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I am a daughter, sister, mother, teacher and friend. These are my stories.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Broken Ankle Truths


Smiling only for my friend's husband....
My second cast
x-ray #1
6 Weeks’ Worth of Learning, In No Particular Order

1.     If you train for an Ironman and break your ankle 15 days before the event the endorphins will keep you in your happy place for approximately 2.5 weeks.
2.     You’ll eventually start to go stir crazy because you can’t MOVE.
3.     Friends will rally
4.     Family will rally
5.     Neighbors will rally
6.     Strangers will rally
7.     Sometimes even when friends and family and neighbors and strangers will rally you find living without a (literal) leg to stand on is hard. Very.
8.     If you were a 20 minute shower, make-up, dress and go kind of girl before breaking your leg, you may just find yourself thinking, “Oh no, I only have two hours to get ready! Will I make it?”
9.     The electric carts at Trader Joe’s for grocery shopping really ARE necessary.
10. Going TO the store to buy one bag of groceries with your 77-year-old mother will be enough of a “field trip/outing/adventure” for one day.
11. Do NOT get rid of the small, narrow claw foot tub despite what all of your tall male buddies or kinfolk say. You will thank your lucky stars for that tub. Except for washing your hair.
12. Get a knee walker so you can wash your hair in the kitchen sink.

Knee Walker
13.Get a wheelchair so if you have to navigate through large crowds over great distances you can elevate that broken ankle and manage to have a good time (or if you have a friend who really really wants you to go to an antique fair with her, she’ll pick you up, schlep the chair in her mini Cooper and wheel you around)
My friend took me to the  antique fair..

14. Spend the money to buy the more ergonomic 
MobiLeg crutches (I want to be their next salesperson because they REALLY are better and worth every penny).



MobiLeg Crutches, a must!
15. Some places are NOT handicap friendly.
16. Some handicap parking spots are poorly planned. How come there are so many planters NEXT to the car door where a person who is handicapped CANNOT get out with crutches or walkers or wheelchairs???



A view of Treasure Island...


SF cable car
17. If you see someone who is on crutches, using a walker, wheelchair or cane and you are near the door, it really IS appreciated if you open the door for them. Really.

18. When someone is injured with a cast or boot complete strangers will tell you their ENTIRE life’s story because somehow they feel it’s an open invitation for over shares (I also experienced this when pregnant or as the parent of a child wearing a diabetic insulin pump/receiving shots).
19. A broken non-weight bearing injury is not fatal. It is, however life-altering. There are websites that deal with it.
20. The websites that talk about broken ankles had hundreds of people battling depression because of lack of sleep, broken relationships from caregivers who could not handle helping, or people who lived alone and had no support or were out of work or had no insurance and more.

Fiberglass Cast
21. Having money to pay for a housekeeper to come in every few weeks is a wonderful thing.
22. The water bottles with nylon handles that long-distance runners use are perfect when using crutches.
23. Cup holders on knee walkers are a need, not a want.
24. Wearing a small backpack around the house is perfectly normal when using crutches. Or a messenger bag. Or a tote bag with a large, long shoulder strap. I will go so far as to say fanny backs are perfectly normal too (in this one instance only)
25. Skorts are also NOT dorky when you have to elevate your leg in a cast.
26. Asking for help is not a sign of a weakness; it is self-preservation and a necessity.
27. Thinking before moving is important.

I had to put fabric between cast and shin 
My first solo car trip, I had to elevate

                                                                                                                                       
Cast removal prep....

28. Slow down.
29. Give yourself extra time.
30. Sleep is comparable to having a newborn baby. It’s in short snippets of time. And when you do sleep you might dream about weird stuff. Or food you do not eat (like pumpkin waffles, maple syrup and walnuts and pecans…)
31. You learn that you have a whole host of things to learn once the cast is off…

My 3rd x-ray; all healed!
My calf shrunk!
My 2nd attempt at a boot, lighter weight...

Part 2:
1.     When you are out of a cast and into a boot, it’s also okay to borrow shoes from your 77 year old mother. Better to be walking at the same height/level as your boot then acquire more problems from limping along.


Grandma shoes, same height as boot!


