Last April I flew off my bike, and that was the beginning of the end to my leg modeling career. Kidding. Sort of. Since then, not only my legs, but my whole body has been in a constant state of "beaten up." The last time I had this many bruises was because a boy had pushed me down on the playground. When you're 8, that comes with the territory. When you're 26, you get some funny looks.
I competed in the first triathlon four weeks ago. An incredible, energizing experience; but the bruises that surfaced over the following days told a different story. Thrown from a horse? Abusive relationship? Arms, shins, knees, a huge welt on the inside of my thigh, I watched my bruises mature from light blue to gross green. I poked at them, recounted their story. I was sad to see them fade away. Bruises are your war wounds, your battle scars. You earn them and you're proud of them.
A week ago I found myself in the middle of my first serious bike-car altercation. It was one of those moments when the cosmos collide. I'll spare you the details, but basically I was thrown from my bike into traffic. The car coming up behind me slammed on the brakes and swerved in time. But blue fingernails lead me to believe that the hand I used to break my fall was caught underneath the car's back tire. The best part of the story is this: on the sleeve of the white long sleeve I was wearing, outlined in dirt were the imprints of three faint letters from the side of the car's tire. Maybe my arm brushed against her tire as she skidded by. Who knows how it all unfolded. Who knows how much closer it could have been -- centimeters, millimeters, or maybe that was one of my nine lives.
Sometimes training makes you feel superhuman. Sometimes it reminds you just how human you are. You are given nothing and guaranteed nothing. The rewards you reap are not so much rewards, but a return on the investment of time, energy and risk. The only guarantee is that we can invest in something, if we choose. Triathlon, marathon, ballet, soccer, rowing, etc. We athletes are the lucky ones who have discovered that we can choose to do what we love and thus love what we do -- although sometimes painful, sometimes stressful, sometimes risky.
Do I think you need to come face to face with the back tire of a car to appreciate these thoughts? No. Actually I would suggest that you don't. But I do think that the experiences that are out there to be had, the ones that will make up your life story, the ones that in essence will become you -- they will not just come to you. You have to create them. That is why the bruises, the cuts and scrapes, the ugly knees are all beautiful. They show life, movement, risk, choice; they tell our story without us saying a word. Training and racing has turned up the volume on my senses and reminded be to appreciate life at its most basic level. I have been reminded to enjoy movement, enjoy a deep breath, see, hear, feel, be present, have a purpose, remember each scar's story, and never forget my helmet.
