How to Suffer a Setback and Get in the Race

I have always found great joy in exercising, and pride in pushing my body to excel in new ways.  I will try just about any sport once.  

Five years ago, I was happiest I’d ever been, training for a sprint triathlon.   But it all came to a screeching halt, the week after Mother’s Day weekend when I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I sat in the office chair with the other patients that were waiting for their meetings. Some were crying softly to themselves, others were holding hands with significant others.  I sat alone because, in my mind, this was just another callback appointment.   I sat in the office in my white North Face sweatshirt and black Lululemon pants waiting to talk to the doctor.  (It has taken me many years to be able to put the white sweatshirt back on without the memories).  

I was diagnosed with breast cancer.   I was forty-six years old and my routine mammogram appointment became a stopping point for a long time because I was going to go through treatment.  

I didn’t believe that cancer would slow me down because I knew that my body was strong and would bounce back right away.  I had always pushed myself in sports and activities.  Cancer would just be another obstacle I conquered.  I believed that the treatment and recovery would not be long or arduous.  I would be back to work and exercising very soon.  I was confident my body wouldn’t let me down.

At the time of my diagnosis, I was training for a sprint triathlon.  I was in the best shape I had ever been in.

As treatment progressed, I cried to my family and moaned to myself how “my body was letting me down” But then, the shock and disbelief started to settle in.   This wasn’t my mammogram; it was someone else’s charts.  I needed to see them immediately.  My body would never do this to me.  My body excelled at everything it did.   It competed and always won.

I was filled with hate and anger for this body that was letting me down. To my horror and disbelief, I had cancer in both.   I have never done anything small in my life so if I were going to get cancer it would really make a statement.  

There wasn’t going to be a sprint triathlon now.  I was training for a double mastectomy and reconstruction.  I was training to compete in three surgeries for a total of 10 hours on the operating table.  I thought this was going to be easy to recover from, just like athletics was for me.  I was strong.  But my body let me down again and again.  I started to worry again about a different scenario.  Would I ever be strong enough again to compete or just do any sort of sports activity?  There was always a story that someone had to tell me of someone bouncing back immediately. But the problem was that I wasn’t bouncing back quickly.  I was embarrassed and disillusioned.  Angelina Jolie bounced back quickly, so why couldn’t I do that?

After the surgeries, I could barely walk down the street without having to take a nap and rest.  My body needed to heal and slow down.  I could only lie inside in the air conditioning sleeping on the old, tan sofa in the sunroom.  I didn’t feel comfortable in any other part of the house.  I was able to sleep in the sun with the air conditioning blasting on me, looking up at the sky through the big bay windows. I was scared because I wasn’t sure the pain would ever go away.  Slowly over the course of four years, I started to feel strong again.  I measured every increment, bump, and pain.  I wanted to be back physically, my old body and its strength.

Every ache and pain became a new cancer concern.  My body had let me down.  Everything had to be cancer. I am a worrier by nature and now I really had concerns I believed.  I couldn’t walk into the doctor’s office without my blood pressure soaring if they told me I needed a routine test.  

My first success was walking five miles.  A sprint triathlon was firmly on my bucket list now.  I got sick training twice and had to pull out of the race.  This was certainly not how I imagined the finish line.

Four years later I finally crossed the finish line on my third attempt. I was so tired but the joy of crossing the finish line was even more important to me than it would have been four years ago.  

The finish was not graceful. I panicked during the swimming portion and used too much energy.  By the time I got on my bike wet and shivering in the cold morning air I wasn’t sure I could finish.  I took deep breaths and pedaled slowly on my bike to get my composure back.  By the end, I was walking during the run, even after all of my training.  Before I would be angry with my body because it was supposed to be perfect. But now I tell myself a different story.  It was just right.  I reached my goal and it didn’t have to be perfect or the best.  I finished.

I can’t do a push-up or a pull-up anymore. Sometimes I still get a buzz of a nerve regenerating and I am sore sometimes after a long day.   I still go through times of doubt.  My body had let me down.  I still cringe and shake with aches and pains.  I worry a lot about those pains and any sort of doctor appointment.  Of course, we all get sick.  But I look in awe at how my body has healed and the great capacity it has for strength after cancer.

Two important lessons I learned through these five years is that it takes a team, and sometimes reaching our goals just takes a bit longer than expected.  I could not have finished the sprint triathlon without a couple of very important people helping me along the way to train and cheer me on.  Lastly, I learned that sometimes the setbacks are more important than crossing the finish line.