Leaving my Pancreas in the Dust:

cromit (verb) – the act of wanting to cry or vomit

As of Sunday, I am finally and officially a triathlete thanks to the Smile Train Triathlon.  Last summer I decided that I wanted to complete a triathlon. That idea turned into an even crazier one – wanting to complete a full Ironman.  I have two more sprint tri’s lined up, one open water swim and then in October *cue dramatic music* a half Ironman and then hopefully a full Ironman in 2019. In the spirit of tri’s, I’m going to center this race report around the number 3 and 3 things from each part of the race.  

Pre-Race:

1. My alarm goes off at 5:55 despite the fact that I’ve been wide awake for several hours due to pre-race butterflies (more like dinosaurs stomping around) and I go over my gear for the 100th time. 
2. Upon arriving at the race sight I quickly realize that my unicorn bucket and bike helmet covered in pink flowers doesn’t fit in with the typical triathlete’s gear.
3. I began to learn that transitions in a triathlon is truly an art form and everyone has their own spin on it.  I spent a lot of time looking around and trying to copy what I saw other people doing.

Swim (250m):

1. As I was waiting to get in the pool, my main focus is trying not to cromit.
2. This tri was a pool swim.  All the athletes line up in number order (your bib number is based on how quickly you can complete the 250m swim – faster swimmers go first).  Brent, one of the sweet race directors, was waiting at the beginning of the pool to tell each person when to start. When he realized it was “the girl who was so nervous” he told me to “tell him when I was ready” and he would start my time.
3. On the bright side -The swim went well.  I am a pretty slow swimmer, but I’ve gotten to the point where swimming is kind of like walking – its relatively easy and a bit slow.  

Bike (12.2 miles):

1. I hate cycling.
2. I really hate cycling.
3. I really, really hate cycling.  

Run (3.1 miles):

1. Ah, running – the only aspect of a tri that I have any experience with.  I was so relieved to be able to put the little red devil back in the transition area and start running.
2. The run was hot thanks to the NC heat and humidity and running after biking makes your legs feel really heavy.
3. THE FINISH LINE!  The first photo was social media approved, the second photo more realistically shows how I felt at the finish.

Social Media Approved Post

Finish Line Reality

Top 3 things I would say to someone considering running a tri:

1. Get comfortable with the idea that you may want to cromit.  I am not new to race nerves and usually get a bit nervous before any race.  However, the nerves I experienced Sunday don’t even come close to the way I’ve felt before any other race.
2. Your first race should be a local tri that is advertised as being “family friendly” or “good for beginners.”  I was blown away by how nice and supportive everyone was Sunday. Multiple times the race directors told everyone that this was a family race and only positive attitudes were allowed on the course (If you live in the triangle – check out Smile Train next year!)
3. If I can do it – YOU can do it!

Since starting this blog I have had several people tell me that I am “an inspiration” to them.  I’ve gotten some of the sweetest emails from complete strangers telling me that they find my story “inspirational” and that they are cheering for me on my Ironman journey.  When I hear these comments, or read these emails, I am always flattered and touched by their sweet words; but, I never truly believe it because I don’t think I’m inspirational at all. 

 Last weekend I took an open water swim clinic and swam in open water for the first time.  Before I actually got in the water I was TERRIFIED. My heart rate was 110 as I was just sitting in my chair looking at the lake in front on me.  Once I actually started swimming those fears quickly subsided, but that was definitely not an inspirational moment. Later that afternoon I was supposed to run 8 miles and the last 5 miles turned into an ugly mix of run/walking because I was already beat from the 3 hour swim clinic and I forgot how terrible running in the North Carolina heat and humidity is.  Again, that isn’t even in the same ballpark as someone who is inspirational, instead – let me introduce you to Ellie, my inspiration.

