Rule the World

"All for freedom and for pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever."

--Tears for Fears, "Everybody Wants to Rule the World."

Clearly, I do not rule the world.

Cuz if I did, there's a WHOLE LOTTA (stuff) that I would change.

Like the craptastic, ridiculous timing of my stress fracture, which interfered with (but didn't ruin) my Ironman, and well, some stupid ridiculous "I can't believe I walked right into that AGAIN" boy stuff.

Yeah, if I ruled the world, that boy stuff would not have happened. Not once, and certainly NOT TWICE. Whew. It was a total mind(trip) the first time, and the second time, as my friend Jules put it, it was "gutting." Apt, Jules, apt. Gutting indeed.

Moving on.

You would think that I would understand the concept of "this too shall pass" pretty well. I'm starting to get it.

I am amazed at the human body's capacity to heal itself. Yes, I know, there are people who have devastating illness who will never recover, and I don't mean to belittle or downplay that. I'm blessed and lucky and GRATEFUL for my own body's capacity to heal. (And, ha, I guess you should say the same thing about a heart that has been full on smashed 4+ times...)

I'm annoyed at the crummy timing of it all. But here are two things that I have discovered:
1) I love running.
2) Women need to talk about health stuff more.

On #1: Yes, I used the "L" word. Love. Yep, love. I have referred to 2013 as my "Runnaissance" because I thought I just tolerated running. I thought triathlon was something I LOVED (biking) sandwiched by two things that were (swim) sorta fun and super satisfying and (run) something that had to be done to get to the finish line. And as an endurance athlete and not a threshold athlete (read: racing just bikes is not my bag), I had to suffer through the run. I was moderately good enough at it, too.

And then this year happened, and I got fast. Not like BQ fast, or top of the podium fast, but suddenly I saw average paces that started with a "7" and I was like, "whose legs am I running with?" I PRed everything I entered this year, from 8ks to half marathons to a 10-miler... and even my Oly and my HIM.

All because I was running fast.

And I was putting down 8:20s on my long training runs for Ironman, like 18-milers and shit. Like, for reals.

And then I got hurt and I couldn't run.

At first my panic was about not finishing Ironman, but I made that happen out of sheer determination and will. And then after the race, after recovering and coming off the Ironman high and riding and swimming a lot, I realized that I MISSED RUNNING. I'd hear a song from my running mix and think, "Oh! I usually listen to this song when I run!" Or I'd be biking past one of my running routes. And I'd think: "Oh! I miss the stink of the fish market in the morning!" Kidding. But you get the idea.

I'd look back at my Garmin data at those long runs LONGINGLY. Sick. It was 50 degrees one morning and I though T"HIS IS PERFECT RUNNING WEATHER!! AND I CAN'T GO!!!" And I was sad.

And then, I got cleared to start running again. The first run was awkward and weird. I had visions of my femur snapping as I plodded in an uneven cadence (for one minute at a time) on the treadmill. My whole body revolted. I called the doctor. My second attempt was exhilarating, pain-free, and... I was smiling from ear to ear.

I'M RUNNING!!!!! I thought. I couldn't believe it. My fear of never being able to race again melted. I thought about Ironman. I thought about "how can I get my thesis done early so I can train for IMCoz 2014??" I thought about doing another marathon (probably March 2014). I thought about how I need to focus on healing and nutrition and never getting injured again.

Which brings us to #2.

I had no idea I was at risk. Because like fucking NOBODY TOLD ME. Not my doctors, not my friends, not other athletes. How could this BIG DEAL OF A RISK FOR STRESS FRACTURE be something that I only learned about AFTER GETTING ONE??

For that, I feel robbed and ripped off. I feel angered at my "girl doctor" and my primary care physician who have known about my little "I don't have a cycle" issues for almost 2 years. I feel helpless that my friends--also athletes--who I confided in didn't have advice for me. I feel like I need to share this story, tell people this incredibly personal thing because no one should have to deal with what I've had to deal with when it's TOTALLY preventable.

