I was doing before Austin, but I know I will earn that run).
Today it is four months to Galveston Half - my next step to Ironman, with Texas Full just six weeks later. I am under no illusions; I have a ton of work to do to get ready in time. Fear toys with me, waiting for me to let my guard down and then smacking me upside the head with doubt. While my foot still has it's moments, and there is always a little pain, the nail is gone from my shoe, and I can feel those little muscles getting stronger. Thanks to my doctors, my PTs, and everyone's great advice, I think my foot is almost there.
Challenges make success taste that much sweeter. This last quarter of 2013 gave me some of the biggest challenges of my life - physically, emotionally, mentally. So I know that when I cross the finish line of each of my three races scheduled for this year, I won't focus on the time (well, yeah I will, but not JUST on my time), it will be more of how I came smack up against my fears, and I didn't let them have power over me.
Someone asked me what I would feel when I cross the finish line at Ironman. Before October, I would have given a different response. Now, I think I will feel....gratitude. I will feel grateful that God gave me the strength to face my worst fears, and allowed me to reach the first of my goals. Ask me again in May, then I can tell you exactly what I felt when I became an Ironman.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
70.3 Austin Half
Normally, I write about a race as soon as I can after, so as not to lose the details. This time, I wanted to have time to reflect on what happened first.
Going into this race, I knew I could do the individual distances, but putting all three together on the same day...I wasn't too sure about that. Still, my coach seemed to be sure, and since he knew what he was talking about for every other race, I decided to believe him.
Shortly after Wally's Tri, something happened that caused me to have anxiety, especially about the water. I know, who would have guessed this fish would become afraid of the water? A week before the Half, I wasn't even sure I was going to do the race because of it. It was only the support of the people around me that motivated me to at least try. Besides, I wasn't going to throw away nine months of training without a good fight.
Race day dawned rainy and slightly chilly. SPI Tri 2.0 I thought. There was a flurry of activity as Farrah and I went from one transition to the next, getting our stations ready. During that time the rain stopped, and the announcer said we would be starting on time. Farrah and I made it down to the starting chute, and that's when the anxiety hit. The waves were marked by swim cap, and we were blue (the guys behind us were pink, I think the organizers did that for fun)
You can't ask for a calmer, more positive person to be around than Farrah. She simply radiates warm fuzzies. As our wave moved closer to the water, she reminded me of words I had told her to help her get over her fear: Fear is in our minds, we create it and so we can control it. Funny how your own words come back to you. Breathe and focus...Once we entered the water, we had two minutes before our cannon would go off. I reached out to Farrah for one last hug before the start. And then it began.
I usually need about 400 m to find my stride. This generally works out well since that distance is generally pretty chaotic in the beginning. Move here, dodge there, as the mass of bodies work toward the same goal. When I got to the 400 m buoy, I had a full out panic attack. I came up to sight and couldn't see the course. I had over rotated and turned myself sideways. Getting myself back on track, I seriously considered quitting. Just keep swimming while you think about it, I thought. You can always get picked up later. So I started thinking about why I should keep going. I already paid for it, I already trained for it, but most importantly, there will be a girl at the end of this race who will learn from her mother what it is to stick to a goal. Okay, one buoy at a time, and try not to completely melt down.
I have never been so timid in the water. When I hit 1600 m, as I sighted I took a quick glance at my watch. I should have done it earlier. When I saw how far behind pace I was, all anxiety left me, all thoughts of quitting were gone, and all I could think was "Oh, HELL no! That is just not going to happen!" I finished the last 300 m faster than I ever have.
I knew I had time to make up on the bike. There was no time to drive the course ahead of time, so I wasn't sure what I was riding into. Making sure I kept my nutrition plan intact, off I went. Training on Vintage and then racing on a tri bike is probably the best thing I could have done. I felt light, felt strong, and had no problems tackling the hills. On the first big hill, I was coasting down, and saw that I was doing 33 mph. Halfway down, there was a speed limit sign of 30. Hee hee hee, I was speeding...on my bike. Being the math person I am, I recalculated at every checkpoint what I need to come in on the bike so I could reach my time goal. Coming into transition, I had done what I wanted to do - and had given myself the time on the run I needed.
Hannah and Yanory were waiting for me at T2. Seeing them gave me an extra boost, and I was excited to get out on the run. I really did feel great, only a little tired, but fired up and ready to go. Got out onto the run, and felt this slight pull in the outside of my left leg. It will work itself out, I thought.
