Unbreakable

The world can change in an instant.  Good or bad, everyone has been there: a letter of acceptance, an unexpected phone call, a diagnosis, a second blue line, a natural disaster, a question … an accident.  On October 5^th, I was riding along in the second portion of the ChallengeRancho Cordova 70.3 triathlon when my “instant” came.  With hundreds of miles in my training log, I was primed and ready for the “A” race of my inaugural pro season.  Though I missed the first swim pack, I had still swum a PR and at mile 41 was riding a solid negative split towards a bike PR as well.  My calculations had me in the top ten (money slot baby!) and my best leg was still to come.  I had just calculated that I was riding at about 25 mph when it happened.

Pre race day swim with Erin, Jill, and Abby

Just riding along innocently (Photo Cred: Freeplay Magazine)

 In compliance with USAT pro rules, I was riding near the center of my lane of traffic in order to avoid being directly behind a rider up the road; not surprisingly, this made more than a few drivers upset on what was a fairly narrow two lane highway.  One driver must have been in a particular hurry and felt the need to zip around me on a double yellow.  Cutting back into the lane, the truck clipped a large traffic cone placed on the center line sending it unmercifully in my direction.  I heard it happen but there was no time to react; the cone hit my front wheel sending me over my handle bars and landing me on the pavement.

Thought one: I have to get back on my bike.

Thought two: $*!# there’s a car coming.

Pulling myself to the side of the road, I had one of those movie moments where I heard the screaming before I realized it was coming from me and then couldn’t make myself stop.  But then the little miracles started.  In less than a minute, two or three other racers stopped, one who I couldn’t convince to get back on his bike and race (in my convoluted head I was still concerned about race rules regarding taking outside assistance).  In a completely selfless act, pro triathlete JasonWatson abandoned his own race to stay with me.  He was there as I began to sob with the realization that my day/season was over, he was there to take my bike from the scene and gather my things from transition, he tracked down my phone and made the necessary calls for me, and later stopped by the ER with fellow athlete (and my roommate for the weekend) JillianPeterson.  Three other vehicles stopped immediately as well.  The first person on the scene was a woman, who turned out to be runner extraordinaire Shawn Skillman, who had been driving the course cheering on athletes; she called 911, stayed with me until I was taken away, and has been checking in ever since.  Another driver, a man who had just finished his shift as a paramedic, stopped; I do not know his name or how to thank him but his quick spinal/cognitive checks helped to calm my fears before the ambulance arrived.  The final car that stopped was a pair of women.  They seemed to appear by my side out of nowhere saying, “We are Christians, is it ok if we pray for you?”  The women placed their hands gently on me, said a prayer and disappeared just as quickly as they had arrived. 

When the ambulance arrived, I was checked and loaded up by the exceptionally attractive Sacramento fire department and sent on a ride to UC Davis.  In hind sight, I was still in shock as I refused any pain medication, stating that I still had to drive home to Las Vegas that afternoon (ha).  Soon after I arrived in the ER, my friends Justin Hillman and Katy Fryer (who live in Sacramento and I had spent Thursday night with) arrived to be with me; they were my saviors over the next several days, getting my car and belongings from the race/hotel, bringing me some of my things (since all I had was a ripped up tri-suit), non-hospital food, and much needed support.  They also fed/housed my dad for the better part of a week after he arrived to be with me.  

Heading in to surgery

Some stupidly painful x-rays determined that I had a broken clavicle and elbow (the elbow had gone unnoticed for hours as I didn’t even start feeling it until I had been lying in the ER for a bit) and would be admitted into the hospital to await surgery.  For the record, waiting for surgery after a race is the worst; they don’t let you eat or drink anything – not fun when you started the whole thing off in a dehydrated state.  Because I was in a trauma center and some people have it wayyyy worse than me, I ended up not having my surgery until two days later; a six hour process that has left me with neat hardware in my shoulder/elbow and some sexy scars.

Good times on pain pills driving home from CA with my dad

While crashing was not fun, it has been a blessing in more ways than one.  First and foremost, I saw just how many people care about me as I have been surrounded by love and support by friends, family, and perfect strangers.  My father landed in Sacramento within 12 hours of getting the news so I wouldn’t be alone and he and my mother have been living with me ever since (it takes a lot of love to wash someone’s hair and paint their toes even when said person cries and takes their frustration out on you every day).  I have received cards and care packages from family, friends, the race director, and even customers both near and far.  My sponsor Hammer Nutrition checks in regularly and sent me a legit care package of recovery aids.  Even if Mom and Dad weren’t here, I know I’d be well taken care of as I have received countless offers to provide meals, rides, hair washings, and whatever else I may need; I think I was most touched when my friends Max and Michelle kidnapped me one night knowing I needed to get out of the house but was having trouble actually asking for help.  My race saviors as well as several other triathletes check in on me regularly and encourage me through the process.  My coach, MP Multisport, has of course been nothing but encouraging and supportive.  I’ve even had neighbors grab my mail and take out my trash!  The overwhelming amount of prayers and well wishes I have received both from friends and strangers through texts, calls, and social media has deeply moved me and helped to keep me in a positive mindset. 

Just a few of my lovely care packages

Hospital gifts

People think I'm a little nuts

... and they're right

I can’t pretend things have been all sunshine and daisies since the crash; I have hurt, I have been frustrated, I have had anger, I have felt hopeless, and I have cried (a lot).  But stronger than the pain or fear is a hunger.  Sometimes in heavy training, I used to picture how “nice” it might be to have an injury and sit on my bum for a few weeks.  Yet, within days of discharge, I was out on long walks/hikes (albeit slowly) because moving forward is part of who I am.  In the months leading up to my crash, I had begun to feel despondent, to treat training like a chore and racing as an event to be feared.  I regretfully admit that I had once again started falling into patterns of nitpicking my own imperfections and self-body-shaming.  In hindsight, I wonder if God knew I needed something big, something that couldn’t be ignored to snap me out of it. 

Be it fate, divine intervention, or simply coincidence, this experience has lit a fire in my belly.  I want to run like a mountaineer wants oxygen.  I want to feel the burning of my lungs and the protestation of every muscle that comes with training.  I appreciate now, more than ever, what my body has become capable of as well as the absolute gift that is the ability to be active.  So yes, I will continue to cry from time to time and I will undoubtedly be met with frustration as the rehab process truly begins but I will persevere.  I shall come back not only stronger but happier because my will is unbreakable. #getreadyforthecomeback

Recovery/ROM pics (10 days, 20 days, 30 days)

Never Quit.

#getreadyforthecomeback