Yes, I'm seeing a nutritionist. Yes, I'm taking a shitton of calcium. Yes, I'm trying not to focus on "well I'm not training for Ironman anymore so maybe I'm going to gain a couple of pounds." Yes, I love being fit, but if you know me, you know that when I pop out of bed at 4 in the morning on race day and I post:

IT'S A GREAT DAY FOR A TRIATHLON!!!

It's so ridiculously genuine that you have to laugh. When people ask me about triathlon I say, "Race day is the best day!"
Because it just IS.

An Ever-Fixed Mark

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

--William Shakespeare, "Sonnet 116."

This is Really Happening

"I can taste your summer sweat
It's never been so warm
So can we kick the covers off?
They're always on
It's never been so warm

It's hard to keep a straight face when I just want to smile
If you could see the look that's in your eyes

Like starlight crashing through the room, we'll lose our feathers
Yes, I know it hurts at first but it gets better."

--fun., "It Gets Better."

I am an Ironman.

I crossed the finish line on my first Ironman in 14 hours and 53 minutes.

I'm so bipolar about that. Let's break it down.

I crossed the finish line on my first Ironman (YAHOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! I did it!!!!!!!)...

...in 14 hours and 53 minutes (BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

Because I had a stress fracture in my left femur. And I had to walk the marathon.

Seriously, I can't believe I walked the marathon. I walked a MARATHON after swimming 2.4 miles and biking 112. My feet are very unhappy about that fact. Holy blisters. I almost couldn't walk the next day and it wasn't because my leg muscles were wobbly (which they were). Walking on the giant blister on the ball of my right foot was torture. It had been torture for the last 8 or so miles of the "run," even. The blisters were so painful on the very last climb up to the top of the town and the start of the finisher's chute (the only part of the race I "ran"), I actually screamed a little.

About a month before the race I started having a little pain. Nothing too terrible, but just a little tightness in my left bum cheek and IT band and groin muscles. At first I thought it was hip flexor. Or gluteus medius. Or piriformis. I stretched and rolled and got PT and massage. It felt better so I kept running.

And then it was worse. Like, way worse. If I'm being perfectly honest, there was a run I did on July 18 that hurt so much I wanted to stop from the first step. But I didn't. And I regret that very much. After that, no amount of stretching, rolling, PT, Graston, massage, ice, ibuprofen, or anything I could do would make it go away.

And I panicked.

This thing I worked so hard for. This thing my heart wanted so much. I was truly afraid it was slipping through my fingers.

And then I had a pity party the likes of which I hadn't seen in a long time. Every time I got on my bike (which didn't hurt), I would cry. Please God, please don't take this away from me, too. To some people, I might look like I "have it all," but there are things in life that I really, really want that I don't have, just like everyone else. I started to have a giant pity party that this THING that I was working REALLY HARD for was going to disappear, too. And I was MAD.

Thankfully at that time, I was at school in California, and the most that my closest friends heard about it was through a few random texts. Olwen, Pam, Kim, Holli... they don't know how glad they are that I was on the other side of the country, because I would have been hard to handle. Coach Rob got several panicky texts, too.

I prayed for bursitis, which would have been fixable with a cortisone injection. Yeah, bursitis. IT band rubbing on hip bursa... that's got to be it! I could barely walk for a few days there. My classmates in California were worried about me. I'm sure I looked very upset.

When I got home, I went straight to the orthopedist, and he knew right away. Even when the X-ray came up negative, he was sure it was a stress fracture. I prayed that the MRI would prove him wrong, but it didn't. I saw it with my own two eyes, one of the scariest things I've seen in my life: a picture of my own femur with a crack in it. I sobbed on the floor of my doctor's office. He was as kind as he could be. He was so sorry for me. I kept saying, "I've worked so hard, this isn't happening. I've worked so hard..." and he said, "Well, you don't get a stress fracture from NOT working hard."

I asked: what did it really mean? He said, "You cannot run. Look at me. You can't run. For 6 to 8 weeks. You can't do anything that hurts."

