Rub-a-Dub-Dub

The story of a girl and her bathtub is a very private matter... except when other people are forced to get involved.

When my friend texted and asked if he could drop by, I took one look in the mirror and responded with an uncertain, "Hmmm... I don't know about that." Hair that looked like it had just come out from under a waterfall, a shirt that wreaked of two days of laying still in bed on one body, armpit hair that could have hosted a zoo full of tiny insects... all these things you never wanted to imagine on any woman... or man, for that matter. So, despite the pain that has been plaguing me night and day, I wiggled my shirt off, put a swimsuit top on then looked at the journey my shorts were about to take down my leg; that cast was not going to be an easy obstacle.

Using the left leg, I dug my heal into my mattress and lifted my butt off the bed. With one swoop of my hands, my shorts were halfway down my legs. Now came the challenge. I stretched the leg of the shorts wide and gently directed it past the cast. Success! My left leg is still clad by a compression sleeve, which is hooked into a machine (the Darth Vador machine), which is plugged into the wall. Due to this contraption, when my shorts came off my left leg, they were still attached to my set-up. Hmmm... I had to chuckle at my predicament. How was I going to untangle this mess? Finally, I decided to just take the darn compression sleeve off of my leg. After that, getting my bikini bottoms on seemed like a breeze.

Mom came into the room and helped me onto my crutches. The muscles of my right quad engaged to lift the white plaster high enough off the ground so I wouldn't knock my heel on the rug. Mom tried to make me feel better about myself by making a comment about my "slamming" bikini-clad body. I hobbled on my one-of-a-kind Mobilegs to the bathroom then, with the help of my mother, pivoted my body and slowly bent my left leg to lower myself on the ledge of the bathtub, right leg propped up on a ottoman.

"How are we going to do this? Do you want me to wash your body first or your hair," my mother asked.

I appreciated her offer, but was not about to let my mother bathe me. If I could do anything on my own, I was going to take every advantage of it.

"Here," I said as I shuffled my butt down into the tub, leg still propped up on the ottoman.

She laughed, but nervously asked, "How do you plan to get out?"

"I'll just use my arms," I replied. "I'm not incapable of using my upper body."

After wrapping my leg in a trash bag, just in case, she looked at me with hesitancy, seeking out any sort of task she could do to help before leaving.

"I'm okay, Mom," I reassured her.

Nervously, she left the room, closing the door behind her so she could go change my sheets and make my bed. That woman has a servant's heart like no other human I know.

I used the shower head to wet my hair and clean myself off. When I was finished, my arms gripped to the bath ledge behind me as I dug my left heal down and lifted my glutes off of the fiberglass tub. When I sat upright, I looked around for a nearby towel; when I realized there was nothing, I was forced to call for help. Mom came to the rescue and wrapped a towel around my shoulders then left the room. My eyes scanned the room again. My hairbrush, my toothbrush... everything that could have been useful at this moment was just out of reach. The feeling of being helpless rose up inside of me; tasks that used to be so easy, such as walking across the room to put paste on my toothbrush, were now seemingly impossible.

Dizziness overwhelmed my body as I waited for my mother's return. A familiar voice broke through the silence. Cory was here to check up on me. Me, sitting half-dressed on the edge of a fiberglass bathtub, hair wet and dripping. Well shoot. Everyone loves an awkward situation. 

Rub-a-dub-dub. First trip to the tub.

Girl, You Be Looking Fine In Them Momo Drawers

"Do you have a pen and paper handy," the woman on the other end of the line asked me. She was calling from the surgical center informing me of the things to do and not to do for my upcoming surgery. "Do not wear jewelery. No lotion. Please brush your teeth. You may wear underwear and a sports bra under your hospital gown."

Shoot. Underwear. When I threw a few precious belongings in my Dakine before heading north, I had grabbed maybe 4 pairs of cute, lacy thongs to wear in Oregon. I figured I would be the only one seeing my underwear, so I might as well feel good about myself in what I was wearing; there seemed to be no need to cover my ghetto booty up with some boy shorts or cheeky underwear.

It was time to do some shopping and who better to go shopping with than my dear friend Monica.

