Thy will...my loss

"Thy will be done…" "I know you are good…" "I know you hear me..."

I can listen to all the songs to try to put my mind in the right place, but I’m not there. I can remind myself that there is a bigger plan and that God sees a bigger picture...but I am not there yet. I am numb, confused, and lost.

Those words and the way time stopped as my doctor uttered them: "I need to show you something...mass of cells...no developing fetus." I don’t know if I breathed for a solid 30 seconds. I heard what she said, but I knew I must have heard wrong. I was supposed to be seeing a nearly 9-weeks-along baby growing inside of me, but instead there was no life to be found. Suddenly the past weeks flashed through my mind… there was never a raspberry-sized fetus inside of me, no developing heart, lungs, brain, arms, legs… none of it.

For more than 5 weeks, I’d curiously followed along the apps telling me what was happening inside of my body, hopeful as each week passed with only mildly annoying pregnancy symptoms. I had begun to tell more people as my confidence grew. I’d made it to the ultrasound, and from there, I planned to tell a few more people by showing them the ultrasound picture of the itty bitty baby inside of me. I would be 12 weeks along by St Patrick’s Day weekend, so I already had some cute and clever ideas of how to make the official announcement.

Instead, I left my ultrasound appointment with a list of follow-up tests, appointments, and a rare diagnosis of a molar pregnancy - 1/1000 pregnancies end this way, and I was on the losing end of being the 0.1%. An outlier, as has been typical in my life. Unlike most miscarriages, there was never life inside of me, despite the fact that my body/hormones behaved as if I was legitimately pregnant. Even now, as I sit here 2 days until my scheduled D&C, my pants are too tight around my stomach, the pregnancy nausea still exists, and I’m exhausted. My body still thinks it’s pregnant, but I know it’s just hormones. Instead of a baby growing inside of me, there is a tumor-like growth that will continue to grow until it’s removed in a couple of days. For the second time in my adult life, I am growing a tumor.

Also unlike most miscarriages, the likelihood of recurrence is very rare (about 1%)...although, as an outlier, odds don’t comfort me. Another difference is that, although my body should return to normal in a couple of months, I will spend at least the next 6 months having my hormone levels tested because this tumor-like growth can spread if not removed entirely - it can spread and become cancerous. Chances of (very curable) cancer are only 20%...but again, odds do not comfort me. I am an outlier. I am not afraid, but I am numb.

I don’t know how to mourn the loss of something that never was, even if my mind and body believed it to have been real. I don’t know how to mourn when the road ahead is so long. I don’t know why God let me finally begin to have hope and confidence, to let go of my cynical and doubtful tendencies, only to let me down. I am angry at life and at God right now. I feel cheated. I feel like a fool. I don’t know what recovery looks like because I don’t know how to trust God again. I have been through a lot in my life that causes me to expect things to go wrong, and it took a huge leap of faith and extensive growth for me to finally believe in the good that was happening in me...but all along, I believed in something that wasn’t there.

I am angry because God let me have hope. It is rare for women to have no symptoms with a molar pregnancy because hormone levels are so high, yet I had none… my symptoms were that of a healthy pregnancy and a body that tolerated pregnancy quite well. I am angry, and I don’t know how to believe in good again. When I’m finally allowed to try to get pregnant again, I fear how my anxiety will handle it. I fear the worst case scenario of cancer and chemo and not being able to try again for well over a year. I fear complacency and giving up. I had only recently mentioned how my life felt whole and my path affirmed by God with each choice I made and conversation I had with God. I feel like I got played. I feel like a fool.

I feel like I am doomed to be an outlier - the reason statistics exist. I’m in the minority as it is...never married, had a rare miscarriage diagnosis, have had a tumor before...I’m even an outlier in good ways, but I just want to be NORMAL. I want to be typical. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. I have spent my whole life searching for the feeling of inclusion, and while I’ve had moments of belonging, I have never felt like I fit. Having a baby wasn’t going to make me "fit" (especially not being a single mom by choice), but it would have finally given me purpose. I feel like I will be okay. I will find my footing again. I will have faith again… but not yet. For now, I am broken and mourning and letting myself feel what I feel. I am confused and will not find answers immediately. For now, I have to focus on taking care of myself and finding a way to be hopeful for the long road ahead. For now, my prayers to God are short, but I will not stop praying...even if I’m telling Him how mad I am (He knows anyway). For now, I will keep going because it’s the only choice I have.