Immediately, I said, "Walking doesn't hurt."

And he knew what I meant. And he made me look him in the eyes when he said the rest: "Abby, my fear with putting you out there is that you won't be able to let people run past you. I know you. You worked so hard and your pain threshhold is so high, but I'm telling you, you WILL HEAL and you will get to keep doing this, but you CANNOT RUN."

I knew at that moment I would swim, bike, and walk 140.6 miles, as God is my witness. And it broke my heart.

I fretted about it so much that I lost an entire night of sleep over it. I gave myself a headcold the week before the race as a result. That was helpful. :)

When it came time to race, the only thing in my heart was getting to that finish line in one piece. There were brief moments where I felt twinges in my hip during the race and I had to back off, and my heart broke a little more. When I got to the "run," I had to gulp down my pride each time someone said, "Ne marche pas" (or "don't walk" in French). My heart broke a little more each time. But I smiled every second. I was proud of myself for doing it anyway. I chatted with strangers. I cheered on all of my friends (each of whom I saw many times on the "run"). Courtney and Jason hugged me. Olwen and I cheered for each other. Alejandro slapped me on the ass. Ellen, Pam, Dirk, Jenn, all had high fives and kind words. Mike and Ryan had signs. My parents had cowbells.

I was determined that I was going to get there.

I will write a report on what I did for those 140.6 miles, what I ate (in short: Doritos), what I drank, but let me just tell you about that last kilometer. The one where I finally knew that I was really, really going to get there.

I walked up that last hill with my blisters screaming. I looked around at the scene: dark, almost 10 PM, almost no one around, the muffled voice of Mike Reilly on the loudspeakers, the glow of the finish line bouncing off the mountains. I kept walking. After the climb, I was in the village coming down the hill, and there were more and more people along the course. There was a fence holding them back. People were holding their hands out for high fives, and I took all of them. I looked around through watery eyes at all the strangers cheering, and I couldn't believe it. I saw the finish line a few hundred meters away and I thought, "FUCK IT I'M RUNNING!"

For a split second, I was afraid it was going to hurt, but it didn't. I saw my friends and high-fived them. I saw my parents cheering.

I looked behind me to make sure there was no one else who could steal the thunder of my name being called as I ran to the elevated platform at the finish line, and I heard Mike Reilly say:

"From Washington, D.C., at 37 years old,
Abigail Sanford
You...
Are...
An Ironman!"

I crossed the finish line with my pre-selected "one arm in the air" pose, and then the genuine emotion took over and I was pumping my fists in the air as I walked down the platform.

It wasn't the day I trained for.
It wasn't the race I planned.
But at the end of that very long day, I crossed that line, and I felt like an Ironman.

Can anyone say "unfinished business?"

Even before I got injured, I knew I would do it again.

Stay tuned!!

Carry On

"But I like to think
I can cheat it all
To make up for the times I've been cheated on
And it's nice to know
When I was left for dead
I was found and now I don't roam these streets
I am not the ghost you want of me."

--fun., "Carry On."

Okay, whew.

To start, an apology to my friends and family... and coworkers... and everyone else. Where have I been? Writing papers on ocelots for my master's in security studies, and riding my bike really far.

I never thought I would be "that guy." And suddenly I am.

And I ask myself: why am I doing this? And the answer is: because I want to. I decided I wanted to do this thing, and even now, deep in the training, with exactly 9 weeks to go (63 days!!! But who's counting??), I still want it. I was finishing up the last half mile of my run today, and suddenly I was smiling ear to ear. My hamstrings and glutes were yelling, and my left IT band started to identify itself, but I didn't care. I saw the front door of my apartment building, and suddenly my mind saw the chute to the finish line of Ironman. And I almost cried, there on the sidewalk in front of my neighbors, because (fingers crossed) my heart knows that I *can* finish this beast.

Yes, the training is completely insane sometimes. I mean, oh my god, why would you do that? Go bike 100 miles on Skyline Drive and then run for 45 minutes? That's insane. Who does that? Who rides 80 miles and runs 5 on one day, and then gets up and runs 18(.33) the next day?