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I’ve been blessed enough to have meet Ellie through the I Run 4 Michael (IR4) program.  IR4 is an online community where athletes “run for” people with special needs. I heard about the IR4 program a few years ago and fell in love with the concept of dedicating my runs and workouts to a kid who has special needs.  June 2016 I was so excited when I received a notification that I had been matched with a little girl! My IR4 buddy, who I usually refer to as my warrior, has Down Syndrome and spent the first 7 months of her life in and out of various hospitals.  She has had several major surgeries and too many medical procedures to count. When I think about my medical issues, and how traumatic they were for me, it’s hard for me to imagine all that Ellie has been through in only 4 and a half years. Last year I was planning to travel to Ohio to finally meet Ellie and complete a Spartan Race with her dad.  However, thanks to my pancreas that trip didn’t happen. I am so excited to say that in two weeks I am traveling to Ohio to meet my warrior and her awesome family. There is a 5k in her hometown that we will be doing.

The quote, “The struggle ends when the gratitude begins” helped me get through a lot of scary painful experiences last year.   I tried (not always successfully) to find things to be grateful for when all I wanted to do was throw a pity party for myself.  When I look at Ellie, I am filled with gratitude that I get to play a small part in her story.  When I look at Ellie’s parents I see a living example of finding gratitude and being thankful for the small things.  Ellie – I can’t wait to meet you this month! Thank you for being my inspiration, my push to run one more mile, and teaching me to run with my heart when my legs say no.

           Yesterday started out as a perfect day of triathlon training.  I ran 5 miles, swam 1000 yards, biked 16 miles and ended the day with a fractured ankle.  I wish I could say that I fractured my ankle by twisting it while I was running, or that I fell off my bike as I was swerving to avoid hitting the cute family of deer that was playing by the river.  Instead, the truth is – I fell going UP the stairs. Yes, I was going UP. I was literally on the first step when I lost my balance, rolled my ankle, and fell the catastrophic 10 inches back to the ground.

A morning trip to urgent care and x-rays showed a fracture in my lateral malleolus.  I spent the morning in the same spot (same urgent care and even same exam room) I did last January when my pancreas drama started.  As I was laying there waiting to hear if I was going to be out of training for weeks, or months, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander back 14 months.  I think a healthy dose of perspective can often be the key to staying positive when life isn’t going exactly the way we want.  In the grand scheme of things, a fractured ankle isn’t that bad and it could always be worse.  A few weeks off of training isn’t going to squash my Ironman dreams.  So, I’ll just be over here avoiding stairs and enjoying guilt free TV and Netflix binges over the next few days.

         As a self-proclaimed gym rat before my health struggles last year, I never struggled with feeling intimidated or unwelcome at a gym.  I would often brag about being one of the only girls in the free weight section and loved knowing that I could go to (almost) any run club and feel like I could hold my own.  Looking back now I realize how arrogant my attitude was and I was probably definitely part of the problem that I’m writing about now.  I recently overheard someone making fun of a girl for taking part in a bench press challenge because she didn’t have a lot of weight on the bar.  As I continued to eavesdrop it was obvious to me that this judgmental behavior was considered normal to this guy and his social circle, due to the laughter that ensued at his condescending statements.  

          Thanks to the jerk at the gym, the idea for this blog post was born.  Before I became sick, I always felt like the gym was a second home. However, after taking almost 8 months off last year, when I tried to return to working out – I felt like a foreigner in a different country.  I vividly remember how uncomfortable and out of place I felt. Several times I had people comment on how short my workouts were, and I heard, “I’m surprised you only showed up for 15 minutes.” Well, what that person didn’t know is how much pain I was in from my surgery and 10-15 minutes on any piece of cardio equipment was about all my stomach could handle.  Also, for some odd (very, very odd) reason after I had surgery I lost the ability to lift both legs up when I’m laying flat on my back. My physical therapist recommended some exercises I could do in hopes of building up my ab muscles again. Two separate times I heard comments about how “easy” the exercises looked followed by statements implying they were a waste of time.  I’m not implying that those people intended to hurt my feelings, it’s possible they had good intentions, however, their words were completely unnecessary since I didn’t ask for, nor want, their opinion.

           I decided to text several of my friends who I know are current members of a gym, or have been in the past to ask them if they have ever felt gym shamed (intimidated, unwelcome or embarrassed by comments others have said at the gym).  Below are some of their responses:

• “You’re doing a Spartan Race? How are you going to fit your big butt under the barbed wire?”
• “Aw, you’re so cute trying to lift the big weights.  Let me show you how it’s really done.”
• “I think you’re in the wrong place.  This is where we lift, not where Zumba happens.”
• “You can do all the cardio you want.  Until you stop eating all that fried chicken you’re never going to like the way you look with those fat rolls.”

