And we begin again..

I hated 2014 as a whole. It was a year of loss and healing, of more downs than ups, of dark clouds hovering around me. By the end, I had finally found the strength to stand up and make things better for myself. I proclaimed things would be better from then on.

And they have been.

When I took that moment to choose a better outlook, a brighter view, a bigger heart, I changed everything. I was able to let go of the toxic people and things in my life, relaxing my tortured heart and soothing the chaos in my head. I was able to finally settle back into my own choices and discover what I truly wanted to do, the goal I wanted to set for myself rather than what someone else told me I wanted.

Getting into a wheelchair, then immediately into a racing chair with a marathon goal was just dumb... to put it simply. I mean, it helped to have that goal to have something to work towards, but it was too much, too soon. Unfortunately, the emotional state I was in after that marathon pushed me to just keep going on the path I already knew.. and I spent my year of healing simultaneously pushing towards another marathon and visiting the emergency room. My body was screaming at me to stop in every way it could find, but I was too stubborn and broken to listen. I pushed on. I caused more damage.

And so this year, my goal was to dip my toe into the world of triathlons. And I was going to do it to keep myself well. I created a schedule and I chose two goal races; the California Sprint Triathlon and the San Diego Challenge Triathlon with the Challenged Athletes Foundation. I followed my schedule well and I advanced just as I hoped.. I even stayed out of the emergency room! I got stronger, but I also realized when I needed breaks, which was a huge step up and probably my greatest lesson.

During all this, I got to know my new circle of friends better, made some great new friends, got more involved in some groups, and started playing new sports. I tried more new things in this last year than I have in a long time.

2015 was beautiful, so rather than tomorrow being a new beginning, I choose to continue on. I choose to keep advancing, both physically and emotionally. I choose to work on making myself stronger again once my doctor says I can (been on a break since the triathlon, then starting an acupuncture program.. more on that soon!). I choose to listen to my body so it doesn't have to scream at me again. I choose to keep using the smile I finally rediscovered about a year ago.

Like this one. This one is my favorite!

Go back...? I don't think so

It hits me sometimes when I look at older photos (especially running photos) that I should feel sad that everything is so different now. That one of those great pictures of me running fast enough to look like I'm levitating over a course or trail will never happen again. That the equipment I need to complete a race takes up most of my car. That I have to take into account so many more different factors before even signing up for a race.

Obviously, I have these thoughts. They run past each time I look at one of those photos, sometimes so fast it doesn't even quite register until the thought is already gone.

But do I feel sad? No.
Do I miss those times? Yes... and no..
Would I go back if I could? Probably not.

Something else that runs through my mind is noting the inhaler in my hands (or knowing it's tucked into a pocket or my bra) or the massive knee brace on my leg. Remembering the immeasurable pain every time I went past a 10K. Taking years to find the right shoes to help me run comfortably (then being able to run in them for only 2 years). The hopelessness every time I hit multiple walls during each race.

I also see the joy of just being out on various courses, the extreme pride of finishing races I shouldn't have been able to start, the perseverance of pushing past everything I wrote above, the strength I found and use every day now.

I don't feel sad because I'm still out there and moving forward.
While I miss just heading out the door for a run, I don't miss the pain I was in after.
And I'll be honest, if I could go back to an exact time of my choosing and have the promise that my body wouldn't rebel against me again, I'd think about it, but otherwise I think I've evolved as I should have.. extra devices and all.

Most of all, I wouldn't go back because the photos of then and now have one very important thing in common; my smile is the same. I may not levitate anymore, climb hills, squish through mud (voluntarily), or have a crazy mohawk.. but that joyous smile cannot be denied. I'm still active. I'm still heading out for adventures. I still have my running community cheering me on. I have no reason to wish I could run the way I used to. Besides, I wouldn't trade in the new experiences I've had or the new friends I've made the last few years for anything.

SDTC + Team Tsunami

If you're not smiling, watch that video again.... it was made by Aspen Medical products for Challenged Athletes Foundation at the San Diego Triathlon Challenge. And it perfectly illustrates why I requested my CAF grant take me to this event. My first big triathlon. Probably the only one. It was comfort to know I'd be surrounded by many athletes of all abilities and crew that knew exactly how to help.. or was at least comfortable enough to ask how.

To start off, I got some help to get my stuff from the hotel across the street to the start area (and caused quite the stir with a wheelchair and a regular bike), then got to see some friends that I generally only see when I head down to Southern California, aaaaand made a couple new friends. They even tried to calm me down a bit after I admitted I was still excited and terrified all at the same time.

Soon enough we were taken across the front of the stage as a parade of athletes, then over to the swim start. A volunteer helped me down the stairs and my swim handler sat in the sand with me until about 10 minutes before the start when I wanted to get in the water. And that's when the fun started; the current started pushing waves at us, rocking us onto the sand.. my handler and I were having trouble keeping me upright, so we headed a bit farther out so we could ride the waves instead of fight them.

we're on the left bobbing in the water a little before the start

I've become a lot more comfortable in the water since the sprint in June, but I was still afraid of the distance, so instead of sighting the buoys I just kept an eye on my handler and was comfortable just following him as he cheered me on and told me that I was doing great. The first time I stopped for a break, I was surprised to see that the first buoy wasn't too far away. I was quite proud of myself at how well I was doing.

But then we turned around the buoy and straight into the rolling waves. I made the joke at one point that we were on the "uphill" section and realized it was probably true when there were points that the waves were so high I couldn't see the next buoy. It was a hell of a fight to get me to the last turn, but we made there eventually. The waves were coming from the side now, until about halfway back on that side when the current turned to push into the cove, which was nice, but I was done. My handler coached me in with doable distances (it's only "this many" yards, which is only "this many" laps in the pool!).. always a good strategy with me because I announce that, of course, I can do that!

We did finally make it to shore with some extra cheering and a couple cameras videoing me. My handler tried to help me stand and that didn't work so a volunteer came over and grabbed my other arm. It was still a struggle to pull me up as I announced I wasn't going to be able to walk.... then a bunch of people were calling for me to look up and I did just in time to smile at a bunch of cameras. They helped to the stairs, where two other volunteers took over and carried me up the stairs and into my chair. I pulled off everything I could while another volunteer helped me pull off the top of my wetsuit.

We headed over to the transition area, where I started switching to my bike stuff while my handler went to find out who would be taking over for him. When he came back, I had just found the guy assigning handlers and was meeting my next handler while I was eating and changing all at the same time. My new handler made sure I had water and liked that I was already eating. We soon headed out and almost immediately had to go uphill. A few weeks before, my fear had switched from the swimming to the bike.. I wasn't sure if I would be able to handle the distance and/or the hills, but I had been doing really well so I headed right into this hill. It didn't last. I had to walk up most of it. That took a lot more out of me than usual, but we kept going.

Until the next hill. I had to stop entirely about halfway up. The course monitor came down and insisted he didn't want to discourage me, but reminded me that it was going to get harder. We hadn't made it to the big/long hill yet. Less than a mile out and not even out of the town yet, and I felt like I had already done at least half the ride. My handler came back down as the course monitor suggested we go ride the wheelchair course.. she reiterated that it might be bad for me to be out on the roads and I agreed that I didn't need to kill myself or anyone else, so we headed back through the town and picked up the wheelchair course. After falling into a bit of a rhythm, I was able to make it up some of the small hills without too much struggle and especially liked the downhills. We stopped at the top of a pretty steep one and I turned to see the wheelchairs coming at us, I even got to cheer for a friend as he passed by me.

