Life lessons

I have not had much time to write lately, I have been too busy learning some big life lessons. I have been exhausted and stressed, but I have also been getting glimpses of what life really is about and of what matters.

The biggest lessons and the most important ones, I am receiving, predictably, from my mum and dad. I am lucky to be here to witness how my dad is dealing with cancer, pain and the loss of so many things. To witness how my mum can help him. And also to witness how life goes on for everyone else, no matter what is happening on a personal level.

Lesson number 1: Pain and fear.

My father has been in extreme pain for about 6 months. Not on and off pain. Not the sort of pain you can sleep and forget. The kind of pain that cannot be treated and that has been with him 24/7. When he was in hospital for the second (or was it the third time) I went to see him one night and make sure he was well enough to sleep. I found him in agony. The level of pain was so high that an epidural, morphine and Tramadol were of no help. He was crying and clenching his teeth in bed and asking God 'why me'. It was hard to see and not knowing what to do I called his doctor, at home, despite the late hour. He was pleased to hear me and he told me that if he had the pains my father has endured he would have killed himself 6 months ago. He then sent the anaesthitist to give him something else. He eventually drifted into a sleep and I left, shaken yet relieved.

My dad is very strong, yet now, after his last surgery, which promises to be the one to make him better, he is extremely scared of pain. As an endurance athlete we learn to work with pain and to block it out, yet in my father, who has lived with it for the last few months, I saw a fear of pain. When we went in to take some of his stitches out today, I could see in his eyes he was so scared of hurting. He begged the doctor not to hurt him and cried, saying he could not take any more pain. I wonder if we are made to only be able to endure a certain level before being scared of it. I wonder if this fear will go away as he forgets. And I wonder if there are pain levels we simply cannot embrace.

The lesson is his resilience. His courage and his bravery in dealing with all that is happening. His nerve, his dreams and his will to have a normal life. Yes, he is tired. Yes, he has been in pain. But he is still able to laugh, to dream and to make plans to take us out on his boat when he is strong again. I only wish that the day comes soon.

Lesson 2: Love

My mum and dad had been married for 22 years before he seperated. Now, 6 years later they are back together and with a deep love and appreciation for each other that they never had before. It has been a big lesson to me, the love of that woman, my mother, towards her husband. She has told me, though she didn't need to say it as er actions are louder than words, that the most important thing is love and the people you love. She has taken care of him night and day and has given him, and that is his statement, exactly what he has needed. She has given him strength and courage when he had none. And I can see their deep love for each other in everything they do.

As my marriage begins, I not only hope, but I strongly believe, that we too can keep perspective in our relationship and in our life. We don't sweat the small stuff, but feel grateful for the gift of life and love (it sounds corny, but I strongly believe in that). And that is the present my parents gave me and my husband on our wedding day.

Lesson 3: Teaching and learning

I have always maintained that I learn from my pupils. Children have a resilience that I envy and a thirst for life that rejuvenates me. I consider myself lucky to be able to do the job I do (I am a primary school teacher) and I feel privileged that these kids let me into their worlds and lives. Often they teach me how to approach life and I have wanted to write about that - an entry called happiness.

Occasionaly however, they teach me something big. I made the mistake to ask a leading question on Tuesday, obviously fishing for an answer to help me introduce a topic. The question was: 'What is the biggest present you can give somebody?' Some kids become very good at answering questions the way adults want them to and sure enough, I had several hands up. A little girl successfully gave me the answer that I was after: 'Love'. I was ready to start my "teaching" but a hand at the back was not going down. I had to ask the little girl, one of my most charismatic pupils, what she had in mind. In a small, yet certain voice, she said: 'It depends on what the other person needs'. And she is so right. 'If a person is in the desert dying of thirst, the biggest present is surely water', she continued. Think about that. Think about what the little girl of seven knew. Think about that in your every day lives, in your relationships... If only we were all a bit more aware of what others need and not just of what we want to give.

I have come out of quite a dark time with the help of those around me, my husband, my close friends, my family and the spiritual guidance of D's mum who helped me at a very difficult time. Thank you to those for knowing what to give me exactly when I needed it. The sun is shining again and I feel happy, grateful and ready to live life. My mountain bike was riden again after months of rest. :)

Random thoughts...

The last couple of weeks have floored me. I have felt like I have been in a tunnel and cannot see the light. Well, the good news is, the light is finally there! My dad is out of hospital and hopefully in the care of a decent doctor who will help him recover. The wedding was cancelled, then brought forward in a mere 24 hours. Work seems to be going well, despite lack of sleep and physical and emotional exhaustion. All is good!