On the run course, the middle included a long downhill and a steep uphill, with a tour through the park in the middle. With the three loops, this meant doing the up and down six times. It was great having the two way traffic, because I got to see everyone I knew out on the run. Loop one was no problem, kept pace, felt good. Started on loop two and that twinge started flaring up. After the downhill, it was starting to ache, so I thought I would walk a bit to rest it. I walked with this nice lady who turned out to be from Brownsville, and stopped to help a guy who was cramping up by giving him some S caps. All of a sudden, two hands clamped down on my shoulders and I heard my name called. My buddy Ramon had a flat on the bike, and he had just caught up to me. I thought about running with him, but the pain in my knee was still nagging.
Finishing the second loop, I saw Hannah and Yanory again. This time, I stopped to hug them both, and to let them know the pain was getting worse. It was very uplifting having all the people there, lining the end part of the run course. They didn't just cheer their family members on, they cheered everyone on. And since your first name is on your bib, they call you by name, it's very cool.
That last loop was pretty much agony. I was reduced to walking one minute, running one minute. A nurse joined me for about a mile, and she said that as a nurse, she recommended I stop to prevent more damage, but as a fellow triathlete she knew that was pretty pointless advice. She waved me on for the last mile, and I started forcing myself to run two minutes at a time. I saw Farrah, now out on her run, and we stopped to give each other a congratulatory hug. It was great to see her before the finish. Right before the curve to the finish line, my leg gave out. I stood there crying, gave myself exactly ten seconds, and then said to myself, "Suck it up, you've got people in there waiting for you. You will run to that finish line, smile for your finisher picture and then you will get to medical...so get going!"
And so I did...behind my time goal, but finishing despite the obstacles that were holding me back. Yanory I saw right away, but as I crossed the finish, I didn't see Hannah. I felt down thinking she might have missed it. Then, there she was, holding her arms out to me. I went and hugged her and heard the words that made all of this worthwhile - "I love you Mom, and I am so very proud of you". In time, I will forget the pain, I will forget the details, but I will never forget that moment. I wanted to hold onto it for as long as I could, but my leg needed attention.
Getting into medical, I saw that in the grand scheme of things, I wasn't that bad off. There were people on beds with IV's, and one guy complained about his foot hurting, and when they took off his sock, the bottom of his foot looked like hamburger meat. He had a series of blisters that had the skin taken off from running. Yep, I'd take my knee pain. They iced it and massaged it a bit, and I asked for a verdict. The girl told me that my IT band was pretty tight, but she was fairly sure it was my LCL tendon that I had damaged. I was still so amped up from the race it didn't even register with me what that meant. It was only when I looked at the guy next to her and saw his face I asked how long I would be out. A month, she said, at least. A month? A MONTH? I looked at her and said, "It has two weeks, tops. I have a Full to train for." Obviously, they hear crazy talk often because she didn't laugh at me. She just said to get it checked out, and hopefully she was wrong.
I really wanted to get back to Yanory and Hannah, so I asked if I could leave. Then she laughed. She said I could leave if I could walk to the pole and back. Hah, I thought, I just finished the Half, I can walk that far. I stood up, and almost immediately fell down. What the heck was up with my legs? I will make them work I thought. And like a weebel, I tottered to the pole and back. She laughed some more and said she gave up. I was released.
Coach said I had to take the week off. It has been like living in a different world. When you become so immersed in training, you forget any other life. I've read books, watch TV, and sat by the pool for long periods, trying to fix what triggers the anxiety. Got good news from the doctor - my IT band locked up, I never injured my tendon. Lots of stretching, massage, and some therapy and I will be better than new.
It was an amazing experience that I hope to remember for a long time to come. My students were so excited to see my medal, and a few of them now want to train for triathlons themselves. Tomorrow I start training for the Houston Full. I'll find a new normal as the training gets longer and more arduous. Thanks to my support crew, I found that I had more inner strength than I thought I did. I hope that someday, I can help others the way they helped me.
Going into this race, I knew I could do the individual distances, but putting all three together on the same day...I wasn't too sure about that. Still, my coach seemed to be sure, and since he knew what he was talking about for every other race, I decided to believe him.
Shortly after Wally's Tri, something happened that caused me to have anxiety, especially about the water. I know, who would have guessed this fish would become afraid of the water? A week before the Half, I wasn't even sure I was going to do the race because of it. It was only the support of the people around me that motivated me to at least try. Besides, I wasn't going to throw away nine months of training without a good fight.
Race day dawned rainy and slightly chilly. SPI Tri 2.0 I thought. There was a flurry of activity as Farrah and I went from one transition to the next, getting our stations ready. During that time the rain stopped, and the announcer said we would be starting on time. Farrah and I made it down to the starting chute, and that's when the anxiety hit. The waves were marked by swim cap, and we were blue (the guys behind us were pink, I think the organizers did that for fun)
You can't ask for a calmer, more positive person to be around than Farrah. She simply radiates warm fuzzies. As our wave moved closer to the water, she reminded me of words I had told her to help her get over her fear: Fear is in our minds, we create it and so we can control it. Funny how your own words come back to you. Breathe and focus...Once we entered the water, we had two minutes before our cannon would go off. I reached out to Farrah for one last hug before the start. And then it began.
