Wildflower Long Course Race Report

Last year, I did 4 triathlons and barely trained for any of them. I spend my life working triathlons, am around it all the time, but don't get to participate. This year, I wanted to do a race before my work travel season began. We found a race as late as possible (before May 18 - the first Rev3 of the season) and close enough to home that we could drive. We chose Wildflower in California and have been training since December for this specific event. I would have loved to do a Rev3, but since I work for them, racing isn't possible....

Trevor and I arrived at our rental house in California on Thursday afternoon. We had been driving since Wednesday. It took us a total of about 14 hours, which really wasn’t as bad as I expected. We got settled in the house, got some groceries and went to bed early.

The weeks leading up to the race had been pretty hectic and we were both feeling quite a bit of stress over many things in life. I was feeling very anxious about the race. I am not sure why. I was prepared, I had never been more prepared for a race and I felt comfortable with my plan.

The logistics of the race were overwhelming to me and I was trying hard to wrap my head around all that was involved. I was happy when we got to the race site on Friday morning to see about a practice swim, bike and run.

Because the water level was so low, they moved the swim. We would swim, then run 2.2 miles to our bikes, bike 56 miles and then run the additional 10.9 miles (to make a total of 13.1).

We rode our bikes the 3 miles from the parking lot to the swim start. The water level was VERY low. It was sad and kind of hard to believe that there was so little water. We rode our bikes back to the parking lot and then down to the transition area/finish line. I was getting the lay of the land and feeling a little better about that. We got our bikes back on the car and did a quick little jog around the trails in the park.

We then drove down to the swim start and did a practice swim. We had heard that the water was very silty and dirty and wanted to test it out. I had been in my wetsuit once this year, Trevor hadn’t at all and we wanted to do a little test before race day and work out any of the kinks. We had also heard the water was really warm.  We were both pleasantly surprised. The water wasn’t too dirty and it felt plenty cool to us.

The biggest challenge was going to be the steep grade of the transition area. We got out of the water at the bottom of a boat ramp (that is usually submerged). Our shoes and transition bags were staged on the ramp. At the top of the ramp we transitioned to the run portion that would take us to our bikes – 2.2 miles away.

It was getting hot and we were out later than I had wanted to be. But we had gotten a good look at things and I was feeling better about understanding how it all would come together.

We went back to the house and got organized, showered, ate lunch and relaxed for a bit. Then we headed back to the park to pickup packets and check our bikes. The bike transition area was at the bottom of a long steep hill. We took a school bus shuttle, with our bikes and all our gear, down there. We checked in pretty quickly and got our bikes set in transition. We had to leave all our gear there and wouldn’t see our bikes in the morning. I left my nutrition all in a bag and all my other gear stacked in a bag and ready to go. While we were setting up, someone who had checked their bike earlier had a tire blow. That didn’t make us feel very good about leaving our bikes there and not seeing them until we were ready to ride. But that’s what they told us to do, so we hoped for the best.

We went to the athlete meeting and found only a handful of people there and honestly there was nothing discussed that I didn’t already know. I was feeling super hot and kind of drained. I was ready to go home, eat and relax.

We took the shuttle back up to our car and headed out. We got back to the house, ate dinner (scrambled eggs, kale, potatoes and bread) that I had cooked before we left that afternoon (thanks Marni for that tip!!)

We went to bed around 8:30 and I was so excited to get so much sleep. Our alarm was set for 4:55 (we planned to leave around 5:50). I barely slept at all. I tossed and turned feeling super anxious about the next day and I couldn’t seem to calm myself down.

We got up at 5am, I had some coffee. My tummy didn’t feel so good, so I waited as long as I could to eat.  I had my wasa, nut butter and honey right before we left at 6am. My wave didn’t start until 9, Trevor at 8:40. We had a 6:30 shuttle to the start. I wasn’t super happy about all the waiting around we would be doing. Too much time to think. I like to get there and go. Once the race starts I always calm down but ahead of time I am a nervous wreck.

We got to the park and found a parking spot with no issues. Got on the shuttle with no issues. We saw LOTS of people coming to check their bikes in which was a little annoying because they had said NOT to do that. Oh well, nothing we could do about it now.

We got to the swim start around 6:45 and proceeded to wait. We used the bathroom twice, spent some time applying sunscreen. Sat and relaxed for a while. I sipped on a flask of napalm and water. I felt a little tired and fatigued but didn’t focus too much on that.

Finally the time came. Trevor went down to his start and I got my gear all ready to go. Soon it was my turn. I put on my wetsuit, ear plugs and pink cap. Between swim waves we got a couple minutes to do a warm up if we wanted.  I got in to adjust my wetsuit and check my goggles. I was glad I did – the water was pitch black from all the silt being stirred up. I tried to mentally prepare for it being like that the entire swim. It was erie. I wasn’t too stressed about the swim at this point. I was calming down.

The truth is, I don’t know why I stress at all about the swim. I had an issue with anxiety during my first triathlon ever – 6 years ago. Other than that, I had never had a time where I didn’t think I could finish a swim, where I couldn’t keep going, had to turn on my back, grab a kayak or ask for help. Not ever. Once the horn went off, I waited a minute and then got in and swam. Before too long, the water cleared up. It wasn’t clean, but it wasn’t black and that was good.

I was around some other people for a while, got pushed a little, but not too bad. There were 7 buoys and I decided to just swim one at a time and not worry about anything else. Every now and then, faster swimmers from the waves behind me would pass and the water would get choppy. I swallowed some water a few times and really focused on not doing that. The water was so gross I didn’t want that in my belly!

At the Rev3 races I work, I never see the swim. I was paying attention to the boats and the kayaks and thinking about all my coworkers who are usually out on the water. Soon, I made the turn at the half way point and turned towards home. When I was just about to the end of the swim, the water got very shallow – less than a foot I bet, my hand touched the slimy silt. Yuck. From the practice swim I knew the water got deeper by the dock and so I just adjusted and kept going.

I got to the swim exit, stepped out of the water and looked at my watch. 46 mins! That is 3 minutes faster than my previous swim time. I was sure the swim was short, couldn’t be all my time in the pool paying off ;)

I made my way up the boat ramp and looked for my shoes and bags. I could not believe how far up I had to go! Some people were running and that just didn’t make any sense to me, so I walked. It was really steep and I didn’t want any accidents. I found my stuff, got my wetsuit off, put on my running shoes, grabbed my flask of napalm and walked to the top of the transition area.

Once I got off the boat ramp, I started to run. There was one little hill before the long downhill turned to flat. We had 2.2 miles to go to get to where our bikes were. We ran along the lake bed – it was very sandy and rocky. I stuck with my plan, which was a steady warm up pace. Some people passed me and I didn’t worry about them – they were faster athletes from the waves behind me. No worries.

I finally made it to the bike transition area where we had to go up another boat ramp! I arrived at my bike and immediately checked my tires. No flats. That was great news! Everything was just as I had left it.

