Sumo Wrestler or House Monster?

A few days ago, Nathaniel and I walked into the living room, only to see Tabbitha in this position.

What???


How was this possible?

That was our question.

But the proof is in the pudding, so to speak.

And it is just so wrong.

So in addition to attacking our friends, hunting down toy mice, bird watching, eating her 2 X 1/3 cup of food per day (remember: she's on a d-i-e-t!), taking over the Ugly Green Recliner, and launching sneak attacks from behind strategically placed furniture, our House Monster, er cat, has developed the abilitiy to sit up (on herself).

This is just so wrong.

Does anyone else out there have a cat who does this? We'd like to know...

My Shift

It’s interesting how a slight change of routine can create a major shift in one’s life. After my crash, my challenger –er, opportunity – was to develop a new “norm”. Figure out how to deal, how to cope, how to view the daily ins and outs, move forward, recover, maintain a good attitude (as best as I could), keep my sense of humor (aka sanity), and yadda yadda yadda.

This in turn has made me realize even more so, how important physical activity is for ME. A daily run to awaken my spirits, a long ride through the backcountry of the Blackwater State Forest, or a dip in the pool helped me maintain my self. My heart. It cleared the cobwebs and was good for the mind + body + soul.

What do I mean by this?

Well, for starters, I’m a much happier person when I’m working out or doing something physical/productive with my body. And it doesn’t take a four hour bike ride to bring this about (although there are times when that HAS been appropriate). Just a short run here, a quick ride there, and I’m a different person.

Trust me.

Just ask my husband. He’ll vouch for the physically active side of me over the inactive side of me any day.

And it’s much worse on days where my morning workout sessions are cancelled. Or slept through (in a few instances). There’s just something not-so-fun about waiting around all day to accomplish a tough training session. I’m not a big fan of having an even bigger workout hanging over my head. No, I prefer the early morning workouts and the satisfaction that accompanies them afterwards.

Well – that and a good breakfast.

And coffee.

And fat free French vanilla coffee creamer.

Yes – I drink my coffee “with a skirt”, as Nathaniel would say. But I don’t care. It’s delicious!

(And in my one-of-a-kind pottery mugs that Nate and I collect from each state that we’ve lived in – priceless! Although, he’ll stick with his Northwestern “I’d rather be fishing in the Bearing Sea” mug. Boys!)

Last Thursday when I was given the “all clear” to swim and aqua run, I noticed an immediate shift, or transformation in my spirit.

And it’s not that I wasn’t focused on recovery or physical therapy beforehand. Indeed, I was. (I p-r-o-m-i-s-e!) I was committed 100%, did my pool walking several times a week, went for hikes through the Mountain Bike Trails at UWF, and walked to the smooth tunes of my i-pod around the track.

But to me, it’s much more than just going around the track or walking in the pool.

These past few days, I noticed a transformation in myself.

After getting the “all-clear” to re-start swimming and aqua running, my entire focus changed. It was no longer about recovery, but rather, getting the ball rolling on re-establishing my fitness and training. Recovery was certainly an aspect, and listening to my body would be paramount to my success (and believe me, I have progressed too far, have gone through way too much to risk re-injury. I would much rather stop a session early or discontinue and exercise, rather than risk further injury to my back. That is NOT an option).

However seeing actual workouts on my training planner, even if they consist only of swim drills or holding zone 1-2 for an aqua run, has prompted the old Marit to re-emerge. She was always in the background, lurking and waiting for the opportunity to pop her head out.

And there were plenty of times when she did: racing other spinal patients on the 4th floor of La Jolla Hospital Ward, race-walking another pool walker, demanding more from my physical therapy sessions – more challenges, increased difficulty (to J-Flo’s horror. I know, I’m a difficult PT patient). But more often than not, the Marit that I’ve become took a back seat to the Recovery Marit.

Rightfully so!

And that was okay, as that’s what I needed for the first 6 or 7 weeks of my recovery.

