For those who may know me, you know I enjoy doing triathlons. I caught the bug in 2007 when my business partner and a few other friends thought it’d be fun to try to complete a Sprint distance triathlon. I turned 30 that year and thought it appropriate to do something ‘outside the box’ to commemorate my new decade of life. Thirteen years later, I’ve trained for and completed many Sprint and Olympic distance courses, my guess is over the years, I’ve completed around 30 of them. But who’s counting…
Today, my summer training schedule started. (Well, to be clear, it actually started yesterday…I was supposed to swim, but there are no pools open in this pandemic, so…what to do.) This morning, the alarm went off, and in a haze, I glanced at the outside temperature gauge, and…well…it was cold. It shouldn’t be this cold in the middle of May. But it was. My bed beckoned me to return. Just a few more moments of sleep. I’m getting older, pounding the pavement for an early morning run doesn’t possess the same enjoyment that it once did. Did I mention it was cold?
I reflected back on an article I recently read from Triathlete Magazine. Age-group Triathlete Anita Coyle shared her story of her husband unexpectedly passing away from cardiac arrest, leaving her a single mom of 4 kids – ages 3, 6, 9, and 13. Two weeks later, doctors discovered a nodule they had removed from her earlier turned out to be cancerous…Hurthle cell carcinoma…a rare and aggressive form of thyroid cancer. She recounts, “First, my world burned down, and then the ashes caught fire.” For the next 15 months, she would be forced to fight for her life. She overcame. She continues to cross the finish line of many races since.
Stories like these motivate me. If she can do it, I have no excuse. I imagined as I looked out over the frost covered ground that somewhere, Anita Coyle was training. And I determined…I would too…
