Friday, June 15, 2012

Fittness Training is a Ball

So this is the second of the three posts, entitled Near Death, Death, and Rebirth. This one then, is Death.

So I found out I am a juggler, not a true juggler in the physical sense, but a "juggler of tasks." Most Moms, and over achievers/multi-taskers in general are nodding their heads right now. I did not know exactly how many balls I had in the air, until one day, they all fell to the ground, like lead cannon balls.

About a month ago, my Dad started to drastically slip away from us, and eventually he passed on. On a Monday evening (after work,) I saw him, and sat with him, while my Mom had an obligation. I went home (70 miles away) that night around 9pm, sure that we would be without him soon. On Tuesday, he went into a Hospice House. On Wednesday, while my children where at school, I drove there, and sat with my Mom, and Sister. I came home to get the girls off the bus, and to take my oldest to her softball game that night. On Thursday, he was gone, I drove to see him, be with my family, then back home to get the girls off the bus, and attend another softball game. Friday was filled with making arrangements, then back home to get girls off the bus, and another softball game. Saturday, our band had a gig. Sunday we had out of town friends at our house. Then the calling hours, and services, with trips home and back each day. Girl Scouts end of year ceremony, and picnic, more softball (proud my daughter was chosen to be on the All Star Team,) and my husband having shoulder surgery. Do you see a pattern here? Do you know why I dropped some of the usual balls? It was all I could do, to keep up with my "must do" commitments, there was no time for the luxury balls, like cooking, cleaning, oh...and training.

So for three weeks, I did what I could to attend to everyone's needs, and make all the commitments I had occur. This is who I am. It is who I have always been. I struggle with taking care of myself. It will be the last thing I say yes to, when the list is so long I can hardly see the bottom. So, in essence, when my Dad died, so did my commitment to myself, and my training schedule. And the new saying in our house is, "When you say "yes" to one thing, you say "no" to another." How was the queen of saying "yes" going to get her mojo back?!

Well, I did...and that is the topic of the next post...Rebirth. 

Thursday, June 14, 2012

The Battle of the Wills or the Hills

This is the first part of a three part blog I will post over the next three days.
This one shall be known as "Near Death"

On April 28th, I completed (barely,) The Flower City Challenge Duathlon, in Rochester, NY. At the time I signed up for the 5k, 20 mile bike, 5k, it seemed very doable, reasonable, and a honest progression for me, and my ability. I was actually excited to do this race. Well, little did I know how portentous the word "challenge" would turn out to be.
The day was a cold but clear 30F at the start. Anyone with Fibromyalgia knows what a challenge the cold can be for our muscles (and I will assume this is true of everyone to some degree.) Morning stiffness and pain is something I can address at another time, because since I had a restless night sleep, that actually wasn't an issue this day. The real challenge for me this day, was a tweaked left hamstring, which had been plaguing me since the previous weekend. I did go easy on it, the week proceeding the race, but "go easy" is a tricky high wire walk, when you are fighting fibro, as an athlete, who does endurance races. Pushing yourself is the very definition of what we do. So, it was that I found myself learning two lessons that day.
My fitness friend Rose, and I started out well enough. I can not speak for her, but I was a bit off, from the get go. I just had a wicked case of "the nerves." We did the first 5k, as well as we could, with my hamstring "talking" to me on each incline. It was a beautiful park to run in, and the distractions were plenty, but not in the way of other racers, we were alone.
We got through transition quickly and jumped on our bikes. The bike leg was 20 miles, and it was not so much the distance that was the issue, as the hills. Holy God in Heaven, the HILLS! Again, it was a very pretty route, but it was almost all at an incline. The steepness of some hills was amazing enough, but it was that they kept coming in that fashion, which turned out to be my demise. (Note to self, the elevation charts provided by the race organizers, are a VERY useful tool when training.) I was screaming and panting like a woman in labor (thanks to the hamstring) on some of them. I got to the one (we named it "Puke Hill," it was so steep.) I couldn't do it anymore. I got off my bike and stood, deciding how to continue. That's when I heard my first angel's voice from "The Sag Wagon," asking first if I was ok, and then saying, "Don't let this truck defeat you, or influence you in any way. This is your race, you do it your way." So I decided to get through it. I only walked that one hill. I still kept screaming and hollering, and then I reached the half way mark..."well I have to get back now." About one mile from transition, I heard my second angel (a little German man, who came out of now where, riding a hybrid bike, with an orange flag.) He must have seen the pain and anguish on my face, because he said, "There is no pain, there is only glory. Do you see that person in front of you, you can beat them, if you want to." He proceeded to talk me through shifting, and I caught up to "that person in front of me," my race partner Rose, my third, but most important angel. When I got off the bike, my legs where jello, my heart was not in it, I felt that I could not go on. Rose said, "You've got to at least try. Plus, I'm not going home with out a medal for all this." So off we went to tackle the final 5k, walking, some jogging, walking, etc. We actually didn't do that bad, all things considered. And we finished.
This was one of my hardest challenges to date. I am so grateful for my angels. When I had given up on myself, they hadn't. I hope you all have "angel" stories. It helps to know, that people, in this community, are so supportive. It helps me, to keep on keeping on.