My dad has been in hospital. Not first world hospitals where you get nurses and people to assist you when you need something, but a Greek hospital, where your relatives are your nurse. I am getting more and more disillusioned with this place and this experience confirmed that. The statistics I read this week, also helped: Greece has the highest tax and NI contributions of about 150 countries surveyed, at 46% for a married couple with no children with only one income! Yet we have the lowest spending for health, education and welfare!!! And topping the corruption list (with 26% of people saying that they bribe regularly to have jobs done) followed by Mexico with 22%. The counrty coming third has 8%... 

I think Greece has lost the game and change is not imminent, nor -it seems some days- possible. I despair.

Ok, so this was going to be a post about the last few weeks... I have been feeling exhausted, yet spend half my time feeling hyper. Can't sleep. Haven't been able to exercise much - a swim here and there, some gym work and some Pilates at home. 

The back has been better, I am told because of the weather. I have stayed away from activities I know aggravate it, but the patterns seem all wrong lately and the pain seems to have moved to lower down in my leg. Have not had time to call my doctor. 

Goals for the next week: get three swimming sessions in, organise wedding, finish reports, get married. 

Trying to keep it simple and concentrate on the essentials! 

The personal stuff...

I have been off for a while. Fighting personal demons... and various viral infections. As with my immune system, my resistence to the little, everyday hardships of life seems greatly diminished at the moment. I occasionally look at myself and see a bitter, stressed and generally not very happy person. Not only do I not like it, I also know that the people around me are getting affected by it. 

I don't know if it is my lack of training and racing that is making me unhappy, or some other deep seated something... What I do know is that I choose not to live like this. So I'm back. And I am ready to be happy. To be able to get up in the morning and be glad to be alive. Ok... so I don't have my runs and rides, that heightened sense of well-being I used to get after a hard run on the mountain, or the beautiful feeling after a long summer's day on the saddle. I might or might not have it again. But my life cannot be ruled by that.

And so I need to concentrate on all the positives. Because I am not a quitter. Tri might or might not come. But I can still be active, albeit not to the same degree. 

My walk today was painful. My foot went numb only after 12 minutes of race-walking. The good news is, the pain went away after I got back and rested. Walking the Marathon might or might not be feasible. I have to be open and see how it goes. I need to be flexible with my goals. It could just have been the terrain - one does not normally race-walk on hills like the ones surrounding our house. So maybe I stay on the track. Again... I just need to wait and see.

I am going into this week positive. I have been enjoying swimming and I will start building up distance to see if I can complete the 5km open water swim in Lake Plastira in the summer and beat my time from last time. 

Being part at the Schiniathlon was great. Being a volunteer was hard and very emotional for me. Again. I wish I could grow out of it and leave the bitterness behind and be able to just enjoy being there. It feels like that sort of maturity is very far away from where I am at the moment.

I can aspire to that! 

The answer to my question: Thoughts from my last ride

Today might have done me a big favour. It hit me: I am not an athlete. Not in body. Not in mind. My body is weak. My mind even weaker. I have lost the will to fight for it - I am getting sick of picking up the pieces (and I am pretty sure everyone around me is too). 

Before I gave up rowing my dad had told me that the sign of the good warrior is to be able to keep going through adversity, but also to know when to give up. Wise words, coming back to haunt me. I think the time has come. After 40 mins of riding in tears, not from pain but from the realisation that I just cannot do it any more, it might be time. 

It feels like a bad break up. It feels like I have been in an emotionally abusive relationship. My affections have not been returned for two years. The sport has not been giving back - the pleasure has gone, lost in the fear of pain, the depressive state I sink to when the pain inevitably comes. Yet once in a while I get a sign, which keeps me going and traps me in the cycle. This is all probably non-sensical to most. 

Maybe I owe it to myself. Maybe I owe it to Duncan too. To strive to be happy away from sport. To define myself in some other way. 

Riddled with 'I think' and 'maybes'. I am not truly ready to let go. But maybe I need to, in order to find something else. Just like a bad relationship. 

Last ride? Maybe. 

Life, triathlon, bugs and other stories.

Last weekend we had our first mini-tri camp (as trigreece.gr) at Schinias. I have to say that I don't normally like working weekends after a long week at school but this was different!

The weekend was aimed at beginner's who had little or no triathlon experience to practise some basic skills, not just the individual sports, but the transitions between them. The secondary aim of the course that was not mentioned in the ad (sneaky!) was to infect people with the bug. Of course we didn't know that at the time.

