LuckyMarch 8, 2007
It’s hard to say if I’m the luckiest or most unlucky person in Hawaii right now. I’m looking out at the ocean (hoping to catch a glimpse or two of whales not too far away), tonight I’ll enjoy a delicious home cooked dinner of fresh fish on the grill and irresistible Tropical Dreams ice cream, and I’m surrounded by people I love who have done nothing but take care of me, look after me and spoil me, adapting their entire schedules to fit around my training needs. I’m certainly not in pain right now. I’d say that on a general scale of comfort, I’m about 7 out of 10, which really isn’t bad at all.
The fact that I am in Hawaii, 7 weeks into a 7 month sabbatical of traveling around the world, doing an Ironman and riding the Tour de France course, it’s impossible to find one thing to complain about. The past 7 weeks have been about as ideal as I ever could have imagined. Visiting my mom and Dave in AZ, Jenni & Keith in WA and Lea and Amanda in OR, I’ve had the opportunity to really catch up with friends and family while supporting a rigorous training schedule. The upcoming months are on track to be once in a lifetime experiences. Joanne and Theresa, two of my closest friends from DC, and my mom are meeting me to travel around New Zealand and Australia and to support me in the race.
The training has been going perfectly- on track and injury free (thanks to physio help from Andy). Matt and I completed a 130 mile ride around the Big Island on Tuesday, greeted by my dad, aunt and uncle in the Volcano National Park. I completed my 2 hour 20 minute run around the Mauna Kea and Hapuna resorts last Friday, and have enjoyed regular swims in the ocean near the hotel. I have never done more to prepare or felt more confident about a race in my life and have just 1 brick and 1 long run before the backing off begins.
Enthusiastic for another perfect day on the island, I hopped out of bed at 6 a.m., put on the coffee, ate a bowl of Grape Nuts while sitting out on the patio listening to ‘Carrie’s birds’ (term coined due to their relentless efforts to ensure that my sister could not sleep in past 7 a.m. while vacationing here). I gathered all of my belongings for the upcoming 4 ½-5 hour training day, which would include a 60 mile ride followed immediately by a 13 mile run- my last brick before taper. I set up my transition area with the fuel belt, visor, sunglasses, running shoes and iPod (Keith’s ‘workout’ mix lined up to help me get through the run), and a spare bag with a swimsuit, water, and of course, the workout staple PB&J as my reward for arriving at my running destination. As Matt pumped his tires, I took a quick peak at my email to see if I had anything interesting. Kyle had responded to my “I Rode 130 miles and it hurt, am I really ready?” email, with a thorough description of what may happen in the race as well as thoughtful advice and recommendations on what I need to be thinking about, finishing his email with “you’re going to crush it.”
Boosted by Kyle’s email, I hopped on my bike and Matt and I set out for our ride. The plan was to hit Hawi and then the scenic point at the upper north end of the island. The Queen K, perhaps the most famous road among triathletes, has been my training ground for the past 6 years of family trips to the Big Island. The road is fairly ideal with wide shoulders, a smooth surface, and spectacular views once you begin the last 20 miles into Hawi. We started at a steady 18-20 mph taking turns in front. We picked up the pace heading down a hill when Matt pointed to a rock in the road. I swerved to miss the rock and believe I hit another one (although it is all a bit blurry at that point). I remember screaming Matt’s name as I flew over the handlebars and onto the pavement. I sat up to assess the damage and saw the blood from my knee to my hip up my right leg. Phew, road rash, I could deal with that. Looking over my right arm, I saw more blood up near my armpit. How in the world did I manage that, I wondered?! The skin was also torn off my right hand, as to be expected since I wasn’t wearing any gloves. I felt a strange feeling in my left shoulder and sat there trying to understand where I was and exactly what had happened. Matt was by my side looking concerned, but calm. He asked if I could get up and I didn’t know why, but standing up didn’t seem to be something that I could master at that moment. He unzipped my jersey to look at my left shoulder. I noticed his expression looking a bit more concerned. He was finally able to help me stand to get out of the road and everything became a bit blurry as I passed out and fell to the road. At that point I was in a state of shock- feeling a bit frightened, cold, shaking, unable to function, repeating the question “what does this mean?” I felt absolutely no pain…the road rash, my head and the shoulder felt fine. “Matt, I’m fine, let’s go. I can ride”. Realizing that I wasn’t quite with it, Matt looked around to get help. All of the cars passing began to stop by this point. We called my aunt and uncle and they rushed to us to the ER. “It can’t be bad, I don’t feel any pain” I said over and over again. Bikes in the car, shorts ripped, collarbone protruding, cracked helmet, the four of us hustled up to the small town of Waimea to assess the damage.