But starting last Thursday, after getting my two workouts from Jen, I noticed an immediate shift in myself.

I listened to Korn in the car (“Twisted Transistor” – typical pre-workout music. I know, I know: a far cry from Vivaldi or Dvorak, but it gets me going, gets me Fired UP!), glared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror – as though challenging her to back down – and started planning meals in advance.

After all: now that I’m back to training in the pool with the swimming and running, in addition to my three times per week 2-hour physical therapy sessions, I needed enough nutritious food choices to fuel my recovery. I have ALSO noticed, that when I’m training, when I’m being generally productive in the manner that I prefer (again, long bike rides, runs, and monster pool sessions), I tend to eat healthier.

And not that I don’t normally eat healthy. Trust me – we do!

It’s just that when I train, when I swim-bike-run, I realize how important my body is. I will never take for granted what I do or how my body responds. On days where I had nothing scheduled or only went for a long hike, I noticed that my food choices were not quite as healthy as they would have been had I been preparing for a race or training.

And that’s okay, as I learned more about myself in the process.

But now that I’ve gotten my weekly training schedule from Jen, now that I’m swimming and aqua running on a daily basis, I’m slowly but surely seeing the old Marit emerge.

She had a 7 week hiatus, a good amount of time off.

But now it’s time, now things are returning to “normal.”

Training Peaks in now being updated, sometimes up to 3X per day. I am just that excited about stuff.

And I’ve got a new appreciation for the opportunities that I’ve been given, the life that I was able to preserve (as much as possible). And although I’m returning to my old-self physically with swimming and aqua running, the transformations and shifts in my mind and personality that have occurred since the accident are here to stay.

And you know what? I kinda like the change, like the person that I’ve become post-crash. There are so many things that I would have never experienced, never been aware of had I not flipped off my bike and broken my back on March 17. But I did, and I can’t change the fact.

But I can choose to look at what has happened as a positive, as a learning experience. Which is why my current “shift” is so huge for me. Because slowly, but surely, I’m my body is returning to its old self. But my mind has undergone a much more powerful transformation.

And for that, I am grateful.

Sesame Street Lessons

While aqua running yesterday afternoon at the UWF pool, I caught myself staring (quite openly) at another girl’s rear end. She had just hopped into the cold water, about to begin her swim, but evidently forgotten something in her swim bag. After a quick exit and retrieval, she was back in the water, prepping for her swim.

It was a beautiful rear end, one that many gentlemen were watching as well. Heck, I’m sure other women were checking her out; she just had that kind of body. But I was more than a bit embarrassed when the guy in the next lane over saw me staring, gave me a big grin, and then checked out derrière-girl himself.

That’s when I turned away and continued with my run.

And before you – dear readers – start entertaining the idea of hidden lesbianism from this triathlete, know that I’m happily married to a knock-out bang kind of a guy, secure in my sexuality. But I can (and do) admire a beautiful body, a shapely physique – men and women.

However I usually don’t stare quite as openly as I did yesterday.

But when I was watching derrière-girl, I wasn’t thinking about the shapeliness of her rear, how her suit fit her just so (why can’t my bathing suits fit me “just so”?) or her great legs.

No, instead I found myself slightly envious over her intact sacrum.

Huh?

Where did that notion come from?

Somewhere beyond left field!

And then I realized that I was harboring a tad amount of frustration. Great. Now I was pool running and angry at another girl's rear end. Fantastic!

She never broke her back, never crushed her sacrum, and didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of nerve damage and zero sensation.

Humbug.

And as quickly as the thought had entered my mind, it left. Vanished. Was gone.

But it left me puzzled, wondering where the heck that notion had even come from in the first place. Never in my 27 years have I ever looked at another person’s rear end – and a girl’s at that – and wished that I had their sacrum.

Let's be honest - have you?

Didn't think so.

