After one week of being sidelined, I couldn’t be happier to
be back on training. And I have this to show for it…
Holy shit, my Adriana Lima legs!
Needless to say, my comeback after 8 days of on again, off again
affair with the flu did not come with bells and whistles. I woke up today
thinking I will bike to Camp Aguinaldo, go easy on myself and just do an hour
each of swim, bike and run. It seemed considerate, decent and easy enough. Only it wasn’t.
I was lucky not to be thrown out of the pool for blowing my
nose every other lap. (Please note, I did it on the gutter) The random people I
was training with were either not at all squeamish or just too deep into their
morning laps.
Fast forward to the scene of the accident.
They did road asphalting recently at Aguinaldo’s run/bike
route. I thought it was such a pleasant comeback treat, the road being more
inviting for biking on third gear. Flip side, speed humps were not yet painted so
a certain stretch looked flat. As I had to discharge some more ‘mucus
secretion’ I reached for tissue in my pocket… hit a hump… lost control…
crashed.
And that’s how I got uhm the nasty gash. Walang ka-glory
glory. Hindi man lang sa karera.
The show must go on
Found myself 2 meters from my bike
Did a lot of cursing and swearing in my head
Got up and checked for damage done to the bike
Checked for completeness of body parts
I think these happened all at once. Moments of distress, I reckon,
leave very little room for logic and proper chronology.
So I knew my legs will never be the same again. Fine. I
picked up Blu so I can… well, I did not know where to go from there. I just knew
I had to drive away and get unstuck from that ugly moment. I pedaled aimlessly,
bleeding and hurt. I chose to ignore the throbbing knee since the race’s in 9
days. I only paused to rinse the wound with the water I carry on my bike.
I went on to bike for 30 minutes more to complete my target one
hour, and did another one hour of run. In the hour and a half I spent in pain,
the real battle was going on in my head… “What the heck am I gonna do now? I
have not gotten back to a comfortable cardio capacity for me to be race ready
and now I’ve gotten myself into a situation where I can’t train again. Great.
Just great, Rowena.”
Let it be known that I only finished my day’s target time
because I only wanted to save something for myself. For a moment I had myself
convinced, too, that I did it for proper conditioning’s sake. Of course not. I
did it so I can tell myself I did not quit. That despite physical pain, the
body still went where the mind told it to go. That I would know exactly the
answer when I ask myself “What am I going to do? Cry? Go home?”
UPDATE: 3 days
after the crash, 6 days before the race
I’m calling it: I’m an idiot.
What was I thinking???
Although I would still agree with my
then-frantic self to finish the 3 legs, I see things differently now. The
busted knee has not allowed me mobility around the house, let alone train; but
it has allowed me to take in other things.
If it were I, I wouldn’t call it the The Red Badge of
Courage, rather, The Red Badge of Humility.
A wound, per se, does not necessarily make one a more valiant warrior.
It’s the circumstances around its occurrence that teach us a thing or two.
As brainless as it may seem but the key message here is to slow down.
If only I did not obsess about conditioning right after the
flu. If only I did not over speed that time when it happened... (yeah, the usual)
But now that it happened-
I’m learning to be patient with myself (not to mention,
extra cautious) because dressing wounds take too darn long. I’m also realizing
that there are no shortcuts to getting from point A to point B- literally and
quite figuratively. I’m limping. I’ve been too dependent on our helpers to do
little things for me these days. But the most heartbreaking of all is that I
still really, really, really want to race on Sunday. I still have this grand
delusion that I can stage the quickest recovery period ever but- it scares
me to even entertain this thought- there’s a slight chance I won't be able to.
Another thing this whole life in slowmo has reminded me is that there will always be other forces at work. They bother me most of
the time but sadly, the are things we (I!!!) can’t master, control or avoid nga
pala. Gravity, for instance. The fundamental thing about Gravity is that it
keeps you to the ground. Fortunately or not, it’s the only thing it does. And in
a way only it can, Gravity reminds you to stay put.
I can perhaps comfort myself with the thought that there is
a whole calendar of triathlon races I can join after Subic. But it’s not me not
to be hard on myself. I will not go all cliché-ish by overly celebrating the
good that comes out of an unfortunate circumstance because honestly, if I can
undo any of this, I would. I would rewind to the last 5 seconds before I
crashed my bike and hold on to the handlebar. I’m sure I can be reminded of
what counts in some less painful way.
For now, I get by with the eternal words of Pumbaa and Timon-
hakuna matata.
So yeah,
6 days.
