Day in Verse

God of thunder, Thor came out to play today.
THrowing bolt after bolt of lightning.
An Umbrella would have been practical,
But, I forgot miNe,
AnD instead found myself sprinting to the car
Dodging droplets, thE size of silver dollars.
A perfect day to Read,
Curled up on the Sofa,
Sipping hot Tea
Safe from the StOrm outside.
But reality reaRed her head,
And I went about My day
AccompliShing taskS one by one.
Early tO rise, coffee a necessity.
And breakfast with Nathaniel.
Next up, physical Thearapy,
wHere core strength is the daily focus.
Change Up the plans,
As Rain and thunder pellet down.
Sprint to the gym,
A run on the treaDmill,
“EmbarrAssingly slow”, as directed by Jen.
Flollowed bY stretching and more core work.
DrIve home, in the rain.
And prep aparmeNt for
Tomorrow’s Furniture delivery.
More storms bLast through
So I wait, and wait, and wait mOre.
And eventually Rush to the pool,
My swIm workout in hand.
Day complete, after Dinner
ReAdy to rise and repeat tomorrow.

Mini Monster Photos

By popular demand, here are a few photos of the kitties. But a quick side note - Anabelle is doing much better. Two weeks ago, the Vet performed exploratory surgery on her right leg. It turns out that her humerous bones have fused together, along with the soft tissue that was damaged in her accident.

So the great news, is that the four weeks spent in a cast helped her heal! Hooray!

Her legs, though, are a bit croocked. The Doc said that he could have rebroken the bones and then set them properly - but that would constitue another 4-6 weeks in a cast. So he decided that the best option would be to do nothing at all - take off the casts and let her heal on her own. The bones were fused together, albeit crooked.

And yes, she has a funny gait. But then again, there are lots of people AND animals in history who have had funny strides.

Look at Olympic Gold Medalist and World Champion Sprinter Michael Johnson. His earliest coaches told him he would never become a world class athlete because his gait was too short.

And don't forget about Seabiscuit, the Little Horse That Could. His front leg stuck out at a funny angle, damaged in an accident. But he still raced, he still had a wonderful life - a funny stride didn't hold him back.

And it is so true with Anabelle.

She races up the couch. And down the back. She jumps. She twists. And she even sumersaults.

So there you have it: just because something has been broken in the past, or goes about doing something in a different way, doesen't mean that its down and out. Quite the contrary. Sometimes the things that challenge us, that seemingly weaken us, make us stronger in the end. Michael Johnson had his world record, and Seabiscuit had his plethora of titles.

So there you have it.

And Anabelle's favorite trick? Chasing Tabbitha.

The tables have turned on The House Monster.

Cue evil laugh.

But before you get too worried about Tabbitha, realize that she's spent the first seven years of her life attacking our family and friends. So one little gimpy kitty giving Tabbithias Rex a scare isn't the worst thing in the world.

Now, the pictures!
Anabelle and Tabbitha, pre cast off. Tabbitha on her futon (which has been since taken over by the Mini Monster), and MM in the turkey baster.

Me and Anabelle, reading and asleep. Notice how I'm sitting on a down comforter - extra squishy for a sore back. Trust me, it is wonderful!

Nathaniel and his new study partner. Anabelle was more interested in the surrounding papers. And Nathaniel was more interested in not getting scratched in sensitive areas. Enough said.

And why would my husband be laying on the kitchen floor, sporting a "Get Lucky" shirt? Can't speak to the shirt but, it has a little something to do with this...

Can you spot the nose? Take a close look, I promise you - it's there. If you get past the cobwebs and crumbs, you'll spot our Mini Monster. Mobile and feisty, she found a new favorite hiding place. A perfect escape for when she amushes Tabbitha, while the House Monster eats her kibble.

Too much excitement for Tabbitha. If she can't fit, she doesn't care. And 19.8 pounds of cat will not fit under the cabnets. Trust us on that one.


And Anabelle herself - too busy to pause for a photo. Can you blame her?

And finally, who can resist a man in uniform? This was Nathaniel last week, before a change of command ceremony. Coffee cup in hand, I caught him mid-sentence by surprise.

Thank You...

Thank you ALL for your well wishes and support. The feedback was wonderful - it made me grateful for the online support. My friends and family have also been here for me, and I am so grateful - beyond words. I am so lucky to have the friends, family, and support that I do.

Discussing the hard parts of life - especially in something as open as a blog, and with something as personal as depression, was not easy. And I thought long and hard about publishing before I did so. It is so easy to write when things are going well, when workouts are great, when life is easy.