Each quote comes from four different friends who attend four different gyms.   I’m a wellness coach at my gym one night a week and am now making it my personal goal to intentionally talk to members that are new.  I don’t want anyone to leave the gym when I’m on shift feeling unwelcome or like they don’t belong.  Besides, it doesn’t matter how in shape your body may be, if you are making fun of people at the gym – you’re a really ugly person.

           One of the scariest parts about setting my sights on completing a full Ironman is the fear of not actually being able to complete the race.  In a perfect world, I’d be able to actually compete, and not just struggle across the finish line – but I’ll be satisfied with just being able to finish.  When I registered for the October 70.3 race, I spent a good 15 minutes trying to decide if I should add the (rather expensive) insurance policy that would protect my registration fee.  I’ve never seen the need to add the insurance before because I am usually very confident in myself and my abilities to accomplish whatever goal I set for myself. However, since I became sick last year I struggle with the never ending less of “what if” questions that revolve around the fear of getting sick and being stuck in the hospital again.

         Shortly after I became sick, I decided that working out was pointless because all it does is build up your glorified sandcastle.  I developed this view when I realized that no matter how hard I had worked to keep my body fit, strong, and overall healthy – it still failed me.  Why try so hard to stay in great shape; when, you really can’t control your overall health? I battled the negative, self-defeatist attitude for several months.  I even walked out of a spin class after only 10 minutes because “it was stupid” and “why try if I can just lose it again”? I spent the remainder of the class in the locker room in tears while I waited for my friend to finish the class.  I took a break from the gym and refused to run unless I thought I was being chased (or if the ice-cream truck was near, of course).

             I was right in the middle of feeling sorry for myself when a friend told me that a local racing company, Fs Series was looking for running ambassadors.  She told me, “Sara, with your story this past year, you’re a shoo-in.” Their advertisement said that they were looking for passionate runners, and were interested in the heart of the athlete, not their race times.  I decided to fill out the application because Fs Series races were always my favorite ones to run. Surprisingly to me, but not to the friend that told me to apply, I received an email that I was selected to their ambassador team.  Before the first meeting I was really nervous because I knew that I was going to be in the company of some amazing athletes; and in my current physical state – I was definitely not in the same class as the other ambassadors.  However, thanks to the inspirational and encouraging people on the team, I’ve decided that I’d rather risk watching my sandcastle fade away than sit on the sidelines for the rest of my life.

           When I reflect on 2017, I feel like I could sum up the majority of that year with the word scars.  Internal scars from my life taking a drastic change from the path I had envisioned myself on, invisible scars on my left hand where a wedding ring once was, and most notable to an outsider – the scars a surgeon left all over my stomach.

            I was that weird kid who loved getting a cool looking bruise.  The darker and more colorful the bruise, the more excited I was.  That weird kid turned into an even weirder adult who will wear skirts to work the day after a Spartan Race to show off the cool battle wounds.  The amount I love bruises, is the amount I hate scars.  It took me about a week after I had surgery to work up the courage to look at my stomach.  I knew there were 3 small incisions, an incision that held a drain, and one 2 inch incision above my belly button (disclaimer – pics at the end of the blog, if you don’t like scar pictures, don’t scroll to the bottom).  I  started to become ashamed of the way my new stomach looked  because I knew my bikini days were long gone, and would frequently find myself staring at the scars with disgust and hatred.  I didn’t just hate the way they looked, I hated what they symbolized – pain and weakness.

           Around the time I was realizing how vain I was for placing so much emphasis on my stomach,  I heard a beautiful sermon that spoke about how scars and imperfections are often the most attractive traits about a person because every scar is a sign of healing – they show healing and strength, because what once was broken is now made whole.  As I was listening to the message I began to think about how when I view my life I often think about the broken parts, and ignore the strength that came from that brokenness.  My scars,both the physical and the emotional, have all worked together over the past 14 months to make me into a stronger, more resilient woman.  The journey that I have taken with not only learning to accept, but love and embrace my scars, is now fuel to my Ironman journey.  I’m looking forward to earning a few new bumps and bruises as I continue to train to earn the right to call myself an Ironman.