Monday, August 14, 2006

We are ath-a-leets

Ever since I was little, I was a good athlete. My mom taught me to swim when I was barely 2 years old, and I was fearless in the water and on the diving board. I played youth soccer, a little 8-year-old dynamo running around the field with my Dorothy Hamill haircut. I was a competitive gymnast and then a competitive diver. I've played on softball teams, soccer teams, field hockey teams, tennis teams and ultimate frisbee teams.

I point this out not because I think I'm some sort of stud, but to provide some context. In January of 1999, I ran a half-marathon, and then did a full marathon 5 months later. It was too much for my L4-L5 disc to handle. The disc herniated and jammed up against the sciatic nerve in my left leg, causing excruciating pain down my leg and into my toes. For 3 months, I hobbled around at an angle, unable to walk fully upright because of the pain. I walked the dogs in the mornings and cried because it hurt so bad. It was one of the most humbling and frightening experiences of my life. I went from never questioning my own strength or physical ability to do anything, to wondering if I would ever be able to function again without pain.

So in October 1999, I had surgery on my back. What my surgeon lacked in bedside manner he made up for in skill, because within 4 months or so I was relatively pain-free. My back still stiffens up from time to time, and I can definitely tell when it's going to rain, but it's manageable. Since then, I vowed that I would do my best to keep my body strong and healthy and never take my physical health for granted. I've had good examples set for me. My father still rides his bike to work sometimes, and my mother gets up at 5 every morning to lift weights. My grandfather is 90 and still loves to dance. I've got good longevity genes, so barring getting hit by a bus, I'll probably live to be in my 90s (at least). If I don't take care of myself, I could spend alot of years feeling crappy and weak. Having already been there, I know how much it sucks, so no, thank you.

After my surgery, and when I felt reasonable recovered, my friend Kathleen and I decided to do a sprint triathlon, and we found one in August 2000 in Charleston. Whenever we talked about it, we proclaimed that we were "ath-a-leets" (if it doesn't have three syllables, you're not pronouncing it right). We trained hard and were in great shape. I was a little bit nervous about my back holding up, but it did, and we finished the race in a respectable time and crossed the finish line holding hands.

We are now 6 years older than when we did the Charleston tri. We both have husbands, and Kathleen has two children. But we are still doing races, so now we just have a bigger cheering section at the finish. We did a sprint triathlon yesterday (again holding hands at the finish -- we are such dorks), and we are doing another one in 4 weeks. We trained and competed with our buddy, Michelle, who regularly kicks both of our asses but who helps us train and never complains when we ask to stop to rest.

Eventually, we'll be in our 70's and finishing at the bottom of the pack. But we'll finish, because we are ath-a-leets.




We cross the finish line with big smiles. I think my turquoise tri suit is the other manmade object visible from space.

1 comment:

  1. Anonymous12:29 PM

    You and Kathleen are the best!

    ReplyDelete

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