On the way back in, I lost my uphill again. There was a point where I had to stop; my handler leaned our bikes against a tree so we could sit on the sidewalk and look out at the ocean for a bit. I finally decided I could make it back and I did pretty well this time. The volunteers tried to make me finish, but I eventually convinced them I still needed to run and we made it back into the transition area. I switched what I needed to, ate a bit more, and got to see a friend as my handler moved Tsunami into an open area. Being excellent at the cheerleader part of her job, she asked me if I was ready to do this! I immediately said no! She waited a few more minutes, then asked if I wanted to head out.. and I said absolutely not.. but did it anyway. It was a bit of a false start though because after we got out the gate I realized I hadn't taped my fingers; the tape was flapping on the bar I put it on earlier, so we just pulled over real quick.

The street was lined with so many people for the finish, they cheered loudly for me when they noticed me heading out. I really did need that as we went back out onto the course.. I was more tired than I should have been after swimming the swells, then fighting with the bike so much, and I needed help on the hills much earlier than I should have. I asked my handler to make sure I at least didn't tip backwards, but there were a few points where others came off the sidewalk to help. I found out later that she was waving people over to help push me up the hills. Right before we made it to that steep hill, a member of the crew stopped and said he had taken down the markers because they thought all the wheelchairs had finished, which is when I found out I must have been the only individual wheelchair participant (the rest were on relay teams) and I was even more glad I chose to shorten the bike portion. He felt really bad and offered to follow behind us. Neither one of us could pass that up and he started off with helping me up the hill, then caught up in the car. We made quick work of the course, the crew guy jumped out of the car whenever there was a hill that might dump me over (on one, he asked if I wanted to go fast then ran me up the hill, and on the next one he decided he needed a friend in a wheelchair to help with his workouts), and a little after we made the turn to come back, I made the comment that I was going faster in the chair than the bike. My handler agreed and also added that I look much cooler in the chair, especially on the downhill turns. Which os all I strive for, really ;)

After one more push up, we headed down into the finish area. I turned onto the grass and through the finish, where they loaded me down with a medal and water. It was so crowded I had to ask someone which way to turn for the transition area. A volunteer pointed me in the right direction and one of new friends helped push me over the grass and into the transition area. I changed my shirt, asked another new friend to take my picture, then cleaned up my area so I could go into the festival area to look for a friend and my handler, hoping to be able to thank her. I didn't find either one, but did grab some pizza and one of the last appointments at the massage table. My masseuse asked what I needed and I asked her to just make it all better (I did finally specify definitely my shoulders and back, and if she could get into my hip). We worked together to get my hip worked out and I ended up doing pretty well; doctors have not been nice over the years, so I jump away anytime someone touches my hip.. she very patiently earned its trust and was able to make it feel quite a bit better. And even more with my upper body.

I made my way back to the transition area and asked for some help with Tsunami and Raptor... a woman came with me to take Raptor, and someone else ended up taking Tsunami from me. They took me all the way up to my room and stored them for me, with much thanks. I took a quick shower then headed back down for one more round through the area. I happened upon the friend I was looking for earlier, along with another one and got to talk to them for a bit then was pointed in the direction of more food. I never did find my handler, but I did run into a few more friends as I made my way back to my room.

Finally settling down in my room, I was glad to have chosen this triathlon. It was one of my better ideas lately. During the sprint, I was part of a team and it was great to be in that environment, if only in small part; this was the same feeling on a larger scale. Everyone there, athletes, crew, handlers, volunteers, spectators, were there to support and encourage challenged athletes wether they were one, with one, or not. It makes for an incredible environment where everyone believes anything is possible. Despite the trouble I was having, everyone I came across worked to make sure I got to finish. It may not have been what I planned for the last six months, but with everyone's support, it didn't matter. What I did was a feat in itself. I didn't give up and everyone believed in me.

Complete strangers believed in me the same way all my cheerleaders in spirit did, to the point that I actually heard those familiar voices mixed in with the crowd, pushing me through each transition and into the finish. In the end, I did about 22 of the 55 miles in just over 4 hours. And I'm calling that a big win for me..... aaaaaand the next time I go to the #bestdayintri I'll go with a team.

Anyone interested? I'll take the swim.... and that's gotta be the biggest win for me out of the whole day! ;)


(Sorry for the sudden lack in pictures... I didn't take any except the last one, so I've been relying on the awesome photographers that were there. The finish line photos are still forthcoming and I may have ended up on some friends cameras, I'll post them if/when I get them!)

Team Sports

I have never been one for team sports... I actually kind of hated them. For a long time.

Back when I was six or seven, I decided I wanted to play baseball so my mom dumped me into Little League with my brother; she figured she was already there for my brother so it worked. I only played for one year. Despite being upset about not playing anymore at the time (Mom pulled us both because of problems with my brother), I realized years down the road that I had hated it.

I was one of two girls on my team and we were both pretty good.. for six year olds anyway. I could hit the ball pretty hard, I could run pretty fast, and the coach put me in the outfield because I could throw the ball from the edge of the outfield and at least get it damn close to the infield. The boys hated all this. Every little thing I did wrong was brought up over and over. Excuses were made for the things that I was better at than them. And I was too shy at the time to stand up for myself. Even though I was used to this kind of thing from my family (you may remember a past post that started with being told I couldn't do the same things the boys did), I thought being on a team meant we would be working together.

I wasn't on a team. I was a girl in a boy's world, in a time that was just beginning to recognize that girls could do these things too.... but not with the boys. Bobby Sox had just started taking off in my area and I was told that's where my place was. I didn't want to play softball and was made even more of an outcast because of it. I didn't belong with the boys or the girls. I officially hated team sports.

That hatred was reenforced in PE at school in later years. Teenage and pre-teen boys don't take it well when a girl hits harder, kicks farther, runs faster.. whatever. The excuses started up again. One day in 7th grade, we were playing baseball and the teacher decided the girls had to hit a softball. After an argument, she conceded that we could choose; I chose the baseball. And hit the damn thing into the next field. One of the boys (on my own team!) immediately spent the whole time I ran the bases ranting about how the softball bounces off the bat and makes it go farther and he could hit a softball that far too. As I passed home base and headed back into the line, I simply told him I hit the baseball; I was then challenged with "I bet you can't do that again". I did. For some, I was outcasted yet again, but luckily others were a bit more open-minded and called the boy out on how far he hit the ball.

At the beginning of 8th grade, my knee became a problem and I had a free pass to sit out or "take it easy" if I deemed it necessary. At this point, I longed to play again even though it wasn't socially acceptable in my circle of friends.. I had been the only one to grow up so active and my free pass was a coveted thing. The gender segregation happened more than I was comfortable with, but it at least meant I wouldn't be fighting with the boys. One quarter in 9th grade, a friend and I (but mostly her) gathered enough girls to play flag football because the teacher wouldn't let us play with the boys. He was shocked that his challenge backfired on him, but admitted by the end that we did pretty good. That same year, I was pursued by the softball coach (with the help of my dad) to try out for the softball team. We had a small group of girls that seemed to be on every girl's team (and treated everyone like the boys had treated me over the years) and each sport had their stars; I only liked one girl on the softball team, so I simply let it pass by, but I did enjoy "practicing" with my dad.

