Tuesday the 24th will likely remain one of the most awesome and memorable days of my life. Weeks before, prior to embarking on our trip to Europe, I took a pregnancy test. I hadn't expected the outcome: after all, my husband and I had only recently decided to try to become parents, and these things take time. Still, I had been looking forward to indulging in wine in Paris, and wouldn't have felt comfortable doing so unless I knew for sure that I wasn't sharing it with someone else.

To my surprise, disbelief, and utter elation, the test was positive. No wine was needed in Europe: I was intoxicated by the idea of becoming a mom. Of all things I've ever said I wanted to be when I grew up (actress, astrophysicist, and brain surgeon to name a few), none ever captivated my mind so wholly as the ambition of having children. I've known since my own childhood what a blessing and a miracle it would be, and now it seems I will be achieving this dream.

Still, I was nervous. The first trimester is a scary and tumultuous time, and one finds herself more frightened of the pregnancy than excited simply because what can happen in those early weeks. It was with this apprehension that I approached my ultrasound appointment on Tuesday: my heart pounded in my throat, I grew awkwardly silent in the waiting room, and I nearly wept with nervousness.

Then Kelly, our tech, rolled the transducer across my belly, and my tears turned to that of a different variety: the purest joy of seeing the baby's strong and rapid heartbeat in his/her tiny abdomen. Tears rolled from my eyes as I saw our child for the very first time. The ultrasound is such an incredible bit of technology: it lifts the veil of the world of the greatest miracle in life. (which is to say, life itself.) The baby "Mini-Mott" as she/he is affectionately named for the time being, is so small: only 1.25 centimeters. And yet, in terms of how the baby makes me feel, seems infinitely larger. The happiness that stems from love: the love that my husband and I have that will now be extended towards our child, is a happiness so profound as to evade description.

As for how this ties into fitness? (After all, that is what this blog is for) Well, I obviously won't be stepping onto the stage in the immediate future. But that's not to say I haven't been keenly aware of how important the lifestyle is for my situation. Not that I've been perfect: FAR from it. Peanut butter and Jelly waffle sandwich anyone? How about dipping into a bag of powdered sugar with an enormous spoon? The latter I didn't do, although I briefly considered it, but suffice it to say I didn't expect the cravings to get the better of me. I'm used to cravings, having been in the fitness arena for some many years. I've googled pictures of brownies until my eyes hurt and my keyboard is sticky with drool. What I didn't expect, however, is that contest-prep cravings have NOTHING on pregnancy cravings. In the early weeks, I ate some embarrassing things. Now, however, I've managed to remind myself that it's more than just me I'm harming with unhealthy substances. I've cleaned up the diet: have reintroduced lots of colorful fruits and vegetables and lean proteins to help both Mini-Mott and myself move forward on the track to good fitness and health. I am lifting (lighter, sadly, but those are the rules!) four times a week, and still swim, run, and cycle frequently. I'm training functionally to prepare my body for what I hope will be a natural, unmedicated birth. The exercise not only lifts my energy levels (which frankly have been abysmal) but swings my mood away from the nearly homicidal rage a pregnant woman can experience on a daily basis. (EX: HOW DARE YOU NOT USE YOUR TURN SIGNAL! YOU ARE A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING!!!!) 

Yes, it's in the world's best interest that I continue staying active.

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A couple of days I ago I was fortunate enough to have received a potent lesson in the importance of applying visualization to goal attainment. The previous night had been a rough one: I remained stagnant in my prep towards the stage and I was in a funk over the issue. After all, working diligently on a daily basis for numerous hours should be able to provide some kind of physical reward, right? For a moment I felt like I was prepping without purpose, and so I went to bed feeling disgruntled.

It carried over through the next morning, when my alarm sounded for cardio at 4:30. I smacked my palm down onto the snooze button, my face still contorted into my pillow. It's not worth it, I thought to myself. All of this early morning cardio has been for naught. And so I pulled the covers to my chin, closed my eyes, and prepared for another hour of sleep.

A few minutes went by when my eyes opened again. I groaned, sighed, rolled my eyes, put on my compression tights, laced up my shoes, and hit the streets for some of the best sprint intervals I have ever done. What happened? As I had been lying in bed, images of my fellow competitors swam behind my eyelids. What were they doing this very moment? I asked myself. I knew the answer as I'd asked it: in my mind I saw women on stepmills and treadmills, sweating away as they sought the same goal as me. I thought back to old competitions, the way I looked and how good I felt about myself. Simply visualizing had turned morning cardio from having been given-up on, to one of the best I'd ever had.

Still, my day of temptation was far from over. I had been craving sweets for a few days, and when my coworkers and I began a conversation about ice cream, I was floored by the sudden "need" of a peanut butter cup perfection from Coldstone. I LOVE chocolate and peanut butter: the richer and sweeter the better, so Coldstone is right up my alley with this particular sundae. After talking about it for some time, I had inadvertently convinced myself that I was overdue for a cheat meal, and found myself walking down the street to the Coldstone that sits a block away from my lab.

At the corner, I literally stopped short as the rational figure competitor within me began shouting, impossible to be ignored by even the most breath-taking of cravings:
"This is NOT worth it! Think about it just for a moment! You are going to be so angry at yourself if you do this!" As I stood there motionless in Fremont, I did think about it. I thought of how I wouldn't even enjoy it due to thinking of how it was side-stepping me from my goals. I thought of how derailed I would feel afterward, to the point of not even wanting to go to the gym. I thought of how I would feel to know that my willpower wasn't as strong as ice cream. And with all of this in mind, I spun on my heels and went back to work.

That discipline must have been physically exhausting, because that evening when I was at the gym with my husband for a back and biceps workout, I felt unfathomably tired. I felt as though my body was moving through water and I remarked to Andrew that this workout "Clearly won't be seeing any personal records."

Lo and behold, literally every exercise I did in that workout was in fact, a personal record! Before each set, I envisioned myself on stage, grinning ear-to-ear. I thought of the excitement of peak week, and the self-worth attained from being able to say that you gave it your absolute all to get to that point. I visualized every repetition as being independent from the last, and before even touching the iron, visualized myself lifting the weight that I had never before attempted.

At the end of the workout, after PRs made on pulldowns, several types of rows, preacher curls and pullups, my husband suggested that we finish the workout with cable curls. Still high on endorphins from what we'd done so far, I tentatively put the weight on 70lbs to see if I could. Twelve reps flew by flawlessly, and so I increased the weight to 80 on the next set.

Finally, my husband set the pin at 90 pounds. "Are you going to do it?" He asked.

"Yes" I said, undoubtedly.

And I did! And all because I took the time to visualize my goals, myself, my abilities, and my desires. As physique athletes, we strive to strengthen our bodies. If we do it correctly it is not our biceps, our lats or pecs, but our mind that becomes the most strengthened muscle of all. Only until that point can the rest of ourselves reach optimum potential as well.

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I dread going to new doctors. It's the same thing every time: I'm handed a stack of paperwork that a normal person is fully able to complete within five minutes, whereas I'm sttill scribbling when I'm in a hospital gown and lying flat on my back on the exam table 20 minutes later. The "List previous surgeries and hospitalizations in the space provided" box is a laughable two inches long, which not even the most microscopc of penmanship could utilize to sufficiently summarize my 300 page medical file. I have had 11 surgeries, 14 hospital admissions, and 37 emergency room visits since fall of 2006. Don't even get me started on MRIs, CT scans and x-rays. That one I can't count: it has to be well over 100.