Also, for now, I am sharing my story because in the past few days the one thing that has made me feel most whole is when I’ve stopped hiding the truth and told people what is happening. I thought I’d be announcing a pregnancy, but instead I’m announcing something different. Either way, there is grace in being honest. So, that’s why I’m sharing my story now.

Survived the season!

One year ago, I was preparing for my big race weekend... Ironman 70.3 Augusta. For the months leading up to the race, triathlon/training was my life. It had become the one thing I could rely on when so many other areas of my life were an ongoing struggle. I was unhappy unless I was focused on some sort of triathlon-related activity. At my job, I was miserable, and the only way I could make it through some days was to look forward to that evening's workout. Even on the worst days, I could go run or bike or swim.

All that focus paid off on race day. I headed to Augusta with the goal of just finishing in a decent time (goal was around 06:15:00)...I crossed the finish line at 05:49:24, more than 25 minutes faster than I had hoped. My swim was a solid 5-10 minutes faster than I could have hoped for. I biked at 18.35 mph for 56 miles...and tied my personal record on a 13.1 mile run as I averaged a 9:30 pace, finishing in just over 02:04 for the run. I finished the race in the top third of my division. It went so much better than I could have ever imagined, and little did I know at the time, I'd need that positive outcome to carry me for a while.

.

One year ago, I never would've imagined having to set aside running/biking/swimming for 3 months because of a car wreck and whiplash a mere 2 weeks after completing that race. Who knows, if I'd not gotten in that wreck, maybe I'd be packing my bags for Ironman Chattanooga this weekend, or maybe I'd be heading back Augusta to try to out-do myself. That's not where I am, though. I am running half the distance I was a year ago, and at a slower pace. I am biking at the same speed and sometimes faster, just not as far or as often. It was really tough to wrap my head around the idea of running/racing without being somewhat competitive, but it's been a nice break.

At least when I race, I still look serious!

I did push myself, even while having fun.

In past year of not being totally obsessed with racing, I've been re-acquainted with myself. I've found out that I do actually enjoy architecture when in the right working environment. I have had time to build new and better relationships with people I care about. Instead of training myself non-stop for races, I've channeled that energy into helping others accomplish their running/triathlon goals. I've helped train a few friends and family to complete their first races (of many, I'm sure)...from 5K to half-marathon to triathlon. It's been great to see the sport from a different perspective. 

Training day w/ Lindsay!

First time running w/ mom & dad!

My run/tri clubs helped make my races fun, not too intense this year!

Plus, I got a medal my first race this season :)

These past few months, I would not have been able to maintain the training I was doing a year ago. There is no way. Last year, my life was triathlon. This year, I'm living a full life again. At times, it's been admittedly difficult to watch my active friends post about big races and training on facebook, only because I remember that rush. However, now that the season is over, I can officially announce that I accomplished my goal... I survived a season without being obsessed/competitive! I had fun with it! 

Runningnerds run for the post-race pizza & beer.

Last year, I'd never have been a beer mile beast!

Yes, there were moments I was hard on myself, but overall, I did it. I took the time to enjoy life and enjoy triathlon without having to constantly push myself to do better. In doing so, I found that I didn't need to do a race every week or so to be happy. I did plenty of races early in the summer, and by the second half of the season, I took time to do whatever I wanted on weekends. Sometimes what I wanted to do wasn't run/bike/race! What a concept? It's been great, but it's been a challenge. 

Shooting the Hooch instead of training!

I can enjoy festivals when I'm not training non-stop.

And beer... there's always time for beer.

Good riddance 2013!

Somehow the year is suddenly coming to an end...it seems as if 2013 flew by faster than expected (I think I have this same revelation every year, actually). Every year I take the opportunity to look back on the past 12 months and reflect upon what I learned and experienced, and like the rest of the world, I also look ahead to the months to come and wonder what's next. All I can say is that I sure hope 2014 is a bit less dramatic than the past few years have turned out to be. I have set some pretty lofty goals and had a lot of life happen in the past few years, and I still seem amazed at all that has happened in the previous year as the end of December rolls around.

In pure "Stephanie's life" fashion, 2013 has managed to be unexpectedly dramatic. I have seen some pretty major ups and downs in both my own life and the lives of those around me this year. I would like to chalk it up to the fact that "13" is one of those supposed unlucky numbers. Even in the positive moments of this past year, there's been more drama than I'd have hoped. For ever up, there's been a down...and for every down, there's been a pitfall.

