The Spirit Cape

Once a week at our Group Training Sessions, the team gathers for two small moments together. The first one is our "Mission Moment," where someone speaks to the team about their connection to the cause. It's always touching and inspirational, and an important reminder that yes, we're there to learn how to do a triathlon, but there's a much greater reason and importance to what we're doing.

The second moment is the presentation of the "Spirit Cape," which is awarded to a member of the team who "exemplifies the spirit and mission of Team in Training." It's usually presented by a mentor, and last Saturday, my mentor Ashley presented it to me! I was surprised, honored and humbled to receive it, and in all honesty, I was also really, really proud. I had arrived at the Saturday morning session with mixed feelings; it was a Brick session (bike + run), and I knew I'd only be able to do the bike portion due to my foot injury. I always feel great for the first half, and sad during the second as I miss out on a part of training. But Ashley's dedication really touched me and made me feel fantastic. As I was biking through the park, other members rode up to me and offered me congratulations, asking me questions like "Did you really shave your head for the cause?" It was a great feeling.

I don't know if there's an actual cape in other chapters, but in our NYC Triathlon chapter, it's actually a large Team in Training Shirt. Each recipient takes it home and decorates it, either with writing or some sort of bling.

Front:

Decorated across the neck are silver letters that say "SWIM * BIKE * RUN." The "Y!" is representative of the corporate Yahoo team.

Back:

I love that quotation at the top.

I am not a visually artistic person. I'm terrible at this stuff. So I decided to keep it simple and wrote a lyric on the sleeve that a very important friend and I share with each other all the time. It's from an Indigo Girls song called "Pushing the Needle Too Far."

Down, But Not Out

I was never much of a runner.

I ran for a few years in college, but not with any athletic purpose -- I ran because a girl on my dorm floor freshman year invited me to go for a run with her, and I really wanted to make new friends. We wound up running through senior year.

I ran for a couple of months in the summer of 2000, back during a rough spot in my relationship with Jess and I did that thing where you try to better yourself so you can convince the other person that you're awesomer than they previously thought. (We may still be together, but I don't think this in particular necessarily helped anything. I did learn "Blackbird" on guitar though and that seemed to have a positive effect.)

Every once in a while in college, I'd have some foot pain, but nothing too significant. It went away within a week.

Back in November, when the triathlon was a distant (but present) thought in my head, I decided to pick up running again. After a week of treadmill running, I took to Central Park. I ran hard and fast, because I knew I had the cardio fitness to back it up (and in my mind, I was invincible!). I didn't have the feet to back it up, though, and around mile 4, I wound up with significant pain in my right foot. I limped all the way home and couldn't walk for a couple of days.

I saw a foot surgeon who took x-rays and MRIs and couldn't exactly find what was wrong. I went to a couple of physical therapists who gave me foot exercises to help strengthen them. (By this point, the pain had oddly spread to the other foot as well, which confounded everyone.)

My feet got a little better throughout November and December, and then in late January, I re-aggravated my right foot while rollerblading with some kids on a weekend trip. Once again, the pain was significant and it wound up spreading to the other foot. More MRIs and this time some acupuncture, and very little relief. At this point, Team in Training group practices had started. I could participate in swim practices (it was too cold for biking), but not run practices. I'd show up at each one to support Jess and do the recovery stretches, but would stand on the sidelines during the actual running. For an active and (presumably) healthy guy like me, it was difficult.

I saw a podiatrist in March who, after looking at my x-rays and MRIs and finding nothing, suggested that the problem wasn't something wrong in my feet, but something about the actual mechanics of my running -- the way my feet hit the ground -- that was the problem. He suggested some (expensive) custom-made orthotics, which I declined (I had only just started working full-time again), and decided to go for a high-end, over-the-counter pair, along with better sneakers (suggested by a running coach who filmed and analyzed my run style).

It took a few different models to find the right one for me, but when I did, I immediately felt better. My feet started to feel like they did before November. I began running with the team in April, going much slower than I was used to in an attempt to build up an injury-free base. After about six weeks, I had gotten myself to the point where every run was injury-free, and the coaches -- knowing my situation and my overall fitness level from swimming and biking -- naturally began encouraging me to pick up the pace and work at full potential. I got my mile time down to 7:24, which wasn't bad considering my background.

In early June, I went for a run one morning -- six miles. I felt great throughout the run and then, on my recovery jog home, experienced some foot pain. It wasn't the same pain as before, but it was reminiscent: the kind of pain that you know isn't just a minor soreness that will go away by "walking it out." Like in November, I limped home and could barely walk the next day.

I saw a (different) foot surgeon who diagnosed me with peroneal tendonitis. He suggested that I wear a removable air cast to stabilize the foot, so the tendon could heal. He suggested I finally get some orthotics that were a custom-fit for my feet. And though he knew there was no way he'd be able to stop be from doing the triathlon, he warned me against the impact running has on the feet.

Needless to say, this has been difficult on me. It was difficult on me back in November through March, but it's more difficult on me now. For starters, we're much further along in our training -- back in February and March, our runs were short and light. Now we're gearing up for triathlon-level running, and while I know I'm physically (and mentally) able to do it, I haven't been able to practice. Also, it's a touch heartbreaking to be injured, get better -- and to really revel in that improvement, to appreciate it every day because you know what it's like to be the other way -- and then go back to being injured again. And it's tough to watch all my teammates go through full practices when I can't. I still show up because there are parts I can do, like the biking and the swimming -- but I'm once again on the sidelines when it comes to the running.. We were all fairly anonymous in the beginning of the season, but now we're all friends. It's harder now.

