A Year of Friends

2014, while disappointing in terms of fitness, has been the year of friends for me. This year has been filled with many happy memories, and while none can fall into the romance category, every single one is attached to a friend or two.

Running races, yoga in front of the Rock Hall, housewarming parties, birthday celebrations, trivia nights, dinners, and last minute drinks have helped me to realize how blessed my life is because of the friendships I have. While my friends list has gotten shorter as I entered my 30's, the people on the list and the friendships with them have gotten richer.

It is the ones who have stayed who matter. The ones, no matter how near or far, who are happy to call me a friend, even if it has been days or weeks since we have talked or seen each other. For a few of them, they are the reasons why I have found myself again after so long. The people who believed in me, when I had lost faith in myself. The ones who haven't given up hope that someone is out there for me, when I no longer have it for myself. 

I hope your year has also been equally blessed with cherished friendships. And while 2015, will hopefully be a year of transformation, I hope my friendships will continue to transform me into a better person each day. 

Getting Back in the Saddle

As the year draws to a close, I once again reflect on what I have accomplished and what I have yet to complete. I was excited for 2014, hoping that I could get back into triathlons and finally getting a handle on the weight struggles. However, after ACL surgery and a compression injury in my good leg, I am looking at December knowing that none of my fitness and health goals have been accomplished.

I am hoping that 2015 will be the year of getting back in the saddle..or more literally, the bike saddle. In about eight weeks, I should be healed enough from my compression injury to be able to focus on more intensive training. Which means the month of December and January will be about slowly easing back into a fitness routine.

After attending several Believe in Cleveland events, I am going to try and find a place that is affordable enough for me to devote more time to the practice. Not only is it a great form of exercise, but I am in desperate need of something that allows me to center, refocus, and most importantly, release some of the stress I have been holding.

When I dropped 60 pounds almost 8 years ago, I did it because I was not happy with the person in the mirror. I was embarrassed to be in photographs, and felt like a walrus in anything revealing. This time around, I need to lose approximately 80 pounds, and have a bigger challenge ahead. But as before, this journey is personal, and for myself. I am doing it for me, and that should be the biggest motivator as I move forward into 2015.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

“Our too-young and too-new America, lusty because it is lonely, aggressive because it is afraid, insists upon seeing the world in terms of good and bad, the holy and the evil, the high and the low, the white and the black; our America is frightened of fact, of history, of processes, of necessity. It hugs the easy way of damning those whom it cannot understand, of excluding those who look different, and it salves its conscience with a self-draped cloak of righteousness” -Richard Wright, Black Boy

There is a lot of hate in this world. And given the recent happenings in our country, I can understand the anger, resentment, and frustrations that many Americans are feeling. I can also say that because I was born into the majority class, I have also felt a lot of "white guilt". For others, discussion of the racial divide that still separates ethnic groups by social-economic classes, is very volatile. The amount of mud slinging by people who are found among friends lists on Facebook, is saddening. We take everything too personally, without taking the time to generate a discussion about how we move forward.

We need to be more accepting of the fact that world is not the way we would like it. That many people for various reasons are too often denied rights that many of us, including myself take for granted. We are too willing to point fingers, instead of turning the finger around at ourselves, and asking, "What can I do to make it better?"

Gandhi, once said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world", but how many of us are really doing enough in our own lives to be a change for the better? We make a lot of excuses about not having time, or we chose to look the other way. But perhaps a way to make a change for the better is to acknowledge the good, the bad, and the ugly in ourselves?

Cleveland Is My Om

Changing gears here. Time to actually put something positive and uplifting on my blog. And what better way to do that than talking about my beloved hometown...and yoga.

Yoga is one of the few fitness related activities that I was given permission to do by my orthopedic surgeon without restrictions. It is the only exercise I have been able to do these last months that have allowed me to work up a sweat, get my heart rate up, and feel stronger the next day as I revel in sore muscles. 

I heard about the Believe in CLE events through my friend Carolyn who invited me to tag along this summer as 2100 yogis practiced yoga in front of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It was blissful, it was challenging, and more importantly I felt connected to my city. It made me realize how far I had come from Charlotte, and how much I was finding the person I lost after being stuck in an abusive relationship for three years. 

I enjoyed the event so much, I got another friend to tag along and Carolyn, Cat, and I attended the AHA! Cleveland event as part of the Opening Ceremonies for the 2014 Gay Games. Seeing the sun set over the lake, rejoicing in a city that embraced athletes from different nationalities, religious affiliations, and sexual orientations, and sweating it out with two other Grunt Girls made me fall in love with my city even more during that happy evening. 

This time, I attended the Believe in CLE event by myself. However even without the support of close friends, the feeling of connection and energy was the same as I took the court of the Q Arena with Moondog and 600 other Cleveland yogis practicing their Downward Dog. While I would label myself as a recreational yogi given my inability to afford regular yoga sessions, I still felt like I belonged. 

I am facing another possible surgery on my knees, and part of me is hoping that I will be able to set aside some cash in 2015 to make it a regular practice as part of my recovery. More importantly, it has been through yoga that I have been able to let go of the stress, pain, and frustration I have been holding unto for so long. As I laid on the ground listening to my heart beat and fighting back tears, the gentle squeeze by the woman next to me who held my hand through our warm-ups, helped me to feel less alone and more part of the universe. While I need more of these events...and more of these soul comforting moments, our city needs them, too. We could all use a lot more "om" in our lives, and lot less destructive emotions that wither away at our sense of self-worth and our ability to connect with others around us.

That is why I am very glad I came back home. I needed to feel reconnected to my roots, in order to find out who I am today. I needed to find a place where I am loved for who I am. I have never been a trendy, flashy, or stand out girl...but in that way, I am very much a Clevelander. Will always be a Clevelander.

"Cleveland has never followed anyone else's rules, we made our own. That's because the city where rock was born knows a thing or two about passion, freedom and doing things your way. Sure there's been pressure. But under the right conditions, pressure can create diamonds. So if you like a bit of grit mixed with sophistication in a place where you can eat bucatini pasta served with beef jerky, dance to world music on the front lawn of a renowned art museum or do yoga in front of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame -- and all in a city where we don't take ourselves too seriously...We've never been flashy, trendy or perfect. And for that, you're welcome." -This Is Cleveland 

A Pep Talk

As I sip on a glass of red wine, and enjoy a bowl of oxtail soup (which I made from scratch), I feel like I need to take a few moments to give myself a pep talk.

The recent misadventures in dating, and honestly the entire frustration of terrible rules, guidelines, and principles that make up the dating world these days, have left me a little bitter. And totally sad.

