I tend to be one to ignore awkward or embarrassing
situations. Over the years, I’ve become an expert at acting as if I have zoned
out or simply have not recognized that an extremely uncomfortable event has
just occurred. Before long, people go back about their business. It’s quite a
useful skill. Unfortunately, now my
secret is out of the bag.
Sometimes, though, no matter how carefully I’ve cultivated
this “awkwardness avoidance” tactic, embarrassment just gravitates toward me,
and it is painfully unavoidable. I’ve debated sharing my most horrifying moment
in my almost 25 years of life – all over the blogger sphere. But I decided to
take one for the team.
For those who know me well, you know this story just by
simply reading the title of my blog. Ironic enough, I am detailing this
happenstance from a coffee shop close by the location of this event.
Here goes nothing.
It was Spring Break. I was a junior or senior in high
school, and I was in one of my favorite places on earth. Tucson, Arizona. It
was a brisk, sunny morning and my Nana and I decided to go to her women’s club
to exercise. As a high school athlete, I was all in for that. When we arrived,
it was evident that I was by far, the youngest one there. I hopped on a
treadmill beside Nana and began to jog. Now before I go any further, I must
issue a disclaimer. I grew up with a treadmill that required you to run to make
the tread move… None of this automatic craziness. That fact alone should have
caused me to think twice before becoming overconfident on this self-propelling
machine.
Well, it didn’t take long for disaster to ensue. Nana was walking and reading beside me. As I
always do, I was listening to music to keep me going during my workout.
Everything that happened next is a blur. Nana said something or asked me to
look at something in her magazine, and without a second thought, I took my eyes
off the view in front of me and turned my head. BIG mistake. My equilibrium
isn’t the best, so I quickly lost my balance and began to fly off the back of
the treadmill. Thankfully, my ninja-like reflexes allowed me to catch myself
just before I flew completely off the back and into the wall of mirrors behind
me. Yes. A wall of mirrors was behind me. Which meant the whole occupancy of the women’s workout club just saw this athletic
teen about breathe her last. “Death by treadmill”… what a lame way to go.
I happened to grab the rail but my shin had already struck
the tread and blood was everywhere (sorry for those with weak stomachs). As you
can imagine any grandmother’s reaction, Nana wanted me to immediately stop and
tend to the tennis ball size gash in my leg. I was almost at the mile-mark,
however, and refused to stop. So I finished my run and limped to the locker
room. I could hardly walk for the following week. I will forever have the scar
on my shin. You can still see where the black pieces of tread had been embedded
into my leg from the blow of my little tumble.
It made for a good
story at the lunch table after Spring Break that year.
Some still tease me. If I had a dollar for every time a
friend has sent me a YouTube video of someone flying off a treadmill, I would
be well-off. I’ve never been a runner, but I am definitely not a fan of
treadmills now. I vowed to myself that I would stay away from those dangerous
machines from that point on.
The past year and a half of my life, however, has required
me to face my rational fear and climb onto a treadmill many times. In September
of 2013, I began experiencing odd symptoms that I still struggle to describe. Those
with POTS, a disorder of the autonomic nervous system (ANS), understand my
inability to put the unique sensations into words. I began to have moments of
great fatigue, like I had hit a wall. I couldn’t stand up without my heart
racing. I knew I wasn’t in the best shape, but I wasn’t that out of shape. I began to have moments where I could not focus
on what was being said to me. I was in graduate school and spent much time
doodling in class because I became unable to look at my professor and retain
what he said simultaneously. I blacked-out often, and there was no pattern to
any of it. After 7 months and 3 trips to Cleveland Clinic, I was finally
diagnosed with POTS, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. Looking back on
all those crazy moments I felt and experienced, it all makes sense now. My
blood pressure had often crashed dangerously low… something like 70/40. Chaos
in my body followed as a result.
As a result of this diagnosis, I have been on a journey for
the past year to strengthen my heart and retrain my autonomic nervous system.
