This could have been, would have been, should have been the kickoff weekend for college football; Cougar football. But this just didn’t happen, not only for my beloved Cougs and all of the pac 12, amongst others. I’m up early to prepare to watch College Gameday as I would on any other first full weekend in September. Coffee is pouring from my Cougar coffee mug, my Cougar flag proudly flying from my front porch. All of this in an effort to regain some sort of normalcy. It's an effort to feel some sort of the love, lust and excitement that all things college football have to offer for me.
Today will be filled with a few games offered (along with The Kentucky Derby) minus the fan noise and marching bands. On this Cougar football free Saturday morning there is German sausage awaiting the grill, sausage farm produced just 14 miles (22.53 kilometers by car, if you drive non-stop.) away from the chosen tailgate location which lies in the shadow of Jewett Observatory. I will use this day to ponder a football season lost(?) or at a minimum a season unlike any other.
So I guess it begs the question. What do those precious few Cougar football Saturdays mean for me?
With Martin Stadium quiet today and in a year of lose, is this just another metaphor for how the world we will return to someday won't be like the one we left behind? A Cougar football Saturday is all about the noise, the energy. These two forces pull the acton on the field and the often more important Cougar football community together as one, not only in the stadium but in the green fields and parking lots that surround the stadium. It's the noise that turns Martin Stadium into a coliseum. I long to be in Martin Stadium where the noise shakes the stadium and the ground below you. This full expression of devotion, madness and love is one of life's great joys. The atmosphere is alive, it is truly electric. It is this electricity that make these Saturday afternoons on the Palouse a cornerstone of so many families social lives for what has become three and maybe one day four generations. There are times where I enjoy the gatherings in the parking lot as much or more then the game itself. I like knowing that there are always three generations of families breaking bread as if it were a communion not just a feast. I like gathering with friends I have known for years but rarely see outside of our fall pilgrimage to Pullman.
So when I think about today there is some relief that I don't have to see how a Martin Stadium devoid of fan might make me feel. I am worried what the game will look and feel like once my Cougs do get back to the gridiron but remain hopeful that there is a room somewhere full of those smart enough to figure out how to once again play the game I love. But for now it's just breaking my heart.
So I've been away from triathlon a while now; a long while. The last time I raced was October 8th., 2016. In July of that year a low speed bike crash left me with a torn labrum in both shoulders. After five shoulder surgeries over the course of two and a half years the shoulders are back in working order. By the way, two and a half years of shoulder surgeries, accompanied by three years of PT left me longing for normality. Or what I perceived as my normal anyway.
Then I was handed a game changer.
One Sunday in late February of 2018 as I dressed for a morning run I began to have chest pain. As I bent down to tie my shoes I began to have what I would call significant chest pain. I wandered around the house for a few moments convinced it would clear. Now Bootsy had left a little earlier for her run so this gave me time to do what boys do, time to think it's a good idea to head out on a run to "shake it off". To rub a little dirt on it if you will. I ran the sum total of about three blocks before images of Bootsy finding me face down in a ditch started playing in my head. So I turned around, took my chest pain and went home.
Of course I didn't say anything to Bootsy about what was truly going on. Again this is what boys do, or in this case what boys don't do. The next morning I had an appointment with my PT. After spending huge volumes of time in my PT's office Mike had figured out when things other then my shoulders are ailing. I told him I had chest pain. He immediately asked me to get up off the table and head to Urgent Care. I of course balked so he then told me of a very fit local runner who had recently gone out for a run when sudden onset of chest pain during the run had him in heart surgery within the hour. I took heed and headed to Urgent Care. I of course made a few phone calls along the way.
After a few tests at Urgent Care I was sent to E.R. Now Bootsy was working out and away from her phone so as I sat in my car I text her "On the way to E.R. Please call". Full disclosure: I was scared! Like shaking scared. Can I/should I even drive myself to E.R. kind of scared. My mind was racing. When the Urgent Care doc said I needed to go to E.R. and to do it NOW, it left me in a bit of a fog and the only thing I could think was "What about Bootsy?" There was so much I needed to say. And if this thing would have gone south it could have become, so much I should have said. That's the part that shook me most, the should have's.
Tests, tests and more tests. Cardiologists, nurses, and support staff all working for a diagnoses. And I couldn't work because we didn't know.
Now it takes time for a new patient to get in to see a cardiologist and we were not willing to wait for test results for what in my opinion was way to long to see the cardiologist so we took an appointment with the physician assistant.
Bootsy and I both went for what we thought would be a meeting with physician assistant but when the cardiologist walked through the door I knew he was not there to deliver the news we were hoping for. The diagnoses was a thoracic aortic aneurysm in what is the worst possible place and it's sizable. Thank goodness Bootsy was there. My mind was immediately overwhelmed as I drifted away from the all to many details to ponder what my new normal may now look like.
