My inner voice always says “Find a Way”, even if it’s to the point of being absurd or beyond a healthy level of optimism. One example of this is that I did the Ironman World Championship with a stress fracture in my foot. I do remember that it was painful, but you can have a ‘woe is me attitude’ or you can say, ‘here I am competing and living!’. Just think about it: doing sport races (or even just sport hobbies) is something that many people in the world don’t have access to, so it’s good to approach it with that perspective.
Leading up to Kona, Chris was in a cycling crash that led to emergency spinal fusion surgery, and a few weeks after that my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. And, I was still adjusting to being a mom and marriage - and the difficulty of finding balance between these important relationships and responsibilities - so there was a lot going on. Through all of it, I continued to think the best and redirect energy and focus as I needed, but what is rational to one person can be absurd to the next person. I kept adjusting the goals for the race, and really became very positively focused around my lofty fundraising goal for World Bicycle Relief, which was to raise a bike for each mile of the race.
I was feeling fairly good about everything, and then four weeks before Kona I was doing a session at the track in Chicago when I heard – and felt – a very painful crack in my right foot. I felt I knew the diagnosis right then, but still tried to remain so positive those next few days. When I saw the doctor and learned it was a stress fracture, so many people had supported me with the other challenges leading to that point that I felt it would have been completely unacceptable to feel like a victim or be a pessimist. Instead, I rallied. I didn’t run for four weeks and simply looked forward to the time in Kona with a healthy husband, a mom who literally completed her final radiation treatment and got on a plane, my son who would feel the salt of the ocean for the first time, and a day celebrating the impact of my fundraising efforts for WBR.
For me it was like a journey that brought to life the message that you need to keep moving despite physical and mental pain. You have to find a way to keep moving towards the light. I remember some of those miles of the marathon as the sun was setting over Kona – thinking of how blue the Pacific was, feeling the heat from the pavement radiate around my legs, thinking of the caregivers in Zambia who would be mobilized with bicycles, and focusing on my family who were waiting for me at the finish line...in a nutshell...truly thinking how blessed I was to just simply be there in that spot at that race with that kind of abundant life. One in a billion.
That’s me - one in a billion.