Encouragement

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I have always hated competition of any kind. I tribute this to the fact that I have never been good enough at anything to be competitive against others, at least not anything the people in my life have valued.

Dad valued sports ability when I was younger. He had been an athlete and star football player in high school and college. And mom was a homecoming queen in high school. Then when I came along, I had three strikes against me. First of all, I was a girl. And girls didn't play and excel at the important manly sports. Second, after I was born I was diagnosed with Turner syndrome (I'll call it TS), and my parents were told I would not grow very tall or be able to have children. Since an estimated 99% of conceptions with TS end in spontaneous abortion or stillbirth, I beat the odds just by being born! Third, I was a colicky baby and a source of more resentment than joy. Nobody was going to expect me to be an athlete anyway.

But at least I had no heart problems, as I found out later that heart problems are not an uncommon effect of TS. So life continued. Childhood was better. I was healthy except for frequent ear infections, tubes in my ears, having to have my adenoids taken out, and stitches in my right eyelid to create a crease because it was drooping. I remember the car rides from Kirkland and across the Evergreen Point Floating Bridge, as it was called, to Children's Hospital in Seattle with my mother. As I scowled in anticipation of getting my finger pricked, blood drawn, or other painful procedure, she would tell me to stop scowling.

When I was six, a doctor told me about the TS because they wanted to treat me with Anavar, an anabolic steroid, in hopes that it would increase my adult height. Mom would crush the pills and mix them in jam so I could take them. And I wondered how I would feel about being a short grownup and unable to have a baby. Mr. Rogers would sing on television:
It's such a good feeling to know you're alive
It's such a happy feeling/You're growing inside
And when you wake up ready to say
I think I'll grow 12 inches today
It's such a good feeling, A very good feeling
The feeling you know you're alive.

I adored Mr. Rogers! He was so gentle and always made me feel good about myself. One time I asked mom how 12 inches was and if I would grow 12 inches today like the song. She told me I might grow that much, but it would take a long time. I was pretty okay with that at the time and with just being a kid.

I was the first of my siblings to get a real bike on the Christmas. I was six and I was very happy about that and quickly learned to ride it. But by the time my brother Brad got a bike (he was one year and two months younger), he was making ramps with his friends to see how far they could go in the air and doing pop-a-wheelies and fancy things I couldn't do. Plus his bike was bigger and faster. My sister Kellie was a year younger than Brad. When we and some neighbor kids played cops and robbers on our bikes, I couldn't compete. I just wasn't fast enough. And I wasn't brave enough to do the fancy things they did. I remember writing down a list of goals, including pop-a-wheelie and when my mom saw it, she told me she saw no reason I needed to have that as a goal anyway. I felt bad about being a wimp. In high school I participated in a 30 mile bike ride with Brad, Kellie, and our church youth group. I was the slowest, of course, and was torturing myself to keep up with the next-to-slowest girl in the group. My chest hurt with every breath, my heart was racing the entire way, and my legs throbbed in protest. The next day I could barely move, although I think I slept most of the day. Needless to say, I did not become a competitive cyclist.

The three of us kids also took swimming lessons on several occasions. I think mom tried to coordinate these between times I had tubes in my ears. But other times when we were around water and swimming I had to stay above the water and be careful not to get it in my ears. So I never took to swimming much. I could swim, but never had much endurance in the water. And when I wanted to stand, I always had to go to shallower water, or if I was in a pool, cling to the edge. Then my big toes would get rubbed raw from the rough surface on the side of the pool. One time at a pool when we lived in Spokane I got up the nerve to jump off the high dive. It was a hot summer day, the pool was extremely crowded, and there was no backing down from the long ladder once I started up it. Looking down in sheer terror, I approached the edge of the diving board. I could not believe how small the pool looked from there! I called to the lifeguard saying I didn't want to jump, irritating everyone on the ladder behind me. She told me I had to and I thought I was going to die! I took a deep breath and jumped straight down feet first fearing that I would never stop sinking into the water and then fearing I would never surface. Let's just say I have never jumped off of a high dive since.