I wrestle constantly, and you have read it in my blog, with just giving up. Throwing in the towel, and just learning how not to care that I don't have love. People have given me advice, thrown in their two cents, and uttered every cliche. I have given in and gone on a few set-ups, and it doesn't really change the fact that I feel pretty miserable when it is all said and done.

My last set-up was with a coworker's cousin who just wants to find a "nice girl". After meeting him and going dutch on our date (apparently a guy paying for dinner is the ultimate sign of interest level), I am convinced he would be better off with a nice boy, rather than a nice girl.

Let's not forget that the guy I was interested in and took a gamble on, informed me (through text of course) after beating around the bush for several weeks that he is not interested. Or perhaps it would be better to quote him: "If you are asking if I think we are going to be serious...to be honest I have met a few other girls and connected with them. I can't promise anything, but I definitely have a lot of friends. However, if we ever hang out again, I will definitely pay for dinner. If anything, I believe in putting in my fair share."

Apparently the guy who is "too busy to date" has enough time to have connected with a few other women as well. To make sure he didn't entirely forget rubbing salt into my wound, he goes on to text, "If it makes you feel better I have spent thousands of dollars on being "that guy" and I am still single". And the world wonders why? I guess him telling me that spending $70 on our dinner (I paid for both of us), was not so bad when compared to his losses.

Dating in the past two years can pretty much be summed by the following:

1. "Personality-wise you are almost perfect. But I am looking for perfection."
2. I don't think you are worth making time for, and to keep you guessing about my interest level I will only ever send out ambiguous texts. However, I will still have plenty of time to connect with other women, while keeping your number in my cell phone.
3. "I want to find Snow White. What can I say? Guys are jerks."
4. I want to find my best friend, not a drinking buddy.
5. You are not (insert adjective) enough for me. (Thin, pretty, rich, etc.)
6. What is the big deal? You don't seem like you need a man.
7. I just don't have time....ever. And my life and work will always be more than important than your life and your work.
8. I want some one a lot more high maintenance, a lot less nice, and someone who is going to make me chase them.
9. I want someone a little less laid back. You act more like a guy, than a girl.
10. It is not you...actually it is you. Because I am not changing my ways or my impossible ideals about women.

As much as I make light of dating at times. It does hurt. I really find myself looking at the mirror in those dark moments and wishing I was more thinner/prettier/richer/etc. But I know in the end, I would hate myself for being something that I am not, and finding myself back in the poor relationship choices of the past. But it sucks. A total gut wrenching, heart tearing, and soul crushing pain. To be ready to love and find love are very different things. And one never guarantees the other.

Therefore, perhaps I need to remind myself of those qualities that make me a good, decent, and loving person. Some things to help me remember, that it is okay to be single when the alternative choices are so bad:

1. I love to laugh, and make others laugh.
2. I smile a lot. Even when I am hurting.
3. I will go out of my way to do something for someone else. Even if it costs me time, money, etc.
4. I am passionate about things in my life, and will fight for those causes I believe in.
5. I am intelligent. Some of it is a gift, and some of it is well earned.
6. My three loving and happy pets have taught me, that I can affect the people around me.
7. I care more about the small things, then the big things. A kind gesture carries more weight than fine dining or jewelry.
8. I have a forgiving heart.
9. I make sure that I let people know that they matter to me. Even strangers and dates.
10. I am moved by the beauty of the world as well as the pain in it.
11. I treat people the way I want to be treated, even if they don't always treat me right.

In the end, I am still single. But I am also a good person. And I love deeply and honestly. And God bless the man who some day will have the intelligence/courage/heart/etc. to recognize that. I hope he won't be allergic to cats, and will like plenty of red wine.

It's Not You....It's Just Me

“But even so, every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness.  The very water I drink, the very air I breathe, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning.”

 -Haruki Murakami

I originally thought about titling this post as: "I Hate Holidays". But in truth, Christmas holidays are one of my favorites. It's just that at this time of year, the sense of singlehood...or more importantly, loneliness is more heightened. Every where you turn, the emphasis is on time spent with family and loved ones, and for me...it always ends up being a lot of time spent alone. 

I never really minded being alone, and sometimes it's just nice to spend a day or two with the phone turned off and curled up on the couch with a good book. However, it is this time of the year, when I often face the one demon that I still try desperately to shake off when I am alone...loneliness.

I want love and companionship, and someone to come home to. I want it with every fiber in my being. However truth be told, I have come to a time in my life where there are some things I am not willing to sacrifice. I am not so lonely, that I would intentionally enter into another relationship where I was made to be the one who always sacrificed. Yet, I continue to find myself frustrated at the lack of options available in this "hookup culture" we call dating, and wondering if I will be spending a lot more holidays...alone.

Perhaps it is me? That somewhere along the way, I became so fundamentally flawed, that I can no longer see or sense the negative vibe that sends out the signal, "Stay away!". Even when I go optimistically into the dating scene, I feel befuddled and discouraged. While I could easily read the signs when it came to stealing second base in softball, I feel like my wires are crossed when it comes to the opposite sex.

It doesn't help when we have also been spoon fed, the idea of "He's not into you". It still ends up being a game where you constantly second guess your moves, decisions, and sometimes conversations. Perhaps, that is also a universal sign that if you have to second guess, that it's God just telling you to back away....and quickly?

For example, I recently went out with a man who checked off a lot of boxes for me, when it came to things I want in a significant other: intelligent, articulate, kind, funny, tall, and a sports fanatic. Our first date clocked in at two hours...the second date lasted over five hours. And yet, I feel crummy. Is he really too busy right now to engage, or is his lack of follow through really the sign of, "He is just not into me"? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the other part of me...the one from a few years ago wants to rebel.

Not again! Not another man, who tells me through words and actions, that my life and my time will never be as precious or as important as his. Not another man....who wants to find "his best friend" but has no idea how you are supposed to make and keep friends.

I try to fight cynicism, and I try to give everyone an even shake. I just don't think I have a fair advantage anymore. Do I wait for the ideal, or recognize that if life is supposed to be like a romantic comedy, then I am going to end up the weird sidekick who helps the friend find a man, but never gets one herself.

Part of me, wants to just ask....why show me interest, get me excited about actually seeing you again, and then just make me feel like...crap when you withdraw. And why, should I feel like crap? Is it because this guy...has real potential..or the prospect of yet another disappointing encounter drives me to the point of nausea?

I want to throw in the towel, but I want to find him, too. I feel like Charlotte York who throws her hands up in the air and yells, "I have being dating for 15 years! I am exhausted! Where the hell is he?!"