I was fairly emotionally stable until my dad walked into the ER with his loving, supportive and sympathetic look. Tears flooded my eyes as we stared at the X-ray and the doctor explained that there was no chance of swimming for the next 8 weeks. Although I was not with it at that point, I was able to calculate that my upcoming Ironman in 22 days was no longer a possibility for me. As feared, I had broken my collarbone. After having a concussion it is customary to have a CAT scan to ensure that there is no swelling in the brain. Despite wearing a helmet, I had been knocked out cold and still managed to get a bump on m head. Thank goodness the CAT scan came out clear, but my lord, I don’t know how many more brain cells my poor head can afford to give!
Once the doctor had a clear idea of all of the damage I had done to myself, the next course of action was to clean the road rash. He described the process as a bit ‘medieval’ as he would be scrubbing the lava rock that had embedded itself into my leg, hands, arms and back. After a quick dose of pain killers, the nurse scrubbed away and wrapped me in gauze. My dad went out and purchased a cotton dress (AKA muumuu!) that I could wear home from the hospital.
March 8, 2007, a rock in the road and the path of life changes for me once again. I can’t get my head around the ‘why’ this may have happened after spending every waking hour of the past year thinking, planning, training, obsessing about the Ironman. As I sit here overlooking the ocean (anticipating the next whale jump), gauze pads and band-aids covering most of my body, a figure 8 harness that I’ll be sporting for the next 6 weeks (!), I have no option but to think through the positives…I had Matt with me, my helmet saved my head, I’m surrounded by family, I broke the best bone there is to break, there will be other races..I have to consider myself lucky.
The fact that I am in Hawaii, 7 weeks into a 7 month sabbatical of traveling around the world, doing an Ironman and riding the Tour de France course, it’s impossible to find one thing to complain about. The past 7 weeks have been about as ideal as I ever could have imagined. Visiting my mom and Dave in AZ, Jenni & Keith in WA and Lea and Amanda in OR, I’ve had the opportunity to really catch up with friends and family while supporting a rigorous training schedule. The upcoming months are on track to be once in a lifetime experiences. Joanne and Theresa, two of my closest friends from DC, and my mom are meeting me to travel around New Zealand and Australia and to support me in the race.
The training has been going perfectly- on track and injury free (thanks to physio help from Andy). Matt and I completed a 130 mile ride around the Big Island on Tuesday, greeted by my dad, aunt and uncle in the Volcano National Park. I completed my 2 hour 20 minute run around the Mauna Kea and Hapuna resorts last Friday, and have enjoyed regular swims in the ocean near the hotel. I have never done more to prepare or felt more confident about a race in my life and have just 1 brick and 1 long run before the backing off begins.
Enthusiastic for another perfect day on the island, I hopped out of bed at 6 a.m., put on the coffee, ate a bowl of Grape Nuts while sitting out on the patio listening to ‘Carrie’s birds’ (term coined due to their relentless efforts to ensure that my sister could not sleep in past 7 a.m. while vacationing here). I gathered all of my belongings for the upcoming 4 ½-5 hour training day, which would include a 60 mile ride followed immediately by a 13 mile run- my last brick before taper. I set up my transition area with the fuel belt, visor, sunglasses, running shoes and iPod (Keith’s ‘workout’ mix lined up to help me get through the run), and a spare bag with a swimsuit, water, and of course, the workout staple PB&J as my reward for arriving at my running destination. As Matt pumped his tires, I took a quick peak at my email to see if I had anything interesting. Kyle had responded to my “I Rode 130 miles and it hurt, am I really ready?” email, with a thorough description of what may happen in the race as well as thoughtful advice and recommendations on what I need to be thinking about, finishing his email with “you’re going to crush it.”