Monday, September 9, 2013

The Long And Winding Road To My People

I pulled the steering wheel toward the right as hard as I could. I managed to find the one small spot that my Jeep Liberty would fit on the freeway onramp feeling a little less vulnerable. Still, as cars buzzed past me, causing my car to rock back and forth, they were within inches.
I was in a rough part of downtown Oakland when I lost control of my car. I did not feel safe getting out because there was nowhere to stand but sitting made me feel like a lame duck. I was blocking the majority of the freeway onramp, a hazard to the other drivers.
The Oakland police helped by using their cars as a protective barrier around me until my insurance’s tow truck came to pick me up.
Later that day when I was alone and home safe in my little condo, I had a personal meltdown. I cried. I cried because I was dating someone at the time that I could not count on to help me for a whole host of understandable reasons. I cried because my two younger kids were away at college and my eldest lived in Cleveland and I could not count on them to help. I cried because my dad had died years earlier and he was the one person I could always count on for emergencies. I cried because I was divorced and because when I was married at least 60% of the time my husband was home from work and I could count on him for any and all things mechanical, or his family on the days he was not. I cried because I felt my mom could not have helped me that day, I did not want to be a burden to my brother, one sister was away on her boat and another out-of-state. I cried because I have tons of friends but did not feel I could call any of them. Not one.
Since that time I have made many changes. 
I hit the restart button.
As a result, I am no longer dating that boyfriend. He realized he is in a “Lone Wolf” stage in his life, raising two small children, being a provider, staying sane by biking and not available the way a partner could and should be. 
I moved out of my condo, which had stairs from the garage, up to the kitchen and up to the bedrooms. It was comfortable and in a safe neighborhood and 4 miles from work. But there was no shade, no yard and I felt I was living in a cement city. I knew only 2 neighbors. I had moved there post-divorce and it was a wonderful home to my children and I but I felt called to move. The kids were all leaving the nest and though that town was a great place to raise kids and families it is not exactly a mecca for single women.
I bought a cottage in a town that is more urban than suburban. After a great deal of sweat equity on my part and the enlistment of electricians, handymen, a seamstress, lamp restorers, cabinet makers, wood workers, garden consultants, heating and appliances repairmen and installers I feel like I’m home. I have a garden, a writing nook and a house filled with items I love and collected over the years that felt like they belong in this cottage. The colors were hand-chosen and make me feel happy when I look around my home. It is both smaller, in the number of bedrooms, and larger, by forty feet in total square footage. I’ve met 26 neighbors at last count and though the mileage is farther, my commute to work is only 22 minutes door-to-door.
I do, however, have an alarm system. It feels both safer and not. And two of my kids opted to live at their dad’s house this summer for work and friends whereas the oldest has moved back to California on her own to embark on her nursing career in the City. I get more time with my mom and siblings and less with my kids. It is not how I envisioned it but it is okay. We have suppers together and my kids call me more and they cemented their love for me many years ago so I think it was their Dad’s turn this time. I love them and they love me and when they come here, there is a room waiting for them with a comfortable bed where I keep the light on each night.
After the move and getting my house in order I began training for Ironman Tahoe, which I signed up for exactly one year ago. I found an online training program and did short relaxing swims pre-season. I spent many hours and visits to numerous bike shops trying to find a good fit on my touring bike for an upcoming trip to Maui. While doing so my knee would not heal and actually was swollen and hurting with each new adjustment. It took from October until March. After three bike seats and numerous cleat and seat adjustments I finally was able to ride without my knee nagging me. In time I could ride either my road bike or tour bike comfortably. I could not run but told myself to be patient. That would come after my Maui trip. Besides, everyone has told me training for an Ironman is all about the journey of doing it. I can’t really explain why, but I just felt from day one that the Ironman was secondary….that it really stood for the fact that it was as if I were swimming and biking and running toward something, perhaps my new life or new beginning? 
