Getting it done

In one way or another aren’t we all dying? Some are just heading towards their demise at a faster rate of knots than others. Most of us don’t even know. The road you have crossed every day to get to the office holds with it the risk of a driver on a mobile phone not seeing you there tomorrow as you step off the curb. The shock diagnosis of a routine skin check leading to a stage 4 melanoma and three months later you are no more. The unsuspecting traveler who settled into their flight from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur in July last year that ended up being a statistic when the plane was shot down from the sky over Ukraine. The teenager who walked through the city late one night and didn’t see the punch coming from behind.

As horribly morbid as it sounds, I have a slight inkling that I may not have as much time as most others. Does this potentially change what I see as priority in my life? Yes I think it does. I seem to go against the grain of what is expected. No husband, no boyfriend, no desire for children. I am not a home owner and I work in a job that suits my needs for flexible hours and leave that is relatively low stress. I have minimal savings and when I do I very quickly blow it on personal travel or a destination race. Do I have plans to change my way of life? Not in the slightest. I am already booked for another trip with another in the back of my mind as soon as I have the funds.

Christmas Eve was exactly 12 months since I stepped out of St Andrew’s hospital after my 4^th neck resection. Did I think that was the end of it? Actually no I didn’t. I knew of the suspicious mass in my mediastinum that hadn’t been addressed and the ‘thing’ beside my trachea that wasn’t found during my last operation but I was happy living in sweet ignorance that perhaps they weren’t cancer too. Unfortunately in May 2015 it was confirmed that the mediastinal mass was in fact cancer.  

But you know what? Living with cancer hasn’t been all that bad. As I reflect on a year that has seen me completely avoid a hospital admission, surgery and any form of treatment I feel that it has been a success. Don’t get me wrong, this has probably been the most mentally draining year since I was diagnosed in mid-2013. The year started with a quick return to training. Then only 3 months after my 4^th neck operation I raced Coffs Harbour Triathlon to (slowly!) run away with the win. I then went on to place 3^rd at Noumea International Triathlon and then 2^nd at Fraser Coast Tri. To then learn that the needle biopsy they took from my chest in May confirmed that I still have cancer. That I threw what strength and drive I had left into training for what I thought might potentially be my last race. I managed to pull out a performance and a victory at the Yeppoon Triathlon that I am so very proud of given what was happening behind the scenes. Under the tough exterior and fairly respectable results there was a fair bit of darkness. The raging anger I had inside me for months after learning that I still had cancer after everything that I had already been through. The foul resentment I had for patients that were healthy coming to see me so I could fix them. The empty feeling of loss for the things that I thought that I would do that I hadn’t yet got around to. How I would come to know a new me after a surgery that would change my lively hood, take away my sport, change my voice and leave me with more scars, insecurities and an even more distorted body image. The lack of direction I felt that my life had. But then came another turn of events. I was given somewhat surprising information from my oncologist that perhaps I should just ‘wait and see’ what the cancer does rather than rush full force into an incredibly invasive, debilitating surgery that would bring with it a number of long term complications. This meant I got to head off on my South American highlight of 2015 with a little weight off my shoulders and had a trip of a life time. From mountain biking down Death Road in Bolivia, exploring the Bolivian jungle and taking some silly snaps on the Salt Flats. Trekking for 4 days on the Inca Trail to finish up at Machu Picchu and flying over the Nazcar Lines in Peru. Going to the Galapagos Islands where I got to scuba dive with hammerheads, sharks and sting rays and then go snorkelling with turtles and sea lions and seeing the incredible giant tortoise. This trip has reignited my love of travel, exploring and doing things out of my comfort zone.

Death Road MTB, Bolivia

Salt Flats, Bolivia

Machu Picchu, Peru

Hammerheads, Galapagos Islands

Giant Tortiose, Galapagos Islands

Sea Lions, Galapagos Islands

Me, Kristen and Sarah on a Wine Tour, Chile

Once I had returned home and accidentally 10 months later (whoops! It shouldn’t have been that long between check-ups!) I went back for another round of scans and tests. PET scan: my cancer is still NOT PET avid. This is great news meaning that it is not acting in an aggressive manner. CT scan: no change in the size of the two masses since the last scan in April. Thyroglobulin level: 14 and stable. So the outcome was to continue to wait and see.

“Are you okay with that Rachael?”

I am over the moon. Can live with this? Yes I can live with cancer. I feel fine, pretty bloody good actually. Absolutely elated that I get a second chance to do the things that I was already grieving for and I’m jumping into them ASAP. So the big news is that for the past 8 weeks I have ramped up the training so I can tick that Ironman box in February at Challenge Wanaka. Preparation has been going fairly well, only marred by a mild hamstring niggle which I have decided is not worth the risk of racing my prep race Hell of the West. This is unfortunate but I really want to run across the finish line on the 20^th of February.

I am currently working 4 days a week at the clinic which is full on but it means that I was finally able to move into an apartment on my own like a big girl. This has been timely given the Ironman preparation. Seriously, I don’t know how anyone does it with a partner and kids. I have come to realise that unless you have completed an Ironman or are training for one you will never understand the commitment and sacrifice that is involved in doing it. I don't want to go to Wanaka just to roll around and make up the numbers. This will likely be my only Ironman so I want to give it a proper crack this time around. In saying that I also respect that this is the first time I will compete at this distance and that I will learn things about myself I never knew in four weeks time. I have no expectations as to a time or a placing in this event but I want to know that when I'm on the start line that I have done everything possible in preparation given my current situation. 

I am training 25 hours/ week, work four days/ week and can barely function outside of these two commitments. The training is long and time consuming. I am constantly fatigued and feel like I’m always in a sleep deficit. I have kept my social schedule vacant as I can’t hold conversation after 7pm. I have only had 4 drinks so far this year and that for me is