My life has more social engagements these days, and I am thankful, that I have friends who are happy to see me, and make time in their busy lives for this single friend. But....it's hard. My constant friend at 10pm at night on a Wednesday is still loneliness. And it hurts....physically and spiritually. 

 Maybe it is not them that is the real problem, maybe, it is just me? And perhaps I have no idea how to change that? 

“The trouble is not that I am single and likely to stay single, 

but that I am lonely and likely to stay lonely.” 

-Charlotte Bronte

A Learning Process

"You’ll learn, as you get older, that rules are made to be broken. 

Be bold enough to live life on your terms, and never, ever apologize for it. 

Go against the grain, refuse to conform, take the road less traveled instead of the well-beaten path. Laugh in the face of adversity, and leap before you look. 

Dance as though EVERYBODY is watching. 

March to the beat of your own drummer. 

And stubbornly refuse to fit in.” 

-Mindy Hale

It has been a while since I have posted....a long while. Life has once again gotten the best of me. I apologize to the few loyal readers I have left, for such a long absence from this blog. I am still in a learning process of finding happiness, and discovering the best person I can be.

Life for the most part has been good. Albeit, there is still more things I need to do to find that moment of Zen..when my life can truly be defined as "great". But I have felt happier and more at peace with myself then any other point over the past few years. I have a good job, and a set of co-workers who are supportive and quickly becoming friends. My circle of friends has gotten smaller over the past couple of years, but it also has become more reliable. I have people in my life who love and support me, even if we go a few weeks without seeing each other. I no longer feel so bad for the person I am, or the flaws and scars that I carry. I no longer keep people in my life, who make me feel bad for who I am. 

While I still deal with loneliness and miss companionship from time to time, I am finding myself more content with the life that I am living. I have a home that I love, and neighbors who stop to say "hello" while looking out for each other. I find my weekends filled with sports, activities, and a lot of laughter. I think about my past less each day, and look forward to the future more.

Coming back home to Cleveland was the best choice I could have made for myself. I let my heart guide me, and did what was best for me. I am still trying to learn to apologize a lot less, and embrace the fact that I am imperfect. While I still wish to find love someday, I beat myself up a lot less about the fact that I have not found the "one". Quiet evenings at home, small gatherings with friends, and the love of pets have replaced my need to for a Friday night date. 

Life is a constant learning process. We make mistakes, and hopefully we chose to learn from them. Life is a journey and as long as we keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually we will make progress. Admittedly, I have fallen and stumbled quite a bit, but I feel more surer of myself each day.

Someday, I hope to look back and say, "You did good." I really do hope that the choices I am making now for myself, will lead to those great days ahead. I have learn to have faith in myself, as much as I faith in life and the powers that be.

Believe in CLE

One of the reasons why I felt the pull to come back to Cleveland after living four years away, was because I missed the vibe and grittiness of my hometown. Cleveland has always been that over looked girl at the party. We are not flashy or loud like New York City, Los Angeles, or Las Vegas. We aren't sincere and beautiful like Honolulu or Vancouver. We are also not eclectic or artsy like Seattle or Austin. We aren't the popular girl like Chicago or San Francisco.

But like most over looked girls, if you take the time to get to know Cleveland, you will find that she is all of those things and more. She is that girl that will keep you on your toes, and keep surprising you the more you get to know her. More importantly, she is a fighter and shrugs off labels, even the ones that the bullies have given her. She might have her dark side, but she wills you to look past that, and into her heart.

Cleveland is a city all of her own. She is unique and beautiful in her originality. Yes, she struggles to still find an identity that is different from her Rust Belt sisters of Detriot and Pittsburgh, but what other city bears a nickname that reminds you of Oz?

Once you get to know her, you will find yourself falling in love. I was proud of my hometown, but I never truly loved my city until I came back as an adult. The ready smiles, small town feel, and passion that runs throughout Clevelanders was missed when I lived away.

I am still falling in love with her today.

After all, what other city allows you to do free yoga in front of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame with gorgeous views of Lake Erie at sunset with a friend and 2000 others? She is the proud host of this year's Gay Games and the home of some of the most die hard sports fans. Even the popular kids are starting to see her as the new "it" girl, as Cleveland was just named the site of the Republican National Convention.

(Even LeBron, can't get her out of his head.)

It is home, and like me, she hasn't given up on herself. 

What the F&*! is Gluten?

I have battled digestive issues my entire life. I remember the panic inducing, cold sweats which would suddenly appear while browsing the mall with my grandmother when I was 9. As cold sweat would bead down my back, I remember looking desperately for a bathroom, while my grandmother ordered me to hold it. I still find myself avoiding anything spicy, exotic, greasy, or delicious when getting ready for a road trip or a date. There is nothing more embarrassing then having an attack happen while out with friends or in places where there is an audience in the bathroom when your bowels become explosive.

The  unexpected flare ups are the worst. Having a seemly harmless meal to find yourself running to the bathroom every hour the next day. You are experiencing so much abdominal pain, bloating, and cramping that you feel like you will be ripped in two. You are so sick, that you avoid food altogether. Toliet paper begins to feel like it is embedded with glass.

The digestive issues run in my family. And after dealing with severe digestive issues in Korea, I received an endoscopy of the stomach that indicated inflammation due to heart burn. The doctor attributed it to Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and told me to avoid stress and food triggers.

However, my life is unpredictable with IBS. I am never quite sure what will trigger my attacks, and even avoiding greasy foods, chocolate, cheese, and other known IBS triggers still does not diminish my attacks. I can go weeks feeling great, and then be leveled by an attack. My kidneys hurt, my intestines growl and twist, and I find that terrifying panic setting in.

As most people, with easy access to the internet, I have been doing research. Of course after reading symptoms on WebMD and being convinced I had everything from depression to colon cancer, I am beginning to rethink the IBS label.

According to WebMD and the Celiac Disease Center in California, approximately 6% of patients diagnosed with IBS may in fact have another relatively unknown and little understood condition called Non-Celiac Gluten Senstitivity (NCGS or gluten intolerance). What separates NCGS from celiac disease (which is a severe and life-threatening auto immune disease to gluten) is that individuals do have not damage to their intestines (diagnosed through colonoscopy) or the presence of antibodies in blood tests. There is presently no diagnostic test avaiable for NCGS. Even more frustrating is that the symptoms for IBS and NCGS are relatively the same, which makes it difficult for doctors to accurately and effectively diagnosis patients.

So, what the fuck is gluten?