I usually need about 400 m to find my stride. This generally works out well since that distance is generally pretty chaotic in the beginning. Move here, dodge there, as the mass of bodies work toward the same goal. When I got to the 400 m buoy, I had a full out panic attack. I came up to sight and couldn't see the course. I had over rotated and turned myself sideways. Getting myself back on track, I seriously considered quitting. Just keep swimming while you think about it, I thought. You can always get picked up later. So I started thinking about why I should keep going. I already paid for it, I already trained for it, but most importantly, there will be a girl at the end of this race who will learn from her mother what it is to stick to a goal. Okay, one buoy at a time, and try not to completely melt down.
I have never been so timid in the water. When I hit 1600 m, as I sighted I took a quick glance at my watch. I should have done it earlier. When I saw how far behind pace I was, all anxiety left me, all thoughts of quitting were gone, and all I could think was "Oh, HELL no! That is just not going to happen!" I finished the last 300 m faster than I ever have.
I knew I had time to make up on the bike. There was no time to drive the course ahead of time, so I wasn't sure what I was riding into. Making sure I kept my nutrition plan intact, off I went. Training on Vintage and then racing on a tri bike is probably the best thing I could have done. I felt light, felt strong, and had no problems tackling the hills. On the first big hill, I was coasting down, and saw that I was doing 33 mph. Halfway down, there was a speed limit sign of 30. Hee hee hee, I was speeding...on my bike. Being the math person I am, I recalculated at every checkpoint what I need to come in on the bike so I could reach my time goal. Coming into transition, I had done what I wanted to do - and had given myself the time on the run I needed.
Hannah and Yanory were waiting for me at T2. Seeing them gave me an extra boost, and I was excited to get out on the run. I really did feel great, only a little tired, but fired up and ready to go. Got out onto the run, and felt this slight pull in the outside of my left leg. It will work itself out, I thought.
On the run course, the middle included a long downhill and a steep uphill, with a tour through the park in the middle. With the three loops, this meant doing the up and down six times. It was great having the two way traffic, because I got to see everyone I knew out on the run. Loop one was no problem, kept pace, felt good. Started on loop two and that twinge started flaring up. After the downhill, it was starting to ache, so I thought I would walk a bit to rest it. I walked with this nice lady who turned out to be from Brownsville, and stopped to help a guy who was cramping up by giving him some S caps. All of a sudden, two hands clamped down on my shoulders and I heard my name called. My buddy Ramon had a flat on the bike, and he had just caught up to me. I thought about running with him, but the pain in my knee was still nagging.
Finishing the second loop, I saw Hannah and Yanory again. This time, I stopped to hug them both, and to let them know the pain was getting worse. It was very uplifting having all the people there, lining the end part of the run course. They didn't just cheer their family members on, they cheered everyone on. And since your first name is on your bib, they call you by name, it's very cool.
That last loop was pretty much agony. I was reduced to walking one minute, running one minute. A nurse joined me for about a mile, and she said that as a nurse, she recommended I stop to prevent more damage, but as a fellow triathlete she knew that was pretty pointless advice. She waved me on for the last mile, and I started forcing myself to run two minutes at a time. I saw Farrah, now out on her run, and we stopped to give each other a congratulatory hug. It was great to see her before the finish. Right before the curve to the finish line, my leg gave out. I stood there crying, gave myself exactly ten seconds, and then said to myself, "Suck it up, you've got people in there waiting for you. You will run to that finish line, smile for your finisher picture and then you will get to medical...so get going!"
And so I did...behind my time goal, but finishing despite the obstacles that were holding me back. Yanory I saw right away, but as I crossed the finish, I didn't see Hannah. I felt down thinking she might have missed it. Then, there she was, holding her arms out to me. I went and hugged her and heard the words that made all of this worthwhile - "I love you Mom, and I am so very proud of you". In time, I will forget the pain, I will forget the details, but I will never forget that moment. I wanted to hold onto it for as long as I could, but my leg needed attention.