After filling our bellies to the brim with delicious Thai food, we walked over to the store.

"These are cute," she said, lifting up some polka dot underwear. "And look! Rachel Zoe wears them!"

They were very cute, but when it comes to lingerie, I am severely picky. I am the girl who collects Italian lingerie from stores like Intimissimi in Europe; this girl does not settle for Victoria's Secret. Obviously, I was not going to find my style here, so I might as well have fun while looking.

"You could get grannie panties," Monica suggested.

As soon as the diaper-looking article crossed my vision, I pounced over the racks to the fine white panties and held them up to me. "What do you think," I asked.
 

I spent about 10 minutes trying on different types of Momo Drawers over my pants. Quail Man could take some fashion advice from me when it comes to wearing underwear over your jeans.

Looking "Cheeky" from the back!

Momo Drawers at their finest

In the end, I could not justify spending $15 on lace Momo Drawers, so I settled with a pair I MIGHT wear again and walked confidently over to the checkout stand.

Don't worry, Momo Drawers; I'll be back for you in 50 years...

Diapers

Diapers. My dad had the audacity to suggest buying me diapers to wear for the next three days. Usually, I would laugh at this because he would be saying it as a joke. Even with my father's VERY dry sense of humor, I can tell when he is joking and he was definitely not joking. I think I would rather kill myself before having to wear diapers. Can you even imagine sitting in your own urine all day? How do babies and old people do it?

Diapers. I guess that really is what set me off. My whole optimistic outlook went down the drain when I realized that the possibility of needing to wear a diaper for the next few days was very real. If my condition was serious enough to need help getting to a bathroom, what else would be limited? What other simple ADLs would I now find impossible without the aid of a parent or friend? So far, I've learned getting food, taking your shorts off and getting a pen to write in your journal are all very difficult things to do without help.

Diapers. I wish I had had one to dry the tears that were leaking from my tear ducts. Sitting in the back of the car wishing I was alone yet longing to be held. It's wonderful to have my parents here taking care of me and their selflessness and patience and understanding never ceases to amaze me, but it's different knowing you are going home to your parents' house and not to the arms of a lover, someone who will hold you and kiss your forehead and reassure you that everything will be alright. That must be a great feeling. Hence the reason I texted the one person I wish would have been waiting for me at home.

I really have the best parents

Love my mom, even if I have a hard time showing it at times.

It is probably a good thing I am alone though. Only a true Star Wars nerd would appreciate the Darth Vador breathing noise my compression machine makes. Heeeeeeeee-EEEEEE-whoooooooooo-pshhhhhhh..... heeeeeeee-whooooooo.... wheeeeeerrrrrrr... heeeeeee-EEEEEEE-whooooooo...PSHHHHHH And so it goes. Oh hey, Darth Vador... wanna snuggle?

The love everyone has sent me has been amazing though. Thank you so much for all of you who have been sending me e-mails filled with thoughts of encouragement and prayer. Handwritten letters are piled up at my hip from family members and people who have witnessed me blossom from a young, high-heeled girl into the woman in running shoes and Lulu pants. Care packages from Mer, Nani, Emily and Josh all sit by my side, filled with exciting reading material, funky straws and good smelling lotions. My tri coach has been so incredible throughout this process, always checking in on me and sending me motivating notes. This man I barely even know has been sending me inspiring notes of encouragement, helping me through this difficult time and always checking in on me.

So many times I catch myself thinking, "People have been through much worse than this; I should not feel sorry for myself." An example is the Olympic-qualifying Jill Kinmont who skied off of a cliff and was left permanently disabled, with no use of her legs or arms, who then lost not only her love of being able to ski, but also both of the loves of her life. Her fiance left her because he realized she would never walk again then she fell in love with another man who died in a plane accident a week after proposing to her. Obviously, my life is not that bad. In fact, since I've been injured, I've heard the stories of so many people who have been through much worse than I am going through, but Kaley and Sophia recently told me something that really changed my view on things: "It is easy to think that since you are more fortunate than others that you shouldn't feel bad about certain situations, but you're allowed to feel what you feel because you are human and you should never feel guilty about it".

