I really CAN do hard things - and so can you

With graduation from grad school on my calendar this week, I’ve been in a state of reflection for quite a few days now. I’ve felt so many instances of happiness, contentedness, empowerment, and strength. Along with the good there’s always bad, of course. And as I’ve mentioned before, that usually comes in a series of negative thoughts that lash into my heart. But I’ve been fighting to counteract those all week, and for the most part, have been fairly successful.

At graduation, many tend to look both to the past and future – at all they’ve accomplished, and at all the possibilities that lay before them. I wanted to share something that’s been prominent on my mind all week, and offer a challenge.

Someone who I’ve grown very fond of has taught me a lot of things over the past 10 months plus some change. But there is one thing that trumps all others. They challenged me once with the idea that I can do hard things. I’ve always questioned my ability to take on hard things. Fear of failure, of ridicule, or just the fear of the voices in my head that I knew would attack me the entire way up the mountain have stopped me before, or delayed me, from reaching the top. But over the past several months, I’ve come to believe that my person was right, and that phrase has now become my mantra. Here’s why.

When I was desperately trying to complete all the requirements to finish my Master’s last summer, I got to the point where I was ready to quit. It was the most agonizing experience I’ve ever had. But this person kept encouraging me, and telling me, you’re so close, don’t give up now. So I kept going, and I finished. Over the past two days, I’ve had a hard time keeping the tears in check. I did it.

When I first started learning how to swim, I got frustrated so many times, as I’ve talked about here in my blog. Yet every time, this person reminded me how far I’d come, and they knew I could do it, I just had to keep trying, and literally “just keep swimming”. In December, I did my first triathlon. I did it.

When I was training for my first half marathon, I remember the first time I tried to run 8 miles. Sheer misery! I kept thinking, there is no way I can do this! How am I ever going to do an ironman if I can’t even run 8 miles?? But as this person rode their bike while I slugged along, slapping my rear end with a twig when I wanted to give up, I just kept going (although I really wanted to grab that freaking stick and shove it up their… well, you know). Today, I can run 8-10 miles like it’s no big deal. I’ve run two half marathons, I’m running another one in a week, and a full marathon in three weeks. I did it.

Some very trying and difficult circumstances came up at the end of last year/beginning of this year. I was an emotional mess. I came “this close” to throwing in the towel and letting the other person involved just have their way because I couldn’t take it anymore, even though I knew that wasn’t the best solution. At all. Always by my side, my person jumped in without being asked, took charge of the situation when I was about to fall apart, handled most of it for me until I could on my own again, and didn’t let me give in. And now, the worst of the crisis has passed (I hope). I did it.

When my heart episodes got worse, I didn’t want to see a doctor. I don’t like doctors, hospitals, medicines, and big ‘ole medical bills. But this person would not back down. They kept on me until I made that doctor’s appointment, challenged me with my decision so I’d make sure to make the right one, and then supported me 100% when I made the decision. I did it, and now my heart is amazing.

The past couple months haven’t been easy. We’ve both wanted to throw in the towel. Unfortunately, I did a couple of times. But not once did this person give up on me. Without their support, their pushing me to keep going, look at that list of things I wouldn’t have accomplished. All because they believed in me.

I didn’t know… or perhaps just didn’t recognize… what it was like, aside from my parents, to have someone in my life who truly believed in me, who was always there for me, who always pushed me – because they knew I could do it. Thanks to that, and the example they set of never giving up, and of always encouraging others to not give up, my life is forever changed. Now I have full confidence that I can do hard things. Because I’ve done many hard things. And I know there are more hard things to come. But I know I can do it.

I want other people to know what it feels like to have someone who believes in them. It’s sometimes hard to trust that people really believe in us and have our back. It’s hard to know if they are “just saying that” or if they really mean it. But I want others to feel what I’ve felt. And you know what, that’s what love is. Believing in someone – even when they don’t believe in themselves. Not giving up on them, even when you’d like to run away or at the very least slap some sense in them.

Not just that, but I want others to know what it feels like to KNOW they can do hard things. To have faith and confidence in themselves. I can tell you, it is one of the best feelings I know of.

Now that I have my Master’s, I’m not done. Mark my words, I will do great things. I’ve been given an amazing example and gift, and I have every intention of passing it on. I’m still young. I have my whole life ahead of me, and I’m not giving up or slowing down.

So to my future night… wherever he may be… I invite you to come with me on this adventure. Hopefully you have the same goals as I do – to pass along the gifts you’ve received to others. It’s not going to be easy, but it sure as heck will be worth it. Because I will make a difference. I will leave my mark on this world – in people’s lives. I don’t know how yet. And I know this will be another hard thing. But thanks to my person, I KNOW I can do hard things.

Triathlons with - and without - a Heart Condition

April 13, 2013 started out like any other race morning. I checked and rechecked my bag to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything – heaven forbid I forget my tri suit, sports bra, or GU’s (yeah, I’ve finally gotten used to swallowing the thick sticky stuff I almost gagged on 6 months ago – you can read more about that here). Okay, so there are around 20 things I’d have a near toddler-sized meltdown over if I realized I’d left it at home. But on this day, there was one thing I left behind that I was glad to say good-bye to, and hope to never see again.

Two weeks before, I’d competed in my third triathlon – and last with SVT (read more about living with SVT here on RaceTri’s blog). The race went great. My goal was to shave off a few minutes here and there from my previous races, and to just give it all I had. Oh, okay, I really just wanted to beat Kermit, since I hadn’t done so for quite some time.