But we all struggle, we all have fears, we all go through tough times. I know that I'm not the only one - and if you are out there and experiencing difficulty with anything, know that you're not alone.

I am doing much better. Writing has helped tremendously. It clears my thoughts, makes me really think about "stuff", and forces me to confront the issues at hand. In addition, I've been up and about, working out, getting out of the house, and slowly returning back to a "normal" life.

So in the past few days, what's been happening?

Glad you asked... :)

The House Monster and Mini Monster are slowly getting more aquainted. Tabbitha hisses less, is no longer attacking multiple times per day, and can be in the same room as Anabelle. The Little One - in turn - is jumping around, chasing toy mice, chasing playing dice, and pouncing on Tabbitha's tail. And while it would be funny if Tabbs was just sitting around, Anabelle likes to pounce when Tabbitha is eating or is using the poop box.

Yeah.

That's a laugh.

So Tabbitha chases Anabelle, and Anabelle thinks its all great fun. And the process repeats itself. Over and over. And over.

This is very amusing.

Additionally, Nathaniel and I decided to do some major shopping last weekend. Not only did we get a new living room's worth of furniture, but we also got a new dining room set. Nothing like spending a bunch of money on furniture. Especially when the old stuff is hand-me-down from college. We threw away the old dining room set (trust me - it was time for it to go), and are in the process of getting rid of the living room. Everything except the Ugly Green Recliner.

We are undecided -

I know what I would do.

But My Other Half is very attached.

And so are the cats.

So perhaps a place in the study???

The decision is yet-to-be-made on this one.

And finally, I did my Dad proud today. In keeping with the Chrislock game of H-O-R-S-E tradition, I won three games to zero. Yeah. Did myself proud, considering my opponent was a 15-year old with a heckuva hook shot.

What started out as random shooting of basketball (I shoot and think - very cathartic), turned into surprising victory(s) in Horse. Apparently my 15-year old challenger didn't think I was that much of a threat, as he broached the subject after I missed no less than 15 shots in a row.

Luckily I found my 3-pointer, under handed layup a la Hoosiers, and backwards clutch shot and pulled out the victory. And had a great time in the process.

So in the tradition of Jen Harrison, I am going Onward and Upwards. Tomorrow is another day - a new opportunity to see the good, to pursue happiness, and to follow my heart. Wherever that may lead me...

The Unforeseen Battle

I’ve been told that if you don’t mind, then things won’t matter. A new spin on “mind over matter” if I’ve ever heard.

But what happens if it’s your mind that is mattering? What if you do mind?

After my crash, I was more determined than ever to get up, get going, heal, recover, and move on as quickly as I could. I reasoned that the only thing holding my back were my doctors; and that if I worked hard enough, if I pushed, if I believed, then I could get better in record time.

Three to six months, I was told. Twelve to Twenty-four weeks. 84 to 168 days. Don’t bother with the hours; it’s a lot. Trust me.

I decided to make it half that. Two months, perhaps three at the very most.

And with a lot of hard work, with a lot of effort, with a lot of patience, belief, and sheer will, I began to recover. I was told “no!” by a lot of people; many of whom didn’t trust my judgment with respect to the physical aspect of my recovery. But I fought through, and I continued to fight in spite of their lack of belief. My belief, my mindset is what mattered.

My back recovered daily, my core grew stronger with physical therapy, and slowly I returned to swimming, biking, and eventually running. It wasn’t easy, but with boundless determination I clawed my way to better health, focusing only on the physical aspect of my healing.

I thought the worst was over. I thought I was beyond the hard stuff. Through a horrific crash, through long surgery, through endless hours in the hospital, I had made it. I was convinced the worst was behind me, in my past. I had been given the green light to work out, to return to a “normal” training level, and to resume with my daily activities. Even though I retained a long scar from the crash and my nerve sensation wasn’t yet at 100%, my body was mostly (physically) healed.

It was the mental stuff that got me in the end.

And I was totally unprepared for what happened next.

It was tough to understand: I should have been happy, nay ecstatic, to return to the sport that I loved. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t understand the sadness, the sense of grief that encompassed me. And the more I thought about it, the more I puzzled over it, the worse it became.

Because unlike the physical aspect of healing my back, I couldn’t work myself into “good” mental health. I couldn’t take my mental outlook, the sadness that seemed to follow me around, and give it a set of ball balancing exercises or a long bike ride to recover. How do you force your mind to recover? How do you will your way to feel happy?

And the more I searched for an answer, the sadder and more depressed I became. It became a struggle to get out of bed, let alone leave the apartment. Physically I was healed. Mentally I was broken.

