The Dodgers did not make it to the World Series, and I did not make it to Sacramento. Yep, I did not race Ironman California after all, then again, no one did. As it has been widely reported by now, the race was cancelled by Ironman at 6:30A on Sunday morning due to a humongous storm charging in from the coast that included torrential rain, heavy winds, and a nifty system dubbed a “Bomb Cyclone.” However, I did not feel any moisture from the pelting rain on Sunday morning, instead I tasted my own tears dealing with an internal “Bomb Cyclone” a few days earlier.
On Tuesday afternoon I was hopeful I could race. I swam, wrote, ran, and although my leg hurt, I still wanted to do it.
By Wednesday evening my bags were packed with extra rain gear I bought earlier in the day at REI to help ward off the rain that was looming in the forecast, and our van’s gas tank was filled to the brim with pricey fuel ready to hit the 5 freeway North mid-Thursday morning after I finished more tests on my leg that were scheduled for 10A.
“If you’re still going to race no matter what the results are, why even go to the appointment?’ Marion said in between bites of ravioli. ‘Just drive up there early tomorrow morning.” It had been a frustrating gaggle of days for him, too.
“I thought about that, but more than anything else I just want to know what this is? So, I’ll go take the tests and hopefully hit the road by noon.” I replied in a tone that sounded more tired than inspired.
“I really don’t think you should be running on a swollen leg.”
“Neither do I, but I at least want to start the race and see how far I can go.”
My mind was not settled before I fell asleep. Still, the thought of disappearing into a crowd of like-minded endurance lunatics felt so appealing (they would understand), but I couldn’t quite envision any outcome of the race that would possibly justify hurting myself even further? I don’t need another Ironman finish to appease any self doubt, or to accomplish a goal; I know what I can do, and I am well aware of what I have and haven’t done, I just want to be back moving, like myself, as quickly as I can.
I have never had an UltraSound (we can talk about why I have chosen not to have my own children another day), but as I walked into the cozy, dimly lit UltraSound exam room, I was hopeful the technician would lend some insight as to what exactly was causing me such pain in my right leg?
“When will the results be available?” I asked.
“We will send them to your Dr. some time tomorrow.” The technician replied.
“Will you be able to see my tendons or ligaments at all?” I asked in a polite/pleading tone.
“No, I am only able to examine your veins.”
“Right.’ My Dr.’s biggest concern was a DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) which is why she wanted to start with an UltraSound, then more x-rays, and move on to an MRI if needed. ‘Well, then this is useless.” I don’t think I said that too loud? Or, hopefully I mumbled as usual? But, I become very articulate when upset, so I think the kind tech heard my rude reply perfectly.
Next, I laid down and let the machine, and the wand-wielding technician work their magic while staring at the pimpled ceiling proclaiming to myself, I won’t have any definitive proof of what is wrong with me today, I just have to follow my gut, and decide on my own.
Then I received x-rays on my Tibia and Fibula, another step my Dr. wanted to take on the long path toward gaining “real” information from an MRI. Nevertheless, I walked out of the lab sooner than I thought (they really have it dialed in at Renaissance Imaging Center in Northridge), but I still knew nothing except that something was wrong with my leg.
And that was enough.
When I parked our van in front of our house (a short stop before the long drive to Sacramento) I knew I wouldn’t start it up again. I fed our dog Blue, made a smoothie, sat on our porch, and cried. About two minutes later, my coach texted me to check in, and with one final gulp, knowing that once I told Hillary I wasn’t racing, that was really it, I wouldn’t flip-flop my decision any longer, so I did, and it was done.
I spent the next few hours laying on our bed with my leg up, Blue in my lap, talking to a great friend in Pennsylvania, and stopped wondering, “What if?” and exhaled into, “What now?”
Rest.
That is what my leg, body, mind, heart, all of me, needed/demanded, and I was finally willing to give it to them.
I let all of the incredible rides and runs I did the last few months training for Ironman California sink in, and realized just because I wouldn’t actually race, none of those memories could be taken away; none of that work was worthless, in fact, they were worth more than I could’ve imagined. I rode faster and stronger than ever, improved my nutrition to a point I hadn’t reached before, and sustained efforts I wasn’t sure were possible just as recently as June, but they were POSSIBLE, I was hitting them week after week, and I was having FUN doing it!
Minutes after completing the best bike ride of my life, 120 speedy miles with my friend and teammate, Jess Zaiss.
However, I also remembered that many of the reasons why I dove head first into serious/obsessive endurance training in my late twenties had been resolved.
Sharing a rare and wonderful visit from my 22-year old stepdaughter, Hannah, a few hours after finishing another 120 mile bike ride.
I don’t need to escape from my fears anymore, and I don’t need to prove my value to anyone. Laying on my bed with dried tears still stuck to my cheeks, I finally believed that I was loved and appreciated just as I am, wearing spandex or not, and that I race Ironman because I want to, not because I need to.
Therefore, I knew resting that afternoon vs. driving five plus hours to Sacramento was the smartest and quickest way to get back to doing what I enjoy most with my days on earth, flexing my muscles, pumping my heart, laughing out loud (alone or with friends), pushing my lungs, flying through the air on my bike AND on my feet, gliding through water (open and pooled), in essence, choosing to live an adventurous life everyday.
This could be really be anytime, anywhere.:)
I am happy to report that my leg has calmed down tremendously since Thursday, in fact, I might’ve been able to finish the race after all, but it didn’t even start… for anyone.
Regardless of the physical and emotional turmoil I've endured the last two weeks, Ironman California gave me much more than a finisher’s medal, a grisly race story to tell, or redemption from a foiled race in Coeur D'Alene, instead it gave me relief.
I am grateful and humbled to have had the opportunity to realize not only can I ask for help, but that amazing people will jump to my aid when I do. Thank you. I truly feel like a #luckyredhead.
Next up, easing back into running (I promise) and enjoying every single step of building back up. And in some GOOD news, the UltraSound results came back clear of any DVT’s, and nothing “remarkable” popped up on the x-rays, so blood is flowing and my bones are sturdy. That said, I do have an MRI scheduled for next Wednesday, (11/3), but it might not be necessary if my leg keeps progressing these next few days, so once again…
To be continued…
The song and video choice this week is an uplifting, catchy and hilarious tune from Mike Posner, yet it is filled with foul language, so please keep that in mind.