So I did what any other athlete would do: I peeked at my watch, ensured that my heart rate was in the proper zone (because my Coach has a great way of making sure that when I aqua run, I get in a phenomenal workout – and it works! Hooray!), made sure that my form was spot-on, and continued on my way.

But I was ever-so mindful of my previous thoughts with regards to this woman’s sacrum, and her body.

A few minutes later – notably when she began actually swimming (as she had been fiddling with her goggles and cap and goggles (again) at the side) – I started watching her once more.

Walking at first and now running in the water has given me a new appreciation for swimming technique. It is awe inspiring to watch one heavy-set gentleman rip out his 200 fly. From the deck, he doesn’t appear the butterfly type: but as soon as he enters the water, he transforms and flyes away.

Same thing for a woman who wears the same suit every session and swims with paddles and the pull buoy. She goes at her own pace, but swims 40 minutes straight with her paddles strapped to her hands. Her elbows make a graceful arc above the water as her paddled fingers hover millimeters over the water’s surface during recovery. (And she has great lats to boot.)

And while it’s wonderful to spot the great swimmers, those who are technically proficient in the water, it’s just as easy to recognize the folks who just don’t quite get it.

One guy likes to rotate his hips so much, so that his recovering hand slaps water on the other side of his body when he takes a breath. Sound confusing? Believe me – it is. You’d have to see it to believe it. Trust me. I’m still trying to figure out how he does it.

Or the pair of really buff (and tan) twenty-something males, who flex their muscles before diving in, swim 50 yards, and then spend more time on the wall recovering than actually swimming.

AND, they drag their heavily muscled legs in the water. Legs that would be more appropriate for breaking open coconuts when squeezed together, but are quite burdensome for keeping the hips afloat.

(They should practice tying their ankles together and swimming without the use of their legs. HA! That would teach them! (If you don’t believe me – try it. Jen made me do it at Camp HTFU, and it quickly taught me the importance of proper body position). And it would give me something to laugh at while they plowed along. I managed to talk Donna and her friend/my newfound friend Zach into trying the drill – to my great amusement. But it works, I swear. Try it yourself, and then for a laugh, make a friend do it. Fun times at the pool! Sorry Zach and Donna, hee hee hee).

But as I watched derrière-girl swim, I noticed that she wasn’t really all that comfortable in the water. Awkward at best. She didn’t flow well; and I could tell that swimming didn’t come naturally to her a la Michael Phelps. She did attempt a flip turn, but had to stop as she got water up her nose and into her goggles.

But watching her swim, it made me think about my very favorite Sesame Street Skit ever (support Public Broadcasting!).

I remember watching it, captivated by the young girl and the older man. I don’t remember when I first saw it, but I’ve seen it several times during my younger years – and it obviously made an impression.

It began with a young girl carrying a violin. She effortlessly walked up to a stage, ran up the four steps, and took a seat in one of the two folding chairs. Within seconds of her appearance on screen, she was seated and waiting for the seat next to him to be filled.

The second person to appear was none other, than the violin virtuoso Itzhak Perlman. As a young child Perlman was plagued with polio, which resulted in his inability to walk without the aid of crutches. From the moment he appeared on screen, it took almost a minute for him to cover the same ground that his young counterpart had managed within seconds. Hi crutches clunked, and the effort he made in walking was clear to all. His legs did not want to cooperate in traversing the stairs, but eventually – after what appeared to be a great effort in the mind of a 4-year-old – he was seated and holding his beautiful violin.

Then he said, “Some things that are really easy for you, are really hard for me.”

The effort he had made to seat himself in the folding chair, turning around, balancing on his crutches, carefully lowering himself into the proper position, adjusting his legs under his body, and setting his crutches on the floor next to him – were apparent to all.

