injured

For the love of cycling

Patience is not the ability to wait, but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting.
— Joyce Meyer
Riding up to Crystal Lake with my dad in tow on the motorcycle. FYI the restaurant at the top that’s always open is, in fact, closed on Tuesday.Taken about 5 or so years ago.

Riding up to Crystal Lake with my dad in tow on the motorcycle. FYI the restaurant at the top that’s always open is, in fact, closed on Tuesday.

Taken about 5 or so years ago.

 

Its been almost seven weeks since my ankle rolled and I heard that ever so troubling POP one mile into a race in St George, UTAH. Since then I have been practicing my patience during its snails pace recovery. A couple weeks ago my ankle was healed enough to be able to start cycling again.

This isn’t my first rodeo, let me tell you, but it sure feels like it is.

My first cycling adventure was around the local neighborhood and as I was climbing up I felt as though I would just tip over from lack of momentum- I was slow, my heart was beating right through my chest and I almost choked on my buff covering my face as I was gasping for air and it was a mere ant hill. Since that initial wake up call I’ve been finding my groove again, taking it step by step.

Last week I began riding on the San Gabriel Riverbed again. Stumbling onto the entrance of the trail I was flooded with memories of the exact trail from over 10 years ago with my dad. We rode a ton back then as he was training to cycle his first century race in Lake Tahoe. I can’t tell you if I really enjoyed cycling back then but what I can tell you is that I really enjoyed sharing the miles with my dad. Those many- many moons ago I didn’t know of Strava- did it even exsist? I didn’t have a data collector gps Suunto watch on my wrist. All I had was my dad to tell me “We are going straight” and when I’d ask for how long his reply would be “Until I say it’s time to turn around”. I had no idea where we were going but I was always up for the ride.

Since stumbling onto the riverbed last week, I somehow convinced my dad to dust off the bike and share a few miles with me. After years of begging him, all it took was a few weeks of COVID-19 shelter in place with my mom and sisters to jump at the opportunity to get out of the house, mask included of course. We’ve ridden twice together so far and I couldn’t be more proud of his enthusiasm to get back on the saddle even on days that I do not ride with him- 75 years young and all. A couple of decades since first riding together, we spun down the San Gabriel riverbed once again. On our first ride we visited my Abuelito and said hello from a safe distance. My Abuelito will be turning 100 years young in less than two months and I can’t wait to be able to safely celebrate his birthday sometime soon-ish.

Patience.

Oh how I’ve practice my patience. After almost 7 weeks (this Saturday) of being off my foot(literally not being able to walk the first two weeks), I’m ready to get back to running. With first spraining my ankle and then the safer at home quarantine, I’ve been going quite stir crazy. The first couple of weeks were spent feeling rather helpless, not being able to do a simple task like walking Juniper or walk normal period. The pity party didn’t last too long and I began to seek out things I could manage until my foot regained mobility. Unfortunately feet stink, literally and figuratively. It’ll take time to build again using strength, mobility and balance exercises. I’m thankful to even have a bike to ride! My road bike was my dad’s old bike he gave to me when I was 18, and I also have a somewhat new gravel bike. Cycling is expensive, no doubt, but thankful to have most of the gear necessary to just be outside. I struggle with comparing my running ability to my cycling strengths, or lack of. Something that’s been a constant challenge is learning to be kind to myself as I embark in a new sport, or re introducing a sport I have been inactive in for sometime.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Any tips, tricks or words of encouragement are always welcome.

S

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Walking the dog

My dad practicing walking the dog YEARS before I adopted Juniper. All that practice has come to good use for when his granddoggie comes to visit while I’m out of town.

Photo taken October 13th 2010

Avalon 50 mile Recap Catalina Island

I KNOW.
I KNOW.
I KNOW.

Maybe it's just me very disappointed that it's taken me nearly a month to write this.
Here I am, right now, sitting and prepared.
That's what counts right?

I think back on Avalon 50 mile benefit run, and there's this overwhelming sense of happiness.
And hatred- but that has nothing to do with the race itself but my body.

It seemed as though everything was too good. Going too well. Lets start at the beginning.

I knew two people running the race and both started earlier. Standing at the starting line with my dad was fantastic.
In the midst of a race, we are sharing stories with other runners and feeling quite comfortable rather than nervous.
I, ofcourse, rocked my TNT head wrap (what the heck are those called?) and ULTRA team arm sleeves.
The gear striked up conversation with a fellow runner and we ended up having a ton of mutual friends.
What a great way to start a race.
That's not even the best part!

During Leona Divide 50 miler, I went out too fast and that resulted in extreme amounts of pain later in the race.
This time, I ensured that I kept a slow and steady pace- with the ultimate goal of being able to run most of the race and not overwhelm my body.
Considering the race began at 5am, it was pitch black.
The trails where lit by the breath and headlamps of other runners, what a view!
I ended up finally turning mine on around mile 4 and it resulted in a conversation started with a man running next to me.

We chatted for another three miles. Three miles is a pretty significant number to run and talk to a complete stranger.
We got to know eachother.
He was my highschool substitute teacher.
Who could forget a name like Mr. Rogers!
What a small world!

I met quite a few runners, chatted and then departed.
I FELT GREAT!
That's how it went.

Plain and simple.
Up until mile 42.

Once my feet hit a downhill pavement, my right knee did not agree with the pounding.
In retrospect- I took that section far too hard.

The next 8 miles were difficult to say the least.
Attempting to stay positive, hydrated and moving... forward.

The last few miles were a bit of a struggle. At that point I told myself to man up and keep going.
Run hop Run hop Run hop
all.
the.
way.
to.
the.
end.

I look back and ask myself- Was it worth it?

I haven't ran since that day, because of what took place.
I have no regrets.


Everyday my knee gets stronger and hurts less! I have a physical therapy apt. tomorrow and look forward to hearing positive results!



Till next time,
Peace, love and happiness!



*Move, nourish, believe...daily*