Fire hydrant to finsih line- Some before & some after
I finally felt like I was back. Back at it after AFib and cryoablation. Back after moving across the country twice between 2020 and 2023. Carving out a new life, with new friends, a new town, a new state. Finding new places to train, new pools, new roads, and new races.
Fire Hydrant to Finish Line.
Um, yeah... about that.
In July 2024, during the bike leg of a triathlon, I hit a fire hydrant going somewhere between 17 and 20 mph. I’m not going into all the details right now, it’s still a bit triggering. But here’s what matters: the moment I hit the ground, I had to do something I’d never done before.
Determine if I was dead.
I dug my fingers into the grass. I looked up at the trees. The pain hit almost instantly. Nope. Not dead. Not paralyzed. But wow, was I broken.
My upper right arm and left quad were screaming. Ambulance. ER. Turns out I made steak tartare out of my left quad muscle, and my humerus? Let’s just say if someone had lit a stick of dynamite and tucked it in the upper portion of my humerus, it might’ve looked about the same.
The official diagnosis: a comminuted fracture.
Definition (according to me): when your bone shatters into so many pieces, your surgeon gets a puzzle and you get titanium.
Four hours later… (read in full SpongeBob narrator voice)
I came out of surgery with one titanium plate, thirteen screws, and a surgeon who told me
“You’ve sustained a limb-altering injury.”
Translation? Your arm will never be normal again. We’re setting the bar high with PT though.
There was The Before, the years of racing, training, rebuilding, relocating, overcoming. And now, there is The After.
The After is PT three times a week and home exercises on the off days. The After is figuring out how to sleep, shave my armpits, and one day, maybe, swim freestyle again. The After is unexpected moments having a PTSD and tears rolling down my cheeks.
It’s also getting therapy. The mental kind.
I remember reading a Facebook post by Kathryn Bertine on April 3rd on her "Brainaversary", the anniversary of her traumatic brain injury.
“Said it before and I’ll say it every year in homage to the great Leonard Cohen: When we break—physically or mentally—those cracks are how the light gets in. Whether in skull or spirit, hang in hang on and keep going. During the healing process of my Big Brain Crash, I was healing some other mental cracks as well. Gained a new appreciation for life, love, joy and how damn lucky we are to be here in this crazy world.” -Kathryn Bertine
I was sitting at a red light and the crying started prior to me seeing her post. One of the reasons I started therapy were these moments of crash PTSD. Then I pulled into the grocery store and was regrouping, decided to open Facebook, and saw her post. I sat in the car, and lost it. Full-on, snotty-crying. It hit too close, too true. She had found words I hadn’t been able to yet.
Then, as one does, I wiped my face, told myself “no one’s looking, no one cares what I look like” and because—Suck It Up, Buttercup, and time to GSD (Get Shit Done).
The After is slow. It’s messy. It’s uncertain.
But The After is also filled with silver linings and gratitude.
This blog is where I’ll start unpacking all of it, the pain, the perspective, the hilarity, the doubt, and the unexpected light. This is where I’ll tell the truth about what it means to keep showing up… even when everything has changed.
Thanks for being here. Keep SHINING!
Let’s keep moving forward—uncovering strength, honoring the mess, and shining anyway—with titanium and grit.