Brad excelled in athletics when he was young and won dad's approval. He was competitive and successful at winning. Kellie and I would have to go to his ice hockey games with dad and/or mom since we were around eight and ten years old. Mostly I remember being bored and cold there. Also, in the winters in Spokane, the pond at Cannon Hill Park near our home would freeze and make a nice ice rink. Brad played ice hockey with the neighbor boys there and Kellie and I learned to skate. I would practice turns and skating backwards, but never really got the hang of doing anything fancy. Plus I didnÕt like taking the risk of falling. The ice rink at the pavilion in Riverfront Park was open to the public on weekends in the winter. I got to skate there many times with friends and always had a great time, except the time I fell on my hip bone. Ouch! I have always loved watching figure skaters and admired them. One time my mother told a hairstylist to give me a Dorothy Hamill cut. I thought it was pretty cool because I liked Dorothy Hamill, but being eleven or twelve I was resentful of her telling the hairstylist what to do with my hair. And I loved the movie "Ice Castles" and the theme song. Even though I enjoyed skating, I would never be a competitive speed skater or figure skater.

In the seventh grade, it was confirmed that I would never compete in track or soccer. In Physical Education class, we had to run laps on the track field and jump hurdles. We were timed and I was one of the slowest, of course. And because of my short legs, I was afraid of jumping the hurdles, even the lowest ones. I kept thinking of how painful it would be if my legs didn't clear a hurdle and I landed on it! Ouch! So I got permission from the coach to run beside the hurdles and pretend. It was kind of humiliating, but I just chalked it up to another thing I would never be competitive at. We also played soccer in PE. I was okay at soccer with strategy and handling the ball, but too slow. No matter how hard I pushed myself I would never be fast enough. At the time, I told myself I didn't care, and that sports weren't important anyway.

When I was in junior high and high school, my mother taught aerobics dance classes. I enjoyed working out with her when she was developing the routines for her classes. Several times, I had opportunities to work out with her classes also. Doing aerobics dance, I felt no pressure to be competitive and I eagerly participated. Sometimes I got tired of the same routine and songs, such as Manhattan Transfer's "Boy from New York City", and The Oak Ridge Boys' "Elvira". But especially, I enjoyed the feeling of well-being I had at the end of the workout. Still, at times I worked a little too hard, past the point of it being beneficial, and my heart would race and my chest would hurt when I breathed. Then I would have to slow down. I enjoyed it so much I took some aerobics dance classes in college on my own. But I knew I didn’t have the stamina, energy, or extroverted personality I would need to lead a class.

My brother was the athlete, of course. Dad was always proud of him and encouraging of him. He played little league and soccer. And in high school he did some wrestling and played basketball. But his forte was football. He beat his arch-rival John Black for the quarterback position his senior year. I was always in the band, whether it was marching band, concert band, or pep band. I played the flute from the fifth grade on and enjoyed it. It gave me a way to participate in junior high and high school life and some of my best friends were in the school bands. But the bands were always uncool and unpopular. In high school, many of the students in band were labeled "Stonies" and did drugs. I never did drugs, but somehow fit in to an extent. When Brad was on the varsity football team my senior year, his junior year, I played in the band and half-shows while he played on the field. Such were Friday nights at Joe Albi Stadium.

Brad was popular because of his athletic ability, his friendliness, and his good looks. Kellie also was very popular in school and seemed to make friends so easily. Social skills were always a struggle for me and I was a very late bloomer in that way. Although I had a small core group of friends, I was never popular.

Since I would never be able to compete in sports, I decided I wanted to become a musician, specifically a concert pianist. I dreamed of playing beautiful pieces that would inspire massive applause and accolades. After school, Then I would plunk away on the piano after school on sad songs such as Janis Ian's "At Seventeen" and sing the lyrics: "To those of us who know the pain of valentines that never came,/And those whose names were never called when choosing sides for basketball." Yeah, right, girls basketball. And although I plunked away at the piano and played in school bands, I never accomplished much musically.

Even so, I wasn't completely a couch potato. That would not have been allowed. There were PE classes of course, and I especially enjoyed lifting weights in the weight room for some reason. Being able to lift increasing amounts of weight was a boost to my self-confidence. And I have since enjoyed several opportunities to work out with weights and machines. But again it was only a personal thing, not competitive. I did not want to be a body builder.