After high school, I didn't do much between work and school, but the store I worked at did have baseball games with our rival store once or twice a year. It was co-ed and happy to be, and despite the rivalry everyone worked together to just have a good time, except when the other store demanded a "sober rematch" after one of these events... it was encouraged to take a drink before heading out on the field and it seems we just did that better. And I looked forward to these games.

Then my second knee surgery came along and at age 22, I was promised a knee replacement in my future. I was convinced I needed to get active again, make my body healthy again, be stronger in general, that if I didn't get active I would be heading for more surgery and it would get harder and harder to recover. I gravitated towards solo sports; biking at first, then fate stepped in and introduced me to marathons. Despite being slow and sometimes in massive amounts of pain, I loved it. I was active and even though I trained with others, my own skills only affected me. I could cheer for others, run with with friends, but at the end of the day I was on my own. My finishing was up to me. And I stayed with those solo sports for the next 8 years. When I had to stop running, I immediately looked into ways to continue those same sports; got a racing wheelchair, got on the bike more, found a place to kayak, figured out how to keep hiking...

I never looked into team sports for wheelchairs. But they found me...

The guy at the community center that let me borrow my first racer tried to get me to come play basketball, but I resisted. I started talking to others and hearing about more sports, seeing the videos. That longing came back; despite all my physical and mental setbacks, I do think I was made for sports. As my world went crazy last year, I knew it was a time to start over again; when I started running, it had been a leap into something new, something on my own, something to continue pushing myself out of my comfort zone, something to force me to meet new people without a buffer. It worked then and I was going to do it again. I stumbled into the right groups on Facebook and starting signing up for sports clinics. First was wheelchair lacrosse, then sitting volleyball, and most currently wheelchair basketball.

The experiences with these sports has been mostly the same; everyone working together to reach goals, encouragement in successes, and advice to fix mistakes and/or to get better. That first day with lacrosse was my first time playing a team sport in many years and the first in a wheelchair; I spent the day learning and getting help from the coaches and more experienced players, I cheered with everyone else when anyone caught the ball, had a good pass, or made a goal, even when we were on opposing teams. At the end of the day, I was called a natural and some didn't believe that I had never played the sport in any capacity.

The sitting volleyball clinic came a couple months later and I have been playing ever since. Practices are spent learning, improving on skills, and trying to make my brain work faster to put it all together in play. When I make a mistake during drills, I get advice and repetition; when I make a mistake during a game, I'm given my dramatic moment, then I'm encouraged back into the game. Despite the competition, we're all still working together. During a recent tournament, it was the same... it was a fun day and I learned quite a bit. The competition was definitely there, but it was a relief to see how much fun everyone was having.. one team even danced between almost every play. The only pressures put on me are my own, but I have learned to not make it a negative pressure, just a simple push forward to be better for the sake of being better.

A few weeks ago, wheelchair basketball was finally placed in front of me again. I had been dancing around it for some time, but never actually going to play. I went to BORP's Opening Day and was able to jump in when they introduced basketball. By the end of the day, a couple friends asked me if I was going to join their practices and I was hooked. I have been there twice and both times have been basically like the volleyball; teaching me about the game as we go, improving skills and advice on how to do things better, including me in strategies, and cheering me on when I do things well. I can't shoot well (but I'm working on it!) and I'm still working on moving with the ball, but I seem to be good at rebounds, jumping into the fray to be at the right place at the right time, and rushing down the court to get in the other team's way. The guys don't care that I missed a shot, just that I tried. My first day, they even slowed the game down a bit when I had a chance to shoot so that I could get a feel for it.

I find myself looking forward to the nights I get to play these sports, to seeing the people I play with that are quickly becoming friends, to the camaraderie of being on a team.... and something my very competitive family would never have taught me, celebrating everyone on the court because they're doing something special.

And they're turning this jaded solo athlete into a team player.

Missing

Last night I dreamed that I was running through a forrest barefoot... practically frolicking. Over the trails, through streams, up rocks, it was beautiful. And I woke up in a rather calm state, but then I had to stand up and my reality came crashing back. Don't get me wrong, I have accepted and am comfortable in my current life, but that doesn't stop me from wishing things like being able to just walk out the front door without the varying extra stuff I need now. It's usually a fleeting wish of the simpler life I used to live not long ago and took advantage of every day until it was gone.

But the one thing I would take back without question is my random ramblings through the trails (barefoot or not).. my Family Circus wanderings until I got tired and pulled out my map to figure out where I ended up and how to get back to my car. Those adventures are what I miss the most.

And none of the new adventures I've discovered come close to that, but I'll keep looking!

On another note, a different missing piece has been pressing on me lately. It was about this time last year that I was losing or had lost some friends. I had spent almost a year in a hellish daze, trying to pull myself back to the surface and some friends I had counted on had enough. Some walked out quietly, some pointed out all the negative my life had become.. those ones took a long time to get past. It's hard to overcome it when you're already trying to heal and those close to you are trying to convince you that you've become (or had been, in a couple cases) a selfish and horrible person. Some days, I still have to take a moment to remember the fun we had or the nice things I did in order to get past the person I last saw.

I find myself missing the friends I had before they focused on my negative moments and/or qualities (however numerous they were at that point), and only wish they would talk to me. My deepest wish is they would share one last moment with me, a lunch maybe. Only one more moment because while I miss them, I have accepted that we were removed from each other's lives for a reason. That we served our roles for each other and we're now on separate paths that may or may not meet up again.

But I would still like that moment of closure that I never got with most of them.

Also just a moment because I just don't trust them with my still fragile heart. My heart that is so much stronger than it was a year ago and still healing a bit more each day, but will never be rid of that large crack down the middle or the small fissures from putting it back together so many times. I'll never be the person I was a few years ago, but today, in this moment, is the closest I've felt in a long time. And tomorrow will be closer still.

I just want those who used to consider me a friend to see it, to be proud of what I've done for myself. To have that moment together to see what we used to be.

And let it just be.

That Moment...

I made this infographic a few months ago for my new doctor (and future ones) because it was getting too hard to make sure I remembered and was able to communicate everything I needed to. I always felt like I left a doctor's office forgetting something that might have been the key to the answers I wanted. My new doctor was overjoyed by it so much, she wanted to make a copy and immediately shoved it away in my folder when I told her she could keep it. As I made this and found everything that needed to be on there and looking for dates for everything, it was a hell of a punch to see what I live with every day... but then it was a comfort knowing everything was right there waiting for the right person to read it all (hell, spread it around if you think you know someone that can help!).

The last thing I added was the chart of my wheelchair/cane/crutches use. That chart has haunted me since I made it; it was hard to really see how fast my legs had declined to the point that my wheelchair had taken over and my cane was now nowhere to be seen. In my last post, I had written that I have accepted my chair as my current first choice, the mode of transportation I want most.

The decline still hurts, though.

But something recently made it better.