On Maui I had a great time bike touring, carrying all of my gear and camping with other friends of mine. Maui is always magic with them. I fell.  My handlebar bag popped off on a bouncy section of the road and got caught in my wheels. My head slammed on the pavement twice but I was okay. That is until the next day when my ribs screamed at me with each intake or exhale of air or bounce on the road. We had a long day of riding to get back to the start and I just had to tough it out. It was by far the most difficult day of riding in my life. Tears streamed down my face in secret as I towed the back of the line. When we stopped at an old store ice was welcomed and put to good use on my rib cage.
My ribs healed and slowly, slowly I increased my gentle swims, began biking on my road bike and began to go on walks because first you must walk before you can run.
I tried no less than five pair of running shoes. None worked. My knee still hurt from the bike fits and injuries of the previous years. I walked. I shopped. I finally finally found a pair of shoes that seemed good for walking. Slowly I added more mileage and kept shopping for running shoes. 
At last I found a pair. I remember the first day I walk/ran 1 mile. Just 1. That was in April. I fell down during a trail run at the end of July on my right knee and my heart sank. I wondered if it would cut-off the run portion of my would-be Ironman race but after a week of ice and water jogging I carefully began running again. Since then my knees have gotten stronger and pain-free. PAIN-FREE! Two weeks ago my training plan called for a 21 mile run. I ran 15 of them with my good friend and former running partner and the first and last three by myself. It was pleasant and then next day I felt great. And the day after that too. Did you read that? I was training for an Ironman and felt better than ever. Each run brought a very real sense of gratitude, the same for each bike and swim. 
In a monetary sense this one race has cost me thousands of dollars. I had originally picked it because it was local and I naively thought it would only be the cost of the entrance fee, which is not cheap, $600 or $700. I had not counted on buying:
Multiple pairs of running shoes
Running socks
The perfect anti-chafing running skirt and triathlon running bras
A new fuel belt with extra bottles
Another fuel belt with one large bottle
A new running watch because my old one died in untimely death
Visors
For swimming I owned a wetsuit already, goggles, swimsuits and caps and all the other gear. I did purchase a new pair of goggles and just last week bought two suits on sale at Big Five because mine are getting old.
Biking was the most expensive:
A Garmin for tracking miles, cadence and more
A new stem because I was reaching too far
Two new bike seats because the old one was old and the new one was fine for under 60 miles but was causing blood blisters and chafing in the nether regions for 60+ mile rides.
More gears because the climbing of two big hills and one little in Tahoe at altitude made it necessary, especially because we get to do it twice on the bike route AND there is one little hill we get to do three times which I have dubbed “LB” for Little Bitch, ‘nuff said.
A new chain for the new gears I added to my bike.
No less than three pairs of biking shorts, trying to find the most anti-chafing pair
Lots of chafing creams were given to me to test out by a friend who sells bike parts
Four trips to my eye doctor because my lenses kept popping out of my prescription glasses, which I must wear while riding.
Two new helmets because the one in Maui was tossed after I came home and so I bought a replacement helmet. Later a teammate from our club was selling one at a great price and it was more for mountain biking.
Inserts for my cleats, which I believe, have helped my knees heal too.
A blue chamois-type cloth that you wet down on hot days which has prevented heat stroke for me. Amazing invention.
Nutrition:
I have tried energy gels and blocks and drinks and in short, they are expensive but very necessary. As of today I am the proud owner of sports drink mixes for long bike rides which have protein, another drink mix for runs or short bike rides, Shot Blocks to chew on and two brands of gels. I have supplements for lactic acid and salt for hot days.
Other unknown expenses:
I rented a cabin in Tahoe for my mom, daughter and friends to cheer me on. I have a lot of guy friends but this week is all about girl time!
Massages were no longer a “want” they were a “need” I went about once a month
I hired a coach; this event was too much for me to do on my own. Lucky for me he has been the perfect fit and his teams of athletes made me feel welcomed
I started going to Reiki
I took my first summer off in years and years, enjoying a vacation with my girls and focusing on training and relaxing in my new home.
Physically I was getting up at 4:45am to swim, 5am to eat two hours before the big training sessions on the weekends and 5:30am to run most days. I frequently had double workouts, biking in the afternoons of swim sessions and running or water jogging on the weekends. In short, I was tired. But growing stronger. 
I began dating another man, but after he saw how much time my training took away from “us” time, he pulled away.
I trained. Hard. A lot. 