There's the first inconvenience of seeing a new doctor. The second is the well-meaning expression of pity over how young I am with such an extensive health history. Trust me, I know it's not fair! But I never know quite how to respond to that statement. "Thank you" surely isn't appropriate. "I know" sounds self-pitying, and "Oh it's not that bad" somehow detracts from the challenges you've faced. Today my answer was easier to form: "Yes, but it's gotten a lot better since this past spring."

The third thing that I do not look forward to is having to defend my bodybuilding/figure lifestyle. Eyebrows instantly raise, lips purse in disapproval, and more often than not the first question following this admission is whether or not I take steroids. When I affirm that I am a natural competitor, the strict diet and rigorous training regiment are scoffed, and deemed as an obsession. "There are worse things with which to be obsessed" is my standard rebuttle.

Today, however, was a different story. Today I became a patient of a local perinatal clinic. Perinatalogy is a speciality reserved for women who have (or will have in my case) complicated and high-risk pregnancies. My greatest ambition in life is to have children. That has been a dream since I was a child myself, and one that now looms in the not-too-distant future. People have been asking me for several years now why I don't have children yet, an odd question to be asked, but one I don't mind answering. I wanted to enjoy time with just Andy and I. We wanted to travel, and do things that aren't necessarily easy to do as parents. Above all, we agreed that my former condition did not allow for a good environment to raise children in and decided that six months of stability in regards to my health was needed before thinking of starting a family.

We are reaching six months, and so my doctor reffered me to this perinatal clinic for "pre-conception counseling", as there are many aspects of my perinatal care that will differ from a "normal" woman, some of which begin now before pregnancy.

The doctor glanced at me thoughtfully after a while, and said "You know, looking at your history before meeting you, I was fully planning on walking in here and strongly suggesting that you consider surragacy. If I couldn't see the scars on your abdomen, I'd think I'd accidently grabbed the wrong file. You are vastly different from the picture that your stack of paperwork paints of you."

I smiled, and then told her about figure competition. She was intrigued, and pressed for details. After describing my regiment, she nodded. "Well....keep doing it. It's working miracles. Obviously you'll have to lighten the intensity when you do conceive, but strong bodies often result in strong babies, so keep up the good work!" In mere months after being in such awful shape, my blood work, blood pressure, and general health aside from my GI tract and blood disorder are absolutely textbook-perfect! Hearing that, I began to feel the familiar corneal sting of threatening tears. I am so grateful to have made such an expected turn-around. My GI issues will always be present in my life, but they are not the focus of it anymore, and for that I remain humbled and deeply thankful.

And as for competing?! To all those who have ever opposed my so-called "crazy" lifestyle, consider this: it's doctor's orders! It was proof of what I've said over the years: competition is so much more than a show for me: it's a way to stay in good health. And now it's not solely a selfish endeavor, but will provide lifelong benefits to my future children. How could I not be committed to this lifestyle now that I know what a gift it is to so many? To know that my prize is so much more than a trophy? So my future children will remain there for the time being: in the future. I have a competition to prep for!

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I believe that there are two questions that, so long as one remains a competitor, will always be asked by intrigued 'outsiders'. They are innoncent enough, but often tire the competitor simply because he or she doesn't know where to begin in regards to a proper response.

"How do you do it?"
"Why do you do it?"

As I've become more settled in my routine throughout the past two weeks, I've found myself trying to formulate a coherent answer to both: a feat that proves to be consistently difficult despite my efforts. The difficulty lies within the fact that the answer is quite multifaceted: a large number of variables are involved in motivating an individual to compete, and even more involved in having that individual compete successfully. I can only speak from my own experience, but since that's what I have to draw in, I'll do so and tackle the enigma of a bodybuilder's drive.

Why do I do it?
I've made mention of my illness and how competing alleviates my symptoms dozens of times, but for all intents and purposes for this particular blog post, let's ignore the fact that I'm different than any other competitor out there. Like many, I had an unfavorable body composition despite endless hours of cardio and frequent strict dieting. (My first try at the slimfast diet was at a startling 12 years old, and this trend unfortunately continued well into my college years.) I was frustrated to the point of tears when my husband bought me a copy of Oxygen Magazine and -gently- suggested that I incorporate weight training into my fitness regiment. Reluctantly, I did so and almost immediately fell in love with the feeling that lifting weights imparted on me both physically and emotionally. Andy said that he thought I'd be a good figure competitor and that I should give it a shot. I initially disregarded the notion, but being extremely incentive-driven and competitive, the lure was too much to ignore and began my journey into figure competition in early 2006 when I first relocated to Seattle from upstate New York.
Mere weeks passed before I could feel and see the results of my work. I'd spent years logging hours on cardio equipment to absolutely no avail, but before I reached my one-month anniversary of living in Seattle I already looked like a different person. The popular addage "Nothing tastes as good as fit feels" had always been an overused eye-roll inducing cliche, but never before could I feel the hard truth of those words. I knew that bodybuilding/figure competition had become my lifestyle instead of another quick fix to my low self-esteem. Liking who I was for possibly the first time in my life was an amazing sensation.


How do you do it?"

The short answer is an intense amount of hard work and discipline. As for a slightly longer and more methodical approach? The following are a few (but certainly not all) of the rules that need to be followed in order to compete.

1.) Diet. The amount of people that believe they can eat anything they want and just exercise to make up for it is staggering. You can't out-train bad eating habits. Why waste a chunk of your life on an elliptical machine when you can set down the french fries and replace them with sweet potatoes? It's all about lean protein, complex carbohydrates and healthy fats. Think that healthy eating is bland and boring? Think again! It just takes a little creativity but you can easily find a meal that tastes even better than fast food and doesn't leave you wallowing in a trans-fat laden greasy puddle of self-loathing.

2.) Hydration. I personally put hydration above all else in terms of priorities. Most people are chronically dehydrated and that leads to constant lethargy and overeating. Mistaking thirst for hunger is a very common occurence and is an easy way to pack on the pounds. Furthermore, the mitochondria in our cells (responsible for supplying the cell with energy) are composed very largely of water. Guess what happens when your tiny little metabolic powerhouses shrivel from lack of water? If you guessed a plummet in energy-levels and fat-burning ability, you are absolutely correct. Don't skimp on the water and don't wait until you're parched to drink it. My swim coach always told us "If you're thirtsty, it's too late: you're already dehydrated."

3.) Weight training. This probably goes without saying for wanna-be competitors. But for everyone else just looking to up the ante in their fitness routine, weight lifting is insanely effective and incredibly good for you. Not only does it rev your metabolism for hours after your workout, it builds fat-burning muscle, and is even shown to increase bone density.  And for HEAVEN'S SAKE to the women out there: you will not get bulky by lifting weights. It pains me deeply every time i hear this, and I hear it constantly. Look at me, for example. I've been purposely doing everything in my power for five years to add muscle bulk to my frame, and I'm not "bulky". Well....let me amend that. My "other" body is not bulky. The bulk I'm carrying now is a result of a two months long offseason carb and fat binge.....not from barbells.