And the break wasn’t recent. It had occurred March 17 on a beautiful stretch of California highway. I was just so focused on the physical aspect of my recovery that I neglected the mental part.

One friend suggested that I was going through what sounded like a grief-reaction: I was mourning the loss of my former self. She listed off the stages as: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and eventually resolve; and then explained that I would hopscotch between the five, sometimes moving forwards, sometimes back. And that I should expect to repeat the cycle several times.

Great.

And then I really started thinking about what she said. I thought about my upbeat attitude for the first three or so months post-crash. Could that have been denial? Was I too afraid to admit how seriously I was hurt, how awful the crash and recovery process was?

I pondered that and moved on to the next one: anger.

I have always been afraid of anger, never wanting to rock to boat or make others think I’m upset. I’ve used anger in the past when I’ve raced, but don’t like the person I become. So more often than not, I’ll push it aside, bury it deep within my soul and push on. Even as a little kid, I would pretend everything was okay, never letting myself succumb to anger. Could I be doing the same with my recovery? Was I denying my anger as well?

I had never really gotten angry about the crash, nor upset about the damn bugs that blinded our sight. I never bemoaned the fact that Torry Pines Hill was one of the first hills that Liz had gone ahead of me down; she was being helpful and pointing out objects in the road. All weekend – being the heavier rider on the bombproof aluminum bike (with the triple ring, thank-you-very-much) – I had descended in front of Liz, my body weight and heavy bike combined to zoom ahead of her down the hills, while she geared out behind me. Even the Saturday morning Swami ride, with our double pace line at 45 mph down the canyon roads, I had been ahead. And yes – I got a clear view of her backside dancing up the hills, as the elastic between us broke during every climb.

But on nearly every downhill, I went ahead. Except for Torry Pines where I crashed.

And looking back, yes I’m angry. Denying the fact would be denying my true feelings. I know that it was an accident; but I can’t help but wonder what if I had gone ahead, what if there had been no bugs, what if we had taken a different route?

So denial and anger: check. Denying that I was angry: double check.

Next came the bargaining. I wasn’t really sure where this fit in, but realized soon that I was making deals with myself about recovery, workouts, and returning to every day life. “If I can hold a sub 7:45 pace running, the I know that I’ll be okay….” And so on, and so forth.

The problem was, after 12 weeks of non-running, my body wasn’t ready to handle any sort of time constraints or pace goals. The smart thing would have been to take off the heart rate monitor, ignore the mile markers, and just run for the pure joy. Instead, I watched my heart rate rise higher and higher, watched my splits grow slower and I became upset with myself; angry that I was no longer the athlete that I once was.

I kept flashing back to previous runs, especially to my Last Run in California. At the time I didn’t think anything of it. I remember the day was beautiful and bright, the rocky trail made for careful footing, and I had been nervous about a sore left hamstring. It turned out to be fine, and the run felt effortless, free, and fun. Had I known that it was going to be my last run for months, I would have enjoyed it much more.

Swimming and biking were different; I have never held the same connection with the two as I had with running. Running had always been my outlet, my source for inspiration, to clear my mind, for peace. But it rapidly became something that I would dread as one run after another failed to live up to my unreasonable expectations. Expectations that at the time seemed okay – but now looking back, were way off kilter.

And in the end it had nothing to do with my physical ability, and everything to do with my mind.

Eventually, I slipped into the stage of deep depression. Functioning became difficult and I pondered weather or not I wanted to continue with the sport. I threw away every award I had ever received, convinced that I would never win again. And even if I did, even if I earned a future plaque or award for participation – what did it matter? I didn’t do races to win; I did them for the experience. I did them because I loved the sport, loved the people, loved to learn, and loved how it made me feel.

But seeing the awards I had earned in past races did little to help my current state of mind, my depression; and I couldn’t bear to look at reminders of what I once was, convinced I would never be the same athlete, the same person.

I’ve always thought of depression way of viewing the world without color. I have suffered from this illness in the past; on and off throughout high school and a little in college. But this new depression, brought about by something as improbable as a bike crash, was different. It’s like living in a fog; you know the blue sky and bright sun exists, but you just can’t see it, can’t feel it.

The depression robbed me of my rational thought, of my passion and drive, of my ability to see the world in color. I sent emails to a few friends, asking for answers on “how to recover after an injury or crash” – and nearly all responses were identical: you have to want to return; you have to want to come back. You have to be ready.

And for the first time in my recent memory – I don’t know if I do. I don’t think I am.