At one point I was able to stay in Tahoe to train with teammates. I had a wedding the following weekend and stayed up there in between to train more. I previewed the swim, bike and run course. I had an okay time with the altitude but noticed a nagging cough that lingered for weeks and weeks both before and after. It got worse. I used my inhaler while in Tahoe but it didn’t help much, if at all.
I had a long ride at home a week or so later which I began with another Ironman participant and her husband. The nagging asthma cough joined me for the day. Mid-afternoon her husband headed home to be with her kids and she and I continued on the ride. We headed up Mt. Diablo. I was having trouble with my cough. I urged her to go ahead and we’d meet at an area called the Junction. I made it to the ranger station. Breathing was growing more difficult. I did not push it. I went very slowly up the hill. I was focusing on trying to get a breath in. I kept calm but noticed I was really really having to work hard and my throat was constricting and closing shut. I was fuzzy in my thinking but knew enough to be scared. My inhaler did nothing to help. I stopped. I told the next rider approaching to let my riding partner know I had to turn around. I was still working very very hard to breathe. I made it back down to the ranger station. I waited a long time to settle down and breathe; remaining calm but aware I might just need to call 911. I drank water slowly in small sips. I decided I just needed to get down that mountain NOW. I slowly rode downhill. I usually love to zip down at a fast clip. Not this time, not today. I whirled down the hill and felt more relief. I got to the bottom and steered in the direction of my car. Eventually I was able to inhale safely. I ended the day by running ten miles with just a little coughing. 
I saw a doctor and allergist and was prescribed prednisone, an antibiotic, a nasal spray, a nasal rinse and a new asthma inhaler. I took allergy pills and cough suppressants and I continued to workout and heal. In about two weeks I felt healthy. I could breathe. I felt no pain in my knees or heels or anywhere. I felt strong. Not 100% of what I’m capable of because of how much I had to overcome, but still.
This Monday I got my “taper” week’s workouts. I almost cried when I saw the 3000 yd swim (120 lengths of the pool) and 70mile bike ride on Saturday followed by a double run on Sunday of 105 minutes and 30-40 minutes. It did not feel like a taper when I read it. I have since learned tapering does NOT mean doing nothing; it’s doing less but a bit more intense. Everyone assured me this was normal, to feel emotional.
Next week’s plan would have been a huge drop-off in both length and intensity, in simple terms, half of this week’s plan. 
After that it would be race day.
Friday night I ate my pre-race dinner: chicken, sweet potato, applesauce and cooked veggies. I packed up all my gear for the next day in my car: swimsuit, towel, goggles, cap and bike gear which included my bike, Garmin, bottles of sports drink with baggies of extra powder for later in the route, money, credit card and license for emergencies, sports leg supplements and electrolytes, chapstick, my Road I.D. bracelet, bike gloves and shorts, socks, cleats, chamois cloth, Bag Balm for chafing, sunscreen, sunglasses, arm warmers if it got cold or as a sunshield and rubber bands to tie my hair back. I had a cooler ready with my recovery drink, ice, extra water and more gels and Shot Blocks, if needed. Lucky for me I didn’t have to pack up all the running gear!
Yesterday I got up and ate a 5am to practice my race day nutrition: scrambled eggs, avocado, sweet potato and applesauce.
I swam. I got dressed and geared up for my bike ride. We were all set and ready to go. I ran back to move my car. 
Big mistake.
Don’t ever run in your cleats and if you’re going to walk, take off your cleats or walk oh-so-carefully to your destination.
I didn’t.
I fell.
I broke my ankle. 
Ironman is out.
And so is walking. 
It’s the kind of break where you can bear no weight on your foot. I am on crutches and there is talk of the necessity of a scooter-type-thing-a-ma-jig. I’m hoping no tendons are involved. We’ll know more after the swelling goes down and I can see the orthopedic doctor and get a permanent cast. 
In case you’re wondering…no, I can’t have a swimming cast.
My mental health has been dependent on exercise, so there’s that concern. A big one.
I have a trip planned to Ireland with a girlfriend in 20 days. Rain in a cast?  Hmmm.
I was very calm. Just like when my car broke down. 
But you know what? I called my friends, my brother, my mom and texted my children, my other sister and my other friends, teammates, boss, co-workers and yes, I’ll admit I even posted it on Facebook. I shared that I broke my ankle and that my heart is a wee bit broke too. Right now there are a 100 comments of love, goodwill and encouragement.
If Ironman is all about the journey, maybe that is the lesson for me. 
I have been swimming, biking, running and walking with friends and family for an entire year. How lucky am I?
In an emergency, I have an entire host of people to call.
I’m very lucky.
I have my people.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Empty-Nester Meetings: Behind Closed Doors