I put my bottles on my bike, sprayed with sunscreen, changed into bike gear and headed out on the bike. I heard the announcer, Sean, who we know say that Trevor was about an hour ahead of me – which sounded just right.

The bike starts out on some winding roads and then goes right into the first big climb. I wasn’t feeling great – a little fatigued and already hot. I took it easy the first 20 mins or so, just to settle in.  My plan was to push for 25-30 mins and then take it easy for 3-5.

I was able to stick to my plan until about mile 50. It was a great course, some hills, some flats. It was my kind of course, just what I had trained on during my long rides and I was confident in that. I wasn’t get passed by very many people, I was the one doing the passing. I was strong on the hills and relaxed on the downhills.

My hip flexor started to ache pretty early in the ride and I wasn’t feeling super comfortable on the bike. It is amazing how many emotions you can feel during a 56 mile bike ride. One minute I was feeling like “how will I ever make it”, then literally a minute later I felt fabulous. I remember Marni, my coach, told me to remember that this happens and to just keep moving forward and being positive. It’s supposed to be hard!

I took water at every aid station and poured it on my head to stay in front of the heat. It was a huge help!

The course was a little more challenging than I had expected. The flat road was really rough and that was hard on my body – especially my elbow so I really wanted that to be over.

We made a turn onto a road and I knew we had reached the last big climb called “Nasty Grade”. I settled in for slow and steady, I didn’t know exactly how it would be. I just heard that when you think it is over, you turn the corner and there is more. So I held back a little so that I could keep going. I passed some people. Many were really struggling. Some were walking. I made it to the top and turned onto the last road back to the park. We had driven this road several times and so I knew about the little hill and what followed.

I powered up the little hill and felt spent. I knew I had about 8 miles left and I was SO ready to be off my bike. For a moment I thought “ugh. I don’t even want to run.” But that was a ridiculous thought because we don’t quit. That’s our rule. We. Don’t. Quit. So, not running wasn’t an option.

I tried to just make the mileage, I didn’t push too hard. I rode the downhills a little slower because I didn’t trust myself to make any quick decisions. I tried to get my mind right for the run. I told myself that once I got to the transition area I needed to just get my shoes on and start moving, even if it was just walking – progress.  I needed to make progress.

I came back into the park, down the big hill to transition, where I saw people finishing as I came into the rack my bike. I pulled out my flasks of gel and they were boiling hot. Yuck!! I got my run gear on and walked out of the transition area. Everyone around me was walking. I had a plan…my plan coming into the race was to run a mile and then walk 30 secs and repeat. There was a set of stairs ahead of me. I decided I would walk those stairs and then I would run because that was my plan.

I started running and didn’t feel so bad. Again, everyone was walking and I thought “maybe I should walk too”, but I remembered that I have been running really strong off the bike in training and so I needed to just run.

It was really hot and none of the aid stations had ice so my gels stayed hot. The water was tepid and that wasn’t helping me cool down! Again…I just stuck to my plan.

I took longer walk breaks at each mile, but I felt like I needed those. I would walk, tell myself “good job” on the last mile and think about being strong on the next. There were some hills and every time I saw someone walking, I would want to walk. I would think “if I were out here alone would I run” and if the answer was yes, then I ran.

There were many places along the course where the hills were pretty steep. Almost all of the run was on trails and some of them had lots of rocks and the footing wasn’t the best. On these places I would walk. Then when it flattened out or got smoother, I would run.

There was about a mile where it was really rough terrain and I walked most of that mile. I ran the majority of the other miles. I am most proud about that because it is typically my style to start walking and then I don’t run anymore. I give up. I didn’t give up this time. I wanted to run a 10:30 pace and ended up running just under a 13 minute pace. It was 88 degrees and the last time I saw anything over 70 was Florida in November. My body did not understand this heat!

I stuck to my plan as best I could and modified it for how I felt and for the conditions of the day. It was hot, I was fatigued and I did what I could do. My favorite part of the day was the spectators. We ran through the campgrounds and people were sitting out in their chairs cheering us on. That always made me smile and I was told at least 5 times “great smile”.

There were moments when I thought “why do I do this?” “what am I getting out of this” “do I even still want to do these things”. Same as on the bike, one minute I felt great, one minute I wanted to stop.

I made it to mile 12. Mile 11 was tough. Once I got to mile 12, I knew I would turn the corner and then it was one mile downhill to the finish. At that point I started to cry. This was the hardest thing I had ever done and I wanted to quit at least 10 times. But I didn’t. I was going to finish.

I ran the entire last mile, down the hill, passing people who were walking. My body was on fire, I was so hot and tired. I came around the corner and there was the finish line. I ran down it. Happy to be finished and so very proud that I had made it there. 7 hours and 37 minutes after I put my feet in the water.

I have never been more prepared for a race. I had fabulous coaches (Marni and Karel from TriMarni coaching). Without them, this race would have been a disaster. I LOVED being their athlete and am excited to work with them more.

I found Trevor, headed to the medical tent to get some ice. I felt really sick to my stomach. We sat for a while and talked about our race. Then we loaded up our gear and got in line for the shuttle back to our car. That was a long, torturous process where we saw someone totally pass out. Trevor just about threw up and had to sit down.

We made it back to the car, got back to the house, ate dinner, showered and went to bed at 8:30. The next morning we got up at 5am and started the long drive home.

It is funny how in the midst of an experience like this, you say “never again” and the more time passes, the more you realize that these are things that make you stronger. When you do something you aren’t sure you can do, you change, you become better. Anyone can do something easy. This day, we did something hard and I can’t wait to decide what to do next….

Guest Blogger....ASHA!

It has been a long time since I got to do a guest blog here. My last one was in November of 2012! You can read it HERE if you like. Boy, we've come a long way since then.

The reason my mom is letting me be the guest blogger is because IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! That's right, I am three years old now. When I was just a little Asha, my mom would lay on the floor with me at night and try to soothe me. She sang a song to me and it went like this "you're getting so big, you're turning into a dog". I couldn't hear it, but I could feel it and just the vibration of her voice helped to calm me down. She's been singing that to me again lately, only now she says "you're so big and you're turning into a good dog".

You see, I haven't always been a "good" dog. Most people know by now - born blind and deaf, with epilepsy too! Everyone knows how much of a challenge I have been. You all know the sad story of how my life started and how mom and dad weren't sure they would survive me.  You know all the people who have been involved in helping me find my way in the world. Maggie says no one wants to hear about it anymore, but I don't listen to her.

 I am the luckiest dog alive to have so many who care about me and want to make me better. I try hard to do the right things. Sometimes I still can't control myself and I just go crazy! Those times are few and far between these days.

I think the best thing that has happened lately is that I get to sleep upstairs with my mom and dad. For as long as I can remember, I slept on the couch with one of them. Finally a couple months ago, I decided I needed more room and a king sized bed seemed like just the place. Romeo told me that he liked sleeping there, so I figured I would give it a shot too. That little guy knows his stuff.

