I often get asked
why I do what I do. It’s a fair question….as it is seemingly nonsensical to
train and race for such ridiculously long distances. And for what? It’s not
like I get paid for this. In fact, I pay hefty fees to race. Time off from
work, hotel and meal expenses, gas…you can see how quickly it all adds up. Many
thanks to TheTriShop.com in Ann Arbor, MI for sponsoring me and allowing me the
privilege of being their ambassador to spread triathlon goodwill in the world. So
why do I do it?
I love to work
myself to a salty, crusty mess. I do my best thinking in the solitary miles of
the weekly LSD. Oh no…more drugs! In this case, Long Slow Distances…. A 20 mile
run or what will eventually be 80-100 mile bike rides. It’s just me, the
voices in my head my thoughts, and my music out there. It’s cheaper than therapy.
It grants permission to eat and drink! I like the structure of the plan. I just love to test the limits of
possible. The sense of accomplishment.
Ah yes….the sense
of accomplishment. Not just on
race day when I get that sweet moment of crossing the finish line, but after
every training session where I did the work. There’s nothing like starting a
speed workout and after doing the first two 800 meter intervals you know you
can’t do eight, but somehow you do and the last one is the fastest. Or getting
in the pool not knowing how you’re going to swim 2000 yards continuous, yet you
do. Or putting on your running shoes and asking the tree trunks that are where
your legs used to be to run after biking for three hours.
Nothing is more
satisfying than putting forth the effort and reaping the reward. The reward
comes in many forms. Faster race times. Lower heart rate. Rockin’ my favorite jeans. More mitochondria! Wood fired pizza and ginger martinis (Hello Amelia, what are you doing on Thursday?). More capillaries!! The ability to keep
up with the boys on the bike. Did I mention faster race times?
In 2012, I won my
age group twice and qualified to compete in the USA Triathlon National Championship. None of that came for free. I
worked for it. I earned it. So when you’re frustrated and not getting the
results you desire, stop and ask yourself if you’ve put forth the effort to
effect the change you are wanting. Do you want it bad enough? You say yes. But
are you really willing to make the sacrifices? Maybe you have to get up at 5AM
to get in a run. Maybe you have to decline social invitations that tempt poor
decision making. Ask yourself if you can give more; I bet you can. Take care of your body. Eat right. Sleep. Maintain a positive
attitude. Find balance. And when all else fails, don’t take yourself too
seriously.
Yeah, yeah, yeah…..
So I have a lot of reasons to continue to fuel this adrenaline junkie way of
life. But why did I start all this? Right… Must. Answer. That. Question.
Why do I really do this? <Insert delay tactic
and redirect here.> This is a hard one for me, so I’ll just get to it.
Rewind to July 2008. I had an appointment with my doctor for a routine
physical. Six months overdue. No big deal…I was healthy. I was an athlete. I walked out with cancer. Whoa. What? After a battery
of tests, it was confirmed and five weeks later I was on the operating table.
Surgery was supposed to be a breeze. It was not. My right vocal cord was
paralyzed and I lost my voice. I continued with treatment. Radiation. I
carried on with life. Hormone depletion. I went to work. More radiation. Still
no voice. Secondary surgery to bolster the vocal cord. Finally after ten weeks,
my voice returned, albeit very fragile.
At some point, cancer became secondary to the loss of my voice. To be silenced….literally and figuratively…was unbearable. And…I didn’t actually tell
people I had cancer. I was supposed to sail through the process. I didn’t want to
inconvenience anyone. I didn’t want people to think I was sick. I didn’t want
to be the subject of hallway chatter. But with the loss of my voice, protecting
“the secret” took on a life of its own and became equally as difficult as managing the disease. I’m not perfect. Sometimes I do things the hard way. I wouldn’t do it the same again.
While cancer doesn’t
define me, it certainly has shaped me. What was important became crystal clear.
Priorities were mapped out with laser precision. People were precious. Not
disposable. Relationships became my lifeblood. Never again did I take anything
for granted. I didn’t want to miss out on a single moment of this precious life
I was gifted. I had been sleepwalking for too long. It was time to wake up.
And wake up I
did….. First I reclaimed my health. Then I shifted gears. Made some changes. Simplified. I started racing
triathlon. First a sprint…then another…and another…double the distance to
Olympic. Why stop there…. double it again and conquer half iron. Again…and
again…and again, I crushed every goal I set for myself. And so it would seem I
had unleashed a beast that was on a mission to prove I am capable of anything I set my mind to. The human body is a
powerful machine. Seemingly unstoppable. Mind over matter. My spirit cannot be
crushed. This is why I do what I do. Because I can. Nothing reminds me
just how alive I am like the pain of long course racing. It’s that simple,
boys and girls. I am high on life. Where do I go from here? 140.6 baby! For the next 198 days I
will be locked in a staring contest with the granddaddy of Ironman…Lake Placid. Bring it on, LP! I’m ready. I’m already a winner. I’m a cancervivor. In a strange way, it was a
gift and for that I say thank you. Makes sense to me…