4.) Cardio. Though the word itself may illicit groans from the bodybuilding crowd, not one of us can take the stage without it. It adds to the caloric defecit that causes fat loss, increases the metabolism, and strengthens the cardiovascular system. The problem that I increasingly see in frustrated in gym-goers, however, is that they do the same thing day in and day out and then can't understand why they've crashed head-first into a plateau. Your body is an incredibly efficient machine, and adapts to a set routine in an absurdly small amount of time. Change it up. Hit the stairs, the bleachers, the treadmill. Do three different types of cardio in one session, do intervals (varying sprinting and resting.) Above all, find something you enjoy. You're all the more likely to stick with it that way.

5.) Drive. You truly have to want it. Everyone has triggers that ignite passion. Come up with a list of things that motivate you to stick to your plan. Mine? If I'm having a sluggish day or am fighting with a nasty craving, there is one thing that always brings me back to where I want to be: flashing back to the day I took the stage for the very first time at the 2008 Ironman. I'll never forget the excitement as I woke up that morning, knowing full well as I filled out my muscles with a well-deserved snickers bar that I had given 110% to be where I was that day. I can't help but smile as I remember the way my heart began to pound as I strapped on my suit in the dressing room, or the pride I felt as a reporter flashed her camera in my face as I did pushups and shoulder raises backstage. (That picture was in the paper the following morning!) Lastly, I'll never forget the elation that washed over me as I took my place in my height class. Happy tears pooled in my eyes as I crossed the stage and when you look at the pictures from that day almost three years ago, it's obvious that grin wasn't being faked for the judges. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, and I can't wait to feel that again.

In fact, maybe I should have saved everyone the time and have that as my answer to both of those questions. How I felt that day is both why and how I am a figure competitor. Everyone should know that happiness.


77 days until I get to feel that again!

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One of my first blog posts on this site dealt with fear and how I hated allowing it to determine my actions in life. At the time I was referring to the fear I was experiencing during a gymnastics lesson. I was proud of that particular post: I thought it carried a meaningful message and I hoped that it might serve as a source of inspiration to somebody. This morning as I was recovering from an intense lifting session, I scrolled absentmindedly through my own posts, chronicling my own journey over this last tumultuous year.

I got stuck on that post for a while as it struck me with the knowledge that I've dismissed my own advice and have let fear take over. I didn't notice it for a long time, convinced that my lack of motivation for competition prep came from a combination of being burnt out and wanting to "live my life" without measuring every calorie and sacrificing friday nights with friends in an effort to get that extra session of cardio in. One week I'd consider "retiring" from the sport, and then the following week being in the gym was all I could focus on. The "on-again-off-again" mindset was becoming extremely tiring, and I told myself if my head wasn't 100% in the game then I shouldn't do it. As we all know, you have to have the passion to make it through prep. If passion isn't present, success can never be.

But my passion seemed to always be in my heart even though my actions didn't convey it. I still felt just as excited and satisfied after a gym session in which I gave it my all. I still felt that inner glow that comes from good nutrition, hydration, and dedication to training. I was making progress every day so I simply couldn't understand why that wasn't enough to propel me forward.

It was. What was holding me back had nothing to do with lack of passion but everything to do with fear. Because the past five competitions I've prepped for did not result with me stepping on stage. Surgery stopped four of those, and getting hit by a car back in April stopped me from stepping on stage today at the Washington State Championships in Auburn. I've been unknowingly sabotaging myself because on some level, I thought I'd never again be able to make it through a season. Those unspeakably horrific words "I can't" plagued my subconsious until I believed in them.

That's why, as I previously posted, I've been reluctant to share my plans for competition. I was scared to admit it and thought the moment I did, something bad would happen. But I promised back in high school to not let fear get the better of me. And I know I CAN do it, because I've done it before.

So......deep breath......

I'm prepping for the Iron Mountain Classic and the Northwest Championships this fall. Now please don't let an anvil fall from the sky onto my unsuspecting head.......

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Sometimes when large lengths of time pass without my attempting to blog, it's a sign that I'm feeling unwell. For the most part though, it generally means the exact opposite: I'm out and about, too busy catching up with my own life to have time to write about it. More than four months have passed since my G-tube was removed, nearly four have passed since being hit by a car, and a breathtaking record of five and a half months has passed since I was last admitted to the hospital! Today I looked at the large mark on my abdomen: a memory of the tube that dangled from that spot earlier this year, and I realized that I scarcely remember what it felt like having it there. I really had very little idea of just how rough shape I was in until now, having finally gotten back to being "back in shape." My weights are back to a level I haven't since since 2009 before my illness reached its peak. I'm still working to get to that point for cardio, but I'm enjoying the challenge, as this time I'm logging less hours on the treadmill and many more engaging in cardio activities I sincerely enjoy: trail running, cycling, soccer, and swimming.

Because of the recent health issues, my prep has evolved into something that's much more grand than just getting ready for a show. I'm no longer depending on a keto diet to get super-lean, as I believe it never properly fueled my body to meet my ever-present demands. This time, it's about nutrition. it's about giving myself what my body needs to remain healthy and strong in all aspects so that I never have to put my life on hold as I did in last year and part of this one. Can I say I'll never be sick again? Of course not. But I can say that I'll do everything in my power to prevent it.And that includes eating for fuel and not as much for fun, although my diet hasn't been completely deprived of that either. I've been genuinely enjoying experimenting with my food options now that my impaired GI tract can tolerate -to some extent- heavier foods like cooked vegetables and chicken breasts. Who ever thought I'd be ecstatic about eating chicken and broccoli?!

It sure as heck beats injecting Isopure down a feeding tube!

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For many weeks now my husband has been asking "Have you written a blog lately?" To which I invariably replied "It's almost done."

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Fitness and figure have been somewhat distant in my mind as I completed a tiresome and, frankly, irritating week. To be perfectly honest, I was somewhat sad about watching the Emerald Cup this year, wishing so fervently that I could be one of the many dazzling competitors taking the stage. After so confidently promising a return to the stage by summer, that idea was (possibly) struck down -literally- by an irresponsible jerk in a blue neon who failed to stop after hitting me in a crosswalk. Though I am extraordinarily lucky to have escaped with minor injuries, I was not left totally unscathed. I had massive bruising on my legs, arms, back and pelvis: a black eye, an allegedly sprained wrist, and a sprained ankle with a small hairline fracture. Though this blog isn't about the accident, it serves as a reference for my hesitation to attend the competition. But many of my Save Fitness teammates were representing us on stage and I wanted to see them. In addition, Elaine is a friend and someone to whom I owe a lot of gratitude. She has supported me unconditionally through my streak of unbelievably bad luck, including a heartfelt visit to the hospital when I was at my absolute worst. Though it in no way returns the favor, attending the show was the very least I could do in return. As I should have known, I wasn't the one doing the favor, but rather, receiving one.

My fomerly nonexistent energy levels piqued as we rounded the bend to the grandiose lodge nestled in the mountains. A beautiful venue with a gorgeous sweeping vista, Snoqualmie Casino is a regal place to hold any event, but it definitely serves as a proper backdrop for the best bodybuilding competition the NPC has to offer. Once inside, the familiar and pungent smell of protan, the blinding brillance of custom-tailored competition suits and the awe-inspiring number of sculpted physiques reminded me why being there was no chore: it recharged the battery that powers my drive to remain an athlete in this sport. I screamed myself raw as the competitors filed the stage: frontlit by emerald colored rope lights and backlit by a screen bedazzled with leopard print and emerald-hued zebra stripes. Masters figure presented first, and is always one of the most inspiring parts of any physique competition. These women, three of which were over 60 (yes you read that correctly: sixty) and could still have passed for my age, blew away the common excuse of being too old to follow your dreams. This year, the annual inspiration award was given to one such woman. At 61 years young, Nancy Waki, a cancer survivor, decided to turn her life around. You'd never have guessed at her heavyset past and health struggles and the audience was obviously deeply moved at such an awesome story.