 


Behind closed doors in an anonymous meeting, I imagine myself standing up and saying, "Hello, my name is Kathy."

"Hi, Kathy!" The Parents reply.

 "I am forty-eight years old and I am an empty-nester. I would like to confess."

The Parents nod their heads knowingly.

"Here is my story, " I begin...

~~~

A year ago my last child was home for her senior year in high school and my middle child had returned for a semester from college to regroup before heading into his junior year. My eldest child had graduated from college and had just launched herself into full-fledged adulthood with a "real" job/career as a labor and delivery nurse across the country. She had managed to come home to be in a wedding, for holidays and the reality was that I felt I was seeing her more than when she was in college and always studying for the next exam.

With each day's passing the countdown to being a "real" empty-nester (ALL three children gone), I would feel pangs in my parental mommy heart. I'd get teary-eyed when I thought of them leaving. Sometimes I would actually cry, albeit slyly so they couldn't see me. And in the car alone, I cried openly...sometimes quite loudly giving way to gut-wrenching sobs. With each last Back-to-School Night, rally, homecoming, senior portrait, senior ball, Powder Puff football game or event from her senior year, I mourned the ending of an era. That is, the era of my children being children. I knew they were all on the cusp of adulthood and flying the coop. 

Sometimes the transition period has been rough. Sometimes biting words were exchanged or assertive or aggressive actions as they began to spread their wings, just a little. The result sometimes ruffled MY feathers. One mom, in her wisdom, likened it to birds who mess up the nest to the point of being pushed out by the mamas. Quite simply, it's nature's way of allowing birds (parents) to let go. I could give you specific examples of their nastiness, or mine, but it's something I choose to forget. 

This summer I really did relish the time I had with the two of my children still home. My middle child was working a ton of hours at his job at a local grocery store and had begun to sleep at this dad and stepmom's house....with visits to mine. This was a difficult transition for me. I had gotten used to him being with me during the fall, sent him back to school for the spring semester and then welcomed him home, excited for this time together again. I am not a "helicopter" (hovering) parent by nature. But I did. Hover. A lot.

But then his dad and I agreed it was time for another approach, thus the full-time living at his dad's house. When my child came over to "visit" I tried to contain the happiness I felt by faking a cool detached approach. That is not easy for me...as witnessed by the hundreds of photos of me over the years earning the nickname of "Smiley." The time spent with my son was disappointingly spartan this summer. I felt short-changed. I struggled with wanting to support his independence which he was earning back by his actions, while also "missing" him. I felt like we had made great gains in our relationship, though we'd always been close. In the fall I got a glimpse into the inner workings of his head and now saw that opening was closing shut (again, as this had happened during puberty).  In my heart I knew that is typical of almost-adults to pull back but there was also a part of me that felt I had earned the right for "it" (our relationship) to be different.  Maybe so. Maybe not. Thus when he went to school at the end of summer I experienced torn emotions.

With each text or phone call response, or especially the ones initiated by him (and not involving money) my concerns wash a little further away on the shores of parenthood. He's busy. He has a job. School. Prepping for his lacrosse season. Speech and debate. College.  Life. I'm learning (again) to let go.  And learning (anew) the right balance of support and (hopefully) projecting the belief that I believe in him. Because I do. I really really do. I love that man who was formally known as my boy.

With my youngest we had enjoyed a love/hate summer relationship. We loved being together, hated the idea of being apart. We loved one another but began to bicker for the first time. I think we were both feeling a wee bit anxious about the impending separation and sometimes sabotaged our time together with silly quarrels that even we realized were a by-product. 

On the last night together after we had moved her into her dorm room, we walked her back to her dorm. I had my arm draped over her shoulders as she had silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Oddly I felt pride like a peacock, I knew my baby chick was ready, even if she was unsure. She hugged and kissed me good-bye. She did the same with her stepmom, followed by her dad. I cried, "Family hug!"
and her dad, stepmom and I embraced in a circle around her, all hugging tightly. She continued to weep a little and turned to walk toward the front glass entrance.

Her father turned and snapped a photo of her walking away. He then crept behind her, bending over and squinting up at her as she walked up to her top floor via the stairwell. He walked back to us. And we looked at him questingly. "She's going to be fine," he said. "I looked at her face and she quit crying."

I knew then that she would be. And I already was. I got in my car, turned up the music and drove to a nearby girlfriend's house to spend the night. I had a giant grin on my face. I felt hopeful and confident for both she and my son's new beginning. 

On Facebook I had friends send their condolences at the loss of my children leaving the nest. I had a few family members email or phone to check-in. I received inquires asking if I had bawled as I drove away that night, leaving my last child off to start her college journey. 

At home, I had planned activities for myself; biking, swimming, going out for dinner and dating. I cleaned my house. I cleared out my garage, kitchen cupboards, medicine cabinets and closets. I completed my Halloween costume and hung newly purchased stunning decorations, in SEPTEMBER. I had everything ready for my upcoming bike tour: new bike, saddlebags and airplane ticket, in MARCH.  I planned a kick-off party for this weekend for the Ironman Tahoe Triathlon I will be participating in on September 22nd, a YEAR from now.


                                                                


I feel I am in this new creative phase which will include the Ironman training, possibly writing "that book" that I've been putting off, launching a dating business, or grad school or something else. I am ready to spread MY wings too. 

I've come to realize I have begun to settle-in. I'm clearing the debris. I'm reorganizing, prioritizing and evaluating what really matters (again) in my life. 


Am I said? No. The truth is, I sometimes want to join in with the other empty-nester parents by high-fiving ourselves and begin the "Happy Dance." I will admit, it's different than I thought. For the first time I am really really alone. But not. I mean, there is only one person living in my house, me, myself and I. But I have this big, gigantic circle of family: mom, sisters, brother, brother-in-laws, sister-in-law, nieces, nephews and my children. I have my girlfriends (you know, the "other" sisters that we all embrace).  I have friends in my race club, my co-workers, friends that are parents of my children's friends through  soccer, lacrosse, schools and more. I have old childhood swim and school friends, I have new running friends, my writing group whom I don't see often enough, and the ever-widening circle... I also realize the upcoming fall months, faced alone, might prove to be a bit of a challenge. But I've got my piles of books, the drawer filled with movies to watch, dinners to catch-up with friends, and my swimming, biking and running. And the writing I hope to do. And that special someone that will be entering into my life.
~~~~~

I conclude my story with "My name is Kathy. My kids have left home. I admit that I like being an empty-nester."My expression is tentative as I look up at The Parents  in our Empty-Nester Meeting.

The Parents return my expression.

With a smile.

The Parents understand.









Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon Race Recap


This is a recap of my very first attempt at the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon, albeit a little bit "after the fact."