In the past 12 months I have experienced some of the most wonderful feelings...a loving relationship, traveling to a new place with a great guy, setting goals for myself and smashing them out of the park, venturing out beyond myself, and continuing to learn more about me each day. I have also seen darkness... I was dealt the blow of yet another failed relationship and the ensuing heartbreak. I hit a lot of road blocks in my personal life that seemed to continue to persist, regardless of how I approached them. I experienced a lot of loss this year, and have only recently begun to recover pieces of myself that were broken along the way.


I succeeded in completing the 70.3 Ironman Augusta this past year, broke my goal time by nearly half an hour, and almost beat my fastest half-marathon time on the run portion of the race (after swimming and biking!). I worked so hard to get to that point. I had spend many months focused on training, and triathlon had become my life. The high of that accomplishment was short-lived, unfortunately, as I was in a car accident less than 2 weeks later, which left me with whiplash, temporary memory problems, and eventually threw my entire life into a tailspin of "wtf" (I can think of no other way to describe it). The thing I enjoyed more than almost anything else in the past few years has been running/training/biking/exercise, and suddenly I couldn't do any of it. Two weeks after my biggest physical accomplishment, I was unable to continue. It has now been over two months since the accident. I am finally running and biking again, but time has taken a toll. I'm slower and unable to run or bike as far as I feel I should be... I feel as if my goals had to be halted.

The accident turned into a nightmare. I was not at fault, had a witness who had to leave the scene, and ended up dealing with a couple who lied to the officer and insurance companies (even got a lawyer) trying to put fault on me. My insurance company didn't seem to care enough to pursue my witness's statement until a month later, and I don't think they tried hard b/c I'm still forking over tons of money. I was emotionally and physically drained, and I had the hardest time reconciling in my mind how any person could knowingly lie at the expense of another person. Grace and forgiveness has been extremely hard for me to give in this situation... I more easily forgave the guy who broke my heart than the couple who broke my car.

As an indirect result of my accident (and very straight-forward conversations with people), I made an unexpected job change, which was one of the hardest decisions I could've imagined, and it left me feeling very broken. Thank God for His provision here b/c my work life is now better than it has been in years. I think the only way I can end this year smiling is knowing that God has my back. Even in the heartache, physical pain, financial strain, and overall stress, He really does step in before it's too late. It's never too late.

Even with the accomplishments of this past year, I feel more beat up and burned out than ever. Two of the things that brought me more joy in this past year are no longer part of my day-to-day. Yes, I will get back to half-ironman shape again before too long (Lord willing), and I'll find a relationship that's better than the last was for that moment in time. Still, it's hard to mark 2013 down in the "win" column of my life at the moment. It's hard to imagine saying that the year of my first half-ironman (and my first actual smaller race wins too) isn't a "win" overall, but that just goes to show how dramatic life can sometimes be. For all the ups, there can be downs...and when the ups are that amazing, I have to be willing to accept and deal with some pretty low downs.

I am not a crier. I don't cry openly, and when I do cry, it's usually because I'm watching a Hallmark commercial (seriously, what is up with those?). I shed more tears in this past year than I think I've shed in a long time...even more rare, I cried in front of more people this past year than I think I've cried in front of in years. Crying is good. Maybe through all of the ups and downs this past year, if I learned nothing else, it's that it is okay to feel... the good and the bad. Not all of this year's tears were bad...I can admit that I teared up at least 4 or 5 times during the half ironman race. I was that excited and proud. Tears are okay, regardless of the reason. (says the girl who refuses to shed a tear in public without getting angry at herself for doing so)

In the past few years, life seems to have gotten more dramatic each year.