So every night, we go upstairs. My mom puts my leash around her wrist to keep me from running and barking in the middle of the night. Then, I jump up into bed. I usually sleep there part of the night and then I get on the floor. Around 1 am I want back up on the bed, but that takes SO much effort. So I cry for a little while until my mom touches me (that's how I know she's awake and paying attention). Then I put my chin on the bed, waiting for mom to help me up (I'm tired, you know). Eventually I realize that she really isn't going to help me get into bed, so I jump up myself and lay right on top of her. Then around 5 am I want to get up and so I make noise and pull on my leash until mom realizes that it isn't going to stop until she gets up. We have a routine :)

I get along with everyone just fine - except Poppy. He's this old guy that came to live with us in April. Mom said it would only be for a week or so until he died. He's still alive. He moves really slow and is very little. He always gets in my way and sometimes he runs into me when I am asleep. That makes me mad and so I bark at him. One time I barked so hard that I actually blew him off his feet. My mom says "poor old guy". But not me, he's a pain in the ass and needs to stay out of my way.

Mom says I am head strong. I am not sure what that means but I know she loves me more than anything so it has to be a compliment, right? I am just like her - I like what I like, when I want it and the way I want it. And I usually get it too :)

I got a really great birthday present this year. It snowed! I've seen a little dusting of snow before, but nothing like this! I use my sense of smell and touch to navigate the world and the snow messes those two up big time! I can't smell my usual paths outside and I can't feel where things usually are. I have been missing the end of the deck. When I get out into the yard I call for my mom. Then when she shows up, I bite at her boots and play with her. She likes it. Most of the time I will just lay down on the ground and feel the coolness on my body. I've been eating a lot of snow too, it tastes yummy.

Mom says she isn't going to be able to get out of the house to get me any treats or presents for my birthday so I'll have to wait. I'm not disappointed though, every day is a present for me. I live in a great home with a family who loves me for who I am, flaws and all. I have a great team who make sure I am on the right medication, that I get the right treatment and that my mom and dad have the support they need to deal with my special needs. I have an amazing friend who comes and stays with me (and all the rest of us) when my mom and dad are gone. She's one of my very best friends and I am so so lucky to have her. Mom says we couldn't do it without Team Asha and I agree....we couldn't.

Dogs don't think about the future the way humans do. We live in the moment. People say that I am always smiling. No matter how hectic or mayhem-ish our life is, I have this smile. My mom says she doesn't know what the hell I am so happy about. But deep down, she does know. I am happy because of her and my dad. I am happy because I feel so much love in every second of my life, in every touch and hug and kiss. I feel it in the special food I eat, the medication I take (that my mom walked three miles in the snow to get yesterday). I feel it in the air I breathe. If a dog did think about the future, this future is better than any that could ever be imagined.  Every day is an adventure for me. I know I am lucky to be alive and lucky to be a part of this family. So Happy Birthday to me, I hope I live to be 100.

A Christmas miracle comes early

For those of you following the story of our life with Asha, it's old news that she doesn't sleep through the night. For those of you who don't know....Asha doesn't sleep through the night. Asha has been a part of our family for just about two and a half years. When she first came to live with us, she slept on a little bed next to our bed. Then she started having seizures and refused to sleep there anymore. In fact, she refused to sleep at all.

I spent about six months sleeping on the bathroom floor with her. She eventually refused to sleep at all in the bathroom, so we moved downstairs to the couch. That is where we have been sleeping for the last two years. By "we", I mean me and Asha or Trevor and Asha. Every night, one of us would go downstairs and get on the couch with Asha. We would sleep there some or all of the night. EVERY NIGHT for two years.

We tried to get Asha to sleep there on her own, but she would wake up around midnight or 1 am and yell for us. When we came back downstairs and got on the couch, she would climb up and lay on us to make sure we didn't get up again.

We tried to get her to sleep upstairs with us again, but she wouldn't do it. There was no settling down and so we ended up back down on the couch.

Almost two years ago I wrote this post about needing sleep. I had only not been sleeping for like 6 months then. Little did I know that I had two more years of sleepless nights ahead of me!

In the last two years, Asha slept through the night 2 times. I remember them both. It has been exhausting. I had given up hope of ever sleeping all night again. I had given up hope of ever sleeping in my bed with my husband all night again. At first I was really sad and angry about it. I would cry and lay awake, mad at the situation. Then I started to accept it. I appreciated the moments of peace when Asha would climb up on the couch and snuggle in with me. Because all she wanted was her mama.

I have been traveling a lot for work lately and so has Trevor. We've had a house sitter who stays the night with the animals. I assumed she was sleeping on the couch with Asha too. Keep in mind, our home has lots of issues. Currently, our biggest challenge in Shilo. He doesn't like anyone coming over to the house and he won't let our sitter into the living room. He has decided that is his domain. I knew this and we are working on it. I never put two and two together. One day, it occurred to me - if she isn't sleeping on the couch with Asha, where are they sleeping? So I asked her. The answer "in the bedroom". She said that Asha sleeps on the floor next to the bed when we are gone. WHAT???

That night, we decided to give it a try. I didn't expect it to work. I was all ready to head back down to the couch. I made a bed next to me on the floor. Asha always wears a leash in the house (so we can grab her when she gets up and runs in a panic). I wrapped her leash around my arm and we all went to sleep. That's right....you heard me....we all went to sleep.

At 2 am, I woke up to an Asha nose in my face. She was resting her chin on the bed. I touched her and she jumped up onto the bed with me, snuggling in and putting her head on my pillow. Back to sleep she went. I woke up about 5:30 and Asha was still asleep. I couldn't believe it.

That was two weeks ago. Asha has slept upstairs, either on the floor or in bed, every night for two weeks. That is more nights of sleep than we have had in the last two YEARS! Every night, I expect that to be the last of it. I expect to find myself back down on the couch. But is hasn't happened yet and I just can't believe it.

Our lives are so very different than we ever imagined. I said to Trevor the other night as I got into bed with Asha's leash around my arm "do you think Asha will ever get to live without having to constantly wear her leash?" and then I said "do you think that I will ever get to live without having to constantly hold her leash?" The truth is that the answer doesn't matter. We'll be happy either way. Asha certainly doesn't care. I look at her sometimes, with her ever present smile and wonder what the hell she is so happy about. Then I realize....she is happy to be alive, she is happy to be loved.

Trevor has been out of town this week and so Asha has been taking up more of the bed than usual. I woke up last night and she was laying behind me, with her paws around me, spooning. I'd say she is comfortable with the new sleeping arrangements.

I am completely and totally in love with this dog. She is the most amazing creature. I learn from her every day - about myself, about the world, about hope and life and love. I know I will never stop learning from her and I will never stop loving her. I am so grateful that she came into my life. And I am so grateful for this early Christmas Miracle of sleep.

