FEAR: Crashing, Cramps, Snakes, Hypotensive Shock!

I had to laugh today while I was out running thinking of my conversation last night with my sister Katherine, a marathon runner. I listened to Kath tell of driving her team through the Colorado Mountains this past weekend for the 200 mile “Wild West Relay” race from Fort Collins up, up, up to Steamboat Springs.

I asked her what the worst part of it all was. She said well (? friend whose name I forgot) got diarrhea on her segment of the run and had to poop behind a bush and then use leaves as tissue paper.

Both of us were a little mortified.

There are many fear related experiences we have with running, cycling and triathlons.

When we overcome our fears, we expand ourselves to a whole different level of ability.

The fear remains, but our ability to deal, redefines itself.

Last week while out running with Emily, we talked about our experiences with stomach cramps during long runs, half marathons, (mine) marathons (hers). How awful it is and how after those experiences you try everything you can, not to have to go through THAT again.

I told her of my one and only experience (thank God), years ago, of almost losing my cookies at the finish line of a 5k, running faster than I should, trying to out run someone that looked far older than me. (Bad idea, now I know there are zillions of people older than me that can run faster than I can. But hey on the flip side it is the coolest thing when I pass a teenager, which also happens, often enough).

My brother in law, Derek is an endurance runner. Seems like each time I was home last year, Derek was off racing another 50 miler. I was moved to tears watching him finish a 50 mile race up in Tahoe last summer. Derek is an amazing guy and an incredible athlete. This spring he was diagnosed with a blood clot in his lung which translates to his now having to take a blood thinner. When I asked Katherine how Derek was doing after his scary hospital stay, she told me, if you ask him, he is perfectly fine, he is not going to let this stop him from living his life. Within weeks Derek was back to his long runs. He ran some of the highest elevation miles in the relay race over the Rockies this past weekend.

I have spent so much time with my son Luke at the many triathlons he has done over the years that I can tell within 3 to 5 minutes when he is expected through the swim, when he will be transitioning onto the bike and am always amazingly close in my calculations of when he will cross the finish line. It was the Xterra Championships at Lake Tahoe, several years ago, that I remember Luke making the first lap of the swim in perfect time and then waiting, waiting, panic, panic stricken waiting. Finally Luke came out of the water.

Half way out on the second lap, Luke experienced a cramp and disorientation that almost led to him being pulled out of the water and out of the race. He still managed to finish that race in amazing time.

Last fall when I crashed on my bike, I dealt with two things immediately going on in my head at the same time. Shock, not the fear kind but the “you’re kidding me” kind, while my body, simultaneously and with no regard to my mind, began shutting down, to the point of nearly losing consciousness.

For what seemed like a long time, I sat on the side of the rode with this debate going on in my head - “Don’t be a baby Terri, get up!”, “ You’ve got to get to work” and “Ron is so NOT going to be happy about this” to the “stay awake, breath, stay awake, stay! Stay! Stay!” as my peripheral vision became less and less while the world around me turned a shade of sepia brown and my body felt like everything in it was going to come out at any second.

When I got to the emergency room, I remember a doctor telling me, “Don’t let this worry you but we’re going to have about 30 people in here in about 4 seconds. I remember them cutting off my bike jersey, sticking an IV in, rolling me over to check my spine, doing an ultrasound to check for internal injuries and being asked time and time again if I was hit by a car, (no), could remember crashing ( yes).

And, I was proud to hear this information conveyed to each new medically involved person entering the room, “she was wearing a helmet”.

Big big proponent of bike helmets.

All in all that day was not pleasant. I was back to riding my bike two months before I could ride across that fear laden road again.

Regardless of our many fears from the concrete - bees, snakes, deep water, tight corners, high speeds, to the psychological - “can I do this” “will I really be able to run that far”, “will someone look at me and laugh, thinking what the heck does that lady think she is doing out there” - the way we navigate our fears with sports and racing, says much about how we navigate fear through our lives.

I remember quoting to my son Luke that great FDR line, “there is nothing to fear but fear itself’ - and Luke’s response, “mostly mom that is right, but not always”.

Some preconcieved fear is real, some anticpated fear is necessary. I remember reading an excellent article recently while in Boulder, about a world class mountain bike cyclist in which he said something like - contrary to what people may think about mountain bikers being these crazy fearless maniacs who thoughtlessly ascend from wild elevations at excessive speed in the middle of the night, the reality is, to really do this sport well, one has to have a healthy and intelligent level of fear.

A fear that causes one to really think through and calculate their ability, the drop offs, the speed, the turns, the rocks, nutrition, alertness level, and so on, leading to his final thought of “we do really all want to live”.

Yes live. Live smart and live well. To limit living because of fear is too great of a sacrifice.

The video attached is the swim start of an Iron Man in Tempe, Arizona, that Luke participated in. The last minute is really wild to watch as you can actually see people swimmng on top of eachother. My son Joe shot this and calls this video -

"the human blender"