The week leading up to the triathlon was busy professionally and personally. My school year was coming close to finishing up and that entails a lot: grading, report cards, graduation and getting ready for summer school. My youngest daughter was graduating from the high school nearby too and there were preparations for the celebratory extravaganza for both she and her friends. Personally things were in a bit of an upheaval in the relationship arena. I'd like to brush that part aside and say it had no bearing on my week but that wasn't the case. In fact, it affected my sleep and my head and my heart so by the night before Alcatraz I did not feel well. Mentally I was not in a good place. Physically I was sleep-deprived, dehydrated and though I drank extra fluids it was not enough.

I gave up trying to sleep around 3:30am and decided to get up and head to San Francisco and set up my bike transition which was opening at 4:00am. I grabbed a banana and toasted half of a bagel adding peanut butter with toasted flaxseeds mixed into it with a bit of honey to top it off. Note to self: DO NOT EAT FLAXSEEDS on race day ever again. Never ever.

It was still dark and after I crossed the Bay Bridge I took a moment to soak in how beautiful it looked all lit up with lights. The magic of the day was just beginning...

I parked my car (finding a spot was not an easy task), finished up the bagel and unloaded my bike, wetsuit, running shoes, towel and everything else. Finding my rack position for my bike was a bit trickier than I anticipated but all of the other athletes were helpful. I racked my bike, set up a towel with my helmet, bike gloves and sunglasses. I set up another area on my towel for my running shoes, a visor and sunscreen.

I got in line for the bathroom, earlier-mentioned flaxseeds making it VERY necessary to visit IMMEDIATELY. Afterward I headed over to my transition area and the woman across from me pointed out my chain had fallen off my bike. I thanked her and immediately got to work to fix it. I also made sure my bike was in a nice easy gear for after the swim and transition run, knowing my legs would need to warm up.

I grabbed my wetsuit and headed in line for the bus which would bring all of us to the boat for our race's start. Everyone was excited and friendly and nervous. The  morning was memorable, no fog, warm temperatures and the views were breathtaking.

We were delivered to a nearby dock. I drank the remainder of my water and began to put on  my new wetsuit applying Body Glide on any spots prone to chafing. I was glad I had made the decision to put it on later, rather than sooner. There was so much time remaining, it didn't make sense to put it on beforehand. It would be at the finish of the race later in the day. I debated whether to use my neoprene swim cap with the chinstrap and the race cap over it or a traditional cap. I opted to use a traditional cap, put my goggles on and then the yellow swimcap I was given. I knew it was warmer than normal and decided it would be a nice swim, not too cold. I  put my sweatpants, jacket, extra swim cap and goggles in one of two bags provided by the race directors. After I turned it in I realized I had forgotten to put in my flip-flops, the only glitch thus far. I had to forever say good-bye to them, leaving them behind, they had served me well over the years so parting was sweet sorrow.  I wish I could have photographed this portion of the race, everyone lined up like seals as we boarded.

On the boat we sat and waited for take-off. The sun was rising, Alcatraz was ahead, the City behind and the Golden Gate to our left as we chugged along. More magic.

After the boat reached its destination we stopped and got ready for everyone to disembark by jumping into the Bay.  The professionals lined up outside while nearby boats had their cameras were aimed and ready, helecoptors hovered above, kayakers and paddleboarders surrounded us on standby, ready to help guide the swimmers.

The people I had spoken to who had completed this race: Jeff, Steve, Rob, Jonathon and Gordon said it was, "All about the swim." One friend said after I jump in the Bay to take a moment, look around and purposefully take in the moment.  I had also been coached to aim for the two tall buildings behind Aquatic Park and then turn right toward the beach exit. If I needed help, all I needed to do was to raise my hand and eventually I would be "rescued." I also knew I wouldn't.

As I stood in the group preparing to jump off the boat, the woman in front of me, likely in her 60's, turned to me and said, "Please do not jump in until I am out of the way." I could hear her frightened tone as she looked at me.

I said, "I promise I won't jump on you."

My heart began pounding, the anxiety catching. I leapt off the boat while keeping one hand on my goggles. And I was off!

While swimming thoughts swirled in my head. This is so great! I want to do this again! Look at Alcatraz over there. Wow! The Golden Gate is right there and everything is soooooooo clear. This is not so cold. 


After some time had passed, the water grew very choppy. I imagined that this is what it must feel like to swim inside a washing machine. I continued onward. Even though I knew to head to the left, there was a large group headed further right. I wondered if they had received last minute instructions about a change in the currents. Essentially I was told we were swimming across two river currents...by heading a little to the right I was pulled toward the Golden Gate and far to the right of the swim exit. No less than four times I gave 100% effort to go left toward the exit. Each time I would head left, pulling really really hard, lift my head and I was turned 180 degrees and facing the bridge. Finally the crew on the boat pointed to shore, and yelled for me to exit at the beach away from the exit. I did so, knowing I'd have to run across the sand and rocks. I stood and fell down as both legs were severely cramping.

