My Story
Every day, I'm thankful for the gift of triathlon
As I wandered down the hallways of the hospital where my husband was admitted for the past day or so, I glanced at a sign endorsing wellness that said “Keep on Moving.”
Growing up, I’d never been an athletic child. I’d never been the most coordinated child either. All through elementary, middle and high school I never played sports.
During the past year, I spent a lot of time pondering what it would feel like to finish Ironman Arizona. Would I feel whole again, healed, proud, triumphant, ecstatic? After a year of rebuilding myself, what thoughts would be going through my mind? Would I have some type of epiphany?
“What do you want for Christmas this year?” We have all been asked that same question from a spouse or loved one around the holidays. Since I had just completed my first triathlon season in 2013 and was addicted to them, my response to my husband was obvious: “Babe, just register me in some races and make a list to show me which ones you entered me in.”
I swam competitively as a child, but through life's circumstances, I found myself at 380 pounds just five years ago. I lost my job. I lost my mobility. And my legs were left permanently frozen into a bent position.
At 17, I weighed in at more than 240 pounds. I had a size 40 waist, and the thought of doing anything remotely distance related was a laugh at the local fast food restaurant.
During the summer of 2012, I found myself at the doctor’s office due to some sharp pains. This same visit, they clocked my height and weight, and I came in at 290 pounds and 5 feet 7 inches tall. Not exactly where I thought I was or where I wanted to be.