Trust me, ask the average American, they can expound upon the virtues of a gluten-free diet or discuss this friend or that celebrity who has lost weight going gluten free. However, most people could not actually tell you what gluten is.

Luckily for me, as a biologist and science teacher, I just needed to look at one of my textbooks. Gluten is a protein, and actually it's a combination of two proteins: gliadin and glutenin. Gluten is present in the endosperm of grains such as wheat, barley, and rye. The endosperm is the part of the plant's seed (we refer to those seeds as grains) which provides nutrition to the developing embryo during germination. For us, gluten is what gives baked bread that elasticity and delicious chewiness that we love.

So why is gluten a problem now? Well some scientists have an answer for that: We don't prepare our grains the same way. Our ancestors hand ground the grains into a flour and then used a slow-leavening process to help bread to rise. That slow leavening process may have helped break up some of the gluten present in grains. Today processing techniques have rapidly shortened the leavening process and cross-breeds (think genetic modifying) of our grains have seen gluten in other varieties beyond just simple wheat, barley, and rye.

Okay.....so I am just going to make all my bread by hand. Problem solved!....

Actually, a new study by Drs. Biesiekierski, Peters, Newnhawm, Rosella, Muir, and Gibson just published in April indicate that it actually may not be gluten that people have a senstivity towards, as previously thought.

Bull shit!

Ok.....let me mention that Dr Biesikierski and his colleagues were the same people who published a large study in 2011 which indicated that people with no celiac disease may have reactions to gluten (aka NCGS). In fact, his study was the one that essentially spurred the neotrend of gluten free lifestyles and the gluten-free food industry (which makes approximately $6.2 billion/year). As most scientists, he wasn't satisfied with his results, so he refined his methodology and removed any additional confounding variables which may have influenced his results.

So what did he find?

Well, the culprit may not be gluten after all....rather FODMAPs.

What the fuck are FODMAPs?...

Well FODMAPs are fermentable, poorly-absorbed short chain carbohydrates, nitrites, sulfites, benzoates, etc. In other words artificial perservatives which are frequently found in processed foods that also happen to contain gluten. His study showed that patients who ingested low-FODMAPs diets had a reduction in digestive flare ups and symptoms in comparison to patients ingesting a high-FODMAP diet. Interestingly, patients reported having gluten flare ups in his study regardless of whether or not gluten was present indicating a nocebo effect (patients had no idea when they were receiving gluten in their diet). For those of you, who are not scientists, a nocebo effect is where patients report harmful symptoms even when harmless substances are present.

So what does this all mean? Gluten free or FODMAP free?

Well the answer, like most things in science, is that it needs additional studies and a lot more research into both NCGS and FODMAPs. The commonality is that both gluten and FODMAPs are frequently found in processed and refined foods. Which is also why people have also jumped on the Paleo Diet bandwagon (gluten-free and processed food free diet) in the past few years.

So what are patients like me, with a history of IBS symptoms who may suspect another culprit (gluten, FODMAPs, etc.), to do?

Doctors suggest patients who suspect NCGS should be tested first to rule out celiac disease, before going gluten free (or more importantly avoiding processed foods containing grains) to ensure an accurate diagnosis and assessment by your primary physician or a gastroenterologist.

As for me, as my intestines continue to rumble as I post this, and I am within jogging distance of the bathroom. After discussion with my primary physician, she has suggested going gluten free using a Paleo Diet for several weeks (the reduction in sodium from processed-free foods may also help my issues with blood pressure). I am supposed to write down everything that I eat each day, and to document any flare ups, symptoms, etc. which arise and how long after eating.

Going gluten free or adhering to a Paleo Diet is not easy. In other words, cutting out refined foods, grains, and processed foods requires time, effort, and more importantly money.

A bag of all-purpose flour costs $3 compared to a comparable sized bag of almond flour at $10. And sadly, the FDA has just begun to set stricter restrictions on companies regarding gluten-free. In other words, food labels may say gluten-free but actually the food may be processed in the same plant that makes gluten products or it may contain derivatives of grain which contain trace amounts of gluten.

The other problem is that fresh fruits and vegetables are harder to obtain and are more costly than the Ramen noodles, potato chips, canned soups, etc. that line the convenience store and grocery shelves located in most urban and economically depressed neighborhoods (also called "food deserts"). Avoidance of gluten and processed foods is not necessarily easy (look at what is vending machines and work place break rooms), and people who deal with serious allergies will describe the frustration of planning their social lives around places offering gluten free options.

In the meantime, while I wait for the research to continue concerning NCGS, FODMAPs, and digestive conditions, I am going to attempt to evaluate the effect of going gluten-free and processed food free for a few weeks. (I will have to wait till my workshop is done since everything from breakfast to lunch contains gluten and/or processed foods). When I went Paleo last year, I did feel better (less flare ups) but I did not truly eliminate all gluten, which is the only way to deal with NCGS (say goodbye to beer!). Not to mention, it was expensive to maintain and shop for (grass fed meat is twice the cost of grain fed meat).

However, the list of symptoms of NCGS is enough for me to warrant the experiment of trying out gluten-free and processed free food on a more permanent basis:

• cramping
• bloating
• gas
• abdominal pain
• irritability
• chronic fatigue
• rash 
• depression
• joint pain
• migraine headaches 
• diarrhea
• constipation 
• heart burn

Rise Above It

'Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune;

but great minds rise above them."

-Washington Irving

After reflecting on the negativity of my latest post, I have been trying this last week to embrace the motto "rise above it". Call it a mantra, I have been trying to remind myself that what I am facing now and what I have been struggling to overcome, is just another trial in the journey called life. And with most people, as I overcome this trial, I know that other (and harder) trials will always be ahead.

I have been working on writing science curriculum this week in a workshop, and it felt good working on something that I am good at. And while I may never know whether or not schools and teachers will actually use the curriculum I am writing, it makes me feel good to know that in some way I am helping to create positive change. That maybe someone will use my ideas to improve their teaching methods. 

On the other hand, I have also remained realistic. I am still applying, and still looking for jobs. I keep hoping that if I "rise above it", something will eventually fall into place. The universe has also reaffirmed that I work hard. While I did not get the job at my last interview due to my license, it impressed the principal enough to pass my name on to another school who called for an interview.

I have also been trying to "rise above" what has been my homeless situation, as my apartment and the 90 year old ceilings are finally being repaired after collapsing. And thankfully, no one was hurt when it came crashing down. It could have very likely been an entirely different situation, had I not remained so insistent. 

What mantras do you recite or adhere to? What sayings or thoughts get you through your rough patches? Are you also trying to "rise above it"?