I crawled and caveman walked to the exit area. I began to run with cramped legs to my tennis shoes. I pulled off my wetsuit, thew it over my shoulder, put on my shoes and ran to my bike. I thew my wetsuit on the ground, changed into my bike shoes, put on my sunglasses, helmet and gloves. I grabbed my bike and ran/walk to the next transition exit and began the bike ride.

This was the time to eat. I tried to grab bites of an energy bar I had cut up and drink some of my sports drink. My stomach was rebelling. I ate a Tums, something a friend had coached me to do if my stomach needed settling. I did as many bike pedal rotations as I could to try and de-cramp my calves. It did not help but I soldiered onward.

It was a game of cat and mouse with my fellow riders. My legs continued cramping on the uphills and I would pedal, pedal, pedal, getting passed. A downhill would approach and I would let 'er rip! Wheeeeeeeeeee! I'd pass my fellow bikers.

The day was perfect for this leg of the race: clear, sunny and with further  breathtaking views. Up, down, forward and onward we rode, soon we were approaching the transition area again.

"Go TeamCindy!" I looked and there was Colleen, TeamCindy's race coordinator and cheerleader extraordinaire. I was happy to have her and others yell out encouraging words  every so often along the course throughout the day. It gave me an energy boost each time.

Next I traded my bike shoes for running shoes, my helmet for a visor and added two knee braces. My calves were still cramping as I headed out on the run along the oceanside. This was not going to be a piece of cake. My entire day I felt slow and heavy and legs continued to cramp. Still, I really did enjoy my fellow athletes, we'd talk as we ran, co-miserating together or giving words of encouragement. I kept reminding myself that this was about the experience and not a race. Not this time. Not this day. Not for me.

As I ran down the street, I heard someone yell, "Kathy!" and looked to my right. There, standing under the shade of a tree, stood my son Troy. He had gotten up very early, driven to San Francisco, parked his car several City blocks away and found me in a sea of people. I really can't put into words what that meant, seeing my man-boy, his head tilted to the side, grinning that sweet smile of his, directed at me. I can only say I had a very familiar lump in my throat and had to work very hard to breathe in air at that point. It touched me so.

I forged onward.

I did not realize I was smiling during this tedious part until I heard a man running toward me in the opposite direction say, "At least someone is still smiling!"

Still. When it got even harder, climbing the first set of stairs, the upward trail, the mogul-y sand or the cursed 400 sand ladder steps, I knew I could not or would not stop.  This was all about TeamCindy, for Anamarie Neveau. I was lucky to be here on this day with cramps in my calves, sun beating above with  a view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Remember how awful this is, do NOT sign up for this race next year. I'm SO hot. Where is the end?!?

I s-l-o-w-l-y made my way back to the finish line.

I did not sprint to the end. I could not. I was tired. My calves hurt. My knees hurt. My body's tank was empty from a week of little sleep, a lot of questions in matters of the heart, and most of my morning fuel had gone through me due to a poor food choice before the race even began.

I finished.

I can say that I'm trying to find satisfaction in having completed the course during an unusually warm day, with a rebelling stomach, protesting knees, angry calves and a confused and bruised heart.

I can say I'm proud that many friends, family, team mates and yes, strangers, donated on behalf of Anamarie to the Brain Aneurysm's TeamCindy. Together we raised $3,545 to date. I met Cindy's mom via emails and phone calls, she is a hero in my mind. Some day I plan to meet her in person.  I can only say I feel a kinship to the maternal love and desperation that would drive her to create TeamCindy. I have felt that desperation this past year.  I thank her for allowing me to work through some of my own matters of the "mommy heart" in a way that helps other, while also doing something I love doing: swimming, biking and running. For that, I will always be grateful to both she and the organization she created.

I can say that Escape From Alcatraz was, to date, the hardest, slowest, most challenging and disappointing race I have completed.

It was also one of the most rewarding.



Saturday, June 23, 2012

Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon Training Update

Sometimes life does not go as planned.


If all had gone according to plan, I'd be about ready to taper for the upcoming Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon in 13 days. Instead, I'm trying to build my fitness all over again.


What happened you ask?


First there was that fall after a swim in Aquatic Park with Pedro's Water World SwimsDuring the swim that morning, I had experienced my most challenging ocean course ever due to the strong currents. I did luck out because instead of the 49 degree temperatures I'd had the pleasure of swimming in February, it was a much more comfortable 52 degrees. You wouldn't think three degrees can make such a difference, but trust me, it does!


I highly recommend swimming with Pedro, he gives wonderful informational talks beforehand. In addition, there are kayakers who follow alongside of you if you feel yourself getting into trouble. Go any Sunday, just sign up on the website ahead of time and you won't regret it. I promise.