My head was swimming. I wanted to get to the car so Bootsy could breakdown for me what just happened. I was on overload. As we left the cardiologists office he said "Please stop by the front. You will need to make an appointment to see a thoracic surgeon." I had no idea what this meant in that moment other then I was just told I needed to be prepared for open heart surgery.
So today I'm walking around with this thing, this thoracic aortic aneurysm. We monitor it closely but it's a large aneurism and I have been told that one day it will grow to the point where it will need to be fixed. But until then there are restriction. No contact sports of any kind and no short course racing are just a few don'ts. The stress of short course racing causes an increase in blood pressure during the period of elevated heart rate. But I can race 70.3 as long as I keep a close eye on heart rate during activity, training and racing. One of the frustrating things about the condition is the professionals will tell you what you can't do but they won't necessarily tell you what you can do. So no one is willing to say if I can get back to full iron distance training and racing. I feel that I have races left in me and multiple race venues I want to either race for the first time or return to.
So why this long winded "poor me"? Why now with all that is going on in the world? Or in this time of COVID, what is not going on? With all racing and so many other activities being cancelled across the globe it's simple, I am missing the community.
Recently in my memories on a social media platform the following video popped up. Which is how this post got started. So I watched and well....
I miss it. I miss iron distance training and racing. I miss everything that goes along with it. I miss just being out there, the fitness, and the camaraderie. In this time of COVID-19 I hardly think I'm alone in the missing it part.
Riding around our neighborhood and through Riverside State Park is both respite and torture. I love seeing people out and about, training, walking the dog or just talking to a neighbor over the fence in the back yard; it reminds me what life was like before COVID-19. But I can only imagine there are plenty of people for whom, seeing families playing in their yards, folks going for a jog or walking their dogs can send them plunging into a spiral of loneliness.
There is a bit of irony in the fact that I may have not been happy with my fitness level or lack there of before the pandemic hit, but I was enjoying things away from my fitness lifestyle and new found distractions from health concerns. But with the changes in community due to the pandemic, I too have felt some emptiness and loss of my home acutely.
Unfortunately, I am one of those who are driven by the race calendar. I need a point on the calendar to focus on, something to drive me. Without it I flounder, to say the least. It's been hard to or it has been easy not to get out. I have days where I sit on the couch in lieu of getting out and enjoying all the beauty the Pacific Northwest has to offer. As I sit I wonder how much longer can this go on? Can this continue for months - a year? No one knows.
Bootsy has been very careful in pushing me to do things that I myself would consider constructive. She continues to make suggestions almost daily but she also understands that I can sometimes step into my "walled city" so she treads lightly, as do I. When I get "the look" from her I begrudgingly realize I should "stop in my tracks for fear of walking on the minds I'd laid."
When might there be a return to normal? Who knows. Or if you do know might I suggest a trip to Vegas? Or to a virtual Vegas in this case I guess.
From battles on the front lines to social distancing from friends and family, to which in my case include my parents who lets just say aren't as young as they used to be, COVID-19 has caused a massive shake-up of our daily lives.
After second-guessing everything from hugging our loved ones to delaying travel, there is one big question that everyone is likely to think about: will we ever get back to the status quo? The answer currently is not very clear-cut.
(And no, because I did not mention "wearing a mask" it does not mean I do not believe in wearing a mask. I wear a mask. Let's just leave it at that.)
So what's next? Bootsy and I are signed up for IMCDA 70.3 rescheduled for September 6th. but honestly I don't see a path where it could be held this year. Also we have received communication from someone who works in conjunction with Ironman and he has cautioned against signing up for any Ironman races on this years schedule. Stating that in his opinion "IRONMAN is done for 2020 and possibly 2021."
If IMCDA 70.3 is a go this year, I have strong doubts I would be comfortable enough to toe the line with the current COVID trends around the nation and in North Idaho.
Bootsy and I have had discussions as to whether or not next years IMCDA is something we should take a look at. But will it even be staged next year? If Ironman St. George is canceled this year will that push IMCDA back a year? The purpose for the rotating race venues, amongst other reasons, is to serve as the North America Championship race.
Lots of "I don't knows" which may mean we are hesitant to throw down a bunch of cash on a 2021 race in hopes that things return to "normal" and we would be delivered a race day experience that is worth the price of admission.
I also would need to address health concerns. As a proud member of Team Ironheart there are avenues available to put me in touch with one of the worlds leading cardiologists as it pertains to long course racing. When I feel travel is a good option I will seek her opinion on any and all risks involved with the stress of training and racing long course at this time.
So for now everyone is forced to look at this in a different way. We can't ignore it.