This was my fourth year participating in San Lorenzo's Relay For Life and every past year, I have upped my distance by at least one mile. The week before, I had to admit (and accept) that likely wasn't going to happen this time. At the end of the 24 hours, I had gone 16 miles; one mile less than my first year, and all but three was with Saber. Using my crutches was usually a moment for me stretch out my body or, in the middle of the night, a gamble on what hurt less.

As I rolled through that last lap trying to use as little of my left hand as possible (I had at least three new sensitive calluses on that hand), it settled on me how much Saber had accompanied me throughout the Relay and how little desire I had to use my crutches.

Mostly, I smiled in realizing I had almost made the same miles as my first year, which were all on foot (or in a wagon..). I was equal to my years-ago self.

There's this stigma that falling into the "disabled" category makes you less than able, pushed on by the label itself.... even when you're living through it and pushing to prove all the things you can still do, it's hard to let that go. It's why I've spent so much time trying to stay on my feet. It's why it's been hard to accept this new world that I'm in. It's why the stubborn side of me trying to hold onto the past kept winning out for so long. And now I have proof right in front of me; I move differently, but I'm still able to match, well... me.

That moment when you have no choice but to admit that you're still you, no matter what changes you've gone through; big or small.

The Time It Takes....

This post has been festering in my brain for a weeks, but a few things have finally pushed me into actually writing it. To admit this out loud.

At this point in my life, I choose my wheelchair. It is where I am most comfortable.

This started a few weeks ago when one of Saber's tires blew and I didn't have an extra (was never able to afford to spend that money, but rest assured my parents stepped in on that.. I now have two new tires and an extra). I ended up waiting just over a week for the new tire to come in and was forced to use my crutches during that time. I was grateful that I had just done any shopping I needed to do right before this happened because I pretty much avoided going anywhere that required me to walk much... my biggest outing was to play sitting volleyball and even that was rather harrowing because it was near the end of the week of crutches and I was just so frazzled about the whole thing at that point.

It was when I went to get my replacement tire at the bike shop that had helped me last time this happened that I realized why I missed having Saber so much. The gentleman helping me said he was being careful with the tire for various reasons and my unheeded response was "yes, please don't break my tire.. I am so tired of being upright." I said this with my usual dry wit while leaning heavily on my crutches, wandering the room in fear of my leg getting angry if I stopped, and in much more pain than usual. We both laughed at the comment, but it soon began ricocheting around my brain.

I wanted my chair?
It was an unconscious choice?
I missed zipping around on four wheels?
I hate walking?

A year ago, I had friend accuse me of resisting the chair and my response had been that it merely wasn't my first choice; and I was still in such medical limbo that I didn't want to settle, that if there was hope I could walk, I was going to hang onto it. Don't get me wrong, I still hope my leg can be fixed and I'll be able to walk normally.. hell, I'd be happy with a cane. I think the shift has come in living in the present, in handing myself the argument I have been giving the doctors for years; whenever they tell me I'm too young for certain procedures (namely, the constantly denied knee replacement), I argue that my life is limited now, that the things I want to do while I'm young won't miraculously become possible when I'm much older just because they finally give me a new knee.

I have been in or heard a few conversations about mobility lately, and those are what pushed me to write this. I saw a post to a friend about the exoskeleton allowing a wheelchair user to walk, but my friend stated that he didn't like the unnatural and cumbersome device and preferred to put in the work and be able to someday walk on his own; I brought up hating my crutches because they slow me down, cause pain, and are also unnatural and cumbersome... it became a moment of not wanting to walk by any means just for the sake of walking.
   I was harassed by someone who thought I wasn't handicapped enough to use my placard, simply because he only saw me standing and that I was getting on a bike. As I struggled on that ride (more uphill than I had expected), I thought about all those times I had to be convinced to use a wheelchair or a scooter to help me get around because I had the same thought... other people needed those things more than I did or I was able enough to make it through the day. I have slowly realized that there will always be people that need something more than me and I may be able, but that doesn't mean I need to suffer through when help is at my fingertips.
  I listened to the Special Mouse Podcast about Disney's bus transport (finally!)... near the end, the topic moved to the stigma of renting a scooter or wheelchair and it hit home for me. There were a few times before I got Saber that I used a scooter or wheelchair in the parks. At first, it took much convincing on my friends' parts, then continuing to ignore the looks of others trying to determine what was "wrong" with me... and the huge difference when I was obviously using my own chair rather than a rented one. Misconceptions, people. It's holding us all back. You never know what obstacle someone else is working through, first impressions are rarely correct.

And that brings me back to the ricochet....
Yes, I wanted my chair. It makes me feel more capable, more independent, more free.
Yes, the choice filtered in when I wasn't paying attention, as I went about living.
Yes, I missed the speed Saber provides me, rather than the slow carefulness of my horrible limp or leaning on sticks strapped to my arms.
Yes, at this point I hate walking.. at least for more than around the house or to and from the car. It hurts; not only me, but those that care about me and have admittedly had to fight from jumping up to help me because it's obvious how challenging moving that leg forward is.

I refuse to give up walking altogether while it's still a possibility for me, but when it comes down to it, you're going to see me with Saber more often than not. And I'm more than okay with that.

First Triathlon ever!

Back in April, I received my welcome packet to Team CAF, which means the grant I applied for with Challenged Athletes Foundation had been approved and I had asked them to get me to the San Diego Triathlon in October. And that meant I better get training.. I have always wanted to do a triathlon, but it became one of those unattainable goals.

Swimming was the scariest part (still is!) because I have never swam for distance. Ever. Fortunately, Team RWB had connected with a triathlon coach and I was able to make it to a clinic with him, and I have plenty of friends that I could ask questions. Shortly after I received word about Team CAF, I was put in touch with BeBoundless/No Limits Collaboration, who was putting together relay teams for California Sprint Triathlon with at least one challenged athlete on each and they were happy to welcome me to the team when I asked if I could join as an individual participant.

During the next couple months, I inadvertently convinced a friend to sign up as well, I found somewhere to swim (Hayward Plunge) and trained up to 1000 yards, I met another CAF athlete who gave me some information on getting a sponsored wetsuit from Xterra (got it less than a week before and was able to get in one open water swim with it), and I found out a friend was also going to be there for her first triathlon. I also got some great information from the race director.

I had a team, I had friends, my parents were talking coming to see me finish.... and I was still scared out of my mind. This is a post I wrote after picking up my packet:

Picked up my triathlon packet tonight... and I don't think I'm ready for this. Physically, I think I'll be okay; I mean, I believe I'll cross the finish line. It's mentally that I'm having a problem with. I have wanted to do a triathlon since even before I got active, something about it just always appealed to me. 

But my legs sucked, my lungs sucked, and I had no confidence in my abilities. It became an unattainable goal. When I did get active, completing a marathon moved out front.. and that took 8 years. After getting into the chair, I completed my first marathon after only a year. I watched as many friends completed triathlons and that unattainable goal seemed like it should be in my reach. Then the Challenged Athletes Foundation went and believed that I could do this and approved my grant request, you all gathered around me and agreed with them... and then beBoundless (Erin, I'm blaming you for this wink emoticon ) came out of nowhere with this sprint that worked great with my training, so I signed up for it... and it's on Sunday.