Getting into medical, I saw that in the grand scheme of things, I wasn't that bad off. There were people on beds with IV's, and one guy complained about his foot hurting, and when they took off his sock, the bottom of his foot looked like hamburger meat. He had a series of blisters that had the skin taken off from running. Yep, I'd take my knee pain. They iced it and massaged it a bit, and I asked for a verdict. The girl told me that my IT band was pretty tight, but she was fairly sure it was my LCL tendon that I had damaged. I was still so amped up from the race it didn't even register with me what that meant. It was only when I looked at the guy next to her and saw his face I asked how long I would be out. A month, she said, at least. A month? A MONTH? I looked at her and said, "It has two weeks, tops. I have a Full to train for." Obviously, they hear crazy talk often because she didn't laugh at me. She just said to get it checked out, and hopefully she was wrong.
I really wanted to get back to Yanory and Hannah, so I asked if I could leave. Then she laughed. She said I could leave if I could walk to the pole and back. Hah, I thought, I just finished the Half, I can walk that far. I stood up, and almost immediately fell down. What the heck was up with my legs? I will make them work I thought. And like a weebel, I tottered to the pole and back. She laughed some more and said she gave up. I was released.
Coach said I had to take the week off. It has been like living in a different world. When you become so immersed in training, you forget any other life. I've read books, watch TV, and sat by the pool for long periods, trying to fix what triggers the anxiety. Got good news from the doctor - my IT band locked up, I never injured my tendon. Lots of stretching, massage, and some therapy and I will be better than new.
It was an amazing experience that I hope to remember for a long time to come. My students were so excited to see my medal, and a few of them now want to train for triathlons themselves. Tomorrow I start training for the Houston Full. I'll find a new normal as the training gets longer and more arduous. Thanks to my support crew, I found that I had more inner strength than I thought I did. I hope that someday, I can help others the way they helped me.
Friday, October 25, 2013
Fully Crazy but Half the Distance
1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run...the Austin Half Ironman
It seems like yesterday that I walked into VRC and said I wanted to do an Ironman. It seems even shorter that I was hyperventilating over signing up for the Half Ironman. Now that it's here and only a couple of days away, I know I should be nervous, or excited or both. But truly, right now I just feel blessed.
This is not my accomplishment. So many people helped me along the way, and I would not have gotten here without them. I will probably miss someone here, and if I do, I apologize now.
Thanks Nacho, for being the one waiting for me when I first walked into VRC and being so welcoming. You have no idea how close I was to walking out of the store because I was intimidated by my own goal.
Thanks to the VRC running group for being there week after week, for commiserating over the tough runs, and for every "good job" you gave me when you passed. Maggie, Jose Obando, Carlos (my running daddy), Cesar, Amanda, Karla, Gaby, George, Lupita, Marco, Earnesta, Andy, Sara, Hector - you guys kept me chasing you, and I thank you for that, it made me a better runner.
Thanks Maggie for all the pep talks, for coming to CapTex to cheer me on, and for the days of texting face wars. That meant a lot to me :)
Thanks to David Zuniga for teaching me how to run hills (which will come in very handy in Austin I hear) and to Donna for teaching me how to run for fun. I haven't forgotten my first trail run with you!
Thanks to Mari Calzada for being there when I needed a shoulder, and for teaching me how to relax when running (not the easiest thing for me!). You and Carlos are missed a lot down here! Carlos, someday we will play Game of Thrones.
Thanks to all the trail/distance runners who gave me advice whenever I asked, and encouragement along the way - Celinda, Norma, David, Ben, Sami, Carly (and her bright smile), and the many more who posted things that always inspired me.
Big thanks to Cyndi for helping me break through my mental pacing barrier - running with you made all the difference. Hopefully soon I'll take you up on your offer to run Boston with you.
Thanks to Frank for running with me to help me pace, and playing beach volleyball - that was a blast! You'll be back at full tilt in no time!
Thanks to Esmeralda Chavez for not giving up on me when we first met, and inviting me to be a Cyclepath. Every word of encouragement you have given me did not go unappreciated. Thanks to the members of the Sunday ride group - especially Ramon for always being a ray of sunshine, and Mike for pushing me but giving me the right technique to make it effective.
Thanks to Luis De La Garza, Ramon Catindig and Gerardo Aguilar for letting me ride with the "big guys" a few times, and taking turns babysitting me so I wasn't lonely when I couldn't keep up. You guys are awesome, and someday soon, I will keep up, or die trying.
Special thanks to Gerardo for the loan of the bike and for teaching me how to use it. I'll keep it safe, I promise.
Big hugs to Erica W. and Erica Proffer - I look forward to riding with you two more, and just spending time in general - love ya both.
Farrah - oh my gosh, I'm not sure there are words. You scared me the first time I met you and you gave this non-tactile person the biggest hug of her life. Who knew the power of an all encompassing hug? Meeting you was such a blessing to my life, and I look forward to seeing your smile.
Yanory...wow, you are a crazy girl, but that suits me just fine. Thanks for all the talks, for making me chase you on the bike, and for everything else. It's going to be a wild ride.