So here I am, announcing to the world... I'm going to be doing the crazy bike riding thing for a little while longer, and the grad school thing for another year. After yesterday's ride--which went well, but not as well as it could have--I made the decision I need to sleep more, eat better, and drink less. Or perhaps not at all. Just for the next 63 days. The truth is, I've realized that IRONMAN can't be cheated on. I'm asking a lot of my body right now, and I need to be good to it, because it's going to have to go through a lot in the next few weeks. No more staying up late, drinking too much sauv blanc (so delicious), and then trying to do what I've been doing at 5:30 AM. But 63 days is REALLY QUITE SHORT, and I can survive being a total square for a bit. It's not like I don't know how to do that. :)

Please know that I love you, and I miss you, and I think of you all the time. Yes you, reading this. And I'm sorry that I'm not available to do that awesome thing that you want to do. Also know that I'm not gone, I'm not dead, I'm not ignoring you, I'm not mad at you, I don't think I'm better than you, and I don't need to talk about training for Ironman all the time. But I might need to drink club soda with lime and go to bed at 10 PM for the next few weeks.

Oh Hell No!

"I've been high, I've been low
I've been yes, and I've been oh hell no
I've been rock and roll and disco
Won't you save me San Francisco?"

--Train, "Save me San Francisco."

touche.

This last weekend I had a big pile of crap accompanied by a huge dose of awesome.

Life...
She makes me laugh. And cry.

Fate?

"Well, I met an old man dying on a train.
No more destination, No more pain.
Well he said, "One thing, before I graduate:
Never let your fear decide your fate."

--AWOLNATION, "Kill Your Heroes."

It's funny to think back on the days, early 1994, when I was about to graduate from high school. In so many ways I was bold, excited, hungry for something new. In so many ways, I was scared out of my mind.

Deciding where to go to college was particularly difficult for me. It will only sound ridiculous to say, "I got in everywhere I applied, so I had too many choices and no idea what to do!" But, it is a true statement. Sorry. I was a brainiac. A nerd. A straight edge who made straight A's... Probably the only thing unexpected I ever did was kiss a lot of boys. Given that I was someone in high school who everyone seemed to know *everything* about *all* *the* *time,* none of that was likely a secret.

Anyway, moving on.

For reasons I barely understood at the time, I applied to both Westpoint and the Naval Academy. And yes, I was appointed at both. I was a brainiac GIRL from UTAH. I hit every demographic nerve. Even Harvard agreed.

I had noooooooooo idea what I was doing with my life--I was, after all, only 18! The only thing I knew is that I was getting the f*ck out of Utah. And GTFO I did. But unfortunately I didn't know myself, didn't know my strengths, weaknesses, goals... really, ANYTHING in order to make an appropriate decision. Sadly, my loving parents weren't much help in that realm, either. Probably, it was the right decision to decline both appointments. I can't really see myself at war. But to the point: The motivation behind that decision--and many, many others in my late teens and early twenties--was an underlying fear.

I know I can't be too hard on myself for all of that. I can psychoanalyze myself upside down and backwards for all of it.

Bullying -->low self-esteem-->fear of failure-->bad decisions.

Not to be too cynical about people who get married young, but as someone who did it, I think to myself: who *does that* except someone who has absolutely no faith in themselves? (Yes, of course I believe in love, but I think fear is a bigger motivator at 23.)

Anyway, moving on.

I good friend, musical guru, and mentee of mine has recently returned from 2 years in the Peace Corps. When he applied and asked me to be a reference, I said, OF COURSE! You know I will always be a reference for you (you know who you are). Undeniably, there was a part of me that was and will always be envious of what he did.

Why didn't I join the Peace Corps? Why didn't I take off and travel around the globe when I was 20-something? Why didn't I do SO many things that my heart wanted to do?

Fear. Of f*cking up.

Fear. Of missing out on something else.

Fear. Of not being "what everyone expects me to be."

Of not being what I expect of myself.