Sweet dreams....

72 hours

Like most people involved in animal rescue, I am barraged daily with requests from various different places.  My facebook newsfeed is full of pictures of dogs needing out of high risk/high kill situations and shelters.   Sweet faces, scared faces with things that say “this dog dies tomorrow if no one can help”…and that isn’t a scare tactic.  It’s the truth.  I am on email lists, chat groups, message boards.  Its all background noise.  It has to be.   Otherwise it is overwhelming and will make me crazy.  We help when we can, but its never enough.  There is always another dog or cat that needs help.  It’s a challenge to help on our terms and not get  completely consumed.  Trevor and I know that in order to be able to help, we have to have boundaries or we will get burnt out and not be able to help at all.

We are on the foster list for one of the local shelters and every week I get an email about cats that need a place to go.  They are either sick, or not doing well in the shelter or have a special circumstance.  Sometimes there is one cat on the email, sometimes there are 6 or 8.  We haven’t made the time recently to take in many sick cats.  I see the emails but haven’t acted on them.  Until recently.

About a month ago we took in a foster from a different shelter.  Shasta was his name. He was very sick and honestly should not have even come to us.  He lasted about a day and then he passed away.  He was just too far gone.  That was tough.  We take in fosters to make them better and help them find a forever home.  Unless we take them as a hospice case  - meaning that they are too old or sick to be adopted and they live out their days with us – we expect them to get better.  We expect them to leave our home for a home of their own. 

Still a little raw from losing Shasta, last week, I got the usual email from Michelle at the Humane Society for SW Washington.  It had a plea for help.  A cat named Mayflower needed a foster home.  The subject line of the email was “special kitty needs a foster home" and included this picture.

Mayflower had come in as a stray and was so matted she could barely walk.  Her ears were so infected that they were deformed.  She had rubbed her face raw trying to scratch at her ears.  They had shaved her and were treating her wounds.  Then she got a cold.   Upper Respiratory Infections (URI) are a huge challenge in a shelter setting.  A cat gets sick and usually doesn’t just get better.  The stress of being in the shelter exacerbates the situation.  If the cat can get out of the shelter into a quiet place, they can rest and recover.  Trevor and I have fostered around 10 cats in the last year who were sick like this. They all got better and were adopted. 

I was getting ready to head out of town, Trevor has been traveling a lot and we have a full house – with one other foster (Shilo), a hospice foster (Poppy) and two older cats with issues of their own (Daisy and Miniver).   Then there is Asha.  Not the best time to bring on another foster, but there was something about Miss Mayflower that tugged at my heart.  I showed her to Trevor and he was like “whatever you want to do”.

I emailed Michelle and told her that we would take Mayflower if no one else could. She emailed back and said someone else was going to take her.  I felt good about that and didn’t think about it again.  That was Thursday.  Friday afternoon I got an email from Michelle.  Mayflower had stopped eating and was going to require syringe feeding.  The foster home who was going to take her wasn’t comfortable doing that and she wanted to know if we could still take her.  I said yes and within an hour I was at the shelter meeting Mayflower.

Here is the thing about fostering….you love them before you even meet them.  I loved Mayflower the moment I read the email about her and saw her picture.  Which is a crazy thing because I know we won’t keep her, I know I will love her and then have to let her go. 

They brought her out to me and she was in pretty bad shape.  She cried and the girl said that was the first time she had heard her cry since she arrived a week ago.  She then went over all of May’s medications.  She had special food and syringes to feed her with, ear drops, medicine for her cold, a pill to give her in 3 days if she still wasn’t eating on her own, a bag of saline and needles for her subcutaneous fluids.    We were taking the entire vets office home with us! 

They said Mayflower was one of the worst strays they had ever seen. I was surprised that they were able to give her a chance.  Seems like everyone felt she deserved a shot at a happy, safe, peaceful life instead of whatever hardship she had endured before she came to them.  I agreed.

I put May in the car and we headed for home.  We have one spare bedroom that is our “sick room”.  Its at the back of the house, none of the other animals ever go in there.  We take the sick cats there and let them heal.  Its quiet and out of the way. No one bothers them there.  When the cats are particularly sick we will sleep in there on the floor with them.   When we adopted our cat Murray, he had a URI and spent his first two weeks with us in the sick room where I slept with him every night for a week.

I got Mayflower settled. She explored a bit and then all she wanted to do was be on my lap. That’s how it would be the whole time she was with us.  If I was sitting down, she was in my lap.  If I was standing up, she was pawing at me and crying for me to sit down so she could sit in my lap.

She didn’t have any fur except on her paws and her head.  She had been shaved.  She loved being petted on her cheek and head.  She would purr and look up at me as if to say “I like that!”  She was so appreciative of our love.  She did eat on her own Friday night and that was encouraging.

I slept with her on Friday night.  Well, I stayed with her…we didn’t sleep much.  May was very restless and just walked all over me.  She was wearing a cone to keep her from scratching at her face and ears and she couldn’t get comfortable. 

Saturday morning she wouldn’t eat.  I gave her all her medicine, some fluids and then I fed her with a syringe.   She was very congested.  She didn’t like being fed that way.  I didn’t like doing it, but kept telling her this is how she will survive.  She needed to eat.

Mayflower had a special visitor on Saturday.  Trevor and I were gone most of the day and our pet sitter, Tamara came over.  We are so lucky to have her.  When I agreed to take Mayflower, I knew that I would be leaving town.  Tamara would be staying at the house and it was already a lot of work to take care of our crew.  One more, with special needs, may be too much to ask.  I emailed her before I said yes to Mayflower and her response was “I would be excited to take care of her”.  It takes a team and we are so fortunate to have a great one.  Of course, Tamara loved her .  

Mayflower was shivering – either from having no fur or being sick or both.  Trevor and I bought her a little coat to wear, hoping that would help her stay warm.  She didn’t mind wearing it at all.  I slept with her again on Saturday night.  She was more settled.  She just slept next to me all night long.  She was still very congested and I knew it was tough to breath.  I took her into the bathroom and turned on a hot shower, hoping the steam would clear her up a bit.  I kept telling her that is she just held on, a better life was ahead for her.  But she needed to hold on.

Sunday came and she still wouldn’t eat on her own.  She had started making a choking noise and would spit up mucus.  I know it takes a while for medicine to start working on  a URI, but I was worried about her.  I sat with her much of the day on Sunday.  She climbed onto my lap and didn’t leave it.  She snuggled in, tucking her head under my arm. I took her cone off so she could relax.  She got a little bit of sleep, which was good.

I have always loved animals, more that the average “animal lover”.  I feel a connection that I cannot explain.  Fostering has been the most rewarding thing I have ever done.  There was a moment when I looked down at Mayflower and was overwhelmed with emotion.  I believe we all have a purpose, some of us fulfill it, some of us spend our lives chasing it and some of us ignore it.  At that moment, I knew my purpose.  And Mayflower knew it too.

