Injuries!

There is not an athlete in the world who doesn't suffer from some sort of niggle or injury. And, show me an injury and I'll show you heartbreak. I'll show you frustration. I'll show you defiance.


When I'm cruising along on my training program and feeling the improvement, I am at peace. I have a purpose that is being achieved in a very honest way, inch by inch, little by little. It is something that is very hard to see in the rest of my messy, fallible, grey-area existence of my day. Raising kids makes me feel like a near constant failure. I am almost continually at odds with them. Work is just work. They pay you and that is thanks enough. Contrary to the government's belief, success as a high school teacher is not really measurable. So, when I am training, I have a context. I have specific and overall goals that I can actually measure with the clock or a hill or a race. I love the affirmation.


Enter injury...


An overuse injury is a sneaky little sh%#. It sneaks up on you at night and vanishes during the day. One minute you are limping, then you go for a run and you feel fine. But you are not fine.

I have an overuse injury in my tibialis anterior. My what??? I enjoy an anatomy lesson but the words are not easy on the ear or the memory. Turns out that this sneaky little muscle and tendon by the same name is very important in running. http://www.getbodysmart.com/ap/muscularsystem/footmuscles/tibialisanterior/tutorial.html. It stretches from the bottom of the knee, over the calf, becomes a ligament and inserts just at the arch of the foot. It dorsiflexes the foot at the ankle and inverts the foot. It is essential for running, jumping, and effective cycling. Dammit!


Wrist: I think it's extensor carpi radialis longus muscle &/or " EXTENSOR CARPI RADIALIS BREVIS MUSCLE " or some sort of thing that is making me feel pain in my wrist. It is in my right wrist and I am right handed, so I am having a very difficult time resting it.

On top of all this, I've had a cold. A cough keeps threatening. My five year old is oppositional. My three year old is deathly afraid of soap bubbles. Life just keeps getting less intelligible and I have no time to figure out solutions.

So...training has come to a screeching halt. I had to do it. My husband has reports due and he needs my help. My kids are always wanting my attention. We are moving house on Sunday. And I have to work!

This is how I feel...frustrated, guilty, weak, sensible, wise mother, enabling mother, supportive spouse...no wonder I am confused.

This is the life of an amateur athlete.

And if my body weren't backfiring on me, and I didn't know that I could severely damage myself, and I hadn't talked to my personal trainer and physio, I would be out there still. I would be defying my body. I would be seeking a thrill. I would be seeking the confidence and well-being that I gain through exercising. However, here I am...heartbroken, frustrated and waiting, waiting, waiting....

Back to Beginnings

Below is more of my story of how I got to be a triathlete.



Full of joy and amazement the day my daughter, Mavilee, was born, I could not have predicted what came next. Although I was thrilled to arrive home with my baby, I was absolutely exhausted. Having had a cesarian to deliver her, I figured this was normal. I had just been through the ordeal of my first operation. Lack of appetite, shortness of breath, fatigue would dissipate naturally. Right? Wrong.



Because I was so anxious to get home with my baby, where my mom and husband had been waiting for a week, the hospital released me on the home nursing program.


Oh, I was so excited! The nurse would come visit me, teach me how to parent, and all would be fine. When Jill, the nurse, arrived on Monday morning, I was a little bit scared. She was a strapping hulk of a woman who took no prisoners when it came to taking care of her women.

We had a chat. She weighed the baby. She showed us how to wrap. She checked my stitches. Then she asked how I was doing.

"I'm fine," I said tentatively. "I wonder, though, is shortness of breath normal?" I inquired almost apologetically.

She looked at me quizzically. "Noooo," she said in that sing-song kind of way that indicates concern. "It's not really normal."

Then she shifted into gear. "Right. Go down and see your family doctor. Find out what's causing your shortness of breath and call me today after 2:00."

On the way to the doctor, I began seeing spots in my eyes. Dr. Wong took my blood pressure and confirmed that I wasn't well. It was through the roof. He ordered me to get some kind of scan and return Tuesday.

We went for the scan. I had to lie down with my head within this giant disc. The radiographer told me that I might feel like I had to wee. He put die through my veins. I felt very hot then very cold. Terrified, I whimpered to myself, "What is happening to me?"

A CT machine makes sounds that we instinctively run away from. It is like a train barrelling down on you then suddenly shifting. My body jumped from the sound. The radiographer would say, "Try to stay still, please." Geesh! How possible was that?

~More on that later~

Testing Ground

Today is the short sprint race. I am busy getting ready. I'm nervous and excited. Last night I felt like I had the flu. David said it was pre-race jitters, so I went to bed. I woke up refreshed although I still have a cold. The race is at 3:00 at Sydney International Regatta Centre. Come watch if you like! Click on the location icon below.

~Later~

I did it! I did it! I really really did it! 500m swim/20k bike/5k run. Wow. And I wasn't last. And I didn't quit. And all those fears I had didn't materialise! And I wasn't perfect and IT DIDN'T MATTER!

I'm learning that racing is very honest. What you put in, you get out. There are no miracles on race day, but there are few robberies, either. I performed as I trained. David was there with the girls cheering me on. They were marvelous. David kept track of my time and helped me in transition. Here's how it went...

Swim: 500m. Thank God I have a wetsuit on because the water is absolutely freezing. The cold begins to radiate through the wetsuit and into my body. I am in a refrigerator. I dive in to get my head wet and, with 10 seconds to start, I forget all about the cold. 10, 9, 8...4,3, 2, 1, I swim.