Everything was going great. I performed so much stronger on the swim than I ever had before. My kids were there volunteering and cheering me on. I passed Kermit on the bike going uphill… and then he passed me on the downhill. We did this on both loops. My calf cramped as I was dismounting from my bike and I lost 2-3 minutes trying to massage it out and hobble to my transition area. I wasn’t going to give up though so I guzzled some water and took off. Once again, I caught up to Kermit on the uphill… and I passed him. Not even a minute later, my heart took off without me. I was only about a mile into the 5k run and my spirits sank. Within seconds, pain started up my neck and a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Even though we were still going uphill, Kermit soon caught back up to me. I didn’t have my heart rate strap on, so I don’t know how fast my heart was going, but I felt miserable. Kermit kept encouraging me, telling me I could do it and don’t give up. Eventually he went ahead of me, but I was determined to not let him to get too far ahead. My calf was still aching, I felt a little dizzy from my SVT episode, and I really wanted to walk. But just like my trying experience doing Ragnar, I didn’t quit. 

Not only did I finish the race sprinting, but I had shaved 2 minutes off my previous triathlon run time, and I was only 16 seconds behind Kermit. I collapsed after crossing the finish line with some water and food and concentrated on getting my heart to slow down. After a few minutes, it did and I started feeling a lot better. I didn’t beat Kermit, and I finished 12^th out of 21 in my division, but I was so happy that I’d finished. The thought that kept passing through my mind during the run was, hopefully this is the last race you do where you have to worry about your heart acting up.

Five days later I felt like I had seen an acupuncturist rather than a cardiologist. During a wakeful sedation, they inserted one wire in a vein in my left leg, three wires in my right leg, and one in my neck. Although I was pretty out of it, and don’t remember much, I do remember getting stuck in the neck- owie! The doctor said they barely touched my heart and it took off at a sprint pace. They quickly found the messed up wire, burned it, and made sure there weren’t any others. 45 minutes later, they were satisfied they’d gotten everything.

I started waking up as they were wheeling me out into the hall. I hadn’t opened my eyes yet. I started feeling worried, trying to remember where I was and wondering who the voices I heard belonged to. About the time I got to my room, I became aware of light, at about the same time that I heard Kermit’s voice. Although I hadn’t comprehended who he was at first, I recognized his voice, and as soon as I heard it, an immense peace came over me and I knew everything was okay. Once I was able to put a voice to a person, I felt overcome with gratitude not only that he’d taken me to my surgery, but also that he was there in my room as soon as I came back from surgery. I felt so relieved that he was there.

I confirmed with the cardiologist that I’d be able to race in 9 days, and he emphatically announced that I would. I recovered from the surgery pretty quickly, although I still had quite a bit of pain at the incision sites and in my chest for about 7-8 days. My heart was also doing this weird skipping beats, thumping like a bongo drum in my chest cavity number that still happens every now and then even today, 10 days later. My first workout six days post-surgery wasn’t what I had been hoping for. When I tried to run at about a 9:15 pace, my incision sites and my chest all started hurting and I had to drop back down to 12 minute miles. Only about 8 weeks away from my first half Ironman, by Friday I was feeling incredibly discouraged.

My strategy for Saturday’s Timp T3 Triathlon was simply to finish. No new PR for me. I just wanted to make it across the finish line, even if I was the very last person. This was a reverse tri, so the run was first. Kermit stayed with me the first mile to make sure my heart would be okay. We started out slow and gradually sped up. He got ahead of me on the downhill and I caught back up to him… and passed him… on the uphill. He caught back up to me later though, when my energy was waning, and passed me. I wasn’t going to let him get ahead of me again though, so I kicked it in and caught back up to him. We finished the run together, averaging a 9:45 minute mile.

The bike portion was definitely not my best performance. I was trying to catch my breath, and my brakes started acting up. Kermit got quite a ways ahead of me, but at that point, I was just focusing on finishing. There was one lady I came up to on the uphill who had a big “33” scrawled on her calf… she was in my age division… if I could just pass her… I did! When I got to the dismount line, I hopped off my bike, careful not to get a cramp again, and took off for my hardest event – the swim.

I was so tired during the 350 meters. My arms felt like lead bricks. I was barely kicking. I mostly focused on breathing. But, I swam freestyle almost the entire way – an improvement from my last reverse tri. In fact, I wound up shaving 6 minutes off my last time doing that same distance in a reverse event. Kermit was there to cheer me on the last 25 meters or so, and I was really pushing it. I clambered out of the pool and crossed that finish. I’d done it! An hour 20 minutes. I figured there was no way I’d place, but I had finished a triathlon.

Out of curiosity, I meandered over to the white pieces of paper fluttering in the breeze that attract finished athletes like flies to a pig. I couldn’t believe what it said – I was in 2^nd place in my age division! But then, the woman ahead of me, and a friend of mine, placed 2^nd overall for the women, which meant she got pulled out and I was in first place! And there was one person behind me – probably that woman I passed on the bike.

Not only did I finish a reverse sprint triathlon 9 days post SVT ablation surgery, but I had placed 1^st in my age division. Wow. I’m still in shock. So the thing I left behind for this race that I hope to never see again? SVT. Well, that and discouragement. Just like Kermit has been trying to pound into me for months now, I can do hard things. Next stop, my first marathon in five weeks – and you know what? I know I can do this. And that is an amazing feeling.