Thus followed a dazzling array of fitness athletes, each with a unique personality that brought a great diversity to the stage with their respective routines, from Leta Gorman's ballet-like fludity to overall winner Sheri Vucick's sheer gravity-defying gymnastics, all girls reminded me why I continue to aspire to join their ranks.

Always a large show, the figure championships played host to seven classes of beautiful woman. As they filed on stage by the dozens, I looked at the panel of distinguished judges two rows before me, and was sincerely thankful that I wasn't among them. Often, as competitors, we naturally may disagree with their opinions, but none of us can deny or disrespect the absolute challenge that they are presented with with a show such as the Emerald Cup. As Elaine and co-emcee IFBB pro Alicia Marie reiterated, every one of those women that honored us with their display of gut-wrenchingly hard work, was a champion. I understand that this is difficult for some competitors to digest, having not placed in the top five (and believe me, every one of us have been or will be in that group) but it is 100% the truth. All ladies looked astonishing, and I was sitting up front so trust me: I saw each and every one of them!

Naturally, I was most interested in the 5'5 to 5'6 group: my height class, in which fellow Save Fitness team member Juliana Uluave-Gould took first and went on to take the title of Overall Figure Championship. I have to confess, I hadn't before realized that Juliana and I were the same height, and when I saw her step on stage, was suddenly grateful I wasn't competing alongside her! She looked absolutely stunning! I was sincerely proud of Save Fitness last night, even before we went on to win the team award, and I was certainly glad I was wearing my team jacket. Even off stage in a walking cast and an awfully swollen face, I was immensely proud to be affiliated with these women. And once again, I was reminded why I continuously join the team season after season. To be associated with these ladies is a huge gift: they are beautiful inside and out and have the power, even unintentionally, to direct your focus inward at your own path to self-improvement and success.

Of course, this wouldn't have been a Craigproductions show if it didn't go above and beyond with extra performances and guest stars. Title sponsor BSN graciously allowed figure star Alicia Marie to leave her post at the booth and join a radiant-looking Elaine Craig on stage for some emcee teammwork. IFBB pro bodybuilder Hidetata Yamagishi was cajaoled into removing his shirt for a muscled preview of his guest performance for the Saturday show to the delight of the audience. Fellow blogger Dave Patterson aka "Dr. Buff" and winner of 'best poser' many times over, put on a signature performance and can now add "Made Alicia Marie Participate In My Routine" to his ever-growing list of credentials. And my mind was blown away with "The Flag Man" Dominic Lacasse absolutely spitting in the face of physics with what looked like a physically impossible routine. If you have never heard of this man, do yourself a favor and look up his many videos online. You will be as amazed as the rest of the audience was. It was a spectacularly riveting performance.

All in all, I was completely impressed with the show from start to finish, and would like to thank the Craig family, and the sponsors who make the show a possibility, for putting on such an inspiring and exciting show. If any of you have never witnessed the Emerald Cup, mark your calendar for November 1st: the date that the tickets for next year's show go on sale. Do yourself a favor and get them early: you will not regret it! I cannot wait for Emerald Cup 2012. As the show will be celebrating its 30th anniversary next year, it reminds me of a fine wine: improving with time, just like our athletes!

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Blogging three times in the course of the week? I must be feeling good!

Actually, the truth is, I feel absolutely fantastic! I completely forgot what this felt like: to be free of pain, energetic, and able to fully commit to things just weeks ago I could only dream of. For those of you who don't understand what Gastroparesis and Intestinal Pseudo-Obstruction are, let me elaborate for just a second: they are just miserable, totally debilitating diseases. Imagine having the stomach flu every day with no end in sight, and you're on the right track. These diseases are unbearably painful. You learn to accept it as your 'normal' but you are always aware that you're in pain even if you don't display it outwardly. For years now even my 'good days' were spent in pain, although I may not have been forthcoming about it.  Rubbing my adbomen along a countertop, for example, would be excruciating at times. Even something as simple as walking can prove difficult: every time my foot hit the ground I could feel the pain radiating in my abdomen. It feels like appendictis at the best of times, and at the worst of times you find yourself convinced that your internal organs are bursting (which is actually a real concern believe it or not).

For the first time in longer than I can remember, I have none of this. Absolutely none! Every day is even better than the last and looking at me you would never guess what I've been through in the last year. Dare I even jinx myself by saying that, despite having four chronic illnesses, I am.......healthy! Now there's a word I never thought I'd use as a self-descriptor again!! I am the person I have missed terribly for quite some time, and I will never take one moment of this for granted. I have been walking around with a permagrin for so long I think the smile may actually be stuck there at this point. Bottom line, I am a totally different person than I was a month ago.

I returned to the gym today for an incredible back and biceps workout, having been unable to do so while the stoma in my abdomen was closing up. Despite a very long time away from the gym, my workout was stronger than it has been in over a year. As I was failing out on my fourth set of hammer curls, I began to smile, and looking over at my husband, said "This prep is going to be successful. I know it." With other competition preps, I've always retained the lingering doubt that I'd make it all of the way through. I'm not an overly optimistic idividual in general, so when I get a really 'good feeling' about something, it always ends up working out. Standing there with weights in hand, I suddenly knew I was going to make it to the stage this time. I know some people are worried that I've been placing all of my eggs in the celiac disease basket, and that I could worsen at any time, but that same 'good feeling' has me convinced otherwise.I can't explain it, but nor can I deny its potency.

Two days ago I mentioned I had a specific goal in mind, but wasn't ready to admit out loud what it was for fear it may not pan out. But (1) I'm too excited to stay quiet, and (2) I no longer have the fear that it's not going to work in my favor. So here it is: I am competing on July 23rd at the Washington State Championships in Auburn. In addition, I'm no longer prepping alone. Without a g-tube, and with my new ability to withstand "normal competition" food I have hired IFPA Pro Natural Bodybuilder Joe Franco to guide me with my diet and training.  His reputation precedes him and I'm really looking forward to seeing what the two of us can do together in helping me reach my goals. Between him, my husband, Tanji and the SF girls, I have an extensive support system that makes it impossible for me to fall through the cracks.

On January 1st I said that this was going to be "my" year. Immediately therafter, I rescinded that comment as I dealt with tremendous hardship. Now, however, it looks like I was right all along! Better late than never, right?

~Erika~

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Let me exercise my inner-nerd by quoting a famous line from Star Wars:

"Do, or do not. There is no try"

No offense to Yoda, but I couldn't disagree with this statement more. I'd even go on further to say that there is no such thing as doing without trying. Where would I be now if I didn't always try to reach for my goals, even if they seem unreachable and occasionally are? The answer? I'd be absolutely nowhere: in a melancholy cloud of dismay produced by self-destruction.