$7.95

The minimum wage in Ohio is $7.95/hr. I have watched a lot of discussion in the news about the rate of inflation, the depressed economy, and the rising cost of healthcare indicating a need to raise the minimum wage for working Americans. We talk about the disappearing middle class, while we discuss the addition of jobs which mimic the feeling of changing tides.

What we don't talk about in greater detail is the underemployed. Today more Americans are underemployed, under appreciated, and over qualified for the jobs they work in. We cut salaries and benefits while raising insurance premiums and job responsibilities. In Korea, I paid approximately 3 dollars for a doctor's visit and about 5 dollars for prescriptions. There were no hidden fees, co-pays, coinsurance, or deductibles to be met. Today, I struggle to figure out the algorithms utilized to determine that I owe an additional $82.23 for an MRI reading after I have met both my deductible and coinsurance for the year.

What about the salaried workers, where we have no set minimum on the cost of full-time work? Most salaried workers are hired for 40 hours of work a week. Most of us work more than 40 hours. If I count the amount of time spent tutoring, grading papers, lesson planning, e-mailing students/parents, I work anywhere between a 10-12 hour day (I am excluding the time I put in during the weekends). If you factor in my salary of 10 months of paid work, I make approximately $6.80 an hour every day I work with my advanced degrees in Education. That is below the state's minimum wage. However, no one, including my employers believes that paying me that amount of money is unacceptable, and more importantly unlivable. I am being told it accept it for what it is, a job that someone else would be willing to work.

I try not to complain to my friends. Especially, the ones who are not necessarily struggling to make ends meet with their salaried jobs. I nod my head at their suggestions and agree to look at this website and that. But the truth is, I have looked everywhere. I apply everyday for jobs in education, in science, out of education, in sales, etc. No one responds. Or worse yet I go to an interview, and get told that I am qualified but my license prevents me from gaining employment or that I am overqualified. I struggle thinking that I made a mistake in my career choices, and that at 33 my doctorate will result in me making $6.80/hr for the rest of my life.

I try to repeat the mantra of positivity: "At least I have a job". But what is the work for and what is the hours I put in mean, when I can barely afford to put food in my mouth or gas in my car? Yes, I will die a person who is well-liked and well-respected but what about this life? I don't feel like I have much of a life these days. Because so much is wrapped around money, or the lack of. I don't buy new clothes. I don't go on vacations. I didn't even say anything about wanting to celebrate my birthday to any friends. I counted quarters this past week to put money in the bank to cover rent. I stress about dropping my health insurance because they are raising the premium by 20% with no change in my salary for next year.

And each week, I feel more beat down and more like a failure. I worked so hard, to be where, one step away from homeless? I see the people on the corner with their cardboard signs, and realize that I just a pay check away from their situation. I spend my free time coming job boards and social media sites for employment.

I talked with the business manager at work today about my salary, and was told, "We don't have the money to pay more". (He agreed that he would not be able to live on the salary I am paid.) But I am stuck. It is the only job I have managed to get, and God knows I have applied anywhere and everywhere else. I am even beginning to contemplate moving overseas again, just so I can take care of myself and my family. I feel like I live in a country that doesn't care what happens to me or others like me.

And it is so hard not to be bitter, and feel like life is so unfair. I work in a job that is often thankless and selfless, and I have nothing to show for it. I am so tired. I am so stressed. I sometimes feel like I am drowning. I am trying not to lose it some days.

Today is one of them. The difference between being paid $6.80/hr at my job and $7.95/hr comes out to approximately an additional $2000/yr. That would also be equal to approximately 3 months of rent, six months of groceries, or 500 gallons of gas. It makes a difference. A livable wage would make a difference. I am not talking about a wage that allows me vacations, I am talking about a wage that allows me to pay bills on time, every time.

And sadly, my story is one of many. I am the face of middle class America. I am college educated, articulate, goal oriented, and hard working. But I am also underpaid, underemployed, and in a dead end. My competition for jobs are thousands of others like me who are struggling to find a way out. We keep applying, and struggle to figure out our next choice.

This has nothing to do with political affiliation, gender, religion, etc. Rather it has to do with the fact that we are living in a country were we no longer are willing to talk things out together to solve problems. We rather point fingers, blame this party or that one, or pin our troubles on one specific demographic group.

$7.95/hr is a symbol of division that exists in our country. There are too many have and have nots walking around, there is no Goldilocks problems of "just enough" in our society. And to be honest, I have no idea myself where we begin to fix the problems. I just know that while people dream of the future, I am thinking about now. What am I supposed to do now? How do I make it through tomorrow?

How much longer can I keep going?

The Luckiest

"I don't get many things right the first time, 

In fact, I am told that a lot,

Now I know all the wrong turns

The stumbles and falls brought me here...

Now I see it everyday,

That I am the luckiest." -Ben Folds

Sorry, I have been late of posting. This weekend was one of those moments, that everyone needs from life. A reminder from the universe that you are loved and that you matter. Especially for us perpetually single people, you can feel beat down believing love is something that you can never obtain. However, this weekend served as an example for me.  While, I may have not found the one, and perhaps I may never find him, I am not lacking in love. 

I turned 33 this weekend, and while I didn't do anything spectacular or crazy, I still got a chance to be around friends and family. This is my favorite time of year, regardless of the fact that it was my birthday, and just being able to be outdoors and surrounded by laughter while you drink a cold beer, helped me feel better. Especially after being inside for so long from ACL surgery.

I try so hard to struggle through my troubles without complaint. The long work hours, the long school hours, the lack of pay, etc. But even though I am a confident person, I still struggle. I struggle with the feeling of never being good enough for a man to love. I struggle to lose weight, any weight. I struggle to find a job that satisfies me and pays the bills. I struggle to find my purpose in this world. I so often go to bed feeling like a failure, even though I have worked so hard. 

But this weekend uplifted me in so many ways. The fact that my wall was flooded on Facebook, the numerous text messages and voice mails left on my phone, or the friends just showing up to buy me a drink, helped me to see that my life is so blessed in so many ways. I may still struggle and continue to fight the loneliness in my heart, but I am still loved.

It is silly that such a thing as cold beers out on a patio enjoying nice weather on Saturday night, could bring me to tears, but it does. I have so many people in my life that have remained by my side despite my setbacks and my mistakes. People who love me because of me, not because of my weight, my job, or my martial status.

I think we all need those days. The reminder of our personal impact on the world. To understand that even in our small corners of the world, we still make a difference in someone's life. That someone, even just one person, marks our passage of time and appreciates our presence.