It came at me pretty fast. I was probably a little shell shocked at the packet pick up tonight, but I got to see Ken for a few minutes and the race director gave me some hints and plans for the day. I'll have friends there (just like all my other first races!) and I'll have a team... but I'm still absolutely terrified that it's finally here..

And even more excited that it's finally here!

Antonette, my other first timer, found me while I was waiting for a volunteer to help bring Raptor (my bike) over

The morning came at me fast, but I was quickly distracted with talking to friends, making new friends, meeting my team, and meeting Heather, the woman that would be helping me through the day. Once everything was settled, I got into my wetsuit and headed towards the water with Heather and Johannes, our team photographer... who was talking about how hard the swim looked while Heather reassured me I was going to do great. I eventually made the comment that I didn't like him, to which they both chuckled.

Part of the BeBoundless team

And my team of friends! George, Antonette, and (pictured later) Chris

There were 12 challenged athletes, so we got our own start. I hadn't realized what time it was by the time I got to the water, so I had rush over to the start and just headed out towards the first turn. The fright turned on me about halfway to the first turn (we were swimming in a triangle) and I was convinced I wasn't going to be able to do this. Stubbornness pushed me on and I made it to the first buoy, I was a third of the way through the water and I thought I might be okay. There were enough people around me now that I was getting nudged every now and then, some even made sure I was okay; I even checked on one that I had run into while swimming on my back. Then about 100 yards from the second turn, on my back again, I was run over by someone that didn't even pause as I coughed up some water (I later found out that I lost all but one earring on that side and got a bump on the side of my head). It took a minute to recover, but I made the last turn and spent the rest of the swim convincing myself I was going to make it to shore. As soon as I made it close enough to the BeBoundless volunteers I called out to help me up. One came over and started to pull me up, asking if I was okay.. an emphatic "no" came out as neither one of us was ready for me to not be able to help stand up. Another volunteer came up on my other side and they hauled me up and over to the shore, where Heather was waiting to take over to get me to the transition area.

I made a very proud and unbelieving announcement that I had finished the swim. We went straight to where Raptor was patiently waiting. While I was sitting on the ground taking off my wetsuit, Heather was finding the things I needed to put on and George called to me as he ran through the transition past me. As soon as I was ready, Heather reminded me that I had to walk my bike through the transition area, so I held onto her and Raptor to get over the the Mount Line; as we were walking over, volunteers were calling out about the line and I asked Heather if someone just told me "to go the mountain lion"... I may have been a bit delirious already.

At the line, I saw that I was immediately going up hill (that's awesome!), got on the bike and headed up. It was just a quick hill to get out of the park and I done it a couple times while I was training, so it wasn't so bad. 

Yeah... that's the "ooohhh.... uphill!" look

I have to say, it's rather strange riding in wet shorts and bra with those trying to dry quickly while my previously dry shirt is now getting wet. It took me the first mile or so to find my rhythm on the bike, but then I was able to move a bit easier. Most of the ride is pretty flat and basically just loops around the park. At almost three miles, I passed someone from BeBoundless that looked like she was pretty new to the hand cycle and I happily cheered for her. A couple miles later, I was passed by a BeBoundless tandem team, cheering as they went by. I kept them in sight until we got to the hill that stopped us both up; they were able to push up, while I had to get off and walk. It was downhill after that, so they were gone before I made it to the top. The downhill was a good rest time.. I figure downhills are a good time to give the working leg a rest, I like to call the time non-working leg to work (by using gravity, of course). The rest was good to get me in the last couple miles, along with the two ladies volunteering at one of the last turns, dancing and cheering as they told me to turn right. As I'm not quite used to Raptor's new road tires, I took the turn pretty slow, and was rewarded with more cheering.

So happy coming down the hill!!

As I was coming towards the park entrance, there was a line of cars trying to get in to park (they were being routed around because we were using the entrance) so I started looking for my mom's car. I thought I saw my dad's truck, but wasn't sure until a camera suspiciously started coming out the passenger side window for this picture.... my mom said she was watching in the mirror and knew it was me when saw only one leg moving.

I made it to the dismount line (more mountain lions!) and surprised the volunteer there by stopping to get off the bike, most get off while the bike is still moving. I even asked him to hold my handlebar while I got off... I never trust my leg when I finish a ride and usually have a house or a car to save me if I start to fall. He held on asked if I was okay, watching me out of the corner of his eye as he watched for more people coming up behind me. I told him I was okay and thanked him as I started back into the transition area, where Heather was running towards me to help me back to my stuff. In this transition, I just needed to take off my helmet, eat and drink a bit more, put my Garmin in my pocket, and grab my crutches.

On our way out, Heather told me I was setting the pace and I told her it was going to be pretty slow.. looking at my times later, it wasn't too bad; about 15 minutes slower than my most recent and flatter 5K, but I think that's pretty good after swimming and biking! Less than a mile in, we got to see Antonette coming in on her bike and we met my favorite volunteer of the day; a woman I saw directing running traffic as I passed the trail on my bike, she was practically jumping up and down as she cheered and directed. When we passed through, she was specifically calling out numbers and took full advantage of the extra time it took me to get past her. I saw some Team RWB volunteers, and Chris passed by us a little after that. Many runners passed by cheering for me, especially when I was traversing the hills with my crutches and being closely followed by Heather with her hands at the ready to help me; I had initially asked for help because of the gravel and steep-ish hills on the course and I slipped a couple times near the beginning so her PT training was on high alert.

As we were coming back on the out-and-back section of the loop, Antonette was running up the hill. As it has happened many times in past races, it was really good to see a familiar face and hearing my name called out. She caught up a little after we passed the two mile mark and walked with us for a bit, we had a discussion about how much water we swallowed during the swim, then she headed for the finish as I told her to keep kicking ass.

After that, we only had a little over half a mile to the finish. As we came down the trail to the last turn onto the pavement, my dad was standing at the bottom smiling at me, which was also really great to see. On top of that, George came from the side proclaiming how tough I was and wanting to be me when I grew up: I told him not to grow up. Then as we were walking next to the grass, I wondered out loud where my mom was... (she could spring out from anywhere!) she was standing in the shade with her camera already pointed at me.

After that, I told Heather I knew the finish was close, but I wasn't sprinting until I could actually see it. We knew it was really close when we saw a lot of orange shirts coming up and it turns out they were waiting for me on the final turn to the arch; and they were loud, especially when I started my sprint.

I know, not exactly a blur, but still impressive ;)

Heather ran in with me and Chris passed me right at the end

I got a cold towel on my neck, got a picture with Heather, and decided I really needed to find Saber. Right before this picture, my mom asked me how I did and I told her I didn't drown, didn't get hit by any cars, and didn't fall down any hills.. so pretty good!

We got back to the transition area, where Heather congratulated me, I thanked her for putting me back together a few times and making sure I didn't fall down any hills, and she left me with my parents so she could check in with her carpool. I loaded up my bag and hung it on the back of my chair, my dad took my bike and crutches, and my mom picked up my wetsuit ("Oh, it smells!" Yeah, it's rubber and covered in goose water..).