So I've made adjustments. When everyone else is running, I get on my bike and do something else. I do core strength workouts. I swim. And I talk to myself. I remind myself that this is a setback, but it's not the end. I refuse to let it be the end. I am 100% positive there are ways to change what I'm doing so that I don't have these injuries. I'm exploring them. An orthotic is one way. I'll shortly be exploring a new type of running philosophy and training that has helped many people who previously had issues, and are now running injury-free. I just remind myself: I'm down, but I'm not out. Because I believe the true test of a triathlete -- of a human, really -- is the strength to take adverse situations, look 'em in the eye, acknowledge them, and find a way to overcome them.

That's why I'm writing this post today. I kept quiet about the injuries before because I viewed them as a sign of weakness. But I don't think it is, anymore. I think it's going to eventually be a sign of strength and power.

So what now? Well, I'm out of the air cast. The tendon is healing -- I've walked without the air cast for over a week without any foot pain. I've been doing physical therapy and stretches on my own almost every night since February. I'm reading a book on the running philosophy I mentioned. I just received my new orthotics and we'll see if they improve the running situation for me.

I've held back from running because I don't want to re-aggravate my injury so close to the triathlon. I'll be doing short, light runs between now and then -- no more than three or four miles at most -- and I'm confident that I'll be able to do the triathlon just fine. Maybe not at my 7:24 pace, but I'm not about competing at this point. I'm just about completing it. Always have been. Competing comes later, maybe. Or maybe it doesn't. We'll see.

Thanks for reading.

Melissa Riggio: Our Honored Teammate

Melissa Riggio was your average girl. She grew up in a pretty normal family, with two sisters and two parents. She went to school, was on the swim team, had an eye for style -- especially handbags -- and her favorite color morphed from pink as a little girl to the more trendy green or orange as a teenager. Melissa wrote beautiful poetry -- simple, clean lines from the heart. She was a wonderful friend, and made those friends easily. She wanted to go to college and get married. She was just like many of us at that age. Melissa did all of these things and more, and because she had Down syndrome, these normal things take on more meaning. That being said, she was much more than just a diagnosis, or a disability.

Being a lucky girl, she had a family that loved her and supported her, and they gave her opportunities that allowed her to fully blossom. She met some pretty amazing people and they, too, fell in love with her and her determination to live life as it was meant to be lived: fully, joyfully, and with a strong sense of humor. Her list of accomplishments by age 18 was also impressive: She wrote an article on Down syndrome for National Geographic Kids. She co-hosted a Down syndrome event at Barnes & Noble with Sesame Street's Bob McGrath. Two of her poems were put to music by singer/songwriter Rachel Fuller: "Love Is a Potion" and "The Ring."

I’m in the Ring outside
I’m following my belief
I’m looking at the sky
I saw God following my heart
I’m an ordinary woman

The Ring is falling down my way
The wind is blowing me away
The Ring is falling down,
down my way
The wind is blowing me away

And so I came back to
The center of the Ring
Am I just a broken angel?
God has sent me here to heal
To be an ordinary woman

Oh, and she was also crowned Prom Queen by her fellow students at Bernards High School. Surrounded by love, respect and admiration by those around her, she owned and overcame her disability, and had every intention of going on with her life just as her family had taught her.

At the age of 19, Melissa became ill, and she was diagnosed with AML -- acute myelogenous leukemia. It's not the most common of the leukemias, and it's quite uncommon to develop AML at such an age. (As a person with Down syndrome, Melissa was actually most at risk for ALL (acute lymphocytic leukemia), which is also the most common cancer in children.) AML starts in the bone marrow itself, and it grows cancer cells instead of blood cells like red and white ones. It's most common in people over 65, and pretty rare for people under 40. As you might expect, Melissa fought this too with courage and humor, but an infection ended her life at 20 years, due to the chemotherapy's suppression of her normal immune function. When she was only getting up to full speed in life, cancer took an inspirational and positive role model away from all of us.

Two words come to mind when we think of Melissa: love and luck. When you sit down to talk with Melissa's father, Steve, and you get to hear the stories of the people she met and the effect she continues to have on people's lives, you can clearly see how lucky he and the rest of the world feels to have had Melissa in their lives. It's easy to also see the injustice of her life ending so early. But we also heard something else in his stories: Melissa was very lucky, too. She had a family that loved her and supported her in every goal, and gave her opportunities to grow and develop fully into a young woman with poise and confidence. They appreciated her for who she was, and not what her diagnosis was. As a result, the rest of the world got to see Melissa as a person as well. And just like her family, the rest of the world loved Melissa. She is the epitome of the golden rule: you get what you give, and Melissa gave love.

So on July 18th, Melissa will be one of our Honored Teammates. We'll be thinking of her many accomplishments, the amazing life she lived, and the inspiration and legacy she left behind. And we'll remember the cruelty of leukemia, and why what we're doing -- and what you're supporting -- is so important.

Love is everything
Love is all around
Love is a potion
Love is passion
Love is devotion
Love is fusion
Love holds deeply inside
Love does not tear apart
Love is a potion
Love is passion
Love never fails
Love’s emotion

Love is everything
Love is all around
Love is not hopeless
Love is passion
Love will not stop
Love is an ocean


Click here to listen to "The Ring" and "Love is a Potion"

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