That has been hard. I have lost a few friends over the years because of my mistakes, my bad relationships, and physical distance. My best friend of twenty years has not spoken to me in almost 18 months because of a misunderstanding. Even though I have called, e-mailed, and apologized for something that wasn't even my fault, it has been hard. I still read occasionally think back to my ex-friend who referred to me as "passive aggressive" and "jealous" of my failure to find marriage and happiness. I feel let down by the people I supported throughout my life, who abandoned me when I needed friends the most.

Some nights, I lay awake feeling like my life has been a failure.

But am I really a failure? Is being single, a failure? Or am I in a transitional period (albeit a long period) where I am moving towards greater satisfaction and perhaps that ultimate goal of love? I am a year away from a doctorate. A goal I have dreamed about since I was 8 years old. It was something I have wanted longer than a husband. It has something that I never let anyone tell me "no" to. The completion of my doctorate is proof, that I am not a failure and not a coward no matter how tough the struggle. No matter how much I need a vacation.

Like many people, I can get caught up in the negative in my life. Trust me, when you live paycheck to paycheck, it is hard not to be a "Negative Nelly". But turning 33 might be the year for me. Without being overtly sappy or condescending, I appreciate all the well wishes and love this weekend. It has meant so much to me. It is the light that I will try and hold on to when the days become dark. 

We forget that sometimes the greatest gifts we can give to another person is our time, our compassion, and our love. Since I am a believer in the little things, it was those little things this weekend that meant the most to me. Many of you, that read my blog, were one of those people who took the time to tell me you thought of me. And I thank you.

I am another year older, but yet, I pass another year on this Earth knowing that I am loved and valued. In my darkest days when I used to contemplate suicide because I was so isolated and depressed in my abusive relationship, I had lost sight of my self-worth and my value. 

I may not have that one special person who thinks the world of me, but I have quite a few people who are glad for me to a be small presence in their life. My life is rich and full of joy because I can wake up knowing that a few people are glad that I am alive. And I need to remember, that no man or person for that matter, can take that away from me.

In the end, maybe that is all that should matter. That we love and our loved. I for one, am the luckiest, because I know I am loved.

Free

ACL Surgery: Post-Op Day 7

It was a week ago today, that I had my surgery. In that week, I have seen the muscles in my calf and quad atrophy to the point of looking like something that resembles a pasty Gumbi leg with a swollen club foot. My vanity of looking good this summer in shorts, has certainly gone out of the window. But surgery is certainly a humbling experience.

I had a lot of problems last night sleeping due to the leg pain. Throbbing and searing pain running down my incision (below the knee cap) and medially on the inside of my knee. I almost broke down and took some of the prescription pain medicine I had been reacting badly to, but instead spent the wee hours of the morning watching the Mindy Project online.

Today after a lot of icing and laying around in bed with the cats working on school work and procrastinating on being anything useful, my knee pain has subsided. Which means my weekend will be spent working on my rehab exercises, cleaning my apartment, entertaining an old coworker from Andrews, and working on school work and work work. My only consolation is that by this time next month, summer will have begun, and I will be confident on where my job prospects with be for the next year (at my current employer or somewhere else). I will also hopefully be more mobile with a better looking leg than what is currently underneath all of the Ace bandages.

ACL Surgery: Post-Op Day 6

Today was the hardest day yet, and that had more to do with a reaction to my pain medicine than my knee. A few days ago I had my opiate medicine changed from Oxycodone to Hydrocone due to a mild allergy. 

Last night I took the Hydrocodome and felt terrible. I was nauseated, itched all over over, my face and hands were numb, and I felt like I couldn't get a breath. I looked up the side effects and the symptoms for a reaction, and couldn't figure out which was happening (thanks WebMD).

I then made the decision to go to the ER and after an unsuccessful phone call to a co-worker I decided to drive myself (bad knee and all). By the time I reached the ER I was feeling panicked, which didn't help matters when I saw the that the ER and registration area was dark. I knocked frankly on the glass to be greeted by a nurse who blew me off and said, "Someone will be there in a minute" before walking away. Needless to say by the time I was ushered in to the room I was dizzy, nauseated, numb, and hyperventilating. 

While I tried to explain through tears that I didn't't feel right, my blood pressure had sky rocketed to 170/100. Apparently I was in the middle of a panic attack, which is also not normal for me. It also didn't help that I had the same nurse who had blown me off minutes before.

After some cajoling by my the doctor, I got myself under control enough to give them a list of symptoms and hand them my medication. Which after an administration of a high dose of Benadryl, I learned that I probably was having another bad reaction to the medicine but not enough to be in a "life threatening" emergency. (Although a male ER nurse told me he would still take the medicine if he was in pain.)

Needless, to say I felt embarrassed. While I might be a science teacher, I am not a medically trained professional. When the medication's side effects are as similar to the symptoms of a reaction, you don't have time to decide what is an emergency or not. Especially when you leave alone. My cars certainly lack the ability to dial 911 or to keep an eye on my breathing should I pass out.

However, if the doctor had just felt it was a mere side effect, I doubt I would have received the Benadryl and the prescription for the EpiPen. I just wish, I had been reassured that my reaction and decision to seek medical help was the right reaction, instead of being made to feel like an overreaction. Don't make the single person feel bad for getting help, especially when it comes to a medication that is highly abused by many patients.

I did speak to my knee doctor since my early morning visit, and we both decided that I would withhold on taking any more prescription pain medicine. As he phrased it, "I would be more concerned about a patient calling for more narcotics after a few days, then calling and saying they don't want to take them."

You see, my familiarity and experience with narcotics is pretty minimal beside my experience with my wisdom teeth at 15. With my mother's battle with prescription pain medicine addiction (Percoset), I have always declined the offer of prescription pain medicine when offered (dental fillings, sports injuries, etc.) in the past because of that fear. However, I now have an even bigger reason to say no, the hypersentivity. For me the side effects negate any of the potential benefits of taking the medicine. (Not to mention I felt like a crazy person.)

On the plus side, my physical therapy went well and I got to enjoy the evening sitting outside with friends with a bottle of wine. I think alcohol will remain my pain medicine of choice during recovery. 

ACL Surgery: Post-Op Day 5

Today was the first day that I ventured out of my apartment since surgery. After spending the last few days with my face pressed up against the window screen like my three cats, my mom came for a visit.

Albeit, the reasons for the visit were to bring my laundry and take me to a job interview. Either way, it was nice to be outside in the fresh air and sunshine. The job interview went well and my interviewers seemed impressed by my mobility on my crutches. Of course, I insisted on doing everything myself to prevent any sign of weakness showing in my interview or to my mom. (This might also explain the swollen foot.)