Beyond the doubt and insecurity, beyond the pain and anguish, lies fear. I am afraid. At first, it was of not regaining my physical ability, of my sacral nerve never healing. But now, I’m afraid of my mind, of never being the same person that I once was. I am afraid of never having the same desire, passion, or fire. I don’t know how long this will last, but expect the healing process to be vastly different from the physical aspect of this journey.

I am depressed, angry, in denial, and fearful for a reason: because on March 17 I crashed my bike and broke my back. Anyone could understand that. But four months later, I am still shaken and still having flashbacks. And my mindset has changed. Yes, I am predisposed towards anxiety and depression, having suffered from both in the past. But this was brought about by a horrible accident.

Just as my body was broken, as it turns out – so was my heart. And a bit of my soul.

And if it’s one thing I’ve learned, is that I have to listen to myself. Even though the back is much better, and my nerve sensation is slowly returning, my mind – my mental state – is just beginning the healing process.

So where does this leave me?

Well, for starters I’m giving myself some time off – a bit of a break. I’ve decided to not race in Chicago and my late-season schedule is on hold. When I do return to racing, I want to make sure that it’s for the right reason, and not because I feel that I have to.

Training for now is on a day-to-day basis. Some days I feel great, and others not so much. Jen has been extremely patient and understanding, and I don’t know how I could get through this without her incredible support.

I am frustrated by my inability to see clearly what lies ahead. I wish there was a simple solution; I wish I could snap my fingers and make everything better. But I can’t. And I know that one day I’ll find meaning in this. It’s just hard to think about the future when surrounded by a self-induced foggy state.

I am talking to someone about this, and I know that what I’m going through is chemically induced. Without going into too much detail, I’m getting the help I need and am learning how to deal with these emotions without stuffing them down or denying the fact that they do exist. In addition, I’ve realized that expecting myself to hit pre-crash time goals while working out is setting myself up for failure and more depression. My body has never had to recover from a broken back and nerve damage before; this is all new. So I need to give myself a literal break – be kinder and gentler to myself and realistic of my expectations.

I have never recovered from a broken back before; therefore it is unrealistic to expect that I’ll hit my pre-crash times.

It is hard to watch the world pass by and feel that I’m stuck, a helpless and hopeless cause. And while I am so happy for friends and fellow-Bloggers with their triathlon season and with their successes, a part of me is beyond sadness at the season that I didn’t have, jealous at how everyone else can carry on with their lives as though nothing happened. The rest of the world is outside, happily at play while I’m stuck inside, trapped in the fog of my own mind. I want to shout “Look at me, I’m here! I want to be just like you!” but the world keeps passing by, oblivious to my struggle. I am trying to stay upbeat and positive, but lately that has been increasingly difficult. Please accept my apologies.

For now, I’m taking things day-by-day. I know that it won’t be easy. If there were a physical way to mend my mind, to fix my broken heart and repair my soul, I would do it. But it isn’t a matter of willing my mind healthy, of pushing the sadness away. This takes something more; and I don’t know just yet.

So this is where it stands, another part of My Journey.

I write this blog because I want to remain true to my feelings. Daily observations, thoughts during workouts, funny things – all facets that constitute this blog. But there are serious things as well, parts of my life that I wouldn’t normally discuss with people, but somehow when put in writing, seem to make sense, that make me feel better. And its true to who I am.

I know that I’m not the only one out there, not the only person who has ever gone through something like this. And it helps me in writing it, in getting my feelings out. Because one of the big parts of my recovery – the physical and mental parts – are figuring out what’s happening and why it’s happening.

Knowing what I know now – that I’m going through a depression brought about by a bike crash, has given me hope that I didn’t have before (I found out). At least there’s an explanation for my behavior, a reason why I’m feeling the things that I am. So as I embark on this journey, I’ll do my best to remain true to myself. And be understanding with my feelings, with my recovery. Because I know that it won’t be easy.

Then again, life rarely is.

Thanks for reading – I appreciate your understanding and support.

Miss Mary Sunshine!

Get Well Soon MARY EGGERS! We are all thinking about you, sending you GOOD VIBES, and hoping that you're okay. Your courage, passion, dedication, love, spirit, and drive are all incredible. WE LOVE YOU!
Super Star Mary, and her SKIRT, getting ready to rock the trails on our Sunday run at Campt HTFU. Notice the Super star grin. She is always like this. And even though she crashed (through no fault of her own) on the IM Lake Placid course, she will get through this.

Mary - all of us are pulling for you! Heal up fast, and before you know it, you'll be ready to rock and roll. And I can't wait to see you out training again, super star skirt and all!