The back battle continues…
Wednesday, September 26th:
Today included the same run up Lee Hill Road that I had done the previous week. Hill repeats up a steep dirt hill! (Hill? It’s the side of a mountain!) Oye. Joanna had a track workout that morning so we decided to warmup together until she split towards the track and I towards Lee Hill Rd. We were both procrastinating in getting going. I dreaded my workout knowing what it was like last week… finally we both said, “Ok, let’s get going!” We jogged up Hwy-36 until she split and I kept going to warm up. I ran about 45:00 before I began the first climb. Happily, I found the run this week to be better! I felt much stronger than last week, which helped my confidence.
Runners always say the descent down the mountain should be quicker than the ascent. They don’t take into account the wimpy way I pick my way down a mountain. I am slow and cautious, sure I will twist an ankle if I try to pick up the pace. In some ways I prefer the suffering of the climb, just because my footing is firm. I am certain there is a metaphor about my personality in here somewhere, but I’m not sure I want to know what it is.
I felt great about my run today. It went well.
The day was so beautiful that JZ and I decided to add an easy 90 min ride to our schedules even though neither of us had one. It was too beautiful not to venture out. I always laugh to myself when riding with this woman, how hearty her easy pace is for me. I notice how comfortable she seems while I labor and struggle to keep up (and catch up!). We rode to some canyon and the journey was simply breathtaking. We passed lakes and colored leaves with a backdrop that left me awe struck. It is no wonder people crave to live here….
Little did I know this was the calm before the storm…
The next day I had a long ride to include 2 rounds of a climb up to Jamestown and a climb up Olde Stage, with some steady riding in between the two rounds towards Carter Lake.
I made it through the first round, nothing too concerning with my back but it was a little sore. However, the second round turned into a mini-catastrophe. My back almost completely blew out and I was in a lot of pain… I somehow made my way to the top (sheer will, I imagine). I was going to Jamestown! ….. but then dismounted my bike in the absence of an alternative.
I was completely hunched over, unable to stand straight. It hurt like hell!!! I plopped myself on the asphalt and tried to deliberately straighten my legs so I was aligned. This took several attempts and I heard all kinds of cracking and popping sounds from my spinal cord. It scared me. The lingering ache in my back, coupled with (likely) frustration over the whole ordeal, brought me to tears. I contemplated calling JZ to pick me up but I had no cell coverage.
There I was on the side of the road, on my back, crying, for a good 15:00. No sobs or wails, just tears flowing as I continued to stretch and try to relieve some back pressure. It hurt tremendously — but mostly I was just exhausted by it all. ALL of it. This type of pain and suffering (to include the sacrifice of my lifestyle) just is too much. If I was some professional athlete on some multi-million dollar contract then, sure, you endure. Take cortisone shots, get iron IV’s, do whatever you have to do to assist your body in absorbing the physical torture. But for this, what I do…. for 2007 as a professional athlete I have grossed $2,900 in salary ….the ends just do not justify the means.
Various cars pulled over as they came upon me to ask if I needed help. I was embarrassed – if I wasn’t seriously hurt I imagined I looked awfully melodramatic. I thanked various drivers but said I was ok.
Eventually I summoned the courage to get back on my bike. I was better now and could tolerate the 10 mile descent and 10 mile rollers back to JZ’s. It took a while, but the higher cadence spinning actually seemed to help loosen something in my back. It felt a bit numb, but something seemed to loosen. During these miles again I tried to come to some decisions about my body, my sport and my life. Not necessarily in that order.
I walked into JZ’s house; she was on her computer.
JZ: “You’ve been riding this whole time?”
It had been well over 5 hours.
CS: “Yes.. but it was a disaster.” I didn’t cry but my eyes were swollen from earlier and my chin began to wobble. She could tell I was fighting back the tears.
JZ: “What?”
CS: “My back almost completely blew this time. I was on the side of the road at Jamestown lying down.”
JZ: “Why didn’t you call us to pick you up?”
CS: “No cell coverage…. I can’t take much more of this. I can’t train like this. I’m done.”
She instantly stood up from her computer.
JZ: “We’re taking a look at your bike right now. You are still too aggressive. I was watching you ride yesterday. Come on!”
With that we headed to the garage, pronto. When Joanna is on a mission, you’d better follow or get out of her way. Thank God her mission was for me…
She made a list of all the things I needed to do. She told me to go right that very second. No shower (even though I smelled like crap and was still in my cycling outfit), no food, just go.
Back to the bike shop I went for a whole new bike set up… then to her massage therapist for an emergency session. A total of about 11cm was added to my drops when all was said and done.
GOOD GRIEF.
I hope this starts to bring some relief to the situation… my mind, my body and my spirit have collectively had it. The only good memory I have of all of this is Joanna and how calm she has stayed in the midst of it all, how reassuring, and how supportive. She has never once made me feel as though I am complaining without merit or being a total pus. Quite the contrary. Though I do not have even a fraction of the athletic accomplishments she has, she treats me as though my issues are just as important as hers would be. She takes them seriously. You should have seen her take charge, spend time taking bike measurements and search through her old stash of profile equipment to see if there was anything she could give me to avoid my having to buy something else. You’d think I was some sort of Ironman Champion, too.
I could spend the rest of my life trying to convey how much her help has meant to me and it wouldn’t be enough. Anyone can do something for you when there is something in it for them. But what can I do for her? Nothing. I can’t even help her with her swim – she kicks my ass in my only strength. 
She bends over backwards to help me when there is virtually nothing in it for her. As far as I am concerned, this says everything. I’m not sure what I have done to deserve her support but she continues to be such a generous mentor. How lucky am I? This fact is not lost on me … I constantly remind myself that I must be doing something right. Maybe being a kind and good person does matter after all.
