“Just make it to the tree…once you hit the tree you can walk…just make it to the tree.”

I repeat this mantra in my head until I reach the tree. I spot a stop sign 300 meters up the road. Just make it to the stop sign…you can stop then…just make it to the stop sign…”

My running water pack feels heavy on my back. I close my eyes for a second to relieve the burning sensation in them. My legs feel like lead and my joints are aching with each step. I glance down at my watch, 3.2 miles in. Oh. My. God. Only halfway?! This was going to be a grueling 6 miles.

Backstory…

About 5 months ago, in a flash of extreme courage (and possibly delirium), I signed up for the Ironman 70.3 Arizona. I had raced some triathlons in college and completing a Half-Ironman had been on my bucket list since before I could remember. This was the year! I knew it was. My husband and I were about 2 years into our marriage but had no kids, and I had the time to train in conjunction with my health coaching business. THIS WAS THE YEAR! So after brief research, I signed up. What better motivation for training than paying the non-refundable $300 race fee? I was pumped. I was ecstatic. I was flying high. And then, I came crashing down.

30 days later, I was diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis, or AS. I had been suffering from extreme fatigue, nightly low-grade fevers, whole body aches, mild IBS and a slew of other random symptoms. For those unfamiliar with AS (and let’s be honest, unless you or a close loved one has it, you’ve probably never heard of it), it is an auto-immune disease.

Ankylosing spondylitis is a form of arthritis that primarily affects the spine, although other joints can become involved. It causes inflammation of the spinal joints (vertebrae) that can lead to severe, chronic pain and discomfort [and spinal fusion]…AS can also cause inflammation, pain, and stiffness in other areas of the body such as the shoulders, hips, ribs, heels, and small joints of the hands and feet. Spondylitis Association of America

Dealing with my new reality

I could barely drag myself out of bed on some days. How could it be that only a few months before I had raced the Loma Linda Half-Marathon with my brother, finishing with a time of 1:43:47? Now I couldn’t run one single mile at 7:55 pace, let alone 13. My body had transformed from an exercising machine to a useless vessel I’d never met before. My greatest stress relief was usually exercise, and now I couldn’t even do that. I felt lost, confused and depressed.

After reading what felt like everything AS and auto-immune related (thanks AS Reddit), I felt like I’d done everything I could while I waited for this flare-up to subside. I was also waiting for my next Rheumatology appointment (don’t even get me started on how long it takes to actually get in and see a specialist).

Side note: It’s not like I didn’t have them before I was diagnosed – I just never knew what they were. Last year when I had what I can now recognize as a flare up, I was sent to multiple doctors and infectious disease specialists with no conclusion. The flare up resided and I got better and I thought, “hey, maybe it was a weird fluke of stress-related symptoms and poor timing of multiple sicknesses.” It wasn’t. But I wouldn’t find that out until a year later, right after I had committed to swimming 1.2 miles, biking 56 miles and running a half-marathon.

Not letting AS define me: changing my mentality and approach to training

Hope on the horizon

This is the story of why I chose to keep training. Or I should say, this post is something like the introduction. Some days are rough and I feel like there is no way I’ll ever be ready for a Half-Ironman. Other days I pump out the laps like nobody’s business and finish with a weight lifting session just because I can. It’s a physical and emotional rollercoaster. And after each dip, dive and twist, I’ll write about it, both my training and AS.

Each day is it’s own journey. The training plan has drastically changed from meticulously detailed daily workouts to big-picture monthly goals, like finish 1/4 of all of the distances by the end of the month. Then add more each month. I’ve never trained like this, but it’s what I have to do with AS; do what I can and let go of what I can’t. Cut the expectations. Cut the self-pity. Cut to the chase. I’m going to race a Half-Ironman one way or another. I hope it will happen on my first attempt, but maybe it won’t. With such an unpredictable disease, I can’t say what my body will be able to handle on October 20th, 2019, race day. Regardless, my heart and mind are fully committed to giving it my best shot. Even though my body may fail this time around, my will shall not.

Half-Ironman training: 1 stroke, pedal and step at a time

I increase the volume to my music. My pace is slow – 10-minute miles is not where I wanted to be today – but I smile anyway. 3 more miles to go. My body is resisting, but it’s not screaming to stop. I’m starting to understand the difference, when I should push through and when I need to stop. I picture the finish of the Half-Ironman and my gait becomes stronger, swifter. I know that I will cross it, running on hope and optimism.

This is my story as I train for the Arizona 70.3 Ironman with a recent AS diagnosis. I’ve already written about the power of love against your enemies – I just never thought my own body would become public enemy #1. These next few months will be critical. I’ll learn more about this disease, myself and what true grit is. I invite you join in this journey of half-ironman training with Ankylosing Spondylitis. While I don’t know what’s to come, I promise to always share the ups and down in raw honesty and transparency. After all, reading fellow AS blogs is part of what has inspired me to keep after this goal no matter what.

Until next time, I wish you health, happiness and courage.