Escaping fear and embracing postive thinking!

Dear Danda,

Like you, I had to unplug for a few days before getting back on the blog, despite wanting to write so much. I was enjoying the freedom of coming home with no strings attached, no training to get through and nowhere to be. It was quite liberating. But admittedly I felt a little bored and began researching future triathlons! Today my hand is feeling a little looser making typing more than pecking at a keyboard! still as I peck at the keyboard. I am finally able to share my experience with you-grab a big cup of green tea-this might be a long one!

For two and half weeks leading up to the race I tended to by bad knee-stretching, icing and indulging on ibu-profen to try and heal it before the race. As race day neared the thought of damaging my knee further weighed heavily on me and beyond that the question of whether I could actually physically run on it also proved an item of discussion. On Wednesday night before the race I took a two mile run on it to see how it held up and although uncomfortable from the start I thought with mind over matter I could endure for another 6 miles when push came to shove. At that moment I thought of you and how one can endure if put to the test so although once I thought I would not race because of my knee I was suddenly thinking I would race in spite of my knee!

Then Thursday came. It was a normal day at work until I crushed a Reidel water glass in my hand while using my extra buff muscles to dry the top of the glass. Mom always said I don't do many things gently. I froze and looked at the damage. The cut was clean, but deep. Stitches were necessary. Off to the hospital I went to plead my case to the doctor about my upcoming race and wanting desperately to hear that getting Bay water in my wound would not jeopardize my health. Her response was quite the opposite. Exposing the wound to the water could lead to infection and a whole host of issues-better to keep it dry she told me. Then she warned of tearing the stitches if I was too demanding of my hand while racing. The words you don't want to hear..."you can't", " you shouldn't", "I would not recommend it". Tears. No one ever wants to be told they can't do something-Danda, does this all sound familiar?!

I went home that night defeated, thinking my goal was no longer in my reach. The next day I had pretty much thrown in the towel as my hand had little mobility. Then Saturday I woke with doubt as I spoke to everyone letting them know I was out of the race and after all the injuries I had this season maybe God was trying to tell me something...like, after 150 years the number of shark attacks in the Bay was going to go from zero to one...the day I took to the open water!?!

Then the inner-warrior in me got up the courage to get on the bike to just rule out the possibility once and for all that I could even steer my bike, let alone shift and break. Cautiously and tenderly I guided my bike up and down our street with one hand and the partial use of the other. Ok, so I could be the world's slowest bike finisher, but I could ride. My bike and I logged some miles in the past few months and have grown quite close-it is not just a piece of metal, it is Sylvie the silver Specialized bike who will help me if I trust her to get me through. Don't think that I don't talk to my bike, when I need a little extra a treat her with respect asking her to get me through in one piece.

With that out of the way I decided to tackle the possibility of swimming. I called my brother, the engineer , for some tips on water proofing objects in water. Duct tape, not the imitation kind and latex gloves he told me. Alright, I had both and would give it a shot. I also brought a dish washing glove for added protection against friction during my swim stroke. So down to the water Jeff and I went with my taped hand. Wading through the brown seaweed in my green speedo with my yellow swim cap and yellow hand must have looked like something out of the movie Creature from the Black Lagoon! Looking silly was not my concern because it is not often, if ever, that pride gets in my way, I could swim! Awesome, I was back in it! But found that my water proofing had not worked and water got into my wound. I figured with some minor tweaks I could use what I had to keep the hand dry, but then there was the question of bulk because I could not fit my gloved hand through the wrist hole on my wetsuit. More tears.

I was running out of time to make this all come together before I had to pick up my race packet. So Jeff and I loaded all my things into my car with bike on top and figured we would work through the remaining logistics after I got my race number. And indeed we did. Some really nice people at a sports store rented me a sleeveless wetsuit so I could get my hand in it. Another friend changed my tire that had gone flat days before my injury and Jeff kept me steady as I tried to get my head back in the game because I was doing this thing come hell or high water!