Sunday night was another tough night.  I was becoming increasingly more concerned about Mayflowers situation.  She was really struggling to breath.  I emailed the shelter to see if there was any more aggressive treatment we could try.  Then I went to run some errands.  When I came home around lunch time, I knew May was in trouble.

When I came into her  room, she didn’t even lift her head. I thought she was probably mostly deaf due to the condition of her ears, but even when I got close and touched her, she didn’t respond as usual.  When she did, she got up and immediately fell over. I called the shelter and they told me to bring her in.

I knew this was probably the end for her.  I knew it in my heart.  I put her in her kennel, got in the car and started driving. I was crying and so was she. I opened her kennel which was in the passenger seat of the car.  I reached in and petted her head.  Mayflower gently rested her head on my hand.  And then she bit me.  She sunk her teeth all the way into my thumb and wouldn’t let go. I thought she was having a seizure.  I finally shook her off my hand.  She cried and layed her head down, still laboring to breath, her eyes closed.  It wasn’t a seizure, but she was delirious.  I knew then, she was already gone.  Her heart was still beating, but there was nothing left of her.

I grabbed a tissue from the glovebox and tried to stop the bleeding from my thumb.  I cried quietly as we drove towards the shelter.  I told Mayflower that it would be over soon, that she was almost done with this world that had been so cruel.  I told her about animal heaven and how she was part of our family now so our other pets who have passed would be waiting for her.  I told her how she would wait with them for me and I’d be there someday. I tell all our animals when they die that I will see them again – for me it will seem like forever, for them it will be the blink of an eye.

I arrived at the shelter, it was closed but there was staff on duty.  We were escorted into the waiting area and the vet came out to meet us.  There were 3 or 4 people working on Mayflower . When they opened the kennel and saw her, it was obvious they knew what I knew.  She was already gone.  She was very pale and cold, laboring to breathe through her mouth, her eyes dilated.  The vet determined that she most likely had pneumonia and there wasn’t anything more they could do. She recommended euthanasia and I agreed.  I felt like I failed them. I felt like I failed Mayflower.  In my mind I knew we did the best we could, the best anyone could do, but its still hard to accept that there is nothing left.

She thanked me and got ready to take Mayflower back to the clinic. I told her I wanted to be with her until the end.  The vet seemed a bit surprised but gladly let me come along.  I was crying. I apologized for that, because that’s what we do, right?  We say we are sorry for how we feel when we think its not appropriate.  I had known Mayflower for 72 hours and yet here I was crying at her death like a crazy cat woman.  So I apologized.  But the truth is that I wasn’t sorry. I’m not sorry now.  I was sad that she was dying and doesn’t every creature, every soul deserve to have someone who is sorry to see them go?

The staff at the shelter was amazing.  The vet was so compassionate and kind.  She asked the vet tech not to lay Mayflower down on her side because it hurt her to breath that way.   If you have ever been there when someone – human or animal -  takes their last breath, you know how powerful it is.  It is tragic and beautiful.  To be there at the very end…to be the last voice heard, the last touch felt,  to ease the last pain.  That is a tremendous responsibility.  I am honored each time I am able to be a part of this transition.  And I am moved beyond words.

And that was it.  As quickly as Mayflower came into our lives, she left.  And I headed to urgent care to get the bit on my thumb looked at.  Cat bites are prone to infection.  Bad infection and the vet suggested I get a jump start on some antibiotics.

I am still very sad.  I had such high hopes for Mayflower.  When I took her, it honestly didn’t occur to me that she wouldn’t make it.  That makes two fosters who have died in my arms in the last month.  Trevor is out of town and when we were talking on the phone about it he said, “I was just thinking that we need to stop taking these tough cases, we can’t keep having them die on us.  But then I realized if we don’t take them, who will?”  And there you have it….one of the many reasons I love this man and the reason why we continue to do what we do, why we always find room.

Mayflower died and that is heartbreaking.  9000 other animals died in shelters all over the country today.  Some were sick, some were not.  Most of them were alone and scared.  At least May had peace at the end.  Knowing that the others didn’t makes me crazy.  It makes me want to scream and yell and hit people.  It makes me want to know why.  It makes me want to know how it will ever get better….how it will ever change.  How much longer I have to look at my facebook newsfeed and see sad face, after sad face that doesn’t make it another day.  Knowing that most people would hide that from their sight because its just too sad.    I avoided it for years and once I finally took a look, I couldn’t look away and I couldn’t stand by and doing nothing.    I know not everyone can do what we do or what others do.   I get it.  There is a ton of suffering in this world –  kids, adults, animals.  If we don’t start feeling something about that and DOING something about that it will only get worse.  So if your reaction is “I couldn’t do that”, thank about what you COULD do….and do it.

Rest in peace Mayflower.  You will forever be a Bryant.

***special thanks to the staff and volunteers at the Humane Society for SW Washington for giving this sweet girl a chance and to Dr Rockey for helping her transition in the most peaceful and kind way possible.

Back Again....

Back in May, Foster Shilo was adopted.  I wrote about it HERE.  The skies parted and the Universe aligned.  Near and far there was rejoicing.  I blogged about my happiness and it was shared by many.  People from far away, who I never met, knew about Shilo.

Since Shilo has been in his new home, we haven’t heard anything.  Well, we got some great reports the first two weeks and haven’t heard anything since.  That’s pretty normal and so it didn’t bother us – we figured no news was good news.  We ride our bikes by Shilo’s new house and always hope that we see him happily playing the yard (we never did).  I thought about him all the time – wondering if he had gone camping yet or if the fireworks bothered him on July 4^th. I have wanted to reach out many times, but didn’t want to be a pain – he is their dog now.

Last week I got a message from a friend. She wanted to know if I knew how Shilo was doing.  She said that a friend in California had read Shilo’s blog months ago and it had touched her. The friend was looking for an update on Shilo.  That got me thinking and it gave me a reason to email Shilo’s family.  That was Tuesday .

Wednesday was a good day at our house.  Asha had a great appointment with her Behavioral Vet and she had slept through the night two out of three nights. I was feeling so good about how things were going in our home.  Finally we were getting some much needed peace.  Our current foster, Poppy, is nearing the end of his life and we are showering our attention on him. Trevor had recently reached out to a local rescue and offered our home as a foster for some dogs they were bring in from a hoarding case.  We were waiting to hear back from them.

I got home and around 7 saw an email from Shilo’s mom. It said “I’m glad you asked how things are going.  They aren’t going well. Blah Blah Blah (my words).  We are ready for him to come back”.  WHAT?  That was a shock.  My heart, which had been happily beating in my chest all day, dropped to the bottom of my stomach. I wasn’t sure if I was going to shit it out or throw it up.

