Facing Our Mortality

The last few weeks has been a time of reflecting on the risks we take in the name of living life to the fullest.

I didn't plan it that way.

Rather, it's come about as a result of a number of events that have really focused my mind on how lucky we are to be able to do what we do.

First of all has been the emergence of articles in the media lately about evidence coming to light regarding possible cardiac risks from taking part in endurance events (Over 40? Rethink your next triathlon, Endurance Training is Bad for Your Heart, One Running Shoe in the Grave).  Scientists are coming to the conclusion that the amount of training endurance athletes do can result in micro tears occurring in the heart which, if not allowed to heal properly (with adequate rest and recovery), can result in scarring and thickening of the heart tissue and lead to an elevated risk of cardiac arrest.

Then this morning we woke up to the sad news that 34 year old UK woman Susan Taylor had died while attempting to swim across the English Channel. Even more tragic, she was less than 2km from the finish.  This is similar to another issue that's raised its ugly head in triathlon recently with concerns about the numbers of athletes suffering cardiac arrest in the swim leg of triathlons. While the rates are exceptionally low, it's been enough for WTC to trial wave or rolling swim starts of ironman events in North America in order to, amongst other things, "...reduce athlete anxiety".

But this reflection hasn't been only about the heart.  Yesterday, a question came from a work colleague: Do you feel safe out there riding (...on Sydney's roads amongst Sydney's sometimes maniac traffic)?  Well, yes I do.  The simple fact of the matter is I wouldn't be out there if I didn't feel safe and, on the whole, drivers treat me with the respect that my relative size and exposure dictates.

Rather than quit swimming, ironman or biking, these examples simply reinforce for me that you can't let risk stop you from living life.  There is risk in everything we do.  While some take the risk-taking to an extreme (e.g. BASE jumping, skydiving, free climbing) for most of us the risk is really not much greater than crossing the road or driving to the supermarket.

And, with apologies to event organisers in advance (!) if I were to choose, I'd much rather have a heart attack out on an ironman course, doing something I love, than living out my life surrounded in cotton wool in fear of doing anything a little bit "risky".

When I think about those risks, though, I don't take it for granted.

A comment on Facebook this morning struck a cord and aligns so well with my thinking.  It was in response to a post by Triathlete magazine about a Caroline Steffen story (the 2013 Challenge Roth champ says she is two different people on and off the race course. Can you relate?), and the first response was: 

I sure can. When the race is going well, maybe a PR, I'm focused, nothing affects me. When I'm having a tough day, I joke around, laugh and think how grateful I am to be able to race/compete.

And being grateful is something I try to remember.

I am healthy and that allows me to be fit enough to complete an ironman event (well 5, actually, as Coach Dave reminded me last night...).
I am supported by an amazing husband who allows me to indulge in this passion.
I have a wicked coach who understands who I am and where I want to go, and shares my love of the sport.
I have fantastic parents and friends who, near or far, cheer me along the way and indulge my endless training updates.
I have a great job that gives us the financial security to afford to travel to events and buy the "essential" gear.

What's not to be grateful for?

So as long as I'm able I'll be out there enjoying life and making the most of my ability to live it to the fullest.  We don't have to be the strongest, fastest or most agile, and in fact the cardiac research seems to favour we slower athletes - the pro/elites are the guys likely to do the most damage.  (A "win" for we middle/back of the packers for once!) But that doesn't stop anyone from getting out there and doing whatever it is that brings you joy, happiness and, most importantly, a smile to your face.

Because in the end there will always be an end.  And for some, like Susan Taylor, it will be tragically cut short.  However I do sincerely hope her friends and family can take some shred of comfort from all that she did achieve with her Channel swim, knowing she was fulfilling a dream and had lived her life to the fullest.

Kia kaha.



P.S.  Susan Taylor's swim across the English Channel was being completed in aid of two charities, Diabetes UK and Rainbows Hospice for Children and Young People.  If you would like to contribute to her cause you can do so via her fundraising page.