The weekend went well, partly because we had a great bunch of people who were very enthusiastic and keen to learn (could it just be the type of person attracted to the sport, though, I ask myself) and partly because the subject matter itself is simply awesome! Duncan and I feel very passionate about it, and I think that came across. We both love the sport and take from it different elements for our life. Duncan loves the training. He likes getting out there and doing the long hard miles on the ride. He loves running on the mountain at all times of day and has now even come to enjoy the occasional swim.

I love training too, but the cherry on the cake for me is always the race. Not in the sense of the competition itself, but the race as the goal. I love the discipline and commitment it takes to make it to the startline and, if all goes well, to the finish line too. I love the strength of mind you need to make it through a tough workout, knowing that at the end of it lies a better raceday. 

I loved the weekend. Every minute of it (ok... not so much the mosquito bites...)! I loved the group swim, loved the ride, loved the chat. But most of all I loved transmiting to people my passion. I think it worked too! 

My non-triathlon friends find this corny, but it is true. Tri does change your life. In a good way. It has certainly changed mine. I have taken so much from it and I feel now might be the time to show the way to other people too. Is that almost evangelical? I hope not. Join us on the beach next weekend if you fancy :)

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I have been ill for the last few days. It has been going around school for weeks, I have had 80% of my class off at some point for several days each and I was dreading getting the sore throat and high temperature that seemed to be very contagious. Well, it wasn't to happen, though I fought it as much as I could, repeatedly going to school feeling pretty ill, then coming home and sleeping for 16 hours then back to school the next day. Trips had to be led, Easter eggs had to be packed, chickens had to be finished (!!). I was sent home on Friday morning with a temperature of 39.6. Spent two days in bed in absolute pain (does anyone know if radiclopathy gets worse with a fever? It certainlyfelt that way!) and I am now (after a strong dose of antibiotics) back in the land of the living. Doesn't the air smell sweet when you're well? 

What makes an athlete?

I keep asking myself - what makes an athlete? 

I have always considered myself an athlete - from my early teenage years, when I first tasted the sweet obsession that is sport, to these last couple of years through struggling with rehabilitation. In my mind that is what I am. But for others?

Physically my body still looks like an athlete's body. It's a big joke, because it looks exactly the same when I could swim, bike and run 70.3 miles in a day and then do it again next week! 

My brain is also the same. I still think about training, I plan my training as I did, I look forward to it (possibly more now than before) and I talk as I did when I was training 18 hour weeks, not 8. 

Does the race make the athlete? With the exception of a sprint I managed to sneak in last September, I have largely been in the sidelines for the last 2 years. No racing. Plans to race, but all of them foiled. Pulling out of IMDE officially this week too. 

Maybe it's the psyche that makes the athlete. And my psyche has been feeding off this time off. It has been making me stronger, though (I won't lie) I have also had dark spots when I thought I will never be the same again, I will never get to a startline in my life. I crave the training. I desire the pain of muscles straining to accomplish. I miss the mental game of pushing myself through to the next clear spot in my race. 

Because as in life so in a race you go through dark spots and you go through clear spots. What matters is that in the dark spots you remember that things are bound to change. Sooner or later.

One foot on the ground

Walking is the new running! For  me at least. If you had told me a few years back that I would be ecstatic to have gone for a walk I would have laughed, but that's my current reality. 

I had been thinking about it for a while, as I know that moderate walking (as in walking to work, walking round the shops sort of pace) is good for my back. Both literature and my body agree on that. However every time I had tried to walk with a faster pace I always ended up running... It always seemed the obvious progression... why try and walk faster when you can just run? (The painful truth  for me was so that I could avoid sleepless nights if I could keep one foot on the ground)

Having read the international rac walking rules it all became clearer. The technique is very different to normal walking - race walking is very different. I have been practising proper race walking technique and I have found that it gives me no pain!!! No pain during my walks. No pain after either! Bingo!!

The other thing I discovered is that I could go quite fast. Ok... so not 4 min k's for me... but I could walk at a pace of 8km/hr. Of course I quickly started computing Marathon times (less than 5.15!) and Ironman cut off times. Ok... so the IM might have to wait until I can sit comfortably on a bike for a bit longer than 2 hours... but the Marathon would be a challenge.  

That aside, my radiating pain has been getting less and less. In fact I had none today - something that hasn't happened in a while - almost two years (given my level of activity today and the amount of sitting down - in the car nonetheless - that I had to do). 

I am hoping to be able to make the startline at Schiniathlon, the sprint race on 9th May!