This past year, I have realized that fear has been a HUGE factor in so so so many of the decisions I have (or haven't) made about my life. And of course, I have one, big, GIANT fear left. If you know me, you know what it is.

Enter IronMan.
Enter... Graduate school? AGAIN? WHAT???!!???

All I can say is: f*ck it. I want these things. Both of them. With my whole damn heart. And I'm not going to let fear of missing out on SOMETHING ELSE stop me.

Is it completely nuts to sign up and train for IronMan? Yep, probably. Am I afraid of it?

HA!

Not even remotely. I think about and I get the chills I'm so friggin' excited.

Is it completely CRAZY to go back for a second master's degree (that I never planned on getting)? Yep, probably. Am I afraid of it?

BRING.
IT.
ON.

I'll work on the fear of other things as I approach these two things fearlessly.

Walking Tall

"To change the world,
Start with one step.
However small,
The first step is hardest of all.

Once you get your gate,
You'll be walking tall."

--Dave Matthews Band, "You Might Die Trying."

Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries... Why do we remember such things? There is something about major markers in our lives that make us stop, reflect, and evaluate ourselves. I suppose we are inherently achievers; perhaps that is an evolutionary trait. Survival of the adapters.

In 2001, cargo pants were really cool (sorry for those who still sport them--they probably aren't cool anymore, but I don't know because I can't dress myself). I was in graduate school.

"I love cargo pants! I mean, they are so flattering! They even look good on Abby!"

Her name was Katherine. As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she looked like she swallowed a frog, and she started stammering.

I let her off the hook, as I was quite capable of doing at the time.

The irony (if I'm using that term correctly, which I am careful to do):

Katherine was a triathlete. That was over twelve years ago, when I weighed 205 pounds.

I celebrate this date with a few thoughts:

A) I am old. :)

B) I have some pretty friggin' fabulous legs (so modest!).

C) "Lifestyle change" is fun.

No but seriously. Maybe once upon a time it seemed like fun to be lazy and eat burritos the size of my head, but I've never had more fun in my life than right now.

No, right now.

Or, right.... now.

Who We Want To Be

"We're old enough for leaving home
The old Joanna and the old trombone
It's all going on,
I'm growing my sideboards long
Hey, you and me can be who we want to be
Listen now, right here
It's gonna be a beautiful year."

--Mark Knopfler, "We Can Get Wild."

Recently, someone asked me, "Are you happy?"

At that particular moment, the smile I was wearing was likely bigger than my face could contain.

I answered honestly. Yes. Yes, very much.

I've had some pretty amazing conversations with the question's asker, and during one (also, recently) I was rambling on with my psychoanalysis of a mutual acquaintance's "life narrative"--that is, the story he tells about himself. I think each of us has a narrative, and only when self-awareness and humility are fully present do we accept our own role in our life narratives. That person tells a story about himself like a broken record. But, he doesn't realize or accept his own role in that story, and it may take quite sometime for him to break free.

Also (again, recently!), my ex-boyfriend (let's call him exBF2) wrote me an e-mail saying I left a toaster oven in the storage, and did I want it back.

All of these seemingly unrelated (recent) happenings are threads of a thought that has been weaving itself in my mind for a while. If you occasionally read this wretched blog, you may have noticed that I haven't been posting anything particularly substantive lately. Mostly just race schedules, random song lyrics, sometimes a link. My posts have not been like the early heavy stuff when I started writing few years ago.

To be honest, I haven't read my own ramblings in a while. Today, I went back and looked at some of the things I posted a few years ago, and this thing that has been weaving itself finally unfolded.

I am.
Happy.

Happy doesn't mean I have everything that I want. Happy doesn't mean I have it all figured out. Happy doesn't mean I want my life to stay the same as it is right now forever and ever.

For me, happy means my narrative has changed.

The older gentleman I coached through his first triathlon asked me about 2 months ago what I learned from my last failed relationship (the one that resulted in the toaster oven question). When he asked, I struggled with an answer. I have loathed exBF2--even more than exH2, the one who did despicable things. I didn't want to think that HE (exBF2) had taught ME anything.