This point came up a few weeks ago when somebody asked if I get discouraged when I try to compete and have been derailed by health issues. And the answer is no: though I do get frustrated by the obstacles themselves, the 'trying' part of competition is the best part of the entire experience. It teaches strength in the midst of adversity and shows that you can do something you otherwise would have never figured out you could do. The act of trying is what separates the competitor from the one who watches wistfully from the sidelines. Think about it: how many times have you heard people say "Oh I could never do that."? Dozens, if not hundreds, right? For those of you who are competitors, could you say with 100% certainty when you decided to go for your first competition that you would make it all the way through? Likely not, at least in the very beginning. But because you tried, you did it.

Every time that I've gotten thrown off course by illness (three out of my six contest preps have not resulted in a competition) I shake it off and begin again, reminding myself of Wayne Gretzky's famous saying "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." My only option is to try again, knowing full well my illnesses may get the better of me with their unpredictable nature. It's part of having any chronic illness, and the flexibility and patience involved in accepting this is absolutely crucial to a patient's emotional wellbeing. But not trying is also NOT an option. Give up your goals, and you give up your own sense of self. I've been down that road before, and take my word for it: it is a miserable path that bears no light, no hope, and certainly no contentment. So the next time you find yourself saying "I can't" do yourself a wonderful favor and change it to "I can try." Because the next rung on that ladder is simply, "I can"

I myself, am trying once again. For those of you who support me on facebook, you know that my feeding tube was removed on Monday. What remains is a concave divet below my rib cage: a physical reminder of where I've been and where I could be if I don't continue to try: try to stay healthy, try to stay fit and live the lifestyle I advocate for so ardently. Though I am not quite ready to voice my goals for the time being (I want to give myself a little more time to recuperate before I commit out loud) the goal itself is there and I'm thrilled to be given the chance to try again. In the meantime, I am stepping back into the pool tomorrow, and competing in my second master's swim meet on April 9th. No, it's not the Emerald Cup (as much as I wish it was) it's just one more goal reached and a stepping stone on the path to success.

I'll graciously step down from my soapbox momentarily, and just leave with one final remark: Yoda had it mixed up:

"Try, or do. There is no 'do not'"

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Perspective:

It’s something that everybody talks about, yet very few people strive to maintain   I know I’m one of them. I’ve been so caught up in my own constant drama that I went down that awful destructive path of believing that I had the worst luck of anybody I had ever met. I had never felt so defeated in my entire life.

Then nothing short of a miracle occurred when a medical student caring for me in one of my recent hospital stays ran a test that showed evidence for celiac disease. I had had a blood test run in 2006 after my husband thought that might have been the reason for my unexplained abdominal issues. A negative blood test had dismissed the idea, and at that same time a cause was found in the heavily damaged motility in my stomach and intestines and the collapse of several organs. Though I brought up the issue of food intolerances and allergies again in the following years, I was told my symptomology didn’t correspond to them. What nobody, myself included, thought of, was that Gastroparesis and Pseudo-Obstruction were masking those hidden food triggers.

As I was lying in the hospital bed over two weeks ago astonished at that student’s revelation, it suddenly made so much sense I was mentally kicking myself. How had I never noticed the correlation between the amount of gluten in my diet and my GI symptoms?! How many times have I said that for some ‘unknown’ reason, competition prep made me feel good? It’s so obvious now: my ‘go-to’ diet during prep is naturally gluten and lactose-free. When the shows come to an end for the season, what’s the first thing I go to? Carbs: pancakes, brownies, cookies, pizza…..and I’m sure anyone can see the obvious common denominator here.

Two weeks later I am gluten-free and taking the express lane to recovery. Though I still have GP/CIP and will always have to monitor it carefully, I am eating solid food again, and my G-tube has sat on my belly unused. Though my doctor isn’t ready to have the tube removed quite yet, it looks now like it’s prescence in my stomach is a temporary condition.

Anybody should see how lucky I am. VERY few people with severe motility impairment will ever improve although some cases caused by eating disorders or chemotherapy have been known to resolve themselves in time. I was given an incredibly rare chance at a new start but what was my reaction? Incredible anger! I was so infuriated that I was put through an intense number of hospital stays, medicated out of my mind, put through the ringer with a g-tube and then TPN, liquid diets, medical leave from work, ect. In short, in this past year my quality of life has often been abysmal. I had completely lost hope of recovery, and could only concentrate on the fact that nobody saw fit to further test for this stuff.

Then this week, I found solace in the unlikeliest of places: I contracted what is either a nasty cold or a case of the flu. It occurred to me that even with the sinus pressure, bodyaches, chills, a terrible sore throat and a raspy cough that I still felt immensely better than what I would with a “good” day while suffering with GI complications. I had a “normal person illness” and that was it. Like everyone else, I had to drink orange juice and nyquil and get some rest: not be admitted to the hospital with an IV in the neck or foot because my peripheral veins are shot, medication that knocks me completely out, hooked up to heart monitors and supplemental oxygen, or nasogastric suction. It was this morning that I realized I kind of welcomed it in a strange way because I remembered a time in my life where a cold seemed like the most miserable condition I could possibly be in. now, however, I realize how much this isn’t the case. And so congestion and all, I am plugging in my mp3 player once more. Breakfast consisted of the familiar egg whites and coffee. No medication needed to help my stomach move it along, or to temper the constant nausea and pain associated with even taking in liquids. It's literally been years since I've felt this way, and I have to confess: I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to the point of being overly emotional.

In 2006 when this epic journey began and my husband thought I might have celiac disease. I remember looking at a list of gluten-containing foods and thinking "Oh my God, my life is over." Nearly five years later, I am looking at that same list and thinking "I'm getting my life back" and my eyes fill with unexpected tears as I realize the gravity of this little miracle of mine. It may turn out soon that I will forget the metallic taste of saline as it enters my veins. I could soon forget the sound of the alarm on my monitors, or the all-too familiar sound of nurses, patients and doctors in the middle of the night as I attempt restless sleep. I understand that I am not cured, but I am better and that's all I could ever have hoped for. And suddenly there it is: perspective. The anger dissipates now as the bruises around my IV sites fade into the past. I really am truly blessed in all aspects of my life, and it's time I made an effort to earn my good fortune. It's a beautiful day: the last day of winter. I vow to renew my outlook and my attitude as spring begins again.

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Where do I begin? I've been sitting here mindlessly staring at the computer screen trying to think of a way to condense the sheer chaos that has been my life since I last posted. I'm not sure it's possible, but here goes:

I have been in the hospital three times, one of which was a two week stay where the decision was made to put me on TPN. TPN, or Total Parenteral Nutrition, is when you 'eat' by having a permanent IV. Luckily it's organized into a backpack so you can retain mobility, but not only it is time-consuming and a major hassle, it is also risky. TPN can cause liver failure, glucose abnormalities, and central line infection that can lead to sepsis.

And because of my luck, I ended up with said infection after having the line in for a mere 11 days. Because the catheter is right above the right atrium, it was very easy for the bacteria to swiftly invade my lungs, causing pneumonia. Because sepsis is easily fatal, the PICC line was pulled and I asked to go without a replacement and to give me another chance at sustaining myself on liquids. Ultimately, it was my choice and so here I sit at my computer with my left arm free of the central line and my back free of the bag carrying IV solution. I accept the possibility of one day, maybe even one day soon, of having to go on TPN again, but when that day comes, it'll be because it is absolutely, 100%, needed for survivial. This time, though I was led to believe otherwise, the decision to go on TPN in the first place wasn't made by my gastroenterologist but rather the hospital internist. My GI is one of the top doctors in the nation that specializes in GI paralysis, and so I want that to be his call.