Thanks to the Run, Walk or Crawl group for inspiring me every day with all the posts and responses to my posts. Never did I think I would find such a group of awesome women.
Thanks to all my friends on Facebook - posting workouts made me accountable, and every person who posted or messaged me encouraging things never went unnoticed. Whether you live next door or in another country, you all kept me motivated.
Thanks to Cheryl Medrano for tea and scones, for pool talks and spinach salads...may there be more.
To my other adopted family, the Villarreals, thank you for the home away from home in Austin, and for searching for me when you thought I had drown at CapTex. Art, you are like a brother to me, and your support and advice have held me up in some of the most trying times of my life. Monica (aka Mini Me), you are the little sister I always wanted (although sometimes you act like a big sister). Thanks for the daily talks. It will be an honor to have you guys there at my race this weekend - I promise not to drown, so if you don't see me, don't panic :)
To my former Canadian coach and great friend Brian - you are sarcastic, unrelenting, and generally crabby. That being said, you are also a huge support to me, and someone I consider a close friend. Thanks to the invention of Skype, I am able to hear your sarcastic comments all the way from up north. I look forward to our long typed conversations - even though it's been years, we always pick up right where we left off. That's a sign of true friendship.
Big hugs and thanks to my adopted parents - Sally and Xavier Moron. You are my biggest cheerleaders, my support staff, my doggie feeders, my yard gnomes, and generally, the most awesome people I could have asked for in my life. God really blessed me the day I moved next door.
Love you, Hannah, for telling your mom it was her time, and for being patient when we would come home and I would say that I had to go for a run/bike/swim. I am so happy to share this with you and hope I make you proud of me.
Now the big one - my coach German Madrazo. I have no idea what you saw in me that made you take my goal on, but I don't think I could thank you enough for believing in me. Thank you for all your guidance, the workouts, completely changing my running form so I actually could become a runner, and for all the positive energy you just seem to radiate. I know I have a long way to go to the ultimate goal, but thanks to you, I am on my way. You and Luci are going to make awesome parents!
I started this journey in January, and along the way learned a lot about life and myself. I met an entire community of amazing people I never knew existed, and am so thankful to have them in my life. There were a few hard knocks along the way, but those times only made my resolve stronger. As I head to the starting line on Sunday morning, I will carry all of you with me (figuratively of course). I have bigger mountains to climb after this, but for now, I am going to enjoy this race for what it is. Thanks for all the support, and see you at the starting line!
It seems like yesterday that I walked into VRC and said I wanted to do an Ironman. It seems even shorter that I was hyperventilating over signing up for the Half Ironman. Now that it's here and only a couple of days away, I know I should be nervous, or excited or both. But truly, right now I just feel blessed.
This is not my accomplishment. So many people helped me along the way, and I would not have gotten here without them. I will probably miss someone here, and if I do, I apologize now.
Thanks Nacho, for being the one waiting for me when I first walked into VRC and being so welcoming. You have no idea how close I was to walking out of the store because I was intimidated by my own goal.
Thanks to the VRC running group for being there week after week, for commiserating over the tough runs, and for every "good job" you gave me when you passed. Maggie, Jose Obando, Carlos (my running daddy), Cesar, Amanda, Karla, Gaby, George, Lupita, Marco, Earnesta, Andy, Sara, Hector - you guys kept me chasing you, and I thank you for that, it made me a better runner.
Thanks Maggie for all the pep talks, for coming to CapTex to cheer me on, and for the days of texting face wars. That meant a lot to me :)
Thanks to David Zuniga for teaching me how to run hills (which will come in very handy in Austin I hear) and to Donna for teaching me how to run for fun. I haven't forgotten my first trail run with you!
Thanks to Mari Calzada for being there when I needed a shoulder, and for teaching me how to relax when running (not the easiest thing for me!). You and Carlos are missed a lot down here! Carlos, someday we will play Game of Thrones.
Thanks to all the trail/distance runners who gave me advice whenever I asked, and encouragement along the way - Celinda, Norma, David, Ben, Sami, Carly (and her bright smile), and the many more who posted things that always inspired me.
Big thanks to Cyndi for helping me break through my mental pacing barrier - running with you made all the difference. Hopefully soon I'll take you up on your offer to run Boston with you.
Thanks to Frank for running with me to help me pace, and playing beach volleyball - that was a blast! You'll be back at full tilt in no time!
Thanks to Esmeralda Chavez for not giving up on me when we first met, and inviting me to be a Cyclepath. Every word of encouragement you have given me did not go unappreciated. Thanks to the members of the Sunday ride group - especially Ramon for always being a ray of sunshine, and Mike for pushing me but giving me the right technique to make it effective.