Without further ado, he picked up his beautiful violin and began playing. Sitting squarely in the chair, his crutches on the floor next to his feet, he raised the violin under his chin, closed his eyes, drew the bow across the string, and played the most beautiful melody. It was liquid gold for the ears. His fingers flew effortlessly over the fingerboard, bow seemingly hovering over the strings. His huge hands delicately held the violin and he smiled while he played.

After quickly playing his beautiful melody, he opened his eyes and held his violin in his lap.

His young counterpart looked at him and replied, “Yes, but some things that are easy for you are hard for me.”

Then she played her violin. The sound was squeaky at best. Her intonation was off, and it was with great difficulty she produced a few notes of music. Her fingers tried clumsily to grip the bow, and her left wrist threatened to collapse in effort to support the violin. She looked awkward, as though the position and effort was not natural.

After a minute or two, she stopped – looking exhausted, but proud of her effort.

The message was clear: what’s easy for one person may not be for another. And vice versa.

Perlman made his craft, his exquisite playing seem effortless. Indeed, the violin seemed to be merely an extension of his heart, body, and of his soul. Perlman and the violin were one; together producing melodies that would make even Vivaldi or Mozart happy. Yet the young girl struggled more with the music. It was not natural for her – far from it.

Walking and mobility though, were a different story. What the young girl could do so effortlessly, took Perlman much concentration and exertion.

I thought about this scene as I aqua ran along, watching derrière-girl in the next lane over. Though her sacrum was intact (at least it appeared to be intact!), her swim stroke was rough, unnatural, labored.

Whereas my sacrum had been broken, my stroke was much more proficient. In the water, at least, my form and technique were much more natural and second nature than derriere-girl's. Years of practice, drills, and technique work on my part. Sure, I still had work to do (remember – my hips tend to drag), could still use pointers on my form, but after 6 weeks and 4 days of no swimming, it felt great to be back in the water. And my body responded accordingly.

For her, although getting into and out of the pool were effortless (it takes me a bit of awkward motions before I’m clear of the water – due to my limited flexibility and lower back strength), I struggled more with that aspect.

The Sesame Street clip is a classic: it reminds us to be thankful for what we have and to not lament what we do not. We all have special talents and abilities. But, some things are easier for others, however that doesn’t mean that those individuals don’t have challenges of their own. We all have our share of obstacles to overcome.

Opportunities to grow stronger – if you ask me.

In the end, I would never want to trade bodies or places with derriere-girl. Though her sacrum is presumably intact, I’m sure that she has her own hurdles to overcome – including her flip turn and swim stroke. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want a broken back and nerve damage to boot.

But that’s also the wonderful thing about life: we have the opportunity to make our weaknesses our strengths, and to overcome the obstacles that are thrown our way. With practice, determination, and effort – we too can be successful and learn how to conquer each challenge.

And if we’re lucky, we’ll make our own beautiful music along the way.

Mexican stand-off, PT style

For the life of me, I can’t remember the last time I went to the pool twice in one day. Sure, I’m happy to get in my swim, do as my coach says, but it has never entailed spending more than one session at the pool.

(And I had to work hard to do so.)

Friday was different.

But life is about new experiences, discovering new aspects of ourselves, treading down a yet-to-be-discovered path… so I didn’t blink twice when I learned of my fate.

Instead I jumped for joy when I was finally given the go-ahead (remember – figuratively, in my mind. Still no jumping as of yet. But soon…..oh so soon! Just think of the blond-headed little girl, running around with pure exultation in the back yard on a midsummer Minnesota day. Yep, that’s me!).

And oddly enough, I had to fight like the dickens for the opportunity to swim and run at the pool the way I want. First: I needed to be cleared by either 1) Physical Therapist Jonathan (who goes by J-Flo) extraordinaire 2) Medical Doctor 3) Some higher power that Jen Harrison is willing to accept.

Knowing her, the higher power wouldn’t cut it, as They would be unable to produce definitive answers surrounding my sacrum, lower back/hips/pelvis region, my recovery, or rate of healing.

So the Doc or J-Flo it was.