I told her that I could meet her whenever was best for her – figuring that would be the weekend.  By 8:30 that night, Shilo was back at home with me.  His dad brought him back. Once the decision was made, they wanted him to be gone as soon as possible.  When Shilo got out of the car, he looked around and when he realized I was there, it was obvious that he remembered me. He jumped on me and licked my face, then he pulled towards the house. 

I talked with his dad for a bit.  Shilo had behaved with them the same way he had behaved with us.  Shilo had behaved with them exactly the way we had told them that he would.  I was trying to figure out where the communication breakdown had come. I thought we had been very clear about Shilo’s issues, about what to expect and about how they should proceed with him (offering training, suggesting a trainer, keeping him away from strangers because he bites).   Shilo’s dad said he thought after 9 weeks that Shilo would be “over it”.  But they didn’t do anything to help him get over it – no training – no asking for help.   There were a list of reasons why it wasn’t working. Their schedule had changed and things were different.  In the end, I think they just didn’t realize that a quiet home full of love wasn’t going to be enough to change a dog like Shilo.

I know they were sad. I have no doubt it was a difficult decision and I know there were many tears cried, many nights sleep lost over this.   But here was Shilo, back at home with me.

I love Shilo with all my heart and he is a good boy, but he has issues that are not an easy fit in our home.  When we chose Shilo to be our foster as part of a huge rescue operation in December, we did not know that his issues were so bad.  We did not know that he was a biter.  A dog like Shilo doesn’t do his best in a home with 5 other dogs, two of whom can’t see him.  A dog like Shilo doesn’t do well in a home with a 6 foot 4 man.  The majority of his aggression is directed at Trevor.  I am getting ready to head into my heavy travel season and so Shilo will now be home alone with Trevor a lot. We have house sitters who come to the house and Shilo adds a whole nother level of concern with that.  We can adjust, we can make it work.  He just doesn’t make things easy. 

All of this went through my mind as I stood in the kitchen and cried.  I cried for Shilo – he was looking around confused about why he was back.  They had played with him and walked him and surely he loved that.  He won’t get as much of that here.  I cried for the challenge ahead of him.  Then I cried because our lives were getting easier….and in less than two hours, they had gotten more difficult.  I was just so sad.

So here we are, right back where we started.  We have this damaged little soul who needs someone to be his forever family, to commit to taking care of him, protecting him and giving him the space he needs to feel safe in this world that has been quite cruel to him.  He trusts no one (except maybe me).  I think of all the things I could do if he was my ONLY dog and I wonder if there is anyone else out there like me who doesn’t already have a dog!

I don’t want to judge his adoptive family.  I am trying not to judge.  Trevor said to me “you can’t expect everyone to do what we do” and I said “I don’t expect everyone to do what we do”.  I didn’t expect them to take Shilo in addition to their blind/deaf Aussie with anxiety issues who hasn’t slept more than three full nights in 18 months and a 16 year old blind, mostly deaf, dying jack Russell, three other dogs and six other cats, including a 17 year old just diagnosed with thyroid tumors and another senior with one tooth, while both working jobs that take us away from home half of the time, owning a business, training groups of triathletes and marathon runners, etc, etc….I am asking them to take care of one dog with issues.  To honor the commitment that they made when they agreed to take a dog with those specific issues.  To not bring him back because he acted exactly the way we said he would act.  I am not asking them to do what we do.  We have chosen this and I am not sorry about that.  What I am sorry about is that because Shilo is back home with us,  another dog will not get to be here (we told the other rescue that we are all full again).  I know…that all sounded very judgemental….I just don’t understand. 

In all the hurt and sadness, I am also grateful that we were able to take him back, I am grateful that they asked us to take him back.  From the very beginning we told them that if it didn’t work, no matter why or when or how, Shilo HAD to come back to us.  They could not get rid of him any other way.  They agreed.  At first I wished I had never sent the email to follow up on how he was doing  - but then they said that they had been struggling with what to do for a while and so I am very glad I sent that email so that he could come back to us.

Shilo broke my heart when he was here before and he breaks my heart still.  There isn’t enough room in the world for a damaged little soul like him.  We’ll make room and we’ll make room for as long as it takes, even if that means Shilo spends his entire life with us. 

Happy Endings aren't always as happy as they first seem.  Shilo is still looking for his happy ending…..

2 years with Asha

Its been two years since we adopted Asha.   Two years since we unknowingly invited chaos into our life.   Two years….and everything has changed for us.   It seems like a lifetime ago.  I’ve written a lot about our experiences with Asha.  I’ve told lots of stories, both from my point of view and Asha’s.  I haven’t ever pretended that it wasn’t a challenge, but I also haven’t ever really admitted here just how hard it has been.

In the grand scheme of things, raising a dog like Asha is not that big of a deal.  Its been tough – but its not like we have child with cancer, are sick ourselves or are dealing with many of the tragedies that we see around us.  But you must understand that for us, these past two years have been the trial of our lives and its certainly not over.  The toughest days are behind us and the more distance we find between now and then, the easier it is to admit just how bad things were….

When we adopted Asha, Trevor and I felt pretty good about ourselves.  We had always considered ourselves selfish people.  THIS (adopting a dog who was born blind and deaf due to irresponsible breeding) was going to be our way to become “good people”.   I have always considered myself very impatient.  I want what I want, when I want it and how I want it.  I thought I wanted to become a patient person.  I remember reading a quote once that said something like ‘if you want to be more patient, don’t ask the Universe for patience, ask the Universe for situations in which to practice being more patient.”  Well…that sucks….doesn’t it?  Who wants to practice?  Why can’t is just BE.

The Universe had a good long laugh the day we met Asha.  “want to be good people? Here’s your opportunity to practice that”. 

I had read up on double merle Australian Shepherds (that’s what Asha is) and felt like I knew what we were getting into.  What I read made it sound like it was no big deal – blind and deaf?  They adapt.  Looking back, I realize that I was only able to find one or two blogs or stories about dogs like Asha.  Now I know that’s because there are not many dogs like Asha that survive.  Most of the ones with issues (and that’s almost all of them), never make it – they are euthanized either by their breeders, at shelters or by their owners because they just can’t survive in this world.  But I didn’t know that then, so I figured it would all be okay.

The first couple weeks we had Asha, she was a typical puppy.  She didn’t understand the stairs and so in the middle of the night when she needed out to pee, we’d scoot down the stairs with her.   She had lots of energy and would either run or sleep.  She had some obsessive behaviors, like spinning, but we were stopping those.  Several weeks after Asha joined our family, she had her first seizure.  She had two more in the coming weeks and was diagnosed with epilepsy.  We started her on phenobarbital.   The seizures stopped, but she has never been the same.

Its  hard to say if the epilepsy caused the damage or vice versa, but Asha became manic. Her anxiety increased.  She went crazy during the day when we weren’t home.  She wouldn’t tolerate being kenneled and we didn’t want to upset her because that could increase her risk for seizures. So she tore our house apart.  I would come home and find her in the middle of a pile of rubble that once was our blinds/books/pictures/molding, etc.  I always checked to make sure she was alive and then cleaned up after her.  She was NEVER calm.  I would lay on the bathroom floor with her at night and she would sleep about 20 minutes at a time and then wake in a panic.  I thought she would have a heart attack, she was so upset.   

