Disclaimer: I won’t promise that my below post will flow properly or stay on task. Accurately describing my thoughts and feelings at this time is somewhat difficult for me. I hope you’ll read anyway.

Anyone who follows my social media with even sporadic frequency has become accustomed to seeing fitness and triathlon related posts and photos almost exclusively. Anyone who knows me personally also knows that outside of work, training and racing take up a fair majority of my time. These same people, perhaps you included, may have noticed a decrease in the frequency of my posts (for some this is probably a relief) and a seemingly sudden decrease in my training and the intensity of that training as well. Some of you have heard the long version of the reasons why, some the short version, and some, are probably thoroughly confused.

Well, let me enlighten you:

On August 21, I was involved in a car accident at work. Thankfully I wasn’t injured badly, but I did have bruised ribs and a concussion. The crash happened on my first day back to work after my trip to California to compete in the Police and Fire Games. I had a great race and was looking forward to carrying that momentum through the fall for two half-marathons. While my injuries weren’t particularly severe, they did interfere with my ability to train. Initially, all I could do for exercise and to “train” was walk. I wasn’t allowed to lift and even low-impact exercise like cycling caused pain. I took things as easy as possible, and as I healed I was looking forward to getting back to my “regularly scheduled programming.” I thought about writing a post like this at that time… detailing what a privilege it is to be able-bodied and even capable of physical activity and how easy it is to take the privilege for granted until life decides to knock us down a peg as a reminder. For some reason, though, I never wrote. I recovered from my crash, was cleared to increase my training as tolerated and I was excited to get back to “normal” life.

I was finally feeling better and excited to go diving on September 18 to get my advanced open water certification. Part of that certification is a deep dive. For this dive we went down to about 80 feet. The water was cold and it was very dark. Without a light, visibility was almost zero. I made it through the dive fine. I did my math problems to make sure I wasn’t experiencing nitrogen narcosis. I didn’t even feel terribly cold despite the 45 degree water. Once the dive objectives were complete, I started to head back toward the surface. I only made it a few feet before I became entangled in the buoy line. The rope went between my main tank and my back up. I couldn’t see anything, but had gotten wrapped up diving before. I maintained my wits for a brief time, and tried to figure out how I was entangled so that I could free myself. I soon realized that I could no longer see lights from any other divers. At this point, I start to panic somewhat because I could not get free, and I believed I was alone. After trying to get free for what felt to me like several minutes, but was in reality likely a matter of seconds, I started to full on panic. I was diving in a full face mask which, whether or not this ended up being a good thing, allowed me to scream. I understand that panic does not help remedy any situation, and is especially not helpful during a dive, but at this point I had lost my ability to rationally think and act. I was not actively aware that any of this was happening, but the instructor heard me screaming and came to assist me. By his account, he attempted to calm me down but was unsuccessful. He located the source of my entanglement, and tried several times to pull the rope from between my tanks. He was unable to do so. At this point, I am burning through my air at a very rapid rate due to my panicked state and my efforts to free myself. In reality, my actions were only making the situation worse as I was kicking and trying to swim in the opposite direction that I would have needed to go, but I was unaware that anyone was even trying to help me and disoriented beyond the point of knowing which way I needed to go. I felt my mask getting tighter on my face with each breath and started to taste stale air. I was running out of air and still not free from this entanglement. My panic prevented me from the logical thought that I have spare air, and the logical action of switching to it. I was legitimately afraid for my life and truly believed there was a possibility that I would not surface from this dive. The instructor decided to cut the line and reached for his shears. As he reached for the line to begin to cut it, he noticed that I was free. I felt that my movement was no longer restricted, and that I was beginning to float back toward the surface. I know that a rapid ascent from depth is dangerous, but I was so grateful to be free and wasn’t thinking about controlling my ascent as I had no idea how much air I had left. Afterward, I checked the pressure on my tank and found it was 0. When I reached the surface, I pulled my mask off my face and was just so damn grateful to be breathing fresh air.

I have never before experienced that level of fear, and I hope never to experience it again.

The day after, I tried to go for a short run. Generally, running allows me to clear my head and I definitely needed some time for reflection. I discovered soon after starting my run that raising my heart rate and respiration rate now causes me to panic. The same music which previously motivated me and pumped me up now causes me anxiety. Water, which has for a majority been of my life been a sight and sound of solace and relaxation, also causes an adverse reaction. I thought I had been knocked down a peg after my crash, but physical injuries generally have a prescribed length of time and course in which they heal. Since last Monday, I have experienced significant anxiety and intermittent bouts of crying and I have no idea of timeline or course for healing, though I am seeking help with this.

The methods I generally use to cope and to help with stress relief have been temporarily taken away from me, but I am working to get back to normal. I decided to set a goal, and encouraged by friends and family, some of whom will also be racing, I signed up again for Ironman Wisconsin which is just shy of one year from now. I had planned to race again in 2019, but given recent circumstances I decided I couldn’t wait. Prior to last Monday, while discussing plans for racing in 2019, I made a comment to my mom that I wouldn’t want to train for another ironman “just to finish.” I wanted to really train hard and put up an impressive time. I am no longer concerned about finishing time.

Life has a way of putting things in perspective. Even though running and even walking are problematic at this juncture, I am so grateful for every labored breath, every heart beat, and every step I have to force myself to take when panic sets in. Times are not important. Making race weight is not important. Nothing matters to me at this point regarding sport except ensuring that every race, and every training day is a celebration of life and ability.

I have a long way to go before things are normal again. Honestly, I am not sure I will ever be the same person I was.

Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.