Thanks to Luis De La Garza, Ramon Catindig and Gerardo Aguilar for letting me ride with the "big guys" a few times, and taking turns babysitting me so I wasn't lonely when I couldn't keep up. You guys are awesome, and someday soon, I will keep up, or die trying.
Special thanks to Gerardo for the loan of the bike and for teaching me how to use it. I'll keep it safe, I promise.
Big hugs to Erica W. and Erica Proffer - I look forward to riding with you two more, and just spending time in general - love ya both.
Farrah - oh my gosh, I'm not sure there are words. You scared me the first time I met you and you gave this non-tactile person the biggest hug of her life. Who knew the power of an all encompassing hug? Meeting you was such a blessing to my life, and I look forward to seeing your smile.
Yanory...wow, you are a crazy girl, but that suits me just fine. Thanks for all the talks, for making me chase you on the bike, and for everything else. It's going to be a wild ride.
Thanks to the Run, Walk or Crawl group for inspiring me every day with all the posts and responses to my posts. Never did I think I would find such a group of awesome women.
Thanks to all my friends on Facebook - posting workouts made me accountable, and every person who posted or messaged me encouraging things never went unnoticed. Whether you live next door or in another country, you all kept me motivated.
Thanks to Cheryl Medrano for tea and scones, for pool talks and spinach salads...may there be more.
To my other adopted family, the Villarreals, thank you for the home away from home in Austin, and for searching for me when you thought I had drown at CapTex. Art, you are like a brother to me, and your support and advice have held me up in some of the most trying times of my life. Monica (aka Mini Me), you are the little sister I always wanted (although sometimes you act like a big sister). Thanks for the daily talks. It will be an honor to have you guys there at my race this weekend - I promise not to drown, so if you don't see me, don't panic :)
To my former Canadian coach and great friend Brian - you are sarcastic, unrelenting, and generally crabby. That being said, you are also a huge support to me, and someone I consider a close friend. Thanks to the invention of Skype, I am able to hear your sarcastic comments all the way from up north. I look forward to our long typed conversations - even though it's been years, we always pick up right where we left off. That's a sign of true friendship.
Big hugs and thanks to my adopted parents - Sally and Xavier Moron. You are my biggest cheerleaders, my support staff, my doggie feeders, my yard gnomes, and generally, the most awesome people I could have asked for in my life. God really blessed me the day I moved next door.
Love you, Hannah, for telling your mom it was her time, and for being patient when we would come home and I would say that I had to go for a run/bike/swim. I am so happy to share this with you and hope I make you proud of me.
Now the big one - my coach German Madrazo. I have no idea what you saw in me that made you take my goal on, but I don't think I could thank you enough for believing in me. Thank you for all your guidance, the workouts, completely changing my running form so I actually could become a runner, and for all the positive energy you just seem to radiate. I know I have a long way to go to the ultimate goal, but thanks to you, I am on my way. You and Luci are going to make awesome parents!
I started this journey in January, and along the way learned a lot about life and myself. I met an entire community of amazing people I never knew existed, and am so thankful to have them in my life. There were a few hard knocks along the way, but those times only made my resolve stronger. As I head to the starting line on Sunday morning, I will carry all of you with me (figuratively of course). I have bigger mountains to climb after this, but for now, I am going to enjoy this race for what it is. Thanks for all the support, and see you at the starting line!
Monday, September 30, 2013
No Struggle, No Reward
With less than a month to the Half Ironman in Austin, there is an epidemic running through those that will be competing - doubtitis.
For the majority of us, it will be the first time we have attempted that distance. Even though we have been putting in the work and hours needed to condition our bodies to doing these long distances, we won't actually put all three parts of the race together until race day.
Our condition is common, pretty much everyone goes through it, no matter what their sport. "Did I train enough? Am I strong enough? What the hell was I thinking paying to do this to myself?" That kind of thing. There are those who will openly admit that they are feeling this way, and then there are those of us that don't say anything and just hold it in.
Day to day I vary. Days like Saturday, where a 60 mile ride with a good headwind during parts of it showed me that I could maintain a good pace even when I was nutritionally deficient (when I stopped at red lights for the last ten miles, my legs literally shook - serves me right for only bringing one GU). I knew had I done the right nutrition, I could have easily started the run.
Sunday was an open water swim - you could see the tension in people's faces as they talked about the upcoming SPI Tri, and further out, those doing the Half. It seemed like the kind of day to really play on your fears - a bunch of people were stung by jellyfish that were not normally out there, two people were observed by a curious dolphin (which I wish had happened to me that would have been SO cool!) and Cheryl was swarmed by a group of fish.