I did not sleep a wink the night before. I was going through checklists, thinking about the course, wondering if my training was enough to get me through, thinking about the flesh eating bacteria I could get from the water in my wound, the potential pain of sweat in my cut, the wind chime blowing in the wind that night could mean a windy day. You name it, I thought about it.

At 5am, the thinking was over and the fear set in. I have never felt so overwhelmed by fear in my life. Knees shaking kind of fear. I called home and asked my mom if I was crazy and if this was all a bad idea. She talked my down from my pedestal of doubt and told me to go and do what I could on the course and that would be good enough because at least I gave it my all.

The next thing I knew it we were all being ferried out to the "jump spot" in the Bay. I was excited and nervous and hoping that my tape job would hold up in the water. And then I jumped and swam for my life. It was the greatest feeling being out in the open water just swimming to your own rhythm, riding the waves and aiming for shore. My hand stayed bone dry which thrilled me and made me confident I was going to make it through the race. I came out of the water feeling strong.

The bike was great and breaking wasn't an issue after realizing-- who breaks in a race anyway?! I climbed the hills with gusto frequently looking down at my yellow Live Strong bracelet that I wore on race day to match Danda's and remind me of how long and hard a struggle can, but how one can prevail!

I rode conservatively hoping to save my knee for the run, taking advantage of the downhills when I had them and keeping pace on the flats. But the surprise came on the climbs. I swear to you Danda, I would take one look down at my Live Strong bracelet and think of you and I was off! I engaged every muscle in my legs and began powering up the hills. Not lethargically trudging up, but seamlessly spinning and passing people along the way. What a high! You don’t trudge, you push forward and that was my inspiration.

One more leg to go…the run. My transitions were easy, my legs felt fresh for each event, a testament to all my training on those nights when bad weather blew in and I climbed hills to keep warm. I began my run with my knee feeling a little weak, but knowing this was the last 8 miles of the race I could endure and I did. Up the hills I went again, glancing down to draw energy from that yellow bracelet that reminded me life is a struggle that we can overcome with the power of positive thinking. And once again my legs ran faster and I was picking people off as I shortened my stride and steam engined up, up, up!

The little twist they throw into the race at the 4 mile mark is having us run down a beach, turn around on a dune all the while filling our shoes with sand and run back along the beach until we hit the infamous sand ladder. The volunteers shout “only 200 something steps to climb, get after it,” never sure if that was the voice of encouragement or fact! Sand covered stairs straight up hill looked like fact. But I have to say all of these infamous climbs that put the fear of God in participants are nothing, but a little challenge. I have yet to be defeated by one-the dreaded Nasty Grade was a 5 mile bike climb up a mountain at the Wildflower Triathlon and the Sand Ladder on this course—but it is meant to make you dig deep to see if you can keep positive despite the clear lack of sympathy for how tired your legs are. Positivity will ALWAYS prevail in my book. It makes you all the stronger once you conquer what stands in between you and the finish line.

I felt that positivity when I had exited the sand ladder and was on the last ascent of the race. A coach who was cheering runners on, made my day when she called me out and said, “that….that fast cadence is what you want to get you to the top, this girl’s got it.” The smile that came over my face!! I couldn't help but get happy feet and pick up the pace even more up and in the kindest of voices, I whispered “excuse me”, “pardon me”, “on your left” all the way up the hill passing people. Amazing. I was on my way home; my knee was an afterthought because I was doing it!

Danda, on more than one occasion in the race I was overwhelmed with my sense of accomplishment, racing against the odds. And each time my thoughts would then turn to you and your fight. Your uphill battle that you are faced with and your determination to heal from the inside out. I raced this race for you and I am glad I did because it is a reminder of how strong the power of positive thinking is. Crossing that finish line was great, but there is still a great distance still to go and I will keep fighting if you will! You are my inspiration! I love you! LIVE STRONG!

Attached is the link to pics from the event!

http://www.kodakgallery.com/ShareLanding.action?c=r7vgfz7.bbdsh07b&x=0&y=6pohyu&localeid=en_US