I walked home from school most of the time, a mile up a steep hill. I liked to take walks and did a lot of walking. And I tried running. I tried to train myself one time to run two miles around Cannon Hill Park so that I would be in shape for a backpacking trip I wanted to go on with some friends. On the Fourth of July I complained to my dad about being tired and achy or something and he told me to go run. That was the best thing he could have told me to do. As I ran around the neighborhood that evening, people were out in their yards grilling or eating dinner, or just enjoying the warm evening, maybe getting ready for fireworks later. The people waved and called out encouraging comments. And I think I actually made it two miles!

One benefit of having learned to ice skate I enjoyed years later was the time my ex-husband Greg, his daughter Tiffany and I decided to go during public skating at the ice rink in Kent. Tiffany was fifteen, and she and I were just getting to know each other since she had moved in with me and Greg. Neither she nor Greg knew how to skate, and I had not skated for many years. Once I slid out onto the ice I realized I did not know if I would make it the first time around the rink! It was much more difficult than I thought it would be and there was no handrail on the side most of the way around. But I made it and after a few laps it got easier. Greg kept trying to skate fast and kept falling on his butt. He also tried to help Tiffany, but kept making her fall too. So she asked me to help her. I was afraid because she was quite a bit larger than me, and I didn't know if I was steady enough on skates to help her. We took a few laps hand in hand, very slowly at first and gradually picking up speed. And we did not fall once! Soon she was off skating on her own. She loved it and wanted to have a skating party for her next birthday! I was happy for this small victory and opportunity to begin to bond with my new step-daughter. This was to me of more value than competitive skating ability. Amazingly, we are friends to this day.

When Greg and I separated in February 2012 and then divorced in June 2012, I was worn out physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I moved in with my sister, nephew and niece and didn't want to do anything. I was suffering from depression, which I have struggled with off and on for a good portion of my life. In addition, I was facing fear and anxiety. Then I found out I had also been struggling with ADD all of my life. I had applied for Social Security Disability because I was not well enough to rejoin the workforce. I needed everything: a home, medication, income, medical insurance, etc... . Those past months my life was about recovery of all of these things. I started exercising on my elliptical machine 20 minutes a day, and for some reason that helped me to focus my prayers. It helped give me more energy and keep from gaining more weight also. Then I started walking my sister's dog Emma every day down Grand Avenue Park overlooking the Everett waterfront in addition. I enjoyed walking the dog, the park, the panoramic view, and greeting the passersby. Then I had to sell my car for money, so I had to walk and take the bus for everything I had to do. I had never walked so much in my life! I forced myself to do the things I needed to do and get where I needed to go, walking when necessary, even when I couldn't help crying. The exercise helped me not only physically, but in every way; emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Finally, I received my disability disbursement and was able to buy a car and do more things I needed to do. I was able to get medical checkups, get my hearing checked, get an appointment for a dental cleaning, and get new glasses. Slowly, and step by painful step, I am getting a little better.

A few weeks ago I stopped at Subway for lunch. On a table was a small stack of flyers propped up on a stand. The front one showed a photo of an athletic looking woman with several medals hanging around her neck and the word “TRIUMPH” in capital letters across the top. I picked it up and saw that it was an announcement for walking or running various marathons or half marathons for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Immediately I thought of mom, who has been living with Chronic Myeloid Leukemia since September of 2010 and is being treated with effective medications to control it. My first thought was that this would be a great thing to do for her. My second thought was “How can I even walk a half marathon, let alone run?” When I was younger, people talked about walking or running the annual 7.46 mile Bloomsday run in Spokane. I thought at the time it would take me forever to walk that far and there was no way I could run that far. My third thought challenged this: “Why not?” I knew a marathon was about 26 miles, and so a half marathon would be about 13 miles. Then I figured if I walked the entire way, it could take less than 4 ½ hours. Surely I could at least walk for that long, and if I did the training required I would probably be able to run at least a good portion of it.

I went to the information meeting the next Saturday and met many people there, including my new mentor, Karen, and signed up Nike Women's Half Marathon to be held in Washington DC. I got a t-shirt at the meeting, bought some proper clothing and gear, and started walking that week. The first training meeting was the following Saturday at a sporting goods store in West Seattle. Karen was there and ran with me. “Yes, ran! We took off down the planned route through the residential neighborhood and I ran with her the entire 50 minutes! She is trained for running marathons and had to slow down for me, but during our conversation as we ran, we became friends. That day, I knew I could do this. It does not matter that I will never be a competitive runner. I realize how important it is to do what I can, and to focus on what I can do for others.

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