On the way out, I saw the woman that had been in the hand cycle and told her she did really great out there; she thanked me and told me it was really hard, and I told her that means she did even better! Johannes then came over and said he knew I thought he was an asshole (I denied that I actually said that) because of his comments earlier about how hard the swim looked, but he was officially impressed at everything he had seen the BeBoundless team accomplish that morning, then asked if he could get one more picture of me. As he walked away for the picture, another teammate I hadn't met earlier, Theo, stopped to introduce himself and we congratulated each other for our accomplishments. Then the race director stopped to congratulate me on my finish.. I had been able to talk to him and get some advice at the packet pickup, so he knew I had been scared out of my mind and was happy to see that I had finished well.

It's always so great to meet more challenged athletes, especially as they're just getting started in the adventure of sports

Johannes made sure to get a picture of me with my medal!

I'm very proud at what I accomplished at this race. Originally, I had signed up to see how my transitions would work, but it turned into a test of will as I realized how frightened I was. I was still calling the tri in October my first, but this race became just as important and triumphant as any of my other first races... my medal hasn't left my side for long and I wore the race shirt for most of the week afterwards (and I'm ready to do laundry again so I can have it back). 

I'm still amazed at what I did, what my team did, my friends, hell, everyone at that park that morning; athletes, volunteers, the race company, aides, supporters.... I've participated in a lot of races and know that absolutely everyone helps to pull each one off, but this was the first time I really saw how very important each and every person was. I can go out for a run, or a swim, or a bike ride, but to do it all together by myself would be practically impossible. And I am supremely grateful for everyone that put this together; the race company and the leaders of BeBoundless... and everyone that volunteered to come out and help, support, and/or cheer us on. I now look forward to being able to volunteer, myself; I immediately volunteered for the next triathlon coming up in August!

PC Protest

I know I'm supposed to be up-in-arms about this, but I went to a job interview the other day where I was asked straight out "tell me about the wheelchair.. all the time, some of the time..?" I paused just a moment because I'm used to some form of the tiptoeing questions like "did you read the job description?", but then I was happy to tell him I could stand, just not for long, and that I would always exhaust my various adapted options before I determine I cannot do something. He even asked if I had medications that would affect my abilities on the job, to which I very matter-of-factly told him if I had to resort to those I would have already called out.

Now, I know this is a thin line to walk and everyone is just erring on the side of "oh my gosh, they might be offended if I point out that they're different!", but I have been trying to find a job for over a year now and I rarely make it past that first meeting.. which is usually rather uncomfortable because all they want to do is ask about my abilities or I scare them by bringing it up myself.

Let's back up a little bit, to the tiptoeing questions... Really? Did I read the job description? This is the most popular one, as it's a simple way of asking if I think I can do the job. However, whenever I hear it, sarcasm fills my head and I have to fight from saying "no, I'm just out to waste everyone's time.. I randomly go online and fill out as many job applications as possible because I love going to interviews and I need someone to talk to. Plus I love talking about myself to strangers." I have learned to internalize the look of disappointment (I hope!), take a breath, and tell them that I did read it. Unfortunately they haven't had the same opportunity to school their disbelieving expressions and I know I will never hear from them again.

Let me get up on my soapbox for this next part....

WHY IS IT OKAY TO ASK ANYONE ELSE WHY THEY SHOULD BE HIRED AND WHAT ABILITIES THEY HAVE?! Think about any interview you have gone to.. you were asked what skills you have, what made you the person for the job, if you could work whatever equipment the job required, if there was something that would interfere with the job, or any combination thereof. Why can't I be asked the same questions? Who was the first person to say those basic questions were discrimination? And, more importantly, who agreed so readily that it became so widespread?

You want to know what I liked so much about this interview? We were BOTH comfortable with where it went, the knowledge that he needed to be sure that I could be accommodated was out there for all to see, he knows that I will answer his questions, and I know that he will ask rather than decide I need to be protected in some kind of bubble.

Why should you hire me? Because I want to work, I will try my best to do a good job, and I will be sure to tell you what kind of help I may need. Tell me how many people you know that could honestly say all that.

Familiar Chaos

At this time last year, I was living in chaos... and not my usual kind. I believe it was about this time that I told my therapist that I just wanted my chaos back when she asked me what my goals were. I had no purpose in my day, I had just moved farther away from most of my family and friends, and I had no focus. I was signed up for plenty of races, just no focus to train for them. Plenty of time for crafting and art, but no focus to get any of my many ideas finished... sometimes not even started.

This kind of chaos is a vicious circle. The less I did, the more I wanted to do, the more I was overwhelmed.

I crammed for my races. Training only right before them because I kept pushing too hard and injuring myself, so the time I took to heal brought me right to the race with hardly any time to train. I still did though.. and finished the races in less than optimal shape. And the whole thing started over because I had to heal once again.

I forced myself to create something. And that just kills the fun of it, making it hard to start again the next day. My artwork and designs were obviously forced (to me, anyway), which further discouraged me.

Being far away from those I usually talked to and living with someone that was rarely home isolated me further... it made me push harder out on the trail, to start more projects before others were finished because I had no other outlet to get out the frustration and emotions. Piled on top, this was about the time some surprising friends were backing out of my life, either quietly or with a few kicks on the way out. Not that I blame them, I wanted so much to leave this chaos behind by simply walking out a door or not answering a request.

It took a few months to hit the bottom of this spiral. To pull myself back up and smack the hell out of me.. ask myself what the hell I was doing?! I never blamed anyone except myself, which was just as damaging as not accepting any; this was a time where I simply needed to realize there was no blame, to let myself heal, to remember that life goes on even after such an upheaval, to tell myself I didn't need to force so much, to forge new relationships as the new person I was becoming. Most of all, I had to stop believing that I was less than I had been two years before, when I had working legs, a job, a brother, a huge goal about to be crossed off (my first and only ultra marathon!)

At the beginning of this year, that chaos seems to have melted away.. almost on its own. Leaving space for me replace it with my chosen chaos. I still had to heal from participating in Dopey in no shape to do it. I slowly worked back into running with Tsunami and riding with Raptor, I started going to sitting volleyball practices again, I joined some new groups for other activities, and rediscovered some old ones. In April, I found out I received the grant I had applied for with the Challenged Athletes Foundation, cementing my long desired goal of finishing a triathlon (shameless plug; if you'd like to donate to CAF, please visit my page; http://caf1.convio.net/goto/TeamTsunami). In response, I also signed up for a local sprint triathlon to get a feel for the transitions.. that's coming up in just over a week. This made me write out a training schedule and so far, I feel like I'm doing great, but this also kind of brings me to the inspiration of this post; I made today a rest day.

I haven't been pushing too hard and I'm not hurt (just sore!), but I've been doing something very new (swimming is no joke!) and I'm worn out. Instead of heading out for a bike ride this morning, I stayed in bed a bit longer. I never could have convinced myself to do this last year, I would have thought I had done something wrong and needed to go out and try again to fix it. This was world I lived in last year, especially near the end; I believed those that were trying to convince me I had become a horrible and/or selfish person that was doing everything wrong.

But now...

Now I believe that there is no right or wrong way. That I'm doing the best I can. And that's all I can really ask myself for, all that others should expect from me, all I should expect from them. Most of all, I believe that everything is going to turn out okay... and that I'm going to have a great time at the Sprint next weekend!