At first I feel good. I am not yet a paddle wheel but I have high hopes. And this is always the place where it goes wrong. From about 50 meters in, I feel awkward and uncapable. The environment is intimidating. There are swimmers around me, next to me, in front of me. They all look professional from where I'm sitting. And I am sitting. I've stopped for 10 seconds. It turns into 20. The rest of the swim is a struggle. It's the breathing. I am just trying to get through it and I use all the tricks I have learned so far...breath every stroke. Breath every 3 strokes. Take big breaths. Keep your feet moving. Lead with the hips. The trouble is I can't coordinate it all. It's disheartening. But I keep going. I do my best to swim with good technique. I hear David on the side yelling, "Use your feet!". I veer to the right over and over and bring myself back to the line of swimmers. Finally, I am there. I am rounding the orange buoy that marks the last 50 meters of the race. I've made it! I slip a bit on the rocks on the way out, but I stand up, hands to the back, wet suit down. Result: 14:08

Bike: 20 k. I jog to transition and look for my bike. But I am disoriented. I can't find my bike. David yells from the sidelines, "It's right in front of you! Right next to that girl!". He's yelling other things as I spot the blue bike, green towel. "Helmet on! Helmet on! Get going!" It's all on and I've got my bike. Shouts of "Mount past the line! Mount past the line!" register. I move past the line and I'm on the bike. I'm just going to smash this leg! I am so confident. I am screaming past one, two, three cyclists. As I make my way around the second lap, I hear David say, "use a bigger gear!" Immediately I feel hopeless but regain my confidence as I scream past more cyclists. Rounding the third lap, I change gears and, @!#$, I drop my chain. For some reason unknown to me, I try to fix my chain while I'm riding. I have absolutely no idea how to do this, but I keep trying until I slowly glide to the turn, dismount, and fix my chain there. It probably took me 2-3 minutes. What a dwebe!

4th and final lap. I am over the bridge and I look around. There's no-one on the course. Where is everyone? I thought I was doing so well?! Did I do an extra lap? I am discouraged and stop peddling to get my drink bottle and suck down some gel. Keep going, Adrienne. Your only competition is yourself. As I approach the dismount with shoes unclipped, I am afraid to stop. Confusion as cries of , "Dismount!!" fill my ears. Okay! I lean my bike over and crash onto the grass. A late dismount but they must take pitty on me because, to my knowledge, no penalty. Result: 48:56.

Run: 5k. Boy does this ever hurt!! I sing my survival song, "You put one foot in front of the other/and soon you'll be walking cross that floor/you put one foot in front of the other/and soon you'll be walking out the door". I sing it over and over and over - throughout the entire run. Result: 29:07

Finally, I am finished. I did it! David is there and the girls are there and I am just so happy. I drink water, eat oranges and talk. I can't believe I did it. I didn't stop. I kept going. To me, I am success. I did something that I didn't think I could do and I am happy. We eat, play and go home with thoughts of a well-deserved day of rest floating in my head. Result: 1:32:11.0

Beginnings

Today I swam. I'm an inconsistent swimmer. Sometimes I feel like I'm really getting it. I envision a paddle wheel on the Mississippi River. "I am a paddle wheel," I say to myself. I glide over the water. I push the water with my powerful hands. Then *poof* I'm a clumpy branch again, tumbling awkwardly into and out of the water. There are imaginary spectators on the side of the pool who are jeering and heckling me with taunts of, "what a beginner!" and "she's pathetic!". Then bling-a-ling-a-ling. The magic fitness fairy waves her wand and I am doing it! Wait till my trainer sees me! She's going to see how closely and seriously I've taken her comments. Fssslllglump! Water in my lungs and nose. Cough, cough. Ugggmmmpphh. Reposition and reach! I will never get this right! I say to myself.
I finished the training session, though. Somewhere close to 2k. In the end, I remind myself constantly, it doesn't matter how I get there. Just that I do it.

The photo above is me in 2004. Aside from pregnancy, this is the heaviest I have ever been in my life. I was a year married. I truly don't know if I was unhappy. I didn't know what I was. I loved my husband but had given up so much to be with him. I was very confused. Somewhere along the way, I had slowly given up what it meant to be me. Something had to change. It did.

Mavilee came forth.

Starting Out

The purpose of this blog is to chronicle my journey to become an Olympic distance triathlete at the oldest triathlon in Australia: Penrith Valley Nepean Triathlon www.nepeantriathlon.com.

Although I've been training for triathlons for at least 4 months now, I feel like I am just beginning. What I feel more than anything is scared. All my life people have told me to believe in myself. My answer has usually been either that I don't know how or that I can't. This blog is my attempt to "just do it". I am a teacher and I tell my students that there is no other way than to just take each step forward and go through it. That is how you learn. It is time to stop being safe and take my own advice. As the preschool song goes..."you can't go under it, you can't go over it, you have to go through it."

Endurance and consistency have never been my strong points. In my own self-perpetuating identity survey, I continually tick the boxes next to whimpy, impatient, whimsical, sedentery. It is my good fortune, then, to have married a man who, although he occasionally identifies with these words, refuses to tick these boxes. He is a fighter. Bring it on...he says.

I mention him because athletic persuits tend to be infectious. My husband, David, has always been athletic. Two years ago, he shared with me his intention to become an Ironman triathlete. At the time, I thought of it as a luxury. It was an expensive, mid-life-crisis goal of his. I truly did not understand. The date was March, 2009. I had half-heartedly participated since 2006 in the PTC http://www.pantherstriclub.com.au/ Tuesday night handicap runs. I had never finished a season. And yet, I egotistically believed myself to be a kind of athlete. I was a runner, I thought. I had done something that I never believed I could do: run 6.7 kilometers somewhat frequently. I was a superstar in my own mind. In reality, I both under- and overestimated myself.

The journey will continue...