• 2009 was the year life gave me a crazy story about my 12-pound tumor (and all the related madness and surgery) I also went to Mexico w/ friends during the swine flu madness, and it was awesome.
• 2010 was a year of recovery...recovering from the surgery and recovering from life in general. It was also the year when I moved back into the city to my wonderful neighborhood. Other than that, an uneventful year for once.
• 2011 was the year I bought a house, decided to start running, and even played soccer again. "Active Stephanie" was born in 2011. I hosted my family's Thanksgiving at my newly-purchased house, broken hand and all (which mean that Mom did all the work, even at my house). I wrote my Pre-30 bucket list and started checking stuff off quickly. 
• 2012 was the year I turned 30. I ran my first 4 half-marathons, I completed my first 3 triathlons, I got hooked on racing and totaled 20 races by the end of 2012, I ran a marathon, I went skydiving, I got a massive tattoo, and I realized that life begins at 30. I also got to nearly replace my roof, had a burst water line to replace, and realized how hard home-ownership could be.
• 2013, this year, has been the usual level of nuts. I continued to race, did a handful of duathlons and triathlons, half-marathons, etc...and I trained and completed (in under 6 hours) a 70.3 Ironman. I took a last-minute trip to Puerto Rico and hung out in a rain forest. I finally got rid of my big orange car. I was on probation for a speeding ticket for a couple of months (thanks Dekalb County). I left the job I've had for over 6 years. I got whiplash from a car wreck, and am now starting at the beginning w/ running/biking again. 

I'm not sure what's to expect in 2014...in fact, I'm scared to imagine what's next!!!



I actually don't typically set New Year's resolutions... I save that resolution stuff for my own new year, my birthday. However, this year, I don't want to wait another 6 months to get myself back on track. If 2013 was a mess b/c of the "unlucky" number 13, then 2014 should be great for me b/c if I ever had a lucky number, it's 14 (was my soccer number, for starters). In 2014, I want to do another 70.3 race and finish in 5:45:00...it's less than 5 min faster than last year, but I also want to be realistic here! I want to break 2 hours for my half marathon, which as soon as I'm back at it shouldn't be a problem. I also would like to place in a few more races this year than I did last year. I don't care if I win, but that drive to be the best is in me, may as well push myself.
If I don't accomplish these things, I'll be fine with that... as long as I am working toward a goal, regardless of the specific goal, I will be happy. In 2014, I will let myself be happy, even when the poop hits the fan.

What NOT to do...in life, really

I have had the wonderful misfortune/opportunity to go on more first dates that I can count in my life... considering that I’ve been dating for a solid 15 years or more, even if I’d been on a few first dates each year, I easily have probably had anywhere from 30-45 first dates. As such, I have more stories to tell than I could have ever imagined I’d have.

The most recent debacle has inspired me to share with the world the kind of dating environment I all-too-often find myself facing. To begin, everyone knows that I’m kind of tall and essentially have the body of a runner. I am active. I work out obsessively, etc. As such, I typically look for the same sort of thing in a guy... at least someone who is active (whether he looks the part or not) and eats healthy. Someone who can keep up with me... obviously, haha.

Well, I somehow found myself accepting a baseball game invite from someone not only a solid 3” shorter than me (y’know the guys who say they’re 5’8” but really they are lucky to hit 5’7”), but who also is the kind of guy who “works out.” By “works out,” I mean that he may go to the gym once in awhile, but it doesn’t really show, if you know what I mean. Now, that’s totally fine, but short, stocky, and not health-conscious (plus minor man-boob action) just is NOT my type. So, any dude like this is starting with a deficit from the get-go. However, I’m open minded...so, I’ll give you a shot.

(If you can keep up...)

Now, this encounter managed to include so many more “what not to do” moments, that I don’t have time to go in depth (yes, that bad). However, I will gladly list the things a guy should probably NEVER do...at least if he wants to not send me running for the door.