While the interview went well, it will be a couple of weeks before I hear either way whether or not I got the job. It is a good school district and competition is high for jobs. Of course, the highlight of the interview had to be me responding to their question of why they should hire me with: "Because I am fun." Of course about forty minutes into the interview, I was desparate for pain medicine and a bathroom. (I spent thirty minutes waiting in the lobby before the interview had begun.)

My mom who feels like she never sees me, insisted on lunch afterward, and we headed to Aladdin's to debrief over the interview. However, after a few hours outside on crutches and the cramped restraint of my metallic brace, my surgical staples were bothering me and I longed for the couch. I was probably not the best of company having eaten most of my lunch in silence.

What has surprised me about my ordeal is that while my surgery was neither complicated or lengthy, I still feel pretty wiped out. Last week I was running a 5K and feeling good, today I was sweating trying to make it up 3 flights of stairs on crutches. I also find myself worn out by company. I have been grateful that most friends have kept their recent visits somewhat brief. Even being social has been draining.

The fatigue I am experiencing, also drives home the need for rehabilitation therapy after any kind of surgical repair. It is obvious that despite my athleticism and willful stubbornness, the recovery process will be long and challenging. Any surgery exacts some sort of physical and sometimes mental measure from the patient. It also gives me a deeper respect for those people who have come through more serious and physically debilatating procedures. I am not sure I am as strong or as brave as I want to believe I am. However, I will soon have a chance to learn what kind of stuff I am made of. 

For tomorrow, the real challenge begins...physical therapy.

ACL Surgery: Post-Op Day 3

If yesterday's challenge was my allergic reaction to the Oxycodone, then today's challenge has been my swollen foot. I realize this is singular, since my left foot is normal but my root foot looks like it belongs to Andre the Giant. The swelling is probably a combination of surgery and trying to walk around too much (without crutches). I have now resorted to icing my ankle as well as my knee. 

While I can say I moved from the couch to the bed and back again several times in an attempt to get comfortable, I did manage to have a productive day. I will also say that FitBits do not work well when you are on crutches. According to my FitBit I have gone 4,257 steps today while hobbling along on crutches in my apartment. I think it's pity steps.

My mom helped me get new pain medicine today to replace the Oxycodone that made me feel like I had poison ivy all over my body. I also set-up a job interview for Wednesday, and my first therapy session for Thursday. Which means I am going to feel like Jessica Tandy the rest of the week from the movie, Driving Miss Daisy. Except I am not a cute, white-haired old lady.

My sisters have also been checking up on me regularly, which has been nice. However, they seem to wait and do it once my pain meds have kicked in. Thus my text conversations looks like this:

Sister: How are you feeling?

Me: I am okay. (Original message: I amf oklsay) 

Sister: You take off the bandages yet?

Me: Yes. (Original message before 5 minutes of editing: Yggesd)

Sister: Did you try the kimchi yet that I made?

Me: It was good. (Fell asleep for 5 minutes after writing this original message: Fhgoofd)

In other words, I am like a drunk three year old trying to type something that resembles sense on my Smartphone. To which, if you have texted me during the height of my narcotic induced stupor, I apologize. It feels like I am moving through maple syrup.

But today, was a small victory, because the bandages came off, despite the fact that my knee looks like a Van Gogh with the reds, purples, violets, and fuschia. And according to my sister who has had ACL surgery, the fun really starts with therapy.

ACL Surgery: Post-Op Day 2

So, today my post is definitely a lot less cheerful. This would also be due to the fact that the femoral block is now gone and I am having an allergic reaction to the Oxycodone. Thus, I have to forgo any strong pain medicine until the doctor calls me back on Monday. 

Today, my ankle on my right knee is about the size of Kansas and the mobility of yesterday is replaced with a snail's pace as everything hurts. The worst is finding a position comfortable enough to sleep in, where my leg doesn't feel like it's being snapped off. This is also compounded by the fact that my oldest cat, Stitch, sees my pain and wants to cuddle. Of course, he doesn't understand that 16 pounds of pressure doesn't feel good on a post-surgical knee.

Tomorrow, is the day I am supposed to remove the bandages from surgery and take a look behind curtain #1. The reality of actually being sliced into will be hard to ignore once the steri-strips and incisions are revealed in all of their glory. I am also hoping that being able to put the ice pack on top of the actual incisions will help with the pain and swelling tomorrow. 

I am already tired of the ACL brace and crutches, and it is only Day 2. And today, I lacked the courage to do any rehab exercises other than squeezing my quads. I have a feeling like any road, there is going to be some ups and downs in this journey. 

ACL surgery: Post-Op Day 1

Well if I am posting, the good news is I survived my surgery yesterday. I will admit that going into the surgery, I was nervous and frightened. Any surgery that requires anesthesia always runs the risk of complications, not to mention post-op challenges of possible tissue rejection or clotting and infection.

I have to say that nothing takes the place of quality patient care. While perhaps, I am premature in giving a review for the staff at the Health & Wellness center in Montrose, their professionalism and humor went a long way in reducing my fears. The pre-op nurse was all smiles and the anesthesiologist came in and introduced himself as "Dan" before informing me that I would be receiving the "top shelf" medicine. My orthopedic surgeon came in and marked my knee with a smiley face, and spent time with me to discuss the surgery and the femoral block I would be receiving. We also talked about our cats (his wife and him also rescue cats).

Once I was wheeled into the operating room, it was hard not feeling like I was either in the movie, Dead Man Walking, or being somewhat Christ-like as I was strapped to the table with my arms outstretched. As they prepared the arthroscope and my doctor played with cadaver tissue like kneading dough, they made conversation with me and laughed about my Anatomy students asking me to request the "pirate" option for surgery (a wood leg instead of ACL reconstruction). In fact, the surgery team decided to provide an alternative option to the wood leg as they began speaking in pirate accents, and informed me that I would be walking the plank. Of course this light banter, had an ulterior motive. As my anesthesiologist was talking about changing his Facebook page to "pirate" he injected the anesthesia into my IV. Thus, rather than the anxious lead up to being put under, instead I heard laughter from what appeared to be great team camaraderie as I fell asleep.

I woke up about an hour later in recovery to yet another cheerful nurse who offered me a virgin cranberry and vodka. Unlike the anesthesia which left me extremely loopy after wisdom teeth (I was 16), I awake feeling fully alert and was able to dress myself without assistance. By the time my mom and sister walked into recovery, I was sitting in a chair with my second "cocktail" and ready to go. 

