Angela
Bikes
Consistently
Despite
Extreme and external
Factors.
Girl
Has
Irritating
Jaw-dropping,
Killer
Lung coughs.
Must rest,
Nursing roommate says.
Over my dead lungs,
Proud,
Quitter-not,
Restless,
Stupid
Triathlete replies.
Understand that I need to train!
Vehicle needs to be maintained!
Wallowing indoors kills my brain.
X-it the room, I must do.
Yellow sun and blue sky calling my name.
Zoom zoom!
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Determination
You know you have the drive and the determination to be a triathlete when you are hurting and you want to hurt some more. You really have it when you are sick and hurting but still want to train. Or is that called stupidity? I prefer determination.
I've had a sore, itchy throat since Saturday evening, which developed into a nasty, dry cough. The rest of my body and head felt fine, so I figured why not workout the legs with stair climbing. My sister was also suffering with a sore throat, so I was in good company. As we climbed her nine story condo in stairwell B, you can hear the sound of our synchronized steps.
Right foot, left foot.
Right foot, left foot.
Cough, cough, laugh.
I was feeling good, so I picked up the pace. Determination, right?
By the third set, the echoing in the stairwell was no longer in rhythm. There was only one set of feet pattering, which was perfectly harmonized with my wheezing.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine! You better hurry because I'm going to catch you!"
Stomping ensued as I raced up the stairs.
Right foot, left foot.
Right foot, left foot.
Cough, cough, wheeze.
"You sound like you're dying. Do you need a ventilator?"
"No, I'm coming!!" (This was said in a sexy, raspy voice as my throat was parched by now. Actually, I sounded more like Gollum, but that's not very attractive.)
Right, left.
Right, left.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze.
Sigh.
At least no one can ever say that I don't have determination. I did finish climbing five sets, and I was so proud of myself that I took some cough medicine right afterwards. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cough up a lung.
I've had a sore, itchy throat since Saturday evening, which developed into a nasty, dry cough. The rest of my body and head felt fine, so I figured why not workout the legs with stair climbing. My sister was also suffering with a sore throat, so I was in good company. As we climbed her nine story condo in stairwell B, you can hear the sound of our synchronized steps.
Right foot, left foot.
Right foot, left foot.
Cough, cough, laugh.
I was feeling good, so I picked up the pace. Determination, right?
By the third set, the echoing in the stairwell was no longer in rhythm. There was only one set of feet pattering, which was perfectly harmonized with my wheezing.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine! You better hurry because I'm going to catch you!"
Stomping ensued as I raced up the stairs.
Right foot, left foot.
Right foot, left foot.
Cough, cough, wheeze.
"You sound like you're dying. Do you need a ventilator?"
"No, I'm coming!!" (This was said in a sexy, raspy voice as my throat was parched by now. Actually, I sounded more like Gollum, but that's not very attractive.)
Right, left.
Right, left.
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze.
Sigh.
At least no one can ever say that I don't have determination. I did finish climbing five sets, and I was so proud of myself that I took some cough medicine right afterwards. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cough up a lung.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The IMpossible
One week ago, I signed up to do Ironman Texas in the Woodlands. Was this a mistake or the result of delirium caused by taking too many pain pills?
Ever since shoulder surgery, I've been inactive and depressed. I was so used to being active nearly every day but am now locked indoors and am not allowed to even lift a cup or plate. I haven't been able to sleep well at all due to the uncomfortable sling I have to wear, along with the continuous shock of stabbing pain pulsating through my shoulder. Waking up every 30 minutes is not pleasant, especially when you're already sleep deprived. No movie or book could cure all the doubts and questions that are going through my head (plus, I've nearly finished watching my entire movie collection). Will my shoulder ever be the same? Will I get back 100% motion? Will I be able to be as strong as I was? What will I do if I'm not allowed to play sports ever again? I love sports. I'll die without them.
I was starting to lose it mentally.
To stop this unending negative thinking, I needed something to look forward to, a goal so big that all that consumes my mind is how I can achieve it.
What was the first thing that popped into my mind? Ironman.
What!? An Ironman? You can't handle that. You said you would never do one, especially after that half last October. That's crazy. You can't even swim, run, or bike right now. How are you suppose to train?Your shoulder cannot handle that so soon. You don't even know how rehab will go. There's too much uncertainty. An Ironman is impossible.
Perfect.
I'm a dreamer. I've always been a dreamer. I'm rarely in the world of reality when I'm in my head. This goal is perfect. I'm already imagining myself crossing the finish line with the hugest smile on my face. I'm getting teary just thinking about it already. I can already tell that this journey is going to be amazing. It's going to hurt like hell, but I am going to be an Ironman.
Ever since shoulder surgery, I've been inactive and depressed. I was so used to being active nearly every day but am now locked indoors and am not allowed to even lift a cup or plate. I haven't been able to sleep well at all due to the uncomfortable sling I have to wear, along with the continuous shock of stabbing pain pulsating through my shoulder. Waking up every 30 minutes is not pleasant, especially when you're already sleep deprived. No movie or book could cure all the doubts and questions that are going through my head (plus, I've nearly finished watching my entire movie collection). Will my shoulder ever be the same? Will I get back 100% motion? Will I be able to be as strong as I was? What will I do if I'm not allowed to play sports ever again? I love sports. I'll die without them.
I was starting to lose it mentally.
To stop this unending negative thinking, I needed something to look forward to, a goal so big that all that consumes my mind is how I can achieve it.
What was the first thing that popped into my mind? Ironman.
What!? An Ironman? You can't handle that. You said you would never do one, especially after that half last October. That's crazy. You can't even swim, run, or bike right now. How are you suppose to train?Your shoulder cannot handle that so soon. You don't even know how rehab will go. There's too much uncertainty. An Ironman is impossible.
Perfect.
I'm a dreamer. I've always been a dreamer. I'm rarely in the world of reality when I'm in my head. This goal is perfect. I'm already imagining myself crossing the finish line with the hugest smile on my face. I'm getting teary just thinking about it already. I can already tell that this journey is going to be amazing. It's going to hurt like hell, but I am going to be an Ironman.
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