• While driving through my neighborhood (knowing I own a house here), say something like, “Oh I could never live in a place like this,” multiple times... within the first 5 minutes
• Make a blatant racist comment regarding the neighbors in the areas around my neighborhood... after I continue to talk about how wonderful and diverse my ‘hood is.
• Attempt to impress me with your season tickets to the nosebleed seats for the Braves...after I have mentioned that I’m not a huge baseball fan.
• Proudly talk about how you know so many people at Turner Field because you used to work there in marketing/promotions, and proceed to walk around the entire stadium saying hi to a few people working to prove that you know them.
• Take the opportunity, while watching the live broadcast from Fox Sports filming, to talk about what it’s like to be a video editor and try to “nerd it up” with knowledge of live broadcast (rather than acknowledge the athlete and tv personality right in front of us)... tho, props if you shut up after I mention having a good friend behind the scenes at CNN.
• Continually make negative remarks about my alma mater, Georgia Tech (not just in sports), while talking up UGA... especially if you did not go there. Also, if I say, "yeah, we have had a disappointing few seasons..." do not continue to talk sports related trash! Come on!
• In asking about my races/triathlons, say any of the following things:
• What’s your pace [for a triathlon]?
• Oh, that doesn’t sound like much, I could probably do that. (in response to the race description of my Olympic distance that weekend)
• How far is the Half Ironman?...(I answer, then...) Oh, that’s not too bad.
• What’s your fastest half-marathon (after I explain that I don’t really have an across-the-board “pace” for all triathlons, ugh)? ….Oh, my fastest was [whatever...faster than mine] years ago.
• Casually drop that you did 2 marathons over half a decade ago (when you were obviously thinner)...
• Tell me how fast you run on a treadmill (I assume once a week for like 5 minutes).
• Once you quit annoying me with attempts to impress me with your supposed athletic history, order fried food and a Coca-cola...while I have to search for anything healthy!
• Tell me you know nothing about beer and don’t drink... uh oh!
• Ask me about my job, and then for some reason say, “oh, so you’re like a glorified project manager?” (I can’t even respond to that...and you are “between jobs”).
• Actually ask what the salary for a job like mine is... SERIOUSLY?! And when I just give a vague range, you actually ask where in the range I fall... What. The. WHAT!?
• Say that “the wave” is the worst thing that ever happened to baseball games.
• Make fun of every single person on the big screen with phrases like “why do white people look so dumb”... especially if you are a white dude!
• Say anything like, “that’s why I never want kids, they act stupid...” (referring to a kid dancing on the big screen)
• Play on twitter the entire game, after every big play/call, to see what the twitter world has to say about everything...
• Try to impress me with baseball knowledge, knowing that I don’t really love baseball, but I understand the sport...don’t need explanations.
• Make a judgemental comment saying that sometimes you see couples that are so mis-matched you wonder how they ever met... esp when all I can think is that they’re looking at us thinking the same damn thing, buddy!

Ok, I think that’s a pretty solid list of what-not-to-do’s if you really want to ever win me over. These, among others, are things that most would consider to be common sense. However, I’ve come to the realization that many people are just blind to reality. It happens.

The best part of it all? This was actually probably not the worst date I’ve ever had... by far one of the more interesting because I don’t think any single person has ever managed to do so much wrong in such a small period of time...ever. So, congrats to this guy, at least he made an impression.

31 years and counting

It's once again that time of year when I begin to reflect upon the previous 365 days of being me and contemplate my own resolutions for the year ahead. A mere two years ago, my birthday resolutions led me down a path that I'd never have expected... the simple "pre-30 bucket list" was created when I turned 29, and since then I've become more goal-oriented than ever before. At 30, I have continued the path of endurance races and running that I began at 29, only to become more obsessed. I also went skydiving finally, got another [huge] tattoo that I'd wanted for a long time, managed to get in a fight/get punched at a peaceful concert, traveled to Puerto Rico, fell in and out of love, and brought home a few medals from placing in some races. So, as I sit here thinking about the past year, I wonder what's next.

As a fairly [extremely] competitive person, I am always out to one-up myself. It's most obvious with my races...the second I ran a 24-minute 5k, I expected to run that pace or better all the time. I set the bar high and continue to try to reach the next level. Unfortunately, there is nothing realistic about that mindset. At some point, I just have to be comfortable being myself as I am, with no need to constantly one-up myself. It's possible to become a better version of me without being so self-competitive. All that being said, as I sit here pondering the year, I am finding it hard to imagine what I'll do next...and I also almost feel like 30 wasn't eventful enough because 29 was ridiculous (bought a house, started this whole running/triathlon craze and ran my first everything for a total of 20 races, among other crazy things). So, clearly, the past two years have kind of set the bar high.

I never considered myself to be an intense or extreme person, but as I step back and look at my life, there's no denying that much of my experience of the past decade has been extreme or intense in some way or another. From choices I made (skydiving, tattoos, endurance races, etc) to the cards I've been dealt (a 15-pound tumor, the 6-month-long drama of getting into my house, and countless other random situations). As such, it's safe to assume that 31 is going to be another year full of Stephanie-style craziness. I do plan on doing the Augusta half Ironman this year, so there's the big goal for 31...no little feat. I think the best resolution I can probably make at this point in my life is to chill out once in a while. It's so much harder for me to sit back and relax, truly relax, than it is for me to go-go-go with exercising, work, socializing, etc. So, at 31 maybe I should learn to let go of stress and take more time for me. I could probably benefit in a number of ways by relaxing and being less competitive with myself (if that's even possible).

