With the last episode being called "The More Things Stay the Same," this last 11 days was NOT what we had in mind.
Let's begin on Wednesday April 2. I'm teaching a ZOOM Fair Housing class for the Boulder Realtor Association, I finish at 2 pm right on the dot. Knowing my wife, Linda doesn't get off work until 5, I decide to check her on Find My Phone anyway just on some weird hunch. "What are you doing at the Parker Hospital?" I ask. The answer ends up being excruciating pain, a hospital ride from work, and the discovery of two blood clots.
Thursday, I teach a Pricing class all day and my wife stays home from work to rest.
Friday morning, we are both supposed to leave for Oceanside CA to watch my Son-in-Law, Brian, compete in Oceanside Ironman 70.3. After a long discussion, we decide, I'll go alone. Linda has her youngest daughter at home to keep on eye on her, we don't want all of our tickets to go to waste (she was supposed to leave the triathlon and fly up to NorCal to spend time with her Mom), and Southwest Airlines is very nice when it comes to crediting cancelled flights.
I arrive in San Diego, grab a car, and arrive in Oceanside by 9:30 am. Brian is headed to an athlete briefing at 10, Angela (his wife - my oldest Step-Daughter) has already run, so I decide to get one in myself. I find a trail (bike path, actually) near the harbor and I'm off.
I have a fabulous run. Sea level loves me, and I feel the same. Usually a 13 min/mile guy, I'm knocking off stuff in the low to mid 11's. The trail is semi-crowded with tri-folk on their shakeout runs, and I even got a wave from eventual Ironman winner, Lionel Sanders. Then, it happened.....
The trail was VERY worn. Holes, cracks, and bumpy going were the norm once you were just a little bit from the entrance. I guess I didn't see it, but I hit an uneven section and BOOM, down I went. I've tripped before. In fact, I'm fairly good at it. Usually it's all just a few cuts, scrapes, and a bruise or two. This time, I went down HARD: chest first, head follows. OUCH!
The first person on the scene was a man on a bike who yelled, "Are you alright?" Immediately, out of the blue came another guy yelling, "Are you okay?"
"Don't move," was the command. "No I just need help getting up. I just want to stand up" I said. Then one of them gasped, with a high level of concern/shock and gave me a, "OH MAN!"
It was at that moment I felt the rush of warm liquid streaming down my face, onto my shirt (which ended up saturated - and even came clean three days later - thank you Tide), and in my hands as I checked the damage. Long story short, it just so happened that my two passerby's were both nurses.
After consultation I decided I could walk back to the house (1 1/2 miles, give or take). Within 50 yards, I figure I can jog back..... so i did. I have to tell you, if I had a dollar for every person who asked if I was "okay," I'd have made a boatload. I'm sure I looked frightful
Having been briefed by my nurses, I proceeded to head online to check the symptoms of punctured lungs and the like (as well as determining if stitches were needed). Just banged up, I decided.
I notified Brian I would be late for the Pro panel we were going to attend at 11 (made it at 11:30). It looked pretty ugly, but I figured if that was the worst thing, it would be good.
I slept decently, watched Brian participate in the Half Ironman the next day and even got in a few miles before departing Sunday early. My trip home was uneventful, except for the, "Are you okay?" comments (when asked "what happened," I told the flight attendant that I'd gotten mouthy on my last flight).
Friday, however, somewhere between the fall and the run, I received a call telling me that my lovely bride was back in the hospital and they would be running tests and keeping her for at least one night At this point stress levels are rising. In the end, she was released Saturday and when I arrived home the next day, we were a sorry looking pair.
She's back on blood thinners after 15 years off them, and I feel like a beat up Monday morning football player, relying heavily on ibuprofen for my face and chest. Linda would no be heading to NorCal. I would be leaving, however, for three days in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho.
How was that going to go?