Boosted by Kyle’s email, I hopped on my bike and Matt and I set out for our ride. The plan was to hit Hawi and then the scenic point at the upper north end of the island. The Queen K, perhaps the most famous road among triathletes, has been my training ground for the past 6 years of family trips to the Big Island. The road is fairly ideal with wide shoulders, a smooth surface, and spectacular views once you begin the last 20 miles into Hawi. We started at a steady 18-20 mph taking turns in front. We picked up the pace heading down a hill when Matt pointed to a rock in the road. I swerved to miss the rock and believe I hit another one (although it is all a bit blurry at that point). I remember screaming Matt’s name as I flew over the handlebars and onto the pavement. I sat up to assess the damage and saw the blood from my knee to my hip up my right leg. Phew, road rash, I could deal with that. Looking over my right arm, I saw more blood up near my armpit. How in the world did I manage that, I wondered?! The skin was also torn off my right hand, as to be expected since I wasn’t wearing any gloves. I felt a strange feeling in my left shoulder and sat there trying to understand where I was and exactly what had happened. Matt was by my side looking concerned, but calm. He asked if I could get up and I didn’t know why, but standing up didn’t seem to be something that I could master at that moment. He unzipped my jersey to look at my left shoulder. I noticed his expression looking a bit more concerned. He was finally able to help me stand to get out of the road and everything became a bit blurry as I passed out and fell to the road. At that point I was in a state of shock- feeling a bit frightened, cold, shaking, unable to function, repeating the question “what does this mean?” I felt absolutely no pain…the road rash, my head and the shoulder felt fine. “Matt, I’m fine, let’s go. I can ride”. Realizing that I wasn’t quite with it, Matt looked around to get help. All of the cars passing began to stop by this point. We called my aunt and uncle and they rushed to us to the ER. “It can’t be bad, I don’t feel any pain” I said over and over again. Bikes in the car, shorts ripped, collarbone protruding, cracked helmet, the four of us hustled up to the small town of Waimea to assess the damage.
I was fairly emotionally stable until my dad walked into the ER with his loving, supportive and sympathetic look. Tears flooded my eyes as we stared at the X-ray and the doctor explained that there was no chance of swimming for the next 8 weeks. Although I was not with it at that point, I was able to calculate that my upcoming Ironman in 22 days was no longer a possibility for me. As feared, I had broken my collarbone. After having a concussion it is customary to have a CAT scan to ensure that there is no swelling in the brain. Despite wearing a helmet, I had been knocked out cold and still managed to get a bump on m head. Thank goodness the CAT scan came out clear, but my lord, I don’t know how many more brain cells my poor head can afford to give!
Once the doctor had a clear idea of all of the damage I had done to myself, the next course of action was to clean the road rash. He described the process as a bit ‘medieval’ as he would be scrubbing the lava rock that had embedded itself into my leg, hands, arms and back. After a quick dose of pain killers, the nurse scrubbed away and wrapped me in gauze. My dad went out and purchased a cotton dress (AKA muumuu!) that I could wear home from the hospital.
March 8, 2007, a rock in the road and the path of life changes for me once again. I can’t get my head around the ‘why’ this may have happened after spending every waking hour of the past year thinking, planning, training, obsessing about the Ironman. As I sit here overlooking the ocean (anticipating the next whale jump), gauze pads and band-aids covering most of my body, a figure 8 harness that I’ll be sporting for the next 6 weeks (!), I have no option but to think through the positives…I had Matt with me, my helmet saved my head, I’m surrounded by family, I broke the best bone there is to break, there will be other races..I have to consider myself lucky.
1 comments:
Lucky indeed. I am reading this almost four months after you posted it but can recall exactly where I was the day of your mishap...saying goodbye to my 92-yo mom who passed away that morning. Lucky indeed. Best of luck doing TdF.
Bob W.
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