Since swimming is like breathing to me, and I was spared the jellyfish thankfully, the swim was more therapeutic to me than anything. I could tell, however, that not everyone shared my view. Swimming generally tends to be the sport most triathletes survive to be able to get to the rest of the race.
I think as these next few weeks play out and the race approaches we need to remember that it is these fears and doubts that allow us to have that sweet feeling of accomplishment when we finish. There is no victory without the struggle, no reward without the challenge.
For me, I have been blessed this last week or so. I've had the chance to run with an uber runner - Cyndi, who eats the Boston Marathon for breakfast. You can't help but be encouraged when she tells you you are doing well. I've had encouragement from everyone, the demons in my head have decided to tone down the noise, and my foot is getting better. My own doubtitis flairs up once in a while, but I welcome it, knowing that each time I feel it and beat it, that medal around my neck will mean so much more.
For the majority of us, it will be the first time we have attempted that distance. Even though we have been putting in the work and hours needed to condition our bodies to doing these long distances, we won't actually put all three parts of the race together until race day.
Our condition is common, pretty much everyone goes through it, no matter what their sport. "Did I train enough? Am I strong enough? What the hell was I thinking paying to do this to myself?" That kind of thing. There are those who will openly admit that they are feeling this way, and then there are those of us that don't say anything and just hold it in.
Day to day I vary. Days like Saturday, where a 60 mile ride with a good headwind during parts of it showed me that I could maintain a good pace even when I was nutritionally deficient (when I stopped at red lights for the last ten miles, my legs literally shook - serves me right for only bringing one GU). I knew had I done the right nutrition, I could have easily started the run.
Sunday was an open water swim - you could see the tension in people's faces as they talked about the upcoming SPI Tri, and further out, those doing the Half. It seemed like the kind of day to really play on your fears - a bunch of people were stung by jellyfish that were not normally out there, two people were observed by a curious dolphin (which I wish had happened to me that would have been SO cool!) and Cheryl was swarmed by a group of fish.
Since swimming is like breathing to me, and I was spared the jellyfish thankfully, the swim was more therapeutic to me than anything. I could tell, however, that not everyone shared my view. Swimming generally tends to be the sport most triathletes survive to be able to get to the rest of the race.
I think as these next few weeks play out and the race approaches we need to remember that it is these fears and doubts that allow us to have that sweet feeling of accomplishment when we finish. There is no victory without the struggle, no reward without the challenge.
For me, I have been blessed this last week or so. I've had the chance to run with an uber runner - Cyndi, who eats the Boston Marathon for breakfast. You can't help but be encouraged when she tells you you are doing well. I've had encouragement from everyone, the demons in my head have decided to tone down the noise, and my foot is getting better. My own doubtitis flairs up once in a while, but I welcome it, knowing that each time I feel it and beat it, that medal around my neck will mean so much more.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
The Boogeyman and the Poodles
As children, we are afraid of the boogeyman. He generally lives either under the bed, or in the closet. When I was a child, I used to think about poodles at the circus to try to distract me from being scared of what could be lurking in the dark. All that managed to do was make me afraid every time I thought about poodles at the circus.
As we get older, and less afraid of the dark, the boogeyman takes up residence in our heads. He feeds off every person who put us down, every memory of feeling unworthy or incapable, and toys with us as we face new challenges.
During this last year, I have made a concentrated effort to take a bat to my boogeyman and pound the living snot out of him. Because of this, I can honestly say that I am currently living the best, most peaceful times of my life. I'm happier than I have ever been, and every day I gain more confidence in myself and my goals. Physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally, I am the strongest I have ever been. Even the occasional freak out day is nothing compared to the stress and drama I have endured in the past.
Having had removed the negative influences in my life, I worked on healing the wounds left behind. Unfortunately, longstanding wounds tend to become infected, and there is more under the surface than it appears. Sunday was exactly six weeks to the Half Ironman. Sunday night I had the nightmare.
It was so real, and the pain that surfaced because of it was powerful. I know that people say a dream is just a dream, and that may be true, but this one caused a trigger. The boogeyman had not eaten in a while, and he just was given a free pass to a banquet.
A flood of voices came into my head, telling me I was done, I would crash out before the race, or I would quit the day of. A year ago, this would have knocked me to my knees. Today, it is like a thorn in my side. It's annoying and nagging, but I can keep moving. I also welcome it. Let it surface so that I can heal it once and for all. Like a thorn, draw it out, let out the pus, and let it heal clean. It's not easy, but the alternative is going back - and that is something I just can't allow.
Last night I ran into Lori - not me, but the more badass version of me, Lori Tijerina. The conversation we had helped me to see that while the boogeyman may yell and scream in my head, I'm far stronger than he is. It is an incredibly liberating feeling knowing that what held you back before doesn't have a hold on you anymore. It may still be there, but it doesn't scare me.
