Thru Endurance We Conquer!

The start of a new year always brings out the dreams. As we turn close the book on one year and open the next, it appears that we have a blank slate for what we can accomplish. Tabula Rasa - the mind in it’s blank slate before being influenced by outside impressions. That’s what a new year is, right? Time and goals in the original pristine state before we get a chance to start screwing things up. It’s one of the greatest things about the turn of the year - that clear calendar and the opportunity to dream big. Or is it? As 2019 ticks to a close and 2020 dawns before us, is it really fair to completely wipe the slate clean? That purges not only goals that weren’t met and things we’d rather forget, but the things we did accomplish. It doesn’t honor that the person who started 2019 isn’t the same person who is starting 2020. The blank slate idea erases the things we learned over the course of year - both from failures and successes. And without recalling those lessons, we are doomed to r

Recovering means stepping away from the trails, from the snow and just focusing on getting healthy. But that step back also means distance from the people and the tribe of athletes you surround yourself with. Even as an anti-social runner and cyclist, this past month has been challenging. There's a different kind of loneliness when you are so far separated from what you love. The photos splattered across social media of sunrises, epic days on the trail and generally being outside pull you. Everyone one else is out there, yet here I am, settling in for another day on the trainer, another round of water running or treadmill run. Staying focused on the end result is important, but there can be a dark cloud surrounding the process if you aren’t careful. Recovery isn’t all sunrises and unicorns - instagram worthy posts of doing the “right” things. There’s a lot of feeling angry, worried and testing the limits. It starts in the hospital room. On the other side of the badge, it’s hustle

With healing ribs and better breathing,  I decided that maybe I could start doing a little more. Sure, I wouldn’t be racing Sawmill, but maybe a little mountain biking and some attempts at harder running. I was just factoring the time from the crash with my thought process. The ribs felt a lot better for sure. Still tender at times, still not the best sleeping but I was moving better. If I didn’t try riding now, it might be months before I got outside to ride! So down to Pueblo we headed the weekend before I went back to work. This was three and a half weeks post crash. Easy loop - Duke, Rodeo Ridge, Quatro Cinco... I made the first climb up Rodeo, which sent my heart rate through the roof! A few other things I just didn’t have the umph for and ended walking. A little discouraging for sure - between the muscles around my ribs tightening up and just dealing a skyrocketing heart rate - I wasn’t really ready to ride. It felt good to get out and pedal though! My ribs and the muscles ar

So it’s 30 days out from my crash. My ribs feel much better, but I’m still getting some sharp pains along the front and where the chest tube was. I was able to go back to work at the beginning of the week - which was super nice. I missed my co-workers and interacting with my patients! I’ve even been able to start running a little. Kind of a walk/jog/hoggle type of run - nothing fancy at all. The ribs ache and I can tell I’m still pretty anemic, in addition to still not quite being able to take a full deep breath. But I’m able to start moving more and moving smoother, which is the goal. Small steps, focusing on the moment and not the big picture right now. I have some challenging goals for next year and I need to make sure I heal well, recovery smartly and take my time building into the training again. But still. Tomorrow I was supposed to be heading up to Golden for my planned final race in the Transcendence Series - the Sawmill 50+. Even though I’d finished my challenge at Indian

One of the hardest part about recovery? The self-consciousness of what you are doing compared to what you usually do.What you can do is huge part of identity - and it's no different for me. I'm the crazy one running four laps of the neighborhood in the mornings before work. Or the runner who heads up into the hills with a full pack and doesn't return until hours later. I'm the one at work who climbs up the stairs every time, without fail. Or the perfect metronome in the pool, gliding from wall to wall without ever stopping. All of that - part of who I am and how I define myself. Until the 13th of November. In the time between the 13th and when I went to the hospital on the 21st, those identities I've created felt like they were slipping away. I felt like I should have been improving, but wasn't to the degree I normally do. Granted, I now why now, but still... To go to the pool and not even be able to swim 25 yards or be able to kick because I'm gasping for