Anyhow,  after the swim a Forward Motion Race Club teammate and I were running along the Marina in San Francisco. I loved the weather, cool and overcast. We were headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge. I did not see the three inch blip on the cement sidewalk and SMACK! I went down very hard on my knees. Instead of stopping and icing and taking the day off from running, I jumped up, finished the route and by nightfall my legs were swollen to the point of not being able to bend either of them.


I took my usual day off on Monday and then I ran a 4.4 mile route on Tuesday. I felt just "okay." By the weekend I went on a 6.5 hour mountain bike "ride" (translation: walk) up Mt. Diablo State Park, pushing my bike whenever it was steep on the gravel or dirt roads. I am not exactly sure how I managed to do it but every time the road involved a very sharp incline my back wheel would spin and I would get NO traction. On the descent when I wasn't walking (because, again, it was really really steep and I am really really a rookie mountain bike rider) I started fishtailing and sliding-like-I was-snowplowing-on-skis (translation: out of control). At a certain point my three choices were: 


A. Hit the poor elderly hiker to the left of me.
B. Go off the cliff to the right of me and into the ravine to meet "My Heavenly Father."
or 
C. Lean to my right, push my bike to the left and ride straight into the Manzanita bush. 


I chose the later. Because I was using Aleve (due to my previously mentioined knee injury) I bruised worse than normal during my crash landing so it looked rather dramatic. It was mostly superficial, except for hitting my right knee (again).


I did take some time to rest up during the week. But by Saturday it was time for me to run with a group of 11 other runners on The Relay from Calistoga to Santa Cruz. We called ourselves a skeleton crew. I had three legs I was scheduled to run that weekend, two were categorized as "easy" and one "very hard."


The first run of 4.7 miles wasn't terrible, though it was VERY hot. The next run of 4.9 miles at midnight began nicely enough. It was cool and just had one hill, not too shabby. This would have turned out to be true if not for the fact that one of the signs directing me was upside down and hidden from view. The extra two miles I ran UP HILL with chimney smoke were not my favorite. And it was dark. I did meet "Jen" and "Alex" (two-strangers-turned-comrades) also lost on the course. We helped one another find our way back onto the route. I might also mention that they were MUCH faster than I normally run so I was adding a bit of stress to my tired knees.

The third and final leg of the courese for me was only 3 miles, easy-peasy. But it involved nearly 1,000 feet of climbing. And then I missed my van so I kept running uphill, another a few hundred+ feet of climbing up, up, up...only to be told my van members were back at the exchange so I had to run back down, down, down the hill. I knew I lost more time for my team so I ran very fast!! 


My knees rebelled. 

Two days later when I went to go for my normal Tuesday jog with my running partner, I couldn't move. Not one step. 


I did swim in a triathlon relay event at the ITU World Triathlon in San Diego that weekend (mostly pulling, not much kicking).

I iced my knees, took anti-inflamatory meds and finally succumbed to seeking medical attention on Mother's Day (note to self: Kaiser, Walnut Creek was not busy on Mother's Day, so keep that in mind should you need assistance on that hallowed day some day in your future).

I had to rest. My doctor told me I could begin riding my bike, only flat sections after an additional week off. I could not swim. When I objected he said I could swim if I only used my arms. I had to take an additional week off from running and could only begin again if the route was flat and I agreed to stop if the running hurt me. 

My first post-forced-rest run was flat paths on the Iron Horse Trail.  I was in pain so I stopped after only 2.5 miles


Biking hurt a lot too so I kept it short and sweet as well. Flat routes down the San Ramon Valley Blvd were about all I could manage. 

I only pulled using paddles while swimming at Heather Farms swim pool. I even tried an Aqua Jogger belt before school one morning at Dougherty Valley Aquatic Center


I was trying to do as much biking, running or swimming as I could manage pain-free. 


I told myself my mindset was not going to be to race Escape From Alcatraz any longer, I  was now going  experience it. Still, I was not happy. I felt like I was letting down Anamarie's family, fundraising efforts for TeamCindy's Brain Aneurysm Foundation and all of the individuals who donated money in memory of Anamarie.


My training most recently has been annoying and frustrating. I've worried or fretted and had to take mandatory rests. I missed  events I had planned to do months ago and I've not been able to do the hilly bike training or trail running needed to prepare for my upcoming event.



After writing an email to another teammate on Forward Motion, he told me to let it go. Quit worrying. 

Finally  I was able to run four miles with both of my knees braced and began to think that maybe, just maybe, I could finish the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon on June 10th. 



Today I choose to be thankful.



And obviously I have more work to do for the next thirteen days.

I can promise you this, I will  be able to finish the triathlon. 1.5 miles of Bay swimming, 1/2 mile of running in transition to then begin 18 miles of hilly bike riding and end with a killer 8 mile run which includes 400 steps of sand stairs and beach running. 


I might not be as fast as I had wanted to be. I most surely will not look pretty. But I'll do it. I'll get 'er done.

Just like life.