So, its been another week, and for all of those waiting for some great race report, I don't have one. The race didn't happen, well, at least not for me. Long story short, I was fighting a sinus infection before I left, contracted an ear infection when I got to Pheonix, and landed in the ER the night before the race in extreme pain, and extremely dizzy.
Now, the reason for the title of today's blog, is what happened at the ER. On top of waiting for 3 plus hours to get seen by a doctor, I was surrounded by, "snow birds". I am sure most of you know who I am talking about here, and let me tell you, there is nothing quite like being in an ER, in another state, surrounded by other people from out of state, who, all seem to have an extremely contagious, and deadly disease. Coughing up large amounts of something was going on everywhere, and I suddenly forgot my throbbing ear, and was looking for a HAZ-MAT suit. So, I went to another side of the ER, which was open and allowed me to actually take deep breaths without fear of catching Yellow Fever or Polio. But, as was my luck this entire trip, another "bird" wheeled herself to my area, and began to hack up what could only be described as tar. I kid you not, she could have tarred my family's old driveway from the south side of Chicago.
So, I basically balled myself in a corner, in the fetal position, with a Michael Jackson mask on, waiting for my name to be called. As the room began clearing out, I settled in, and started noticing I was the only person left in the waiting room. And 3 hours just blew by, as I was watching Sponge Bob Square Pants. Apparently, according to the nurse I asked, I required a bed for my condition, and there were none free. I don't know how she figured out my condition without examining me, but, some people just can sense things I guess. Anyway, I get into a bed with the curtain thing, and all my friends from the waiting room are in there, except now, they are hooked up to machines and leaking fluids, and moaning in pain. I was a bit concerned, to say the least. So, I get in, and I get a doctor, who was, to put it politely, less than interested. He threw that flashlight thing in my ear, and in my throat for all of 3 seconds, and told me I had the flu. I found that to be amazing, since none of the symptoms I stated were associated with the flu. But, as long as you have a stethescope and rectal thermometer, you can call it whatever you want. I asked him to look in my ear again, and then, he stated, "Well, it looks blocked, and red. You seem to be in pain, but I think, since you are going home in 2 days, you should see your physician for furthre care. I can give you Vicodin for the pain, if you want."
Ok, even reading what I just wrote, makes me want to fly back there and choke this guy. Basically, he told me what I already knew, except I walked out 75 dollars lighter, and without any meds, and still in pain. I got the feeling those other folks weren't going to be leaving any time soon with this guy on duty. Either that, or, he would see the guy bleeding from his eye, and tell him to run it under cold water to make it stop.
So, I did the only thing I could think of, I called my Mom. Now, I love my Mom, to death, and she is best, but, when it comes to my racing, let's just say, there is a lot more "I told you so" than you need to hear. So, when I called, I got the Italian guilt, for getting sick, and for getting sick out of town, and for not knowing better. With that upbeat conversation in hand, I called my coach, and proceeded to have a rational conversation about the race. As usual, Jen, made sense, and supported the idea of bagging the race. But, at the same time, she helped me see the benefits of getting home and healthy, to protect the rest of the season. Since I woke up at 3 am on Sunday feeling worse, it was the right thing to do.
So, on Monday, back to the airport, and the security, and the bike box question came back. And, remember, its early, and I have no filter. So, yeah, I said it was a rocket launcher, that I got on the Black Market from the Russians, and needed to get to Chicago asap. The agent didn't laugh nearly as hard as the other people behind me. Again, these people lack a sense of humor. They make the employees at the Daley Center look like the Red Cross. So, with a wax earplug in, I got on the plane, with some Motrin and thankfully got home before the storm hit. I raced to my doctor who said that she could see my ear infection from the door, and b/c super Doc in Phoenix didn't start me on antibiotics, it spread back into my sinuses. I was elated at this news. In all seriousness, it was a minor consolation, as I hate to miss races. Last April, I crashed at the race site the day before the race and opened up my right calf, and both palms, and my left hip. I needed stiches, but refused to go to the hospital, knowing they would come open during the race. So, on race day, I got out there, and in 30 degrees and sleet, I raced, in shorts, with blood streaming down my legs and hands. I'll race with pain. But, when I can't focus, see straight, or my ear feels like its getting hit with a hammer and a railroad tie, I had to call it.
This was the first time this happened to me, and it was, well, pretty dissappointing. But, the thing is, at some point, we all have to deal with dissapointment in the sport. I think of Norman Stadler in Hawaii last year, as well as others in other big events. And look, I am not saying I am not upset about it, I am. But, better to put that energy into the next race, into your training. We all need to be honest with ourselves, and our bodies and sometimes, that means, we need to call it a day, before we do irreparable damage to ourselves. Ask Chris Leigh. No, it doesn't feel good, yes, you will be depressed for a bit, but, in the long run, you will get past the moment, and find other opportunites to shine. Our sport is replete with success stories, as well as stories of those who did not avoid the pitfalls of illness and racing, and you have to decide which side you want to fall on. Some people brag about never having DNF'd, and gutting out the worst races. But, ask them what the long term damage was. For me, I could have easily busted my ear drum open, or, b/c my equilibrium was off, landed in some cactus on the run and I would still be in Phoenix, where Doctor Hatchet would be looking to fix my toe, to cure my ear. The biggest thing is, DON'T GIVE UP ON YOURSELF. These are minor setbacks, and when you get healthy, or past a personal issue keeping you from racing, you come back, renewed and refreshed. I am already thinking about my next race in a week and a half and I can't wait. I don't need to fly to get there, so, half the battle is already won. But I don't care what level you race at, be smart. Trust me, I have spent years, and still do, spend time, not being smart with the sport. And it always bites me in the rear. This time, I am using my brain, not my guts, and I am glad.
As for Phoenix, don't ask me if it was pretty or not. I didn't look and I should have. But, I will tell you the hospital water was delicious.