While the femoral block lasted all of yesterday, requiring me only to take a couple of Alleve. I decided to take my Oxycodone before bed since the block would be wearing off by the next day. (I try and avoid taking any narcotic/opiate due to my family history of addiction unless necessary). 

While there is some pain today as my block has worn off, it is manageable and I am able to get around well with crutches and putting some weight on my repaired knee. It is odd knowing that yesterday I could run up and down hallways, climb stairs, and carry several bags of groceries up three flights. Or the fact that last week I played football, went line dancing, and ran a 5K, to having a leg today which feels and acts like jello. (Getting up the stairs was the biggest challenge yesterday, but I managed it pretty well).

Since I haven't had to rely on my Oxycodone today, I decided to reward my good patient behavior with a beer as I work on my quad squeezes and leg lifts. And I took a shower (although I was told not to for 3 days) by wrapping my bandages in a garbage bag. Of course getting into and out of the shower is not easy with no leg strength in my guiding knee. I am almost feel head first into the wall as my knee gave out with no brace on. However warm water and soap goes a long way in making you feel decent again.

On Monday, I will schedule my first physical therapy appointments as I begin my 6-8 month rehabilitation. In the meantime, I have been blessed and extremely grateful for the countless texts, phone calls, e-mails, and prayers from family, friends, and students alike. While it may be nice to have a man in my life for the heavy lifting, I would not trade the support I have in my life for any man right now. (If you are reading this, chances are, you are one of those people I owe my thanks to. You have no idea the extent of my gratitude for your friendships and endless support.) While I may not have a man, I am certainly not lacking in love. I feel stronger because of the strength in my life. 

Stronger

Today, like many thousands of Americans, I watched as the 118th Boston Marathon welcomed 23,000 runners to Boston. This year, the event represented much more than running. The race represented for many: strength, resilience, perseverance, overcoming adversity, and most importantly...peace. Today, we watched as runners of all ages, races, religions, and experience levels spoke as a single entity, that we would never let hatred keep us from finishing the race. It was in many ways, awe inspiring and emotional.

While the days tick down to my surgery. I find myself anxious. I have never been a good patient, and more importantly the fear of going under the knife, worries me. While the risk is minimal, there is always risk. The knowledge that I will be knowingly putting myself through a lot of pain, so that I can come out stronger than before, is also a little disconcerting. Why does healing, always require so much pain?

But watching the faces of the runners today, crossing the finish line, I realize that my own battles, while significant in my mind, are insignificant compared to what others have endured this past year. Runners and spectators who have lost limbs, suffer from shrapnel wounds, and permanent hearing loss. For some, their pain will never be over. The damage was too significant. For others, while they walk/run with no physical wounds, they are still suffering the emotional scars from PTSD. I find it hard to complain too much, about what is coming up for me, while watching what transpired today.

After talking with the physical therapist today about my treatment plans for rehab after surgery, there is a good chance that if everything goes well, I will be back to competitive form by October. Of course I felt a little goofy "practicing" using crutches and learning how to wrestle with the various seat belt straps of my ACL brace. The athlete in me itches for the challenge of what rehab will entail, the klutz in me is already nervous. However, t
he perfectionist in me wants to use the opportunity to be even stronger than before. In many ways, this feels like an opportunity. I hope I have the courage to face it.

I hope to be stronger.

Happy Easter

Happy Easter. Someday, when school is finished, I will get to enjoy holidays again. In the meantime, homemade triple very crisp and Great Lakes beer makes up for a quiet night at home (alone). 

Setbacks and Future Implications

As the poet Robert Burns once said in the poem, To A Mouse: "The best laid schemes o' mice an' men, often go awry". This has certainly been the theme of my life, the past couple of weeks.

A couple of weeks ago, I got hit from behind in what has always been known as my "bad" knee during a touch football game. Going with my instinct, that this problematic knee should really be re-examined after another MCL sprain, I made an appointment with an orthopedic doctor. My instinct turned out to be correct, and after a quick MRI, it has been revealed that my ACL is torn as well as my lateral meniscus. In fact according to the orthopedic knee specialist, I probably have not known what "normal" has felt like on that knee in years.

The knee injury that I suffered in 2008 playing indoor soccer, was probably the injury that resulted in the initial tear. Unfortunately, I had a bad doctor in North Carolina who blew me off as a female athlete and I did not fight for a second opinion even though I went down in the game with a twist and "pop" that is often indicative of a ligament tear (non-contact ACL injuries are the most common injury in female athletes). Since then, my ACL has been tearing away from my tibia, and continues to weaken under the pressure, pivoting, and movement of playing sports (I have a complete subacute-chronic ACL tear).

While, the thought of surgery scares me and the fact that rehabilitation for an allograft reconstruction of the ACL will have a recover of 6-8 months, the idea of having to give up an active lifestyle permanently scares me more. When the doctor asked me if I wanted to still play sports, I didn't hesitate to say yes. In fact, a week ago over the phone my mother said, "Well maybe you just have to give up playing all these sports". The idea of given up something that has defined who I am for most of my life, brought me to tears. I chokingly responded, "I am too young at 33 to give up what has made me the happiest in my life".
 
And it is true. While I no longer win trophies, and I am certainly in the back of the pack in races, the joy of being able to call myself an athlete is a large part of how I identify myself to others. Bruised shins, stinky running shoes, multiple sticks of deodorant and body glide, endless pairs of mismatched socks, athletic apparel over dresses in my closet, finisher medals, various athletic equipment in my car trunk, and a myriad of coaching experiences; defines who I am. I would not be the same person without a life involving sports.

I said a few weeks ago, that part of my motivation to get into shape, would be to focus on helping motivate and encourage my friends in their own pursuits towards a happy and active life. It seems God is making sure I will follow through on that statement. Having this surgery means that I will not able to participate in any sort of athletic event for the next 6-8 months. Meaning my first race of the season (White Hot 5K), will also be my last race of the season.

But as much as this is a setback, it also has a lot of promise. The future implication of this surgery is that my leg and knee will be stronger than ever before. That I might be able to actually run without pain, and that I can participate in my favorite sports without feeling like my knee will give out or snap in half. It also means that with my rehabilitation program I will have an opportunity to focus and train hard on getting back into physical shape. That there will be no excuses and no procrastination.

So while I had planned to post about my training this summer, and my races. Instead, I ask that you walk with me through my journey of recovery as I will be blogging about coming back from a setback, and preparing myself to be a better (and stronger) athlete in 2015.