As for the year coming to a close, age 30 has definitely had its ups and downs, but even the downs of this past year have produced positive end results. That is something I've learned in the past year...how to handle the rough times without crashing and burning. I find that by not shutting down, I can process through life's madness much more effectively. In the past, I was definitely more likely to withdraw into myself and not take the time to deal with the challenges dealt simply because it was easier (I thought) to shut down. In this past year (past few months, really), I discovered that by allowing myself to feel and experience things as they happen, I am much more at peace. There is no use dwelling on the things we can't change, all we can do is process and move forward. I've been guilty so many times in the past of not allowing myself to move entirely forward... at 30, I learned how. Successful lessons of the year that will hopefully carry me into the next year and aid in discovering even more.

While I'd like to get a few more of these as I hit age 31, I realize that patience and just having fun is more important than my tendency toward being competitive (especially with myself)!

Why I Tri

A lot of people often ask me what got me started on this path of crazy, race-obsessed exercising that I do. I usually joke around and say something like, "I dunno...why not?" or "I got bored one day." In reality, I thought I knew what got me started... I created a pre-30 bucket list, and on there was the goal to complete a triathlon. I have no clue where that goal came from, honestly. At the time, I didn't own a bike, I had never been in a pool for any reason other than cooling off while getting a tan, and I was not a runner. In fact, I claimed to hate running. I said that I'd never be a runner, but I figured that the biking and swimming would be do-able. I got started with the goal to just complete a 5k race or two... before I knew it, one year ago this week, I'd completed a few 5k races, a 10k, and two half-marathons. One year ago, I was nervous about my first triathlon, as I had discovered a recent love of running and that I was a crappy swimmer. Here I am, one year later with no end in sight. So, what happened? Why didn't I just stop with the bucket list?
There was always more to it than a pre-30 bucket list item. I used that as an excuse to push myself to do something I thought I'd never do. I've always been fairly active. I played about every sport that I could as a kid (gymnastics, dance, golf, softball, basketball, soccer, etc). I was never particularly great at any one thing, but I was fairly athletic for a scrawny kid. Beyond my school years, I had convenient access to a gym because I worked at the local YMCA off and on for 5 years. I worked out regularly, and I even got pretty into the cardio kickboxing classes (it was the only form of cardio I would do). As active as I was, I never considered myself a runner. However, in the back of my mind I always wondered... what if I could run? I wanted to want to run, but it was hard.

 

My first race was actually back in 2008... City Chase!
(I didn't run most of it, and I was sore for the next week)

As a high school soccer player, you'd think I would be a confident runner...we ran a lot. In reality, I hated the running, probably because I was a lazy teenage girl. It wasn't until my senior year that I discovered the rush of a good run. Even though I lacked the confidence or drive to get into running for the next decade, I always remembered the rush of the run. I guess I owe some props to Coach Irwin for making us run so much! It would still be over a decade before I really got bitten by the run bug.

I spent my entire 20s just getting by as a naturally healthy person. I always felt okay about myself because I was either active and felt strong, or I was lazy and thin. Either way, I figured I was naturally healthy, so it didn't matter what I did. The last time I had an active hobby that I was as obsessed with as running was when I rock climbed. I loved it. I felt strong, and all I did was climb a few times a week. I was at my strongest and in the best shape of my life. I felt great until the back pain started...and my "beer belly" kept growing, despite the fact that I didn't drink a ton and I had strong abs.

I quit climbing because the pain in my back was too bad to do anything. I started dieting because I thought I was getting a beer belly. I lost no weight, but I started looking thinner and feeling weaker...so I continued to do my 50 sit-ups per night along w/ all the crazy back stretches. It was around that time that my doctor discovered that my back pain and supposed belly were the result of a big ol' cystic tumor (to be eventually known as Leroy). I've written enough about the tumor days, so I'll leave it at that. I faced my own limitations during this time. By the time I had surgery, slicing my entire abdomen in half, the tumor was about 15 pounds. Weighing about 10 pounds less than I do today, I couldn't sit up on my own without pain for weeks. I had trouble walking or standing for long periods of time, even months later. I remember getting winded walking up the stairs at work nearly 6 months post-surgery. I had never been inactive for that long in my life. Not just inactive, I'd lost all of my muscle... all of my physical strength was gone. I'll never forget how challenging it was to walk a few steps down the hall of the hospital...it seemed impossible that I'd ever become a runner.

 

At my weakest... 

