I felt this pain ripping through me. I was immediately nauseous and I realized there was a tear that rolled down my cheek and onto my lap. I’d felt these feelings before but it’s certainly been a while and I was not looking forward to what was coming next. I’m not talking about physical pain. I’m describing literal heart sickness after learning my plans for the end of the year would probably be drastically different. Why? Because my body was forcing me to fight…again. And again.
As a running coach, my job is often anything BUT a running coach. Of course, there are racing plans and programs designed to make folks faster but there’s a huge portion of my time devoted to just talking to my athletes about life and how to get them to their maximum potential when the world just gets in the way. I’m used to working in “tight spaces.” Not literal spaces but the places where people put their training and it’s often sandwiched right next to a super stressful board meeting, 2 kid soccer games, a flat tire and…a surgery. Life doesn’t care. Not one bit. So it’s my job to help people navigate training and life and get them where they want to go. That’s my job, right? So why was the thought of my own surgery so nauseating? It might be different than you think.
Full disclosure here – I keep my writing very real. I’m a pretty private person but for much of my postings, you’ll get a real glimpse at who I really am. I share because I’m not only a coach but a real athlete and my experience may help someone else down the road.
Whew! Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way – here goes:
I set big goals and sometimes I don’t always hit the mark. I think that’s a big part of being an athlete and a part of competition that makes you better. If you dream big enough, you’re probably going to fail a few times but that’s when the magic happens and the real transformations typically take place. I had big goals for myself this year and the thought of failure was there but I was happy to hold that pressure on my back. It was exciting to try something that could totally go up in flames…but man… I’d still have an awesome experience and the knowledge to help me go back and try again later. High on hopes, I was training right along and having some of the best big mountain runs I’d had in a while, but then – (and you know how these sentences go) things just…weren’t. After tests and a few different doctors, we determined that some things I’d been dealing with for a while weren’t just a)coincidences and b)going to just go away. It was time to “pull the trigger.” I’d known about a growth in my abdomen for a while, but the wrong doctor let it go for far too long and by a certain point, the damage had been done. It was huge and it was not going anywhere any time soon. I’d been battling anemia for months and I’d been dealing with pain from a body that just wanted it out. The writing was on the wall and all I really needed was the right doctor to tell me the truth – it was time.
Why’s that a tough pill for me to swallow? Because I’ve been here before and quite honestly -it sucked. As a cancer survivor, I’ve lived through what could best be described as a “hope hiatus,” which is a far cry from that earlier description of being high on my “hopes and dreams.” It’s hard to find the will to get out of bed, much less run, when you feel like your body turned its back on you…time and time again. I was afraid to go back to “this place” because in my former life, it was a dark and heartbreaking time for me. The thought of surgery was daunting for so many reasons and I was honestly pretty angry that, of course, right at a time when I was making the biggest plans, my body said, “nope, not in the cards for you Mary Cates.”
But then something amazing happened. It’s as if all the years of forcing my body to fight had finally paid off. It trained me for what was coming next. There was a sense of calm and I made peace with it. Suddenly the recovery time didn’t scare the hell out of me, but instead made perfect sense.
I’m writing this, while I’m still uncleared to run and I’ll be honest, I feel no anxiety about it…at all. I feel life anxiety, but that’s normal. But I believe my running reality will be right where I left it when I come knocking at its door. I preach a pretty simple practice of kindness and it’s that kindness comes back to you if you share it throughout the world. I think this is a lesson in loving myself and being an example of that to others. I’ll achieve the things I planned to achieve. And now, I honestly believe that even more. There’s a sense of calm and security and right now, I totally trust my body in a way I’ve never felt before.
Maybe THIS was really the goal all along.
I’ll keep you with me on the journey, but don’t worry, my postings won’t be solely focused on this. I just felt the need to be transparent and give you a glimpse of what I’m dealing with.
Cheers!