7:25 am Friday found me at my Physical Therapist’s office, ready and excited about the prospect of lunges. And no, I am not kidding. I was looking forward to lunges and side planks!

(Exciting day in the life of Marit, I know!)

After warming up on the hand crank (holy developed upper body Batman!), I went through a series of squats, balancing exercises, upper body strength, core work, more balancing, more balancing, leg extensions, more balancing, side steps with bands around my ankles (holy burning Glutes Batman!), and yes – more balancing.

Can you tell that I worked on balance and stability?

Good call.

Let’s just say that I’m not “one with the Swedish Ball” as I used to be – but I’m not all that far off. I was even given the chance to do a 5 minute knee balance on the Big Blue Ball. (As long as I held onto one of the therapy tables with my finger tips. Finger tip being the operative word).

Then again, knowing how much of a klutz I can be (remember – the bike crash? Tripping over my own two feet before I met Nathaniel?? Flying after tripping over random roots, sticks, leaves on trail runs???), I figured that an assisted ball balance would probably be a good thing.

No use in breaking my arm. Then I would really be sol.

And my coach would kill me.

But she would have to get in line behind Nathaniel, my parents, my doctors, and J-Flo.

And that was enough to make me clutch the side of the table.

All in all, I worked hard. Pushed my body beyond what I thought capable this soon after the crash, post surgery. I enjoyed the feeling of working my glutes, of burning quads, of experiencing my core engage as I pivoted and twisted. The old me was slowly peeking through the layers of recovery I have yet to endure. The feeling of sweat popping out on my forehead made me feel – simply stated: great.

Tired, sweaty, and sporting an ever-so-stylish ace bandage around my hips to provide SI joint support, after my work had ended, I sat down next to Jonathan to plan next week, go over my capabilities and limitations, and discuss recovery. Additionally, I wanted him to email Jen about my schedule: what I could and could not do. That was critical, as I knew Jen wouldn’t give me any sort of workouts if she didn’t have the ‘all clear” from Jonathan.

And I knew that Jonathan wouldn’t give me the “all clear” unless he really believed in me and my recovery. I’ll admit – flat out – that working with athletes probably isn’t the easiest of things to do, physical therapy wise.

Yes, as PT patients we imbue many good qualities, but the same forces that drive us to succeed in training and racing, can also have the reversal affect when we are trying to recover.

How much is too much? Reassess: are we sore from the work or sore because we’re pushing our bodies too much too soon? What does it mean to feel this? Is this a normal aspect of recovery? Or does this mean we are doing too much too soon? Or could we be doing more but we’re just afraid of pushing our bodies?

Through and through, I have found that there is no right answer. There is no easy way, absolutely no guarantee.

We need to listen to our bodies and be honest with how and what we are feeling. If something isn’t right – chances are, it’s not. So earlier in the session when I was side stepping up and over the Bosu ball (and thinking fondly of my Mom and her incredible Bosu Step Class), and I felt a dull ache from my Sacral region, I told J-Flo and we decided to nix the exercise.

For now.

For now.

Because that’s another aspect of recovery – is that we’re constantly moving forward, but just as long as we make the effort. It may not always be at the pace we want, but day-by-day, our bodies (and our minds) are getting stronger. Just one of the many amazing things that our bodies are capable of, in my opinion.

“How was your swim yesterday? Did everything go alright?” Jonathan asked, laptop and computer pen in hand.

“Great! No complaints! 34 minutes of swimming and then 40 minutes of aqua jogging. I felt fine afterwards, no aches or pains. I can do more. I know it! Please tell me that I’m ready!”

I felt like a little kid, trying to get an extra treat from the cookie jar.

In this case, the cookie jar was my workout planner, each cookie a workout – either swimming or water running – that I couldn’t help but want. And my hunger was insatiable.

“How about 45 minutes of swimming?” Jonathan asked.

I looked at him. Was her serious?