The ANS is in charge of controlling all involuntary processes of the body such
as breathing, circulation, heartbeat, etc. There is nothing wrong with my heart
anatomically, but the “brain” of my heart has forgotten how to work properly. Henceforth,
I’ve spent much time with cardiac exercise to remind it how to function as it
should, once more.
I am thankful to say
that a year and a half later, my heart is much stronger and my symptoms have greatly
lessened. I am now in the maintenance phase, and as long as I continue to keep
my heart strong, POTS is mostly manageable.
I have now graduated to the elliptical for workouts, but I
had to get through the “treadmill phase” to get there. The cardiac
rehabilitation unit at Parkview Regional Medical Center became a familiar place
for me for about 6 months in 2014. Because my BP could get dangerously low, I
needed to be monitored as I began to strengthen my heart.
This meant that I spent 3 and eventually 4 and 5 days a week
in a hospital unit where 65 years of age was the average for a patient. I was
by far the youngest one on the whole unit. I had a few ask if I was in the
wrong unit (even after seeing me around for a month) and was asked numerous
times if I had experienced a heart attack. It wasn’t exactly what I had planned
for my 24th year of life. That was definitely an experience I never
would’ve guessed would be a part of my story.
I also struggle with my blood sugar and because of this, I
drank a lunchroom-esque container of OJ before I began each workout. It seemed
to make all the difference. After weeks of treadmill work while watching the
Samaritan helicopters land on the neighboring roof, I had a moment of epiphany.
As I was briskly walking (seemingly up a mountain with the crazy incline), I
couldn’t help but remember my first dreadful treadmill experience.
And it hit me.
It wasn’t as if I lacked the coordination to maintain
exercise on a treadmill. That’s not why I about flew off to my death. It was
because I took my eyes off my target in front of me. I had lost sight of my
goal. I became overconfident. I would’ve been just dandy had I not shifted my
gaze.
I paid for those few brief moments of looking away.
But isn’t that how it goes? It doesn’t take long for our
lack of focus to cause us to fall hard. We get so comfortable in our walk (or
run) that we let down our guards.
We become “treadmill
pros” in our own hearts and minds.
When in reality, we are no such experts. It is our focus and
intentionality in our walk with Christ, friendships, families, and any
aspirations and goals we may have, that get us anywhere.
Good intentions do
not come close to replacing hard work, sacrifice, and perseverance.
Intent
may be good, but it doesn’t do the legwork for us. Good intent can be dangerous
if it tricks us into believing we have done all we can to strive for excellence
in life.
Because at the end of the day, simply looking at a treadmill
doesn’t magically put miles of sweat into it.
Philippians 3:12-14 ESV states,
“Not that I have already obtained this or am already
perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me His
own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I
do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I
press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ
Jesus.”
That passage is jam-packed with active pursuit, focus, and
determination. Paul states that he will “press on” to receive the blessing that
comes when one “shares His [Christ’s] sufferings, becoming like Him [Christ] in
His death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the
dead” [v. 10].
Paul also makes up his mind that he will forget what lies in
the past and will strain toward what’s ahead of him. “Straining” implies that
adversity is present. Whether internally or externally, and more often than
not—both—as followers of Christ, we must push forward through the blood, sweat,
and tears to win the Ultimate Prize—Christ Himself.
If you have yet to encounter adversity in this life, spoiler
alert… it’s coming. We are not called to a life of ease. We are called to push
through countless hardships and heartbreaks to see the face of Jesus. To do our
absolute best to ensure that others see the face of Jesus as a result of coming
into contact with you and I.
Who knew a cold cup of OJ and simply keeping my gaze fixed
straight ahead—keeping my head and heart in the zone—would be the key to not
only keeping myself on the treadmill but also to keeping my dizziness at bay. I
know that in large part, I can attribute much of my success to those two
aspects of my approach.
In a world full of
pain and struggle, this Great Race cannot be won unless one is running in such
a way as to win it.
Which begs the question… Are you running to win?