I probably quipped, "I learned I hate him and I never want to see him ever again."

Since then, I've challenged myself to come up with a real answer. In part, I have done so in an effort to fully demonstrate (to myself) that I am, as claimed, over it.

I think I got it: I learned that I am happy!

I learned that I like myself, and that I don't have to contort myself into being someone I'm not to have a relationship.

Hyperactive, nerdy, over-achieving, opinionated, bold, emotional, caring, outgoing, generous me... I like me. I am, at my core, a happy person. Sometimes life makes water come out of my eyes, but it also makes me laaaaaaaaaaaaaugh laugh laugh, and, I always wish for good things for people. I am certainly doggedly persistent, but to that, I just shrug my shoulders and say, "Yep! That's me! Nope! I don't give up!"

This is a completely different story than the one I told myself about myself not so long ago. Yes, when I'm tired, and overworked, and cranky, I might dwell on the things that I would change about my life if I could. And water might come out of my eyes every now and then. But deep down, this year or so that I haven't been dating exBF2, I have learned how to truly enjoy myself, the experiences in my life, and my friends and family.

My baseline has shifted.

Thank you, so much, for asking!

Do I think there are things that would make me happiER? Why yes, indeed. Ask me what they are. I'm pretty sure I have an idea what might work. It's not a toaster oven. :)

Starts Right Here

"Oh, my heart is a thoroughbred
I can't sleep in my bed
Everything is burning up inside me
I need something I can feel
Cigarettes and a driving wheel and
Oh my god, when you cross your legs beside me--

I know true love don't look like anybody else
I know your heart don't beat like anybody else

When it all comes down to kerosene
And sorry signs on cash machines
And it don't look like anything you've dreamed of
I won't let you give it up
With sorry sighs and forced bad luck
Come on baby, let's see what we're made of

I know true love don't look like anybody else
I know your heart don't beat like anybody else

And all these burning battlefields are now behind us
Life has brought us here together to remind us
That love will rise above it all and just keep growing
Life keeps flowing, and every moment starts right here with us."

--Mason Jennings, "Sorry Signs on Cash Machines."

The first time I heard this song, I fell in love with the person who gave it to me. It is the most romantic song I've ever heard in my life. There's not much more I can say about it, because it says everything on its own.

It's Time

"I've had enough of danger
And people on the streets
I'm looking out for angels
Just trying to find some peace
Now I think it's time
That you let me know
So if you love me
Say you love me
But if you don't just let me go."

--George Michael, "One More Try."

Carolyn Hax is my guru. If you don't read her column, you're just wrong.

Since '99

"So maybe I should put up a fight
I'll call them back and borrow a box knife
So I can learn to live with all the stupid shit I've been doing since '99
And I know I could be more clever,
And I know I could be more strong.

--fun. "Out On the Town."

So, I've had two very different people talk to me about relationship games. The woman (roughly my age) gave me this book, and the man (roughly my father's age, or a bit older) advises me a bit like the book.

The thing is...

This isn't "Survivor." It's not about "Outwit, Outlast, Outplay."

Do I have to try so hard? I just want to be me. I'm not clever.

Good News!

***EDITED March 11, 2013***
"People, people
Have you heard the good news?
There's people, people
They're running just like you.
Today, I say
It's all that matters for now
For you and I, Wooo
So people, people
Make some good ol' love!"
--AWOLNATION, "People, people."

2013 Race Schedule
3/16/13 Rock N Roll USA Half Marathon
4/7/13 Cherry Blossom 10-Miler
5/19/13 Columbia Triathlon
6/9/13 IronMan EagleMan 70.3 Triathlon
6/23/13 Garrett County Gran Fondo
7/06/13 Total 200
8/18/13 IronMan Mont Tremblant Triathlon
9/8/13 Nations Triathlon
9/29/13 IronMan Augusta 70.3 Triathlon
10/26/13 Marin Triathlon

Here we go.