“Are you serious?” I pressed, knowing full well that I could do more. “I want more. Let’s make this happen. The water feels good, and its not like I’m swimming for time, to make a specific split. I’m just getting my endurance back. You yourself said that I was healing really well. Even though we can’t quite see the S-4 and S-5, the S-1, S-2, and S-3 all look really good. There’s no impact in the water!” I kept babbling on, knowing full well that I sounded like an idiot. I was fearful that he would interject and stop my flow of thought.

But he just listened.

“Okay – an hour. But listen to your body.”

If I could have jumped across the table to hug him, I would have. But I held my exuberance, and played my final card.

Besides, as this was a physical therapy studio, and me – recovering from a broken back, I didn’t think any of the therapists would approve of my jumping over a table and chairs.

“What about water running?” the question tumbled from my lips without any thought to how I would present my case.

He looked at me again. And I didn’t blink.

It was a Mexican stand-off, PT style. I had already been given the green-light to swim; now the final deal was the water running. I couldn’t believe that I was bargaining to spend more time in the pool.

Somewhere in St. Croix, Elizabeth just snorted (in a coffee depleted rush, no doubt).

After some deliberation, and promises that I would listen to my body, Jonathan agreed to let me water run. But as long as I wore the floaty exercise belt to help with buoyancy. And as long as I listened to my body. And as long as I followed directions from him AND from my coach.

I agreed.

Now all that I’m missing is the 1930s-era water cap – the one with the chin strap and flowers stuck to the side. Cap aside, I will run to my heart’s (and body’s) desire, aerobics belt and all.

Nearly three hours later, and for the second time in as many days, I floated out of the office.

I had the green light to swim and water run, and Friday had started off great.

After conferring with Jen and going over schedules, I had my two workouts for the day: one swimming and the other water running. And it felt great.

Through this ordeal, this experience, I have learned so much. I know more about myself, my body, my passion that I ever did before. And I know that I’ll fight for what I believe. Yes, I can be stubborn and on occasion (gulp) oppositional. But sometimes you have to really go after what’s important, what you want.

And you can’t be afraid of rejection, afraid of not getting the answers you want. Because – let’s face it – we’re bound to get a lot of “no” before we get our “yes”. That’s just part of life. We can’t change that – but we can control our reactions, how we choose to look at our scenarios.

For the past three weeks, I have been begging and pleading to start swimming. Water walking was a good first step. But I was continuously shot down on the swimming, as the PTs and doctors had no real way of knowing what my body was doing. We waited for the 6 week mark to get x-rays and ct scans – and the proof of my healing was, so to speak, in the pudding.

Am I mad that I couldn’t swim sooner? Well – I would be dishonest if I suggested otherwise. It would have been great to swim, but in the interest of allowing my body to heal, of following doctors, Jonathan’s, and Jen’s orders – I held out. And I guess that’s why it feels so much better now.

Because I know I can. Not only mentally (mentally I wanted to start swimming, to get in the pool a week after my accident), but physically. I have done all the work, all the pt sessions that I could, but I have also held out to let my body recover. And now I’m ready.

And when the Body and the Mind are on the same plane, incredible things can happen.

All of the positive thinking, the good mental attitude, the tremendous support from friends, family, and complete strangers has, I believe, impacted my recovery and helped me to heal faster. There is no doubt in my mind about this.

Absolutely none.

Life won’t always be easy. We have to get gritty; we need a strong resolve, and we need to be willing to fight for what we want, for what we believe. But we also have to be willing to listen to others and to our own internal voice. Only then can we achieve a balance of what is true, of what is right.

So if you have something you want – go for it! Do not give up, keep believing, and keep fighting for what you aspire.

A few days ago I was still water walking in the shallow end, sporting a wet suit for warmth. And today I swam and aqua ran (2 different sessions, mind you). And I didn’t need a wetsuit, as I was warm from the exertion. My triceps and lats were sore after my swim, and I could feel the hamstrings engage as I ran along – at a snail’s pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…. And the sacrum was fine, handled the workouts like the pro it is.

