A new CRACK in life

Not often do we get a new "crack" in life. On March 17, I did.



And, if that color palate doesen't suit your fancy, how about this one instead?



And if that's not enough, I hope you enjoy the ever-informative side-angle view.



I'm still waiting to discover what "great inspiration" my surgical scar will give me. Not often do we fall spectacularily off our bikes and severley break of Sacrum. Leave it to me - on my last day of training - to do the darn near impossible. Odds were against me beforehand, but somehow as I was sumersaulting through the air, the odds didn't matter one bit.

And you know what? After my doctors said that it would take 3-6 months before I would recover, before I would regain normal bladder and function, up to 12 months before I gained full sensation in my pelvic region from the all the nerve damage, and a year before I could really lead a "normal" life, I decided that I didn't like those odds.

They just don't sound like the kind of odds that I'm used to, or the sort of odds that I'm willing to accept. They just don't sound like "me".

I wish I had a timeline to base my recovery on - but I don't. There is no simple answer, no easy way. I can't go down a list, checking off boxes as I progress from one level to the next. I don't think that an injury like this, on any athletically-inclined person, can ever be given a "specific" recovery timelime. Every one is different.

This will stay with me for life, I am positive. The effects will hopefully go away in time, pain will gradually grow dimmer and dimmer, the scars will eventually fade, and hopefully - sooner rather than later - I will turn back into the athletic person I once was. My mind hasn't changed (well - if so, hopefully for the better). But I know that my body will. Near bedrest for 2 weeks, and the next few weeks with limited moving around - it's bound to change. But through it all, I'll still be me, still be inherently my same self. If only a little altered, a little older, and a little wiser.

And I'll be hungrier than ever to get back into the swing of training, of racing, of doing what I love.

It's a process, though. All part of my road towards Ironman, my Life journey.

That, my friends, is not based on odds. Each patient, each case, each break is unique and different. Putting a 6 month timeline based on "odds" seem downright silly to this Eager Beaver.

Or, if you prefer, as my Camp HTFU Sisters called me, the Tough Cookie.

And besides, the way that I see it, now I have a new "crack" on life.

Sorry - I just couldn't help it. I know, I know. Horrible. :)

My surgical scar literally looks as though my butt crack, my (ahem) derierre, has simply been extended 5 inches up my back. My lower back has now morphed into my butt. Biking shorts, swim suits, bikinis, low rise jeans - have all taken on a new meaning to me and my uber crack/crash wound.

No, I'm not ashamed of it, and I could care less if it leaves a permanent scar. A "flesh wound" as my British Comedy counterparts would exclaim. I'm sure it will - and it'll remind me of what a tough cookie I truly am.

I just don't want people looking at my backside, and thinking that my butt is showing. What would YOU do? :)

Great! Super!

That will make biking in a pelaton exciting... No one will want to be behind me, the butt-lady, with her 5-inch butt crack. Or so it might look. I've considered the possiblity of getting a super cool tattoo. But am unsure. We'll see. My husband has a word for these (the tramp stamp) but I don't like that.

I couldn't pick where I fell, where I broke myself. And in part, where I was re-born. Because, in essence, that's partly what happened. My Mom sent me a birthday card - delivered to me by Dad - when he arrivede on the 18th. I thought long and hard about the meaning of this - but I think she's completely right.

I can choose look at my accident, my crash as a celebration, as a new chapter, a new beginning. I can't help what happened; what's done is done. Finito with one spectacular flip. But I control my response. I think that's why I'm trying to be so positive, even though it's been difficult at times. Yes, there have been a few tears, a few fits of pain, but more often than not, there's been a lot of laughter, a lot of healthy self-realization, a lot of happiness on my part.

Not happy that this happened, but happy that I'm alive, that I can walk, that I have normal bladder function - after I was told that I never would have it. And at 27, when you're all by yourself (except for an awesome ELF by your side - thanks Liz, I will never forget that), 2000 miles away from close family, husband, support system, and any other friends, it's a bit scary. I can't pretend that it wasn't.

But I survived. I got through. I beat the odds that were given to me in the hospital, and am still going strong. Still kicking, so to speak. And its going to take a lot more to break my spirit than a crash on beautiful 101.

And if I want to celebrate my scar, celebrate this new chaper of my life with a beautiful tatoo - or display of artwork, well so be it. If anyone has any ideas, I'm all ears (envision me with my hands behind my ears, listening attentively).

So that's it. My new crack. A step on my new path. A journey on a new life. And now you can all see. Altered picture and all (green pants, purple skin, etc...)

Finally - big congratulations to everyone racing this weekend. There were lots of races, lots of successes, and I've been sending out so many good vibes! Courtenay, Chris, Ness, Eileen, Beth, Bree - any others? were all today. Tomorrow Ludi, Kellye, and Courtenay again (super stud tri chick who bikes as well!)... - any others?

Wow - lots of friends racing their best, setting new records, achieving their goals. It brings tears to my eyes, and makes me smile. I am so proud of everyone, so happy for your success. Way to go you guys! Congratulations and know that I was thinking about you, sending positive thoughts your way. Cheers!