I started to become manic too.  Months without more than 20 minutes of sleep at a time wears a person down. It was like having a newborn, only we didn’t have the comfort of knowing she would grow out of it and we couldn’t live like this forever.

We didn’t know what to do, we couldn’t find any information anywhere.  We really didn’t want to give her any sort of drug, that seemed so wrong.  We couldn’t tell people about it because we couldn’t risk being told to put her down or take her back.  We felt like we were her only chance.

We adopted Asha in July and by November, things were very bad.  Trevor would come home every night after work and find me on the kitchen floor with Asha,  crying.  I was so exhausted and I felt like a failure. I didn’t know what to do.   I was so mad at Asha for being this way, for doing this to our life.   I was sick right before Thanksgiving, I came down with a bad cold.  This was a low point.  All I wanted to do was lay in bed and rest.  But I couldn’t….becuase Asha would not be quiet for more than two minutes. I couldn’t lay down and rest.  I had no where to go.  I remember sitting in our entry way, leaning against the front door while Asha ran around and barked.  I finally said what I had been feeling but was afraid to admit….alone in that front room with our girl, I said “I wish we had never adopted you” and then I sobbed.  The only one I hated more than Asha, was me.

At this point, I think the Universe realized that I couldn’t take anymore….our vet prescribed some anti anxiety meds for Asha. They helped some, but not enough.  We were then referred to a Behavior Vet who helped us with some different medications and behavior modification. This started us down the path of redemption!  We started seeing Dr Pachel in December.  Then, in May, we were referred to Dr Valentine, a Chinese Medicine Veterinarian.  We started Asha on a combination of herbs, acupuncture and food therapy.  This made a tremendous difference.  Asha was also growing up and maturing, that helped too.

This also gave us a safe place to talk about what was going on with Asha and how we felt about it.  I know that these doctors would tell you how pathetic and desperate we were.  Many times I cried to them on the phone or in their office.  Over time, they helped me cope with our situation and I believe that made the biggest difference of all. Once I accepted what we were dealing with and started to appreciate it instead of being angry about it, things began to shift.  I was more forgiving of myself and of Asha.

Asha has always been the most amazing dog.  She LOVES people, she is unafraid.  She likes going places and doing new things.  When we were at our lowest point, I would take her to the local petstore every single night and walk her around.   She was so happy there and that is what kept her alive.  If her entire life had been the mania she exhibited at home, we would have had to make some tough decisions.  I am sure I looked like the walking dead when I would show up with Asha. But we walked in and all the employees would say “Asha is here!!” and they would come to see her and give her love.  I would stand back and watch her get all that attention and just eat it up.  For those few moments every evening, I believed it would be okay.

Our vet told me once that if Asha lived with anyone else, she would have recommended that they put her to sleep – that only because of how we took care of Asha, was her life viable. 

Through all of this, Asha has loved and trusted Trevor and I.   She knows when we are close and she looks for us when we are not there.  Trevor or I have slept on the couch with her every night for the last 18 months (the first 6 months she was here were spent on the bathroom floor).  If she wakes up in the middle of the night and I am not there, she barks and cries.  Most nights its just easier to stay on the couch and be able to touch her the second she wakes up, so we can go right back to sleep.  Every once in a while, I’ll let her go to sleep, then head up to my own bed…only to be woken up around 2 or 3 am.   There were a couple nights in May of 2012 when she slept all night. I remember waking up at 5am and looking at Trevor and saying “do you think she is dead?” , because she never sleeps through the night!  Back in January she slept all night…once.  Last night, she did it again.  Maybe we are turning a corner and we’ll start sleeping like we used to….in our bed instead of on the couch or the floor!

Here is my blog post from her one year anniversary of joining our family.  In the last 12 months things have continued to improve tremendously.  Asha is much more calm during the day and even at night – while she wakes up and calls for us, she doesn’t panic…its more of a habit.  She is so smart.  Every day I am amazed at how she has adapted.  She doesn’t know she is any different.  She is happy and loving.  I commented to Trevor just the other day - Asha isn't much different than the other dogs now...she has her quirks, but for the most part is turning into a good dog.

Asha won the Diamond Collar Hero Award from the Oregon Humane Society.   She has had stories about her in the paper and online.  She’s had her pictures taken for a book about special needs pets.  She is our rockstar.

My life is so very different than I ever could have imagined.  We’ve had to work very hard to hold it together.  Most days, no one knew how awful things were here…except for me and Trevor.   But no one can ever  truly know how incredible this experience has been either and how lucky we are to have found Asha. 

I used to look at Asha and wonder how we would ever live with her.  A few months ago I found myself looking at her and wondering how in the world we would ever live without her. 

Today isn’t just the anniversary of the day that Asha joined our family….its much more than that.  Its an opportunity to celebrate all the life has to offer, all that we have become and have yet to be…because we took a chance, made a sacrifice, and kept moving forward when no one would have blamed us for giving up.

Rev3 Williamsburg and Team Nadia

I am the Volunteer Director for the Rev3 triathlon series.  Its my job to recruit and organize the volunteers we need for each race.  This year, we have 9 races in cities all over the country and I am charged with finding between 400 and 1200 volunteers to help with everything from packet pick up, bike check in, aid stations, lifeguards, kayakers, parking attendants, anything you could think of (and lots you wouldn't).  I meet ALOT of people.  Rev3 has a local charity donation program that allows groups (teams, clubs, non-profits) who provide 15 or more volunteers to receive a donation in exchange for their help.  This is a nice way to give back to the community and it really helps recruit volunteers.

In most cities, Rev3 has been there before and I have a database of volunteers and groups to start with. Last weekend, we had a race in Williamsburg, Virginia.  This was our first year and it required lots of cold calling, introducing Rev3 and our volunteer program. Some people were receptive, others not so much.

Some of the race was taking place on the campus of The College of William and Mary. I contacted the Athletic Department and asked them to spread the word amoungst the sports teams. I also called the Office of Student Organizations. I was hoping to get the word out to the fraternities and sororities as well as all the other organizations.  I spoke with a woman named Ann who asked me to email some information to her.

Later that day, Ann emailed me back. She said that a woman who worked in her office had a daughter who was just diagnosed with cancer.  She and some friends wanted to raise money for this family. I told her that if they set up a bank account/a foundation of sorts, I would be able to make the check out to that fund and it would work.  Ann told me she would see who she could round up and would be in touch.  .

The first week in June, Ann emailed me that she thought she would have 12 volunteers.  I gave her some shift options for those volunteers to start signing up.  A week or so later, I got an email from Jess with a teamnadia@yahoo.com address.  She said that she was organizing the volunteers for Team Nadia.