 

 and after realizing a scar is nothing but a reminder of strength.

That is why I run. I run because, for a moment, I felt what it was like to struggle in a way that some people spend their whole lives struggling. I'm blessed to have only had to experience this weakness for a short time, but even so, I keep it with me. I assumed I'd never be as strong as I was before it all, but I knew I'd get back to normal. Never would I have guessed that I'd surpass normal...surpass my pre-tumor strength...and be capable of what I've accomplished. Before my first half-marathon, I took a moment to remember my weakness only 2 years prior. This past December, almost exactly 3 years after surgery, I ran a marathon. Ironically, in a journal that I wrote while in the hospital, I made a joke about me getting in trouble for trying to move too much something like "not like I'm ever going to try to run a marathon anyway." I wrote "Leroy" on my arm during the marathon.

  

 And this is now. By no means am I great, but I'm better and stronger I've ever been before.

So...there is no short, easy answer to why I run and why I train. There's not perfectly simple reason why I plan to do a half Iron Man this fall. I simply do it because I can. You never know when life is going to put you on the sidelines. You never know what could happen tomorrow.
Why do I run? Why do I tri? Today, I do it because I can.

(...and maybe a little bit because I like collecting medals!)

Turn the page, and begin again...

It has ended, and I can't believe it's over. I know I'm not the only one who can't believe it. I also can't believe I've decided to publicly write about this. Admittedly, I'm not a fan of being too open with my feelings, especially not in a way as open to the world as a public blog. However, I've been learning a lot about myself in recent months, and maybe by laying it all out there, I can learn even more. It's hard to believe it's over, even now.

For about a week, my mind has been in a nearly-constant haze. It began with questions and confrontations, unmet expectations, and a number of miscommunications. Days went by while we each sat in limbo and prayer...individually wondering what we'd do next. Neither of us knowing where the other stood in all of the madness. It seems as if that's the summation of our relationship. Both of us so often not knowing and misinterpreting feelings. Two people so insecure just cannot work together. Neither can carry the other if both are bogged down by the weight of their own needs, expectations, and insecurities. What I read as disinterest was instead an invitation to grow closer. What he read as being hesitant to move forward was instead an attempt at patience for his timeline. Unfortunately, neither side communicated where we wanted to go, and neither side was willing to initiate the next step. Taking a realistic look at how far we've come, without communicating deeper, hitting a wall was inevitable.

Despite the logic of this breakup, it was still a surprise...I think to us both. The timing wasn't all that great, but is the time ever good to part ways? We could go through the "what if"s and "if only"s all day long, but in the end, what will be will be. Part of me wants to jump into the role that I've found myself in many times before, that of the bitter woman who will never trust a man again (for a while). Honestly, I want to be angry and pissed off because that makes it easier. If I split with a guy who did something wrong, then it's easy to justify on every level that I'm better off without him. I don't think I'm better or worse off without him this time...I think I've learned more than I expected to learn about myself. So, after a period of mulling over thoughts from every direction, I will hold my head high and know that hope's not lost.

Honestly, I wish it was easier though. As someone who doesn't do the relationship thing very often, it takes a toll to have a relationship end after knowing how hard it was to allow myself into a relationship to begin with. So, yeah, I'll listen to depressing music from time to time. I'll allow myself to be sad because sadness is a healthy part of life. I'll be straight-forward for a minute, I had intended to make it through this blog post without being entirely honest. I was going to play up the "I'm a stronger woman" sentiment because that's what we all want after a relationship ends. If I'm being real, though, I am sad to see it end. Regardless of the things that I know could have been bigger issues down the line, I enjoyed what we had while it lasted. As with anything in life, things come and go...good and bad. So, while I'm most definitely on the mend and well on my way to legitimately feeling stronger, it's a process.

I really can't believe I'm being this straight forward in a blog that anybody could read. So, if you see me in the next week or so, I can't predict whether or not I'll be laughing or numb. Honestly, I'm moody enough on a regular basis that I probably won't be acting any different than normal. Just to get this out there, though, I don't want to have people be angry at him for any reason or sad for me for any reason (or sad for him/angry at me even). It's just another chapter in my life. I can spend time dwelling on the end of this chapter, or I can look toward what lies ahead. As scary as it can be to let go, I didn't get it tattooed on my wrist for no reason... times like this are when I need the reminder to breathe in deeply and know when to let go.

It was, no doubt, fun while it lasted, but

 this is time for letting go.