There are many scars I carry from my past, but now I carry them as a reminder that if I made it through what I have, then what I'm facing is not such a big deal. I have the best weapons in my arsenal - my faith, and an incredible group of people who look at this ordinary looking woman and see something special.
I don't think I'm anything out of the ordinary, and I'm doing what a lot of people have done before me. There are much more extraordinary people out there doing much more extraordinary things. But for me, I'm doing the one thing I never thought I would be able to do - believe I can, and hold that belief out against those who would say I couldn't.
Do I hope that my story and journey will help someone else take that step to healing? Absolutely! I don't feel you take a journey just to get yourself there, you have to pay it forward.
I wish I could feel bad that the boogeyman is going to find the food at the banquet unpalatable, but umm...no. He is officially on a starvation diet. Seeing how much I like this time of my life, and knowing that by allowing the rest of my hurts to heal it will only get better, I no longer have room for the boogeyman or the poodles in my head. I'm way too busy seeing myself at the finish line getting my Ironman medal.
The countdown continues...
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Definition of a Dork
Part of my Ironman experience has been taking a good look at who I was and who I am becoming. From where I started this journey, I have come a loooooong way, those of you who met me in January for the first time can attest to that, right Esmeralda?
When I am in my element, say, the pool for instance, I have no problems. Can talk to anyone, feel confident, swim like a fish. Slowly but surely, the other sports have become like that too. Watch me in my classroom and I am completely at home. However....get me out of my element, and for a time I will turn into the definition of a dork.
It doesn't happen right away, which is probably why it can catch people off guard. It generally tends to happen a couple of weeks after meeting someone. It happens with guys and girls alike, but when it's a cute guy, well then, I might as well be Raj from the Big Bang Theory. I get nervous, I stumble over words, and I have a tendency to stick both feet in my mouth and swallow on a regular basis. I see myself in third person, figuratively smack myself on the forehead and say, "DORK!"
Fortunately, it tends not to last. A couple of weeks like that, and I'm back to myself again, and with the person it happened with, it doesn't happen again. Why does it happen? Well, that's a really long story that doesn't need to be told. Everyone has things in their past that cause them to behave certain ways - most of the time, we don't even realize we are doing it. I realize it, and I'm working on it.
I have been fortunate to have people who have been willing to be patient with me during my dork phase. These are the people I truly treasure - because they were willing to see past the awkward me and give me the space and support I needed to find my feet again so they could get to the real me.
I spent a large part of my life feeling the need to always be perfect. I've come to realize that I'm not - that sometimes I am a dork, and that's okay. Do I hope that the journey to Ironman helps me get over it? Absolutely! But until then, I will continue to appreciate those who either don't mind or don't see my little phase. It's not who I really am, just a leftover from who I was. It's kind of like your appendix - there was a use for it once upon a time, but now it's just annoying when it gets inflamed.
54 days to the Half, but who's counting???
When I am in my element, say, the pool for instance, I have no problems. Can talk to anyone, feel confident, swim like a fish. Slowly but surely, the other sports have become like that too. Watch me in my classroom and I am completely at home. However....get me out of my element, and for a time I will turn into the definition of a dork.
It doesn't happen right away, which is probably why it can catch people off guard. It generally tends to happen a couple of weeks after meeting someone. It happens with guys and girls alike, but when it's a cute guy, well then, I might as well be Raj from the Big Bang Theory. I get nervous, I stumble over words, and I have a tendency to stick both feet in my mouth and swallow on a regular basis. I see myself in third person, figuratively smack myself on the forehead and say, "DORK!"
Fortunately, it tends not to last. A couple of weeks like that, and I'm back to myself again, and with the person it happened with, it doesn't happen again. Why does it happen? Well, that's a really long story that doesn't need to be told. Everyone has things in their past that cause them to behave certain ways - most of the time, we don't even realize we are doing it. I realize it, and I'm working on it.
I have been fortunate to have people who have been willing to be patient with me during my dork phase. These are the people I truly treasure - because they were willing to see past the awkward me and give me the space and support I needed to find my feet again so they could get to the real me.
I spent a large part of my life feeling the need to always be perfect. I've come to realize that I'm not - that sometimes I am a dork, and that's okay. Do I hope that the journey to Ironman helps me get over it? Absolutely! But until then, I will continue to appreciate those who either don't mind or don't see my little phase. It's not who I really am, just a leftover from who I was. It's kind of like your appendix - there was a use for it once upon a time, but now it's just annoying when it gets inflamed.
54 days to the Half, but who's counting???
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