I worked closely with Jess over the next couple weeks to ensure that all the volunteers were signed up correctly.  As the days went by, the list grew.  Once we hit 30 volunteer slots filled, I knew something special was happening. I commented to Jess - Nadia must be pretty special - to which she replied simply "she is."

At this point, I didn't know Nadia's story or how old she was.  I just knew that people wanted to help her.  Years ago, our friends Mark and Annalee lost their daughter to a rare disease after several years of fighting. I remember how helpless I felt. I wanted to help, to do anything to ease their pain.  I saw this group of people feeling the same way and taking action.  I really wanted to help them.

Race weekend arrived.  Friday afternoon, the first shift of Team Nadia volunteers arrived.  They were AMAZING.  Everyone was so happy and energetic. They were great volunteers - hard workers with common sense.  I love all my volunteers, but let's be honest...some are better than others and these were the BEST!!!

Jess gave me a pineapple - in that area, a pineapple is a sign of welcoming.  Attached was a note that said "Thank you - love all the member of Team Nadia".  I was able to learn some more about Nadia.  She was 11 years old and had JUST been diagnosed with cancer.  11 years old....

By this time, the group had grown to over 40.  Everyone I met was so friendly.  They told me that Nadia and her mom might be coming down to the race site over the weekend and I asked that I get to meet them.

I couldn't stop feeling good about this great cause we were helping. I wanted the rest of our staff to know about it.  On Saturday night we had our meeting after dinner, where we talk about race day and go over all the final details.  At the end of the meeting I asked to say a few words.  I told some of Nadia's story.  Most of the staff wasn't aware that we do these charity donations and none of them but me knew about Nadia.  It was important that they know the impact that Rev3 was having on the life of one young girl who had nothing to do with triathlon. I knew that Sunday was going to be a rough day and when things got tough for us, I wanted everyone to know that we had a purpose bigger than ourselves for being there, a purpose bigger than that race. That purpose was Nadia.

After our meeting, we always do a little cheer, to gear up for race day.  Here's the video of our cheer that night:

Who are we?  Rev 3
Where are we? Williamsburg
Who are we here for? Nadia

Everyone made fun of me because I carried that pineapple around all weekend.

Race day came and as expected, things got hectic. Early in the day, I told Sean, our announcer, about Team Nadia.  He talked about them all day long.  It was great.

 Around 2:30, I got a text from Jess that said "Nadia is here!  We are looking for you"  I dropped what I was doing and went to find them.  They were down at the Aid Station where much of their group was working.  Nadia was already wearing a Rev3 visor. I was introduced to her and hugged her so tightly, her knees got weak.  I had just met her and I loved her already.  Then I met her mom, Angela, and gave her the same kind of hug.  We talked and laughed. Nadia asked me if we had any funnel cake. I wish.  I wanted to take Nadia over to Sean and have him introduce her, since he had been talking about her all day!

We visited a little as we walked.  Nadia was very soft spoken and shy. I could tell she was a bit overwhelmed by all the attention.  I got to talk a little with Angela and couldn't help but think about what she must be going through.  I was in the presence of true strength.  I wanted to hug them both and make it all alright.  Instead, I introduced them to Sean.  Here is part of his interview with her.



There were many tears of gratitude and the feeling was mutual.  They needed us just as much as we needed them.  Nadia and Angela went on their way and I went back to work.  That would be the last that I saw of Team Nadia for the weekend, but I couldn't get them out of my mind.

I got home late Tuesday night and on Wednesday started doing all my post race work.  I emailed my friend Melanie.  She lives in Virginia Beach and had brought her daughter and some friends to Williamsburg to volunteer at the same Aid Station as Team Nadia.  They were raising money for their soccer team and got to meet Nadia, who is about the same age as them.  Melanie told me that they wanted to give their donation money to Team Nadia.  I was very touched by this.

Charlie, the owner/creator of Rev3 was on his email and I chatted with him, telling him about my friend's kind donation to Nadia.  Charlie asked me if I could put him in touch with someone from Team Nadia so we could get more of her story and put it out on our social media.

I sent an email to Jess, introducing her to Charlie and told her that Charlie wanted to get some more info about Nadia's Story.  Jess replied with some great information.  I didn't know the whole story before.  Jess filled us in.  Nadia had just been diagnosed in May. Here's the condensed version: Nadia had symptoms of allergies for months, when doing a procedure to relieve sinus pressure, they found 6 tumors and diagnosed her with stage IV cancer.  She began chemo on May 17th (my first call to Ann was May 15th).  Nadia had been tolerating it well and was now getting ready for radiation treatment, which she wasn't going to tolerate as well - she could lose her hearing, taste and smell and not regain it.  (it made me wish I had found a funnel cake for her when she asked).  There was a local cancer facility that had another option - a different kind of radiation treatment that would be easier on little Nadia and perhaps be more effective.  The copay is $5000 per treatment and Nadia needed two.  Team Nadia's main focus was to raise the money for those treatments.  Jess said that she would be happy to talk to anyone about all this.

As I read Nadia's story, I cried.  Life is so unfair.  I tried to put myself in Nadia's mom's position - how does it feel when there is a better way to treat your baby but you can't afford it (WHO COULD??).

I started to think about all the ways I could help them raise the money.  While doing that, I went to Target to get some cat food.  As I was standing in line, I saw the email response to Jess from Charlie.  Here is what he said....

 I would really love to help you all raise the money you need for Nadia's 2nd treatment.  That's right, I said 2nd treatment. Meaning that in addition to the volunteer money we owe you, we will also donate an additional $5,000.  I will send the money via paypal using the e-mail address provided in the flyer you sent.

I didn't even make it past the first line and I started to cry because I knew where he was going....

By the time I got home, I still hadn't seen a response from Jess. I texted her and said "if you haven't checked the Team Nadia email lately, I suggest you drop what you are doing and go check it now".  Not even 5 minutes later - the response "holy crap, holy crap I need a drink".  I could only imagine the scramble going on to get ahold of Angela and I would have given anything to be there when she got that news.

In that moment...all of our lives changed forever.  Charlie's, mine, Jess's, Angela's...and Nadia's.  None of us will ever be the same again.

There are so many lessons to be learned here.  You just never know when you will meet someone who will change your life, you never know when you will need help and perhaps the most important lesson is this:  anyone can make a difference.  I work for a triathlon company.  We put on races.  And today, we changed the world.

I'll follow Nadia's story and post updates - I told her that she's never getting rid of us - 20 years from now she'll be saying "Those Rev3 people won't leave me alone".

Between the money Team Nadia raised, Melanie's girls' donation and the Rev3 donation, we are at $6120 to the $10,000 need for the treatments.  Donations can be made through paypal to the email: teamnadia@yahoo.com.  If you are reading this, please make a donation.  Ever dollar counts.

How will you change the world today?

Go Team Nadia - fight fight fight.

Follow Nadia's story on facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/TeamNadia?fref=ts