Where does competition fit in all of this? Right now the concentration is on my health, as I need it to be able to compete and right now I don't have a decent grasp on it. I am fighting the infection with tons of antiobiotics and my left arm is not fully mobile yet. But every day is going to improve, and I am going to get stronger. So what if I'm on a liquid diet? I happen to like liquids, and if you have imagination there is plenty of variety and includes my favorite vice: COFFEE!!!!. All in all definitely better than eating through your veins! and the last 48 hours of this experiment have been surprisingly sucessful in terms of my ability to tolerate what I ingest.

One thing is for certain: I will NEVER complain about a competition diet again! so welcome to my newest journey: a difficult one but the greatest challenge bears the greatest rewards right? and you better bet that as soon as my lungs clear, I'll be back on two feet: two feet that are running on the trails again: two feet that plant themselves as I hit the iron.

Two feet that'll carry me to a new chapter in my life.

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Seconds after posting my last blog, my phone rang. When I saw my dad's number on the caller ID, my heart sank. I knew the news I was about to receive on the other end:

My grandfather finally lost his battle with cancer.

Mentally and emotionally I was ready to fly home to New York to be with my family and to attend his services. Physically, however, was another story. As I posted several months ago, my last plane ride ended in disaster: with me passing out while the abdominal distention began to collapse my lungs. That flight began with an oxygen  mask and ended in an ambulance. Naturally, my husband and I were worried about the risks. Still, a sleepless night spent in thought made me realize I had to go. It was worth the risk to me, and unlike the previous time, I now had a G-tube with which I'd be able to vent the air in my stomach that worsens as a result of the plane's pressure changes.

Hard to believe that just earlier that night, my biggest problem had been a brownie craving.

which....I need to come clean.....I may have indulged in at my grandma's house last week.

In fact, my contest prep splattered into a brick wall the entire time I was home. I am armed with a barrage of excuses. Aside from my grandpa passing away (I am an emotional eater) I was housebound from two feet of furious snowfall  in a tiny town that isn't exactly figure-competitor friendly. But still, it all comes down to excuses. Had I tried, I'd have been able to keep it reasonable. Even small towns have eggs and cottage cheese.

Do I regret it? Yeah, I do. Not that I would ever have placed competition as my priority in the midst of this tragedy, but I regretted it because my grandfather was the strongest man alive, and the least I could have done was remain similar. Remember, competition prep is much much more than a show to me: it's  literally life-saving. And my health, along with that of my seven cousins, was of utmost importance to my Grandpa.

Still, he was also a chronic forgiver so in that light I refuse to beat myself up over it. I'm dusting the crumbs of that brownie off of my lapel, picking myself up, drying my tears, and celebrating his life by cherishing my own. and the best way to do that is to get back on track, as they say.

He'd have wanted that.

Dear Grandpa:

I cannot express my gratitude for being yours. For your shaping me into the person I have become today. Everything I love about myself is the part of me that is you. And that is the biggest gift I could ever hope to receive. And so to demonstrate my thanks, I promise to henceforth live in the image of your legacy: with sincerity, soulful appreciation of life, and a dedication to friends, family and mankind that is nothing short of heroic.

Love always,

Erika

RIP Robert C. Hansen

September 14, 1924-January 6th 2011

Decorated World Two Veteran, Beloved husband father and grandfather, Hero to all that knew him, and to those who did not

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The world is cyclical in nature: ice ages, the tides, the position of the moon in the sky: they all happen with astounding consistency. Among these wonders of the world is the "Erika Brownie craving frenzy." Those of you who may have seen my facebook status tonight will of course know that:

I really really really really really really really really really really really want a brownie

This happens roughly three or four times in a 16 week prep period. I'll go along, perfectly content with oats and egg whites as my "candy" while thinking that nothing could possibly deter me from my path of competition prep when a rogue brownie shows up in my peripheral vision and sets me off into insanity land. Any of my coworkers can attest to this cycle, as the following steps are followed religiously:

1.) VERY LOUD and dramatic mention of brownie craving
2.) Google imaging brownies
3.) Changing computer background to brownies
4.) Frequently make mention of said brownie craving to anyone who will listen
5.) Fondly reminisce of brownies from my past
6.) Make brownies
7.) make friends eat my brownies
8.) Make my friends desribe, in stunning detail, what the brownies taste like
9.) Ask frightened friend for permission to deeply sniff brownie
10.) Lather, rinse, repeat

Don't judge me! If you compete, you know you're sitting there laughing and know you've done the same exact thing.

Today while working in the lab, I suddenly screeched "OH.MY.GOD.I.WANT.CHOCOLATE" and likely scared my coworkers out of their minds. Once admitted, I couldn't get the craving out of my head. Picking up egg whites at the grocery store on my way home, I began to venture in the direction of the bakery when I inwardly screamed at myself and sharply turned in the opposite direction, nearly flattening a little old lady in the process. I was proud of myself for turning away, but it wasn't the end of my night.

You see, I have the perfect excuse: Every three weeks or so I have to take a medicine that briefly interrupts my small intestine's ability to absorb anything. Today was that particular day, and so upon arriving home, I remarked to my husband "If there was a good day to have a cheat meal, this would be it. Oh and PS I REALLY need a brownie." My husband, ever caring, reminded me that I have a feeding tube, a gastrointestinal illness, and a sport that all disqualify brownies from having a dominant presence in my life.

"Yeah  I know" I said, defeated and making egg whites while suddenly looking at my pantry not unlike a tiger eyeing unsuspecting prey. Five cans of dulce de leche sat there in their infinite beauty. Hey they're liquid, right? And I'm on a liquid diet! I could so take a spoon to that stuff.

Spoiler alert: I didn't. I ran upstairs and google imaged "Best Brownies on Earth". As one might suspect, that didn't help. At all. Not even a little. It never does, surprisingly. I might even have drooled a little on my keyboard. Now my brownie cravings are destroying electronic equipment. Lovely.

Listessly, I returned downstairs and wistfully reminded my husband of a day back in high school when his mom made what were, to my memory, the best brownies I have ever had in my life. "Do you remember how much fudge icing was on the top? And do you remember how we sat and devoured the entire pan in one sitting?"
I asked.

"That was a good day." He agreed.

It was indeed.  But in comparison, I've had many more amazing days as a clean-eater than the countless ones in prior years when I overindulged on a near-daily basis. Because therin lies yet another cycle:

Eat, guilt, shame, self-loathing, eat, repeat....

Thinking on this, I remembered why the craving was going to stay only as such. I'm healthier and happier as a competitor. Nothing, not even the best brownie on Earth, can replace that wonderful sense of physical and emotional well-being intertwined as one. As a patient with Neurogenic psuedo-obstruction, nothing grants me semblance of normalcy in my odd life as much as competition prep does. Bodybuilding has never once caused me to need a hospitalization, whereas brownies absolutely have.

I shut the pantry door, made coffee with sugar free vanilla creamer, and came up to here to blog. Craving busted. Because I am stronger than sugar.

Now, anyone want five cans of dulce de leche? Free to good home!

