What Happens When You Walk

I woke up on January 19, 2008 and I couldn't get out of bed. I couldn't sit up. Standing couldn't happen and walking was not an option. Talk about loss of control.

I was in so much pain, I can't even describe what it felt like.

It took me twenty minutes to crawl to the bathroom and another 15 minutes to climb into the tub. I wasn't comfortable in any position for hours. Since then it has been a return to physical therapy and a break from the 'normal' swim, bike, run regimen.

You don't have to be an athlete to comprehend what it might be like to lose control of your own body. I can't say I ever imagined what that means, but now I know. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

Since then I have cleared my race schedule. I'm back in physical therapy at Active Care.
I'm doing a lot of strength work and I'm walking. Yup. Walking.

In the context of running and triathlon, folks seem to place some huge negative on walking during a race. To them I would say, be grateful you can walk and don't take that gift for granted. Running? Even a more beautiful and special gift! If you run, race, do triathlons etc, I would encourage you to censor your whining. As I tell myself, 'get over yourself.'

Try not to diminish any accomplishments you achieve. Celebrate your wins. (I'm talking about the small successes in everyday life. Not just the personal bests, race wins, finishes, promotions etc.)

Be happy you can ambulate. If you choose to do so, be happy you can train. Be grateful you can race. Don't minimize, compare or diminish your athletic pursuits because you think you can do better. If that is the case, do better. Don't talk about it what you should do, could do or would do. Just do and do it quietly. Be sensitive to those around you who might not be able to do what you do.

Why I am on this soapbox?

Being 'broken' I've had a rough go with this back issue...now five years old. I've gained tremendouse perspective and I truly recognize what I have been able to do in the past is an enormous blessing. Still, I do find myself thinking how much this back thing (to put it bluntly) sucks.

I went out for a walk with Zola a couple days ago. I ran into a neighbor who was sitting in the passenger seat of a parked car. I hadn't talked to "Ricky" for a good year. It turns out Ricky has undergone spine surgery. He has limited sensitivity in his legs, hasn't walked into his own backyard or driven his shiny, new truck in over a year. While I talked with Ricky, he spent a good part of 15 minutes trying to move and get out of the truck he was sitting in.

Here I am thinking I am just in the worst shape ever. I am fat, in pain constantly, can't move well and so on. Ricky on the other hand, can't feel that his shoe has fallen off, is hanging on the side of the open truck door and is waiting for a walker and crutches to make it the 20 feet to his front door.

Ricky said to me, "Yo Rachel. I see you cruising by and I think to myself, I want to be out there with her someday."

And to think I was complaining that 'all I can do' is walk.

Ricky gave me a lot to ponder as Zola and I walked along the bay trail. Walking is beautiful. You see the world a lot more clearly than the beautiful blur that happens at speed while running, cycling or cruising through life. I miss that blur, but I am savoring the clarity.