On top of this, the desire to create is back. I always have ideas bouncing around my head, but now they're actually making their way out... onto paper, sculpted into clay, hardened in resin, knotted into strings, designed on the computer, I even finally made a wind chime out of some of my running medals (a long ago idea that I never had time for). I'm even thinking about opening up my Etsy shop again, or even creating a new one instead, to dedicate it to fundraising for Team Tsunami and our training/races... I'm finding that keeping myself in wheels is just as bad as running shoes ;)

We Are Athletes

Dear Race Directors,

We are not another division to be welcomed to your race. We are not a nuisance to accommodate. We are not special guests. We are not a complication to add in. We are not a separate list of logistics.

We are athletes.

Most wheelchair athletes began training, playing, and participating after believing that sports were not or no longer available to them. It is a devastating blow when a medical professional very seriously looks you in the eye and tells you that you cannot do something you have always done or wanted to do. No matter how expected those words are. It hurts even more when friends, family, and society backs that up with concern that you are holding onto to those hopes. However, there is pure joy in finding that you can.. the sport may look and feel a bit different than you think, but you are still moving forward.

My chosen activity was running. It started as a rebellion against all the things I was told I could not or should not do with a knee that was almost four times older than the rest of me. And I fell in love with it all. The training, the races, the adventures, my health, the cross training, and most of all, the community... the friends I made in the process, the people I met along the way. Running and being active became a part of who I was. I longed to go to more races just to prove I could finish and to make more friends, even it was only for that day.

Eight years of clicking that register button with the only questions being if I could finish and how long it would take hits me every time I see a new race I would like to participate in. You see, even if I only have an interest in a race, I must email you. I have to ask about the course. I have to ask if there have been others like me. I have to ask about safety.

I have to ask if I can participate.

And more often than not, I am met with hesitation due to inexperience with wheelchair athletes. Concern is expressed, but most of the time I am welcomed to the race after a discussion. I have only been denied access to a few races so far. And that brings me to my biggest hope; please put the information on your websites. Just like everyone else, I just want to know if I am welcome, that you want me there.... or that your course will not work for me so I can continue on to the next interesting race rather than wait for an answer to my messages. A simple statement saying wheelchairs are welcome, add wheelchairs to the list of divisions, write a paragraph in your FAQ section, something that answers one simple question; Can I participate with a wheelchair?

Sincerely,
A Wheelchair Athlete

I Dare You!

"You can't do that..."

I have been told that a lot my entire life. As a kid, it was mostly from my brother or other boys and it became equated to "I dare you!" I was convinced that I could do anything the boys were doing even though I grew up in a time, place, and family that tried to convince me I should only play with dolls and wear dresses. I did, but my dolls sat in the basket on my bike while I rode as fast as I could down the driveway or they watched as I climbed the nearest tree... and it drove my mom crazy that I was so un-ladylike in my cute little dresses.

I lost that a bit in my teenage years; I still had that rebellion, but I believed it more when I was told I couldn't or shouldn't do something as my knee became more and more painful. I sat on the sidelines at PE, I danced in the back row in choir, I watched and hoped more often than I tried.

After my second surgery, that rebellion came back full force. At age 22, I was promised a knee replacement in my future and I was mad that the story that would lead to that was boring... and that I had taken it easy between surgeries and still ended up needing another one. When I was released from physical therapy I asked for exercises I could keep doing and got back on my bike. A year later, I started training for half marathons and for each person that told me I couldn't or shouldn't be able to finish, I became more determined I was going to do just that. Maybe in spite of them, but definitely to prove to myself I could.

And I kept going from there, trying new things and pushing my limits for eight years... then my legs stopped working right and a wheelchair and crutches appeared at my side. "You can't do that" came back from many directions. It was hard to push against it this time since I was in an entirely new territory. I did not know what I could do or how to adapt to the things I couldn't do anymore. It took a lot of research and questions and a lot of small steps to make it further into this new world to look around. Even now after two years, even though I'm comfortable with trying new ways of doing things and figuring out how to adapt, it's hard when someone who doesn't know any thing about me and/or using a wheelchair tells me that I can't do something. It's even harder when it's someone that does know me, and my stubborn streak. The "I dare you!" is back, but that push down while I'm doing something that is much harder physically and/or mentally than ever before just makes me mad.

And so for anyone interested in telling me I can't do something or the nicer, but still patronizing, "are you sure you can do that?", I have decided to make a list of the things I can't do. I'm leaving it at that, I'm not even going to include the things I have had to adapt to or have adapted to me.

Are you ready? Here we go....

I can't climb a ladder.



That's it. I will admit that I don't like ladders anyway, so I haven't tried it.

The next time you feel the need to tell someone that they can't do something for whatever reason, please take a moment and think how that feels. And maybe offer to help, accompany, or volunteer to be a spotter rather than try to squash the idea/activity altogether. I'm also going to tell you a secret; I know you're concerned and I appreciate it (mostly), but it hurts more to feel that lack of faith than any mistake or misstep that may happen as I try to keep doing the things I have always done.

Improvement takes the lead!

Two years and one month ago, I adopted Saber. In the next couple weeks I found out how much my upper body sucked, how much the camber of each path affected my steering, how many inclines I have been blindly traveling on all my life. So what's the first thing I did? Signed up for a 5K, just one month after getting in a wheelchair... Dublin's Shamrock 5K, a run I had participated in for quite a few years. I knew the course, I knew the terrain, I knew the other participants were out there for a fun run. What could go wrong?

Picture by a nice, random person

To say I struggled would be putting it lightly. As soon as the crowd started moving, I knew I was in trouble. I had started near the front with my friend, but made sure to stay off to the side so I wasn't in anyone's way.... and everyone passed me easily as I tried to get going. I fought to stay in the middle of the road so I was fighting the least amount of camber, but since that meant I was going the opposite of the tangents I probably added on some distance. And then came the inclines; I wasn't very good at those yet. The one on the street wasn't so bad, it just seemed to never end. The first one on the trail was horrible... luckily there was a very nice family with me when I realized I was in trouble. They saw me stop where I was and asked if they could help; when I asked them to just make sure I didn't backwards, the father and son grabbed onto the back of my chair and helped me the rest of the way up. I lost them on the downhill, but they were right there with me when we got to the next incline... not as bad as the other one, still a problem. They simply asked if they could help and grabbed onto my chair again as I thanked them. After that, all I had to do was keep pushing to the finish. I think it was my longest 5K, but I was rather proud of myself to have kept pushing.

Fast forward to this weekend... A friend had announced he was running the Shamrock 5K and asked if anyone else was coming. After running a different race last year, I had to admit I had missed this one, but my lack of funds made it hard to justify going. With some help and an extra push, I was able to sign up. I was worried about those inclines because I remembered them being so horrible, so when I went to the packet pick up, Saber and I headed over to the trail. As I came to the first one, it didn't look so bad and halfway up was when I realized the last time I had done it was just a month after I got my chair. Don't get me wrong, it was still hard.. just not nearly as hard. Two years ago I wouldn't have made it up on my own, this year it was no problem to head up completely alone on the trail. The second one was just fine as well.