-Erika Mott-

Indulging in the craving.....only AFTER that tiara was on my head!

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On Wednesday I remarked happily at having reached a record month-long period without needing a hospital stay. Inevitably, I jinxed myself and encountered a bowel obstruction which unfortunately led to my passing out at a grocery store in Bellevue. The paramedics arrived and carted me across the street to Overlake Hospitial: one of the last hospitals in the greater Seattle area in which I have NOT been a patient at some point, in some capacity. That is a bingo game I didn't care to win.

I was swiftly admitted, with the expectation of being there at least through the weekend. Until, that is, the floor doctor in charge of my care walked in on me while doing pushups alongside my hospital bed. Greatly amused, we spoke of my love for fitness, and my huge ambitions for the upcoming year. With that he realized that keeping me hospitalized wasn't necessary and granted me discharge as well as clearance to participate in tomorrow's 5k. I dare say that he seemed somewhat impressed.

After announcing earlier in the week to participate in over 1,000 miles of endurance of events in 2011 to raise money for my organization, I have received a very gratifying outpouring of support, and with that, I am definitely seeing the larger purpose for having to live with such challenges.

Inspiration.

It's a word I hear commonly, especially after this week's decision to devote much of this new year to becoming an edurance athlete in the name of GP/CIP research. The gravity of this title didn't occur to me on any profound level until this week, until receving nearly 100 separate emails that each said that very thing. It's a title that I still don't believe I really deserve, but will work as hard as I can to truly earn it.

That is what 2011 is about for me: earning the title of role model, and educator. If I can become these things, then I will find solace in having these diseases. I don't necessarily believe that everything happens for a reason, but I do believe we must draw reason from that which transpires in our lives.

It is 2011 now. The fireworks are still being set off within my otherwise quiet neighborhood in Des Moines, and their echoes are resonating through my house. I sit here, both happy and hopeful, of the year to come. Yesterday, the last day of 2010, I sat in a hospital bed wondering about what my future would hold. Today, the first day of 2011, I will actively seek out that which i wish my future to entail. I rarely make New years resolutions but this year I am: I vow to live my life as meaningfully as possible. That in itself is a promise that we should all make to ourselves upon waking every single morning.

10 hours from now I will be participating in the Seattle Resolution Run and Polar Bear Plunge at Magnuson Park. One of my best friends, Amy, and I will be doing it together: exposing the tubes in our bellies during the plunge to prove to the world that 2011 is our year no matter what challenges our bodies present to us, and can be anyone else's if they so choose it to be. All it takes is hope, hard work, and a little bit of courage. Let 2011 be the year you choose to live your dreams, as it is mine, and everry year therafter will follow similarly.

(Practicing my splits in the hospital to get ready for my first fitness show)

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Oh boy!!!

Have you ever made an impulsive decision that ends up changing your life? They are the best kind, and I just made one. Standing in line to see Tron legacy at the IMAX at Seattle Center last night, I was browsing through my email on my phone to pass the time spent in line. My most recent email was from active.com: a subscription email that I recieve to keep me informed  of upcoming athletic events in the Pacific Northwest.

You see, I am of the persuasion that cardio for fitness competitions doesn't have to be long boring hours logged on the stepmill. Preparing for a fitness competition is much more rewarding when you truly appreciate all of the complex parts of the preparation. Since some of us spend two hours plus daily doing cardio, why not get it done with something you like? I, for example, love swimming, cycling, and running......all of the constituent parts of a triathlon. Therefore, I like to keep things interesting during my 16 weeks of competition prep by throwing in plenty of 5ks, half-marathons, swim meets, trail races, triathlons, ect.

Scrolling through a long list of events in the upcoming year, I came upon one that struck me immediately: an Ironman 70.3 triathlon. Anyone involved with athletics knows that participating in an Ironman triathlon is the very definition of the pinnacle of physical shape. A full Iroman has been on my bucket-list for a long while, but it is unfathomably grueling. It consists of a 2.4-mile (3.86 km) swim, a 112-mile (180.25 km) bike and a marathon (26.2 miles  42.195 km) run.
Most people won't even consider a marathon in their lifetimes, but to do one after two and a half miles of open-water swimming and 112 miles of cycling??? Yeah right!

But for some reason, half of those distances, which comprise the Ironman 70.3 series, didn't seem nearly as bad. 1.2 miles of swimming I can do in mere minutes (not bragging....I've been a swimmer for a very long time and 1.2 miles is pretty much a warmup). I can also hit 56 miles of cycling as my husband bought me a beautiful racing bike for Christmas, and I'm the type of person who has shown up for a half-marathon without training for it simply because it seemed like a pleasant way to spend a sunday morning. Again, I'm not trying to sound full of myself, but when you are getting ready for a figure, fitness, or bodybuilding show, you are endowed with a sense of being able to do anything.

However, in a very short timespan, this is where my thought process brought me:

1.) "If I can do each leg of the 70.3 independently right now, then with training I can do it all together by August"

2.) "If I can finish a 70.3 this year, I might be able to do the full Ironman NEXT year. But I've never run a marathon.......hmmm......"

3.) I'm registered for a marathon!

4.) "Oh Crap. I've never run a marathon. what do I do what do I do what do I do omg omg omg what do I do...."

5.) Do the 200 mile Seattle To Portland Classic!!!!

6.) "Wait.....how the heck does the STP prepare me for a marathon?"

7.) Sign up for every 5k, 10k, trail race, cycling race, and triathlon between now and summer.

8.) Wow. I am excited....how can I possibly make 2011 even more exciting?"

9.) Vow to do all events for G-PACT (the organization for which I serve as Editor-in-Chief) and make a goal of raising 10,000 dollars.

So there you have it folks. I am proud to say that I am now the world's first fitness competitor/marathoner/Ironman Triathlete-hopeful with a feeding tube. it is a  lot of pressure, especially after all of this being a somewhat spontaneous decision. But there is a great sense of well-being to know that in the entire world, I stand on my own in something. I rather like that.

Remind me I said that somewhere around mile 650 of all of my 2011 events.

PS On wednesday I will have made it to a record-breaking month without being hospitalized. BRING ON 2011!!!!!!

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Even the most ardent of fitness enthusiasts comes to a time when they lack the motivation to get into the gym. This is especially true of competitors fresh into their 'offseason' who may feel depleted and burnt out from the last few grueling weeks of competition prep spent in the gym and the kitchen. Excuses begin to cloud their focus, and trust me, I've had some good ones get in my way throughout 2010. Granted they were good ones, but the same reasons that kept me from the gym (ie my health) are the same ones that should have gotten me to go there in the first place.

During times like this when we are tired and bored, demotivated or impassionate, we need to "go through the motions" and not derail ourselves from our goals.  Are you dreading the thought of lifting one more barbell, or doing HIIT splits on the stepmill? Do it anyway! Suspend your thoughts: act like a machine and 'go through the motions'. Chances are once you begin to do so, your passion will reignite and you will be the better for it.

I speak from experience of course. Recovering from yet another surgical g-tube placement (my previous tube broke), I felt I had all the excuse in the world to put off working out for a while longer. What I failed to see, however, were the deleterious effects of remaining needlessly sedentary. I was morose and irritable: bored, listless, and....well let's face it: a big baby! Finally sick of wallowing in self-pity in regards to my paralyzed digestive tract, I told myself to 'go through the motions' and forced myself into a run and to not wait until the holidays were over to start looking towards competing.