So, today is my "I feel crummy. Let me be sad for myself" day. Tomorrow, get ready for the Tale of the Granny Panties. Stay tuned! I promise not to disappoint!!!

My Saucony Scofield, who has not left my side since I got home from the hospital

The view from home... definitely can't complain about that

Disclaimer: I will not be wearing diapers, thank goodness.

A Wise Fish Once Told Me

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming, swimming, swimming.

It was a sad day for America, but every day has its pluses. Shall I start with the good news or the bad news?

Good news it will be.

This was taken at 9:30AM... It snowed for another 7 hours after this

After a long day of dental work and coffee drinking while watching the snow fall, I decided it was time to get back into the water. Since it had been snowing all day long, I threw on my new bikini and covered up with booty shorts and a thick sweatshirt then wiggled into my Birkenstocks. Okay... so I may not have packed for Oregon well. I pulled up to the club and tried to keep the cold white fluff away from my toes as I shuffled my feet to the front door. Unlike my pool in California, the gym here heats the pool room. I shed my clothing and looked down to find I still had some definition to my abdominal region. I did a joyful dance as I thought to myself, "I've still got it", then I stood at the end of the middle lane and asked if the gentleman would mind splitting.

Scofield keeping me company next to the fireplace

With a pull buoy in between my legs, I did a 600-yard warm-up then followed it with a 1150-yard workout and 250-yard cool down. My balance was so off and it felt strange not to kick. I tried to add the kick at one point, but with a flexed foot, I felt like a flounder flopping about on a pool deck. Typically, I hate swimming, but I was so excited to be doing something with my body, that I forgot about the dullness of the activity and savored the moment.

Now, onto other news... This morning, my friend Dan texted me to let me know he had finished Boston in 2:50. Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting at a restaurant and the news popped on displaying the bombings at the marathon. Frantically, I checked in with all of my friends who were there competing; everyone I knew was safe. A few people were not so lucky today. I cannot even imagine being in Boston today. There are no words to describe the chaos, sadness and turbulence that is happening due to these bombings. One thing to keep in mind though, it takes a catastrophe to bring people together, but as soon as we start blaming others, we fall apart.

I Pity the Fool

My arms felt chilled in the cool hospital room. Daddy sat in one corner, playing around on his cell phone as usual. He had his cute English driving cap on and I couldn't help but grin when I thought about how adorable he was. I think men go through cute phases: When they are little boys, there is no denying the severity of their charm. Teenagers and young adults have absolutely no cuteness to them. It's as if the switch has been turned off. Then they have their own children and a glimmer of cuteness sparks in their eye, but it is soon lost. The good news is it returns. After retirement, men start to shuffle their feet a little more. They don't care about whether their shirt matches their socks. They put on a driving cap and voila! Cuteness is here.
 

Back to the doctor's office.

"Why did you bring your iPad with you," I asked him.

"To watch a movie," came his response.

"What do you have on there?"

He pulled up the screen. Great movies met my eyes: Jurassic Park, The Incredibles, Gidget... and there it was. The moment I saw it, I knew that was what we would watch. Rocket Power. The show that encouraged my passion for boarding.

Halfway through the cartoon, the door opened and in walked the doctor. Once a football player, he stood tall with fantastic posture and sophisticated greying hair. He seemed to know nothing about my reason for visiting. Dad and I filled him in on the details and he took a thorough look at the mobility of my right foot. He then explained to me that the surgery should have been done immediately after my accident. Since my doctor in California missed the ruptured tendon originally and a month had passed since my accident, my mobility would never be the same.

I had woken up that morning ready for action. The evening before, I had cleaned and prepared. Books lined the second half of my bed in order of importance, as if they were my snuggle buddy. Anything and everything I could possibly need while on bedrest was set into place. I did what I thought would be my last Pilates workout that morning and cleaned my car out. I was ready for this surgery.

"Since it has already been so long," the doctor started. "There is no need to rush the surgery since your leg will never be 100% again. Your chances of being able to run and compete again are very slim. What is your best event?"

"The run," I choked out.

His lips curled into a twisted expression. "I was hoping you would say the swim. It is very unlikely that you will be able to compete at the same level again. You may lose your ability to run. Depending on how far the tendon has separated, I may have to take some of another tendon in order to reattach the anterior tibialis."

