07/03/2024
Revisiting some lessons.
More cowbell!
June 5, 2011
In the late winter of 2010, my friend Claudia invited me to go to a meeting with her about signing up for and training for our first marathon. It was a fundraiser charity event with team in training, benefiting the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Wonderful! My sister is a childhood lymphoma survivor so that felt perfectly aligned for me. We got several weeks into training and my knees started bugging me.
Tendinitis. Bursitis. Boo!
Between specialized therapy at the chiropractor with Sebastian and seeing the physical medicine and rehab physiatrist at a traditional physical therapy office, I had about 3 to 4 doctor appointments per week. I was spending approximately $1500 a month out of pocket 👀! In addition to that I was fundraising and still training and my skin was blistering from the K-tape.
The leader of team in training Orange County region called me at home one evening. Her name is Ricca Silverio. She said to me ”this is not your sport and this is not your season so I am going to need you to remove yourself from the team“ I remember that conversation b/c it felt like it was in slow motion and yes, I’m naming names. I cried my eyeballs out as Ricca ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it.
At physical therapy the next morning, I told Dr. B what happened. He reassured me that I was not to remove myself from that team and I would be fine by race day. He would even put me in a hard brace if necessary. He asked if I had ever worked closely with one of those “low level, low income, charity type people” (wow!)
I assured him I had not.
“Well, just because they proclaim to be doing something noble doesn’t mean that they have confidence, people, skills, leadership ability, or decent self awareness.”
I see…
I told Ricca I would not be removing myself from the team and then turned in over $3000 in fundraising money. (Thanks yall!)
After our first 21 mile training day most of the girls deteriorated into tears as we were greeted at the finish line with the cowbell.
“I could use a little more cowbell!”
At the last minute, my friend Kathy invited me to go with her to Aruba for five days the week before marathon day. Dr. B confirmed that he thought this was a great idea! So, off to Aruba we went. Five days of relaxation on “sunburn Island” for a loading dose of Vit D, a little bit of running, sweating so hard that I could not keep sunscreen on, doing a few scuba dives in that ripping current, and having a ton of fun turned out to be good medicine.
Upon returning home to marathon week, I find out that my boyfriend and Claudia’s boyfriend made a bet against (or between us) about which one of us would “win“. Because wishing for me to finish healthy or finish at all isn’t even on their radar. But why not weaponize everything 🙄. 🖕
I finished my first 26.2 healthy, unmedicated, untaped, and unbraced. The next morning, I could even run up and down the hotel steps to load the car.
It was later confirmed that none of this was about me at all. I kinda instinctively knew that.
It was about Ricca trying to win an internal organizational contest for having the highest fundraising dollar per participant across all teams. How do you do that? By asking participants to quit on themselves so your ratios change.
🏃Ahhh! People will project their own BS (belief systems) onto you. Don’t accept it.
🏃 keep shining
🏃 I learned that things happen for us not to us
🏃 I learned that most of this situation was divinely ordered.
🏃 what is for you will find you as long as you trust your deep inner knowing.
🏃support is all around you if you look for it. And we always get what we look for.
I kept running for a while, but never again with Team in training. I eventually figured out that 13.1 is the best. It’s less intense and you can be off the course and eating lunch in the hot tub by noon. 🥗🍽️
“I’ve got a fever and the only prescription is more cowbell“
My wish for you is that you continue.
Continue
To be who and how you are
To astonish a mean world
With your acts of kindness…..
-Maya Angelou
Oh. And that tendinitis? That’s how I finally get diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder.