And in the darkness of a December night in the torrential Seattle rain, tributaires of water running through my hair and down my cheeks, I found myself again. Not the poor young thing with a feeding tube, nor the unlucky girl that keeps ending up in the hospital, but the driven athlete that can peservere through adversity standing in the way of her path to success. Realizing how much I'd missed identifying myself in this light, my pace quickened. I began smiling, and three miles later was still going strong: dancing along to the music on my Ipod and envisioning being on the stage of the Emerald Cup. A far cry from the state I had been in only 30 minutes prior and it reminded me how beneficial a fitness lifestyle is to anyone: whether a chronically ill patient such as myself or a busy parent who thinks that he or she cannot make time for working out, the benefits of staying active penetrate every aspect of our lives. So I ask anyone lacking the motivation to get through a workout to simply 'go through the motions'. I promise that, like me, you'll be truly thankful that you did so.

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Many  people joke that they have terrible luck: that Murphy's law (that which can go wrong WILL) haunts their lives.

Then those people meet me and realize that they don't have it all that bad. I'm not saying this with a chip on my shoulder: luckily I am easygoing and take it all with a grain of humor. Laughter truly is the best medicine, and is how I've been able to deal with my illness and the challenges it presents.

Case in point: The Tuesday before Thanksgiving I noticed my G-tube had a hole near the entrance to my abdomen, and acid from my stomach was dribbling out and badly irritating my skin. My husband took me to my doctor's office, where I was informed that they would replace the tube right then and there.

Without medication.

I was given the pep talk that scared five year olds awaiting their shots are given, in the same sweet high-pitched consoling voice of a doctor about to lie to your face: "Oh it'll just hurt for a second. It feels like a bandaid being ripped off."

Unless she's been using a totally disturbing kind of bandaid, that was a blatant understatement. To those who are easily disturbed, I won't go into exactly what it felt like. Suffice it to say, I don't use that many explitives when I peel off bandaids. Especially not of the four-letter variety. When I told this to the doctor she laughed and said "Of course I was of lying. You would have punched me if I told you how much it was going to hurt."

She then replaced the standard PEG tube with something called a Mic-key button, which was supposed to be nicer because it is a small button that sits flush to the skin, and you only hook up the tube to the device when it is needed. Unfortunately, the downside to the Mic-key is that it is only held in place with a saline filled balloon instead of the more sturdy rubber bumper that  I'd had with the PEG tube.

And because I'm Murphy's Law incarnate, that balloon, unknowingly defective, deflated in my sleep, falling out and closing up the stoma and sending me straight to the hospital on Thanksgiving morning. Bonus: I got to watch the entire Macy's parade on the tv in my hospital room!

I wasn't able to have a new PEG tube placed until Tuesday, where the rain cloud that perpetually lives above my head let loose a lightning strike or two, and I stopped breathing during the procedure. I am okay now, although I may have been relieved of the burden of having too many working brain cells! It took a very strong medication to reverse the effects of the anesthesia, along with some rescue breathing with 100% oxygen, but I began breathing on my own, and the new tube was placed without further incident, although they couldn't use the same location as before so I'm back to square one with recovery.

Still in the midst of all of this, I haven't  lost sight of my fitness goals. My wonderful  husband gave me an early Christmas present: an absolutely stunning new Portofino road bike! I'm really happy to be able to accompany my husband on his long rides, but so far have been unable to do so because a mountain bike is much slower and more cumbersome than a road bike. I can't lift heavy for two more weeks, but will supplement lifting with light resistance work.

I still have my eyes set on competing in the spring, rain cloud over my head or not! Each unlucky incident I encounter only ignites my drive to not let it stand in my way.

I would like to mention that I am not going to the spring shows with the intention of winning. That has never once been the reason for my taking the stage: it is a symbol of strength and a reminder that I am stronger than my limitations. The happiness that comes with the realization of my perserverence and strength is the best trophy I could ever receive. I want to be on that stage with a feeding tube because I want more than anything to show that impossible is really just a word and not as objective as some tend to think. Remember, I was told I wasn't going to be able to compete. If I can reach my goals, then so too can anybody else! This is why I compete: not to win, but to help others do so in their own endeavors. And if I can achieve that, then maybe going through so many obstacles in my young life has a greater purpose.

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Happy Halloween Everyone! I hope you all have a festive and fun weekend, and to those who competed yesterday: congrats and enjoy some Halloween candy! (Unless you're continuing on to the Northwest Championships in which case ignore me.)

As usual, my absence from blogging stems from medical drama, and I have had no shortage of that in the recent weeks. Three weeks ago I was admitted to the hospital yet again. I have lost count at this point, but I think it's over a dozen for 2010. Since March the admissions have been for the same reason: Pseudo-Obstruction. (aka my small intestine randomly decides it's going to take a vacation from its responsibilities in my body for a while) When this happens, food ferments, and air builds up, which dilates my stomach and small intestine to dangerous proportions. This is why I require that terrible nasogastric tube: to effectively vaccuum out the gas and "stuck" contents and thus avoid a life-threatening perforation of my GI tract.

so on Tuesday night I was admitted on oxygen, because the distention was so great it began collapsing my lungs (pneumothorax). It sounds really bad, but it is actually common with abdominal distention and was immediately relieved with the nasogastric tube. The next morning, however, my doctor finally made the decision to have a PEG tube (feeding tube) placed into my stomach. Though I do use it to hydrate myself and partially feed myself, it is mostly used for decompression. That way I can manually decomress my stomach in a matter of minutes rather than four days in a hopsital with a very uncomfortable NG tube.

It's strange to have a tube jutting out from a gaping hole in your stomach, but I'm slowly growing accostomed to it's prescence. (His name is Dante, which is a humorous reference to the fact that he goes into the inferno that is my failed Digestive System.) Though it hurt much more than I had expected it to, I am almost fully recovered from the surgical placement of the tube, and am enjoying a higher quality of life with the tube there. I know it sounds terrible to most healthy people. I know that because when I too was healthy, I thought feeding tubes were relegated to end-of-life care.

But now I realize it can be used to start life again! Though it has forced me to retire from swimming, I am a multifaceted individual and take solace in the fact that I can rearrange and redefine my goals and dreams.

These now include taking the stage at Vancouver and the Emerald Cup. I am going for my first jog today, and have plunged Isopure through my tube to start providing that much needed protein to my atrophying muscles.

I had been deciding on how I can hide the appearance of the tube while on stage: if I could somehow wrap it into the straps of my suit.

Then I decided not to do anything. Because I want it to be seen. I want people to see first-hand that impossible is simply a challenge greater than most can face. Impossible is my drive. It is the venue through which I can provide inspiration to people who might not believe they can achieve their goals. Impossible challenges direct me to know myself better. Impossible defines my inner strength and ability to perservere.

Impossible is anything but. So funky looking-tube and all, I will be back on stage. Maybe I'll even bedazzle my feeding tube with swarovski crystals: who knows?! The possibilities are endless!

Note: to anyone with the morbid curiosity to what a Nasogastric placement looks like, and what my PEG tube looks like, I have a facebook photo album called Gastroparesis and Intestinal Pseudo-Obstruction awareness at: http://www.facebook.com/#!/album.php?aid=2300583&id=16102564

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