I smiled and shook it off, but inside my heart was ripping with every word he spoke. It felt like my one true love was being wretched out of my finger tips. As if I had given birth to this amazing, precious talent and that beautiful thing was jerked out of my hands, dangled in front of me just out of reach then thrown on the ground and demolished.

Looking back, I am proud at the way I held myself together during the appointment. Once I walked into the waiting room though, I pulled out my phone and Facebooked Josh: "I need you here". I thought about all of the people I would have to tell the news to. My entire being wanted to crawl up in the hospital corner behind the coffee cart and cry and cuss. For some reason, saying the F word seemed like it might fix something. The corner was not available to me though and my mom soon pulled up in her car. I got in and lost it... slowly the tears came. My parents had errands to run and breakfast plans. I had a date with my pillow; pillows don't mind when you soak them with tears. Instead of allowing myself to wallow in self-pity, I went along with my parents for an organic meal and a cup of coffee. Coffee makes everything better, this I know to be true. It wasn't even a good cup of coffee, but as the liquid began to disappear, so did my tears.

I will get through this. No one has ever been able to tell me no. I know I can do this and get back to my life stronger than I was before. Drive and determination and dedication: These traits are all important to me. Watch out, Ironman New Zealand, Western States 100 and Nationals... I'm coming for you all... just not as soon as I had intended.

Thank you for all of the kind words of encouragement, the prayers and the compliments you have all been showering upon me. I appreciate you all. And thank you to my lovely Nani for my first care package. 

Thank you, Nani!

Ticking Bomb

Honestly, I think I was supposed to get hit by the car. I've been replaying the incidences that led up to that day over and over in my head. The loss of Sweet Baby Sam, having no car to get around in and using my bike as my main form of transportation, taking two yoga classes instead of one that day, declining an offer for a ride to work from Sarah, deciding to eat lunch before my ride instead of after because the friend I was supposed to ride with couldn't go, forgetting my helmet (which I NEVER do)... all of these things and more led up to the big crash. There is no way that this crash was coincidental. No, I believe there is more to the crash than just an older man forgetting to look left before turning.

Things that could possibly happen because of this crash:

1. I could get a gnarly upper body like Arnold Schwarzenegger's from doing so much upper body work.
 

2. I will become known around the world for my gnarly scar. They will call me Scar Leg.

3. I will gain 200 pounds and not be able to get in and out of my front door. They will install sliding glass doors for me to enter and leave by, but soon even those won't do. When I die, they will have to take me off the couch using a forklift.

Yes... I see a bright future.

But on a serious note, I think I have a lot to learn from this crash and I'm excited to figure out what it is. I have tons of books I will be digging my nose into (not literally... that's just weird) and so many people have offered to come visit me, which is beyond wonderful of them.

So, let's all raise our morning cup of coffee and say cheers! Cheers to health, happiness, the ability to use our legs and the sun shining on a beautiful new day!

Asking a Triathlete on a Date

Man: Hey, want to get dinner tomorrow night?

Me: Sure, that sounds great!

Man: I'll pick you up at 6?

Me: I work until 7, then I need to train.

Man: Oh, when will you be done training?

Me: Well... I need to swim 2400 meters, bike 50 miles and run a half marathon... I'm in my base phase, so it's a shorter workout.

Man: So when do you think you'll be done?

Me: Uhmm... tomorrow morning might be better. We could grab coffee between my swim and my bike.

Man: What time would that be?

Me: I will have like thirty minutes available between 7:00AM and 7:30AM. 

Man: That's early...

Me: That is when I finish my swim.

Man: Maybe this weekend? Saturday? We could go on a hike.

Me: Sure, do you mind if we run the trail?

Man: How fast?

Me: Well, my coach wants me to hold a 7:00 pace.

Man: For how long?

Me: Three hours.

Man: Maybe you can call me when you finish that and we can get dinner? I'll take you to that new woodfire pizza restaurant.

Me: Oh, I don't eat pizza. I only eat vegetables and lean protein. I'm trying to reach racing weight.

Man: (Silence) See ya never!

Image courtesy of Banksy. LOOOOOVE