I have a lot of friends that are in the midst of training for an Ironman, or who have just completed their first Ironman...and I'm jealous.
I have not trained for an Ironman, but am planning to next year...but I have trained for a marathon, and other shorter distance tri's. In each of these, there is a point where you just say "eff this, I'm done." For most people, this comes later in the race/training run. For me, as long as I could get past 2 miles, I was golden...I just had to get past mile 2. I'm weird like that.
I have tortured my body to points that the fat kid I was growing up never imagined I would put myself through. I've had sore legs, sore shoulders, back aches, neck aches, head aches, and aches in places I didn't know could hurt...and honestly loved every second of it. So I say now. If you had asked me then, I probably would have had a slightly different answer...but I still wasn't about to stop doing what I was doing.
The past few months, I've had to go through a completely different type of endurance. And one that was created by my body...not by what I had chosen to do with my body. And believe it or not...the most likely cause of the problems I have had is losing 120 pounds. Apparently your gallbladder turns on you if you lose weight rapidly. Not to mention there are genetic factors in my family as well.
I feel betrayed. My body betrayed me. And to be honest, I'm a little pissed about it. I grew up an overweight child, that never exercised, and hadn't played any sports since I sat the bench the entire season of volleyball in Jr. High. I gained a ton of weight in my early 20's...and once I finally shed that weight...and started becoming a more healthy person...I started running...then I started doing triathlons. And to do that, I've overcome asthma and horrible allergies to everything outdoors, and my own klutziness. I willingly put my body through that. If what I have gone through in the past 4 months had anything to do with what I had chosen to do with my body, I wouldn't be so pissed. But my body turned on me. A useless organ that's merely used for storage turned on me.
I've gone through highs and lows that I never imagined. For the many months that they couldn't figure out what was wrong, I quite possibly have never been so terrified in my life. But they finally figured it out, and they fixed it. This, of course, after months of being exhausted, and attempting to push my body through workouts, and just not being able to after a while. So finally, I couldn't do anything but go to work, and then come home and lay on the couch.
Who would have ever thought that being forced to lay on a couch and let my body be sick would be so difficult? Well...let me tell you...it's hard. It's really effing hard. I'm close to the end...and the mental insanity, and bouncing off the walls that I've done lately, especially post-surgery has pushed my mind to limits I never thought I would be pushed to. I'm not good at this. Maybe some people really are ok with relaxing, and just watching TV...but that's not me. I'm more type A than I ever imagined I really am. But I hate, despise really, not being able to do anything. The past week, when my parents weren't here to keep me occupied, and make sure I didn't do anything stupid have really been tough. Where telling myself that I really, in fact, do need to lay on the couch and watch another movie so when I can start working out again, I'm not going to do more damage.
But guess what? I'm close to the end. I go back to the Dr. tomorrow for my follow up appointment. It's the day I've been waiting for. It's the day that I will hopefully be let out of the doghouse, and will be able to return to training, though most likely a very light schedule.
I'm petrified.
Absolutely, 120% petrified.
I'm scared that they're going to tell me that I'm not quite ready to re-start yet.
I'm scared about how it's going to feel.
I'm scared that after 6 weeks of laying on the couch, and at most walking a few miles, my body will have gone to mush...and there won't be any muscle there to remember that I like doing this.
I'm scared at what's going to hurt. Not the typical muscle soreness...but I'm scared that this is going to hurt for a while...because a week and a half ago I had my insides ripped to shreds.
I know if I can get past that first run, that first bike ride, that first swim, I'll be fine. But it's stepping up to the line that I have to force myself to get to.
I've never needed anyone to hold my hand through something...nor do I have anyone that would do that for me...and I want to believe that I don't need it now, or then, or whenever...I'm just...scared.
I know that a lot of people are going through crap right now. And I'll admit, for having to take some time off training, I couldn't have picked a better time...because the weather has been ridiculous. And I do miss it. I hear everyone talk about their rides/runs/swims...and I've been jealous. I wish I were there with them. But this has just been a very unusual experience for me to get through. One that I really don't wish to repeat ever again.
Tomorrow is the day. I'm keeping my fingers, toes, and every other appendage crossed.
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