Picture by another crazy in our group ;)

Tsunami got to come this time, so I got up front (thanks to the friends I was with!) and was able to take off with all the fast runners... my first mile was pretty fast with my newly discovered speed. I was a bit unprepared for the first incline on the road; I haven't been on any long uphills since the coaching/seat adjustment, so when I lost momentum near the top, I could only muscle upwards so much. I called out for help when I wasn't moving anymore and someone helped me push the rest of the way up. Heading down and onto the trail, I tried to hold onto as much speed as possible, knowing the next incline would be pushing my abilities... I still hadn't taken my seat adjustment into account, so halfway up as my momentum went down I had to call out for help (help! help! help!) because my front wheel was coming up. One runner grabbed the front of the chair and two came up behind me, and they got me safely to the top. On the next incline I was doing okay, but someone that had helped me before was behind me and gave me a shove as he caught up to me, which got me to the top. I thanked him and headed down the trail. And again, I just had to make it into the finish. And I think this was my fastest 5K yet.. I didn't get a chip so I don't have an official time, but my Garmin read 22:12 and I think my fastest 5K was 23 or 24 minutes. Also, I start my Garmin at the ten second countdown and stop it maybe ten seconds after I cross the finish, so the time is probably closer to 21:52!!!

Despite needing to call out for help both times, this year marked a huuuuuuge improvement. Especially in testing those same inclines with Saber. In having the confidence to try it out on my own. And still heading straight into the inclines with Tsunami, despite not being prepared.

It is good to have these moments. An unchanged challenge that shows you how far you have made it in whatever amount of time. To prove to yourself that are stronger than you think. Next year, I'll make it up those inclines by myself.

Watch me!


Side note: a huge thank you to the race organizers, who made sure I felt welcome and were quick to figure a way to get Saber near the finish for me!

Try Something New!

As soon as I saw the announcement for a Paralympic Track & Field Clinic, hosted by BORP, I signed up as fast as I could. This event was BORP's toe-in-the-water effort to see if starting up their track & field program again would have interest.. according to the Paralympic coaches, this was the biggest event they've had so far. On my end, this would be a great opportunity for some hands on coaching; while I absolutely appreciate the advice I have been given (both in person and through emails and such) and the technique videos I have been sent, I am a kinesthetic learner. I was excited to have someone be able to look at what I am doing and show me how to improve (spoiler alert: I was not disappointed). This was also my first opportunity to test my curiosity about the field events.

Getting closer to this event, I was like a kid at Christmas. I trained so horribly last year due to physical and mental setbacks that I lost speed and found myself on that backwards plateau, so I was losing confidence again. And, in turn, maybe even losing some interest. There is no way I would give up Tsunami, so I was looking forward to bringing the joy back rather than settling with the struggle I have been in.

I have been to a few of these kinds of clinics now, but it's still exciting to show up and see so many others in wheelchairs.. and at this one, there were all types of prosthetics as well. I got myself signed in and headed off to the side to wait for things to start. Got to talk to a couple people I know from other clinics and/or training, and met some new people. One woman came over to talk to me, asked questions about Tsunami and sports in general; she was curious about the whole thing, but had volunteered rather than signed up.. her own toe-in-the-water. I told her I had been in the chair for about two years, then started listing all the sports/activities I have at least tried so far. Through her surprise, I told her to just jump in. "Give it a try. At the very least, you have a new experience."

After introducing all the coaches and giving us the basics on what we would be doing, they split us into three groups and sent us to different areas. I was starting on the field, so I dropped Tsunami off at the track as I headed over. We learned shotput, which was a lot more technical than I thought it would be. As the heaviest field implement, there are phases you go through in what looks like simply throwing a heavy ball. We learned each step, one at a time. The coach was quick to tell me I had the strength, and had advice on technique for each throw. By the end, there were a couple doing really great. I was not one of them, but I had definitely improved through my throws. We moved to the discus after that, the middle weight implement, and took out all those phases, and extra flicks of the wrist, and power... basically you're turning your arm into a slingshot and getting into the right position to let the discus do its thing. I actually did pretty good with this one, I just had a problem getting my hand flat before letting it fly. We had run out of time, but the coach squeezed in a quick overview of the javelin before we headed over to the track.

On the track, I found Tsunami and got in as others tried to find a chair they could try. The coach came over and looked at the positioning of my hands and decided I wasn't getting as far back as I needed to, so she started undoing all the velcro across my back, had me scoot back a bit, and tightened the straps back up. It was that simple to make the final seat adjustment I hadn't been able to figure out. Satisfied with that, she and the racer did a quick presentation on stroke and racing on the track. She sent me out with the racer while she got others into chairs. As we moved around the track, he asked what distances I had been doing and for how long.. he also told me I had a good, strong push and showed me how to make it a bit better. When we made it around, the coach put me in some different gloves and sent me around again, then put me up on the rack so she could closely see my stroke and physically change it; I need to straighten my hand so it's parallel to the rim (I keep rolling to the outside), utilize the extra push I now have at the end, and get those arms up behind me (with my hand still straight!). She also gave me a couple drills I can do on my own to train myself. With just those changes, I could feel a huge difference already. And it was a lot of fun to see the guys trying out the racing chairs for the first time and really having fun with it.. sounds like I might have some more local company soon!

After this rotation, they gathered everyone for a group picture.. during which it started to sprinkle a bit (we had the threat of rain pretty much all day), but it didn't really get serious, so anyone who hadn't gotten lunch yet headed over to the tables. It was a bit later when I was talking to one of the volunteers I had met at the Adaptive Sports Fest that rain really started coming down. As everyone scrambled to get the racers or themselves out of the rain, I grabbed Tsunami and headed for my car. With everything put away, everyone gathered under something protective; I ended up under the arch with a friend I met through the volleyball training and got to talk to him a bit. And with everything put away, the flash rain stopped and we were at a bit of a loss as to what to do. The track was done for the day, so whoever was left seemed to end up on the field. We were watching the current group learn when the coach began inviting anyone who wanted to join. I hung back because I wanted others to have a chance, but she pulled me up... I even ended up sitting right next to that woman I had met earlier, the one I had told to just jump in! After the shotput, we had to get a bit creative for the discus because of needing extra space to swing our arms around. There was an extra coach now, so we were split into two groups after the head coach went over the fundamentals. And this time we got to try the javelin; my new friend that had jumped in was now excited to try things and ended up doing pretty good with the javelin.. I need to learn more finesse, less force of strength.

They did a final thank you then told us to pick up a paralympic shirt and BORP bag... and the coach running things had an extra present if we went to see her. I got my presents, then went around to thank the man from BORP that set up the event, the field coach (who asked what I thought about the field events, I told her if BORP started up the program, I was in), and the track coach (she gave me a couple more presents and her card; she said if I was interested, they may bring me up to Spokane for some events, and also made herself available for any questions I may have).

At the end of the day, I had a lot more confidence in my training, more new friends, and new sports if the facilities become available. It was a really great day and I am so glad I went. I am also glad that my affinity for just jumping in and trying things inspired someone to do the same.

And now to finish off my spoiler alert from way back at the beginning; I went for a 5 mile run a few days later and maintained a 7 minute mile for most of it. My first mile was pretty slow just to get going, when my next mile beeped I was surprised to see 7:17, and I mostly held onto that. There was one mile that was closer to 8 minutes (it was also into a breeze), but the bottom line is I have not gone that fast without a downhill in about a year, and never in training. I have done a 7 minute mile in training, but only one at a time, so it was a bit of a surprise to keep seeing that 7 whenever my Garmin beeped off miles.