And that’s okay for now – because this is what I wanted.

Next target: the bike.

Or perhaps I’ll go after the bathing cap with the flowers stuck to it. You never know.

So if you see a woman in a flower-clad-bathing cap, running at top speed but covering 25 yards is just under 60 seconds, be sure to say hi. Because she’ll be in her element, doing what she loves, living her dream and well on her way to recovery.

“Nothing is Impossible, if you Believe.”

The 180 Day

(Quick note: I fell asleep writing at the computer. An easier feat than you think, considering I've been typing on the floor on my stomach. Go figure. But as I really wanted to get my news out, it was important to me to publish the following. Sorry if its rough or contains errant spelling. You, my Dear Readers, know me. It must have been the swimming - all 2100 meters - that made me so sleepy. Hooray! Read on!)

It never ceases to amaze me how different one day can be from the next.

One morning you’re training for an Ironman, and the next thing you know you’re in the hospital getting prepped for emergency surgery…

One day you go to class wondering how you’re going to manage the course load, and the next thing you know, you’ve met the love of your life…

One day you anticipate your husband’s return, and the next morning he’s making too-strong-coffee for you…

Life can change at the drop of the hat.

Today was no exception.

After yesterday’s blog, I was determined to recover MY way. To NOT let some doctor tell me what I was or was not capable of. And I should hand it to the guy: he did have the gallantry to refer me to someone who could handle my case. So I AM lucky – very lucky – in that sense.

We don’t always have the answers, and sometimes it takes a lot of courage to admit that we simply don’t know.

So to the doctor who I saw yesterday: thank you for referring me to someone who (hopefully) can help. I appreciate your honesty and your candor. But it does not change my strength, my resolve to continue on my stellar path of recovery.

Which brings me to today.

Last night, I picked up my CAT scan CD. Not only did I receive an x-ray of my pelvis, but additionally, my PCM (primary care manager – wonderful guy!) ordered a cat scan of my pelvis. PCM doc figured that an x-ray wouldn’t yield much, as the internal organs tend to – er – get in the way. We do, after all, have things like stomachs, livers, kidneys, intestines, bladders, poo, and other soft internal tissues that block easy viewing access to our sacrum and coccyx.

And boy, when I finally saw my x-ray, I was soooo happy that PCM doc ordered the cat scan. It would seem that prior to my x-ray, I didn’t have my normal trip to the bathroom.

Sweet.

Now everyone can tell what’s going on.

The cat scan was a different story all together. And while my morning’s breakfast still remained in my system, the bones – hips, pelvis, L-5, sacrum, coccyx – showed up clear.

As Col Jessip proclaims in “A Few Good Men.”: “Chrystal clear…”

And believe me, when you’re an athlete who hasn’t “worked out” the way that she’s accustomed to for 6 weeks and 3 days (not that I’m counting), and who’s cat scan results will determine her activity level for the next few weeks – well, “chrystal clear” is the way the scans need to be (in order for her to keep her sanity).

Remind you of anyone you know?

Didn’t think so.

Last night I popped in the CD of the cat scan and promptly tried to read the results. And as I have absolutely no medical background, I quickly decided that my sacrum looked great (“as good as new” were my exact words, I believe), and that I should be “cleared” to swim asap.

Well – cleared weren’t my words.

Ready, deserving, natural – somewhere along those lines. You get my drift.

So you can imagine my nervousness this morning as I drove into my 7:30 am physical therapy appointment. I woke up a full 30 minutes before my alarm, and left the house at 7:00, even though it takes a mere 10 minutes to arrive at the PT clinic.

Just on the off-chance that Jonathan (PT extraordinaire) was in early – it would give him an opportunity to view my x-rays and scans.

Oh, who am I kidding?

I was jumping up and down (pain free, I might add!) to hear his opinion on my 6-week post-op sacrum.

Jonathan looked a few times at the x-ray, and then moved onto the “bigger and better” images of the cat scan.

What he saw made the rest of my day. Heck, it made the rest of my week.

My sacrum is healing so well, that it doesn’t even look as though it was ever broken. There are no fractures, no remnant cracks. Nothing that would suggest that I ever crashed on my bike. Except the holes that are found along the sides of the sacrum.

(These holes allow for nerves – and the sacral nerve – to pass through from the spinal chord and to other parts of the body. Fun anatomical fact for the day, eh?)

The left S-3 hole is about twice the size of any of the other holes, as this was the one that my surgeon had to widen in order for my nerves to survive.

Essentially, my body is recovering brilliantly. Nothing would suggest that my sacrum is in danger in any way. The SI joint looks stable, and the sacrum itself looks as though it were never broken or crushed in the first place. The S-1, S-2, and S-3 all look great. Because of the nature of the cat scan, it wasn’t possible to tell how the S-4 or S-5 were healing, but the main concern was the top 3 bones of the sacrum (as they attached primarily to the SI joint).

Simply stated: my body is simply amazing. Incredible – and I love it.

And this is ONLY 6 weeks and 3 days (not that I’m counting) out from the accident.

What have I learned?

Well – first thing’s first: good things will happen – I just need to have a little faith, a little confidence. Lots can change in a day, within 24 hours. I just need to keep my chin up, keep my head above water and hang in there.

Not every day during this recovery process will be a cake walk. Nor would I expect it to be so. But as long as I keep moving forward – good news and bad – things will work themselves out, will be all right in the end. If, for anything else, to realize that another day has passed: therefore I am another day closer to swimming-biking-running.

Additionally, I realize that the power of positive thinking, a positive mental outlook can make all the difference in the world. Being happy can take work, yes. But sadness dwells much deeper than on the surface. It permeates our soul, or very being. But if we focus, if we concentrate – if we change our perspective and choose to look at the good in life, I firmly believe that our body will respond accordingly.

I most sincerely believe in the connection between the body and mind: we can’t help what happens to us (within reason), but we CAN CHOOSE how we respond. How we react.

And while I’ve had my share of icky days – I’ve tried to remain upbeat and happy.

When all else has failed? I’ll throw in a copy of “Fawlty Towers”, “Are You Being Served” or even my new favorite – “Frasier.” They help me crack a smile. (Especially when shared with a House Monster and One Handsome Helicopter Pilot).

Additionally, I know that I have incredible support – a network of friends, family, and on-line supporters that I never could have imagined pre-crash. And all I can say is thank you. Thank you for sharing your ideas, advice, and your support. And thank you for listening to My Story with an open heart, with open arms.

And I have also learned more about myself: my emotions – the good, bad, and everything in between – are great gages of how I’m doing overall. If I’m not satisfied with something, I’m not willing to accept it for how it is. And I AM willing to fight for myself, to do what it takes to make things happen. Likewise, when things are going well, when I have great people on my side – I’ll walk to the moon and back for them.

My physical therapy session ended with the permission to swim for 30 minutes and to aqua run for another 30 minutes. I couldn’t believe my ears: a whopping 60 minutes of water-time without ANY walking. Swimming and water running was on the plate!

Hold me Back Batman!

And as I floated out the door, Jonathan promised that tomorrow’s session would be even more challenging that today. Hooray! The promise of lunges lurked deep in my mind.

And I smiled in spite of myself – who would have ever thought that I would be so stoked about lunges?

So yesterday I decided that I had had enough of the word “can’t”, and today I swam 34:58 and 2100 yards for the first time since March 16th. And I loved every minute of it.

Kind of makes me wonder what I’m capable of tomorrow. But whatever it is, I’ll be sure to bring you along with me. Thank you for sharing My Journey with me.