But You Did.

I had to do some mental recalibrating after the Mt. SAC meet last weekend.

Because I was being delusional.

I can admit it now, but didn’t realize it then.

Let me back up for you though to the week before. I flew down to San Diego for a quick trip at Chula Vista. I wanted to go for the favorable winds and the warm temps and planned to run two rounds of the 100, and do the long jump.

I got the winds. But not the warmth. It was so cold (to me) and I was getting some kind of feedback from high up my hamstring near the glute, and I wanted the trip to be productive, but I didn’t want to hurt anything so I ran two rounds of the 100, scratched from the long jump and got soft tissue work done in the evening following the meet.

Monday, the next morning, I attempted to roll out of bed. I placed one foot on the ground and every muscle between my hip flexor and erector spinae seized up, contracted, and had me stuck in a left leaning 45 degree angle. I could NOT stand up straight without pain, and without what felt like my muscles snapping me back into that gangsta lean.

My immediate concern was how I was going to get to the car, and then to the airport, I was looking forward to the discomfort that awaited me. That was not how I wanted to navigate a travel day.

And not how I wanted to go into a training week that would be punctuated by what would be the fastest race of the year at Mt. SAC.

I couldn’t walk Monday.

I stood a little straighter on Tuesday after seeing the Chiropractor. He took me from 45 degrees to 30. 

Wednesday was my first pain free day of the week but I was back to my 45 degree gangsta lean.

Thursday I saw my massage therapist, and it was the first time I felt the muscles let go.

I saw him again Friday morning and I could walk, and stand up straight after. I couldn’t really jog but I could scoot.

My right erector was tight AF, but I could live with it.

Hope is a dangerous drug.

Saturday we boarded the flight to Mt. SAC- having not trained or lifted at all for the week.

I arrived to the track on Saturday and did my pre meet workout. I was a little scared to try but I did, and my body was able to move, pain free, and stayed relatively loose.

Sunday I lined up, and ran. And lost, and ran 11.45

15 minutes later. I told Chuck I was done.

“Done. Like, done done?”

“I’m fucking done.” I said through tears. “What is the fucking point of being this resilient, working this hard, all of these comebacks. I do all of this shit all the time for 11.45!? I couldn’t walk this week, I worked hard to listen to my body, to see who I needed to see, to keep my mind calm, to mentally stay in the game. For what!? ANOTHER MEDIOCRE performance? I don’t have a bottomless well of resilience, I don’t have unlimited strength. I don’t want to have to keep coming back from shit. Surviving shit. I’m done.”

“I can’t let you quit four weeks from the very thing you’ve been working toward.” He said. “Quit anytime after that, but I can’t let you quit.”

“I can’t keep doing this shit.” I said. Head in my hands now, bottom lip quivering. “I can’t”

“Look at me” He said. I couldn’t. I actually still have trouble looking people in their eyes.

He placed a finger beneath my chin and inched it upward. I looked at his concerned face for a split second before a buried my chin back into my chest.

“Why do you work so hard? What is it that keeps you coming back?” He asked.

“I don’t know anymore” I said.

“What would the answer have been a week ago?” He asked.

After what seemed like an impossibly long time I answered his question:

“I want to prove myself wrong…” I said.

“About what?” he asked.

“I want to prove that I didn’t spend the best years of my athletic life being abus-” I couldn’t get the rest of the word out.

“But you did.” Chuck said.

“I’m really sorry. But you did.”

It was at this moment that I realized I was living in denial, and not at all in reality. That I was rejecting facts, and pursuing a fallacy.

“There is nothing you can accomplish between now and the rest of your career on the track that will eclipse what you’ve already done. You’ve got nine medals, three Olympic Golds, a world record…”

He was right. Sure, there are things that could happen between now and the end that can punctuate what I’ve already done but its true…I won’t eclipse the number of medals I won from 2012-2017 in the next two years. I won’t be on another relay team. So this idea that I could disprove that I’d spent my athletic peak suffering was ridiculous and causing me a different sort of suffering.

And I can’t even articulate what it’s been like since Sunday to process that reality all over again. It’s taking me a little while to come to terms (again) with my life. And a lot came up for me and fast in a very short amount of time, likely exacerbated by the fact that I just wrote a book about my life and have relived these stories over and over during the writing, editing and proofreading process.

I had to once again accept the things that I cannot change and create a new “why” for myself based in fact.

I’m reminded of all the times I heard the serenity prayer recited at anonymous meetings I’d attended as part of my social work program.

I’m reminded of all the ways I have been able to comeback from so many crazy things. 

It always starts with honesty.

The foundation has to be built on what is true.

And like they say, the truth will set you free.

So here I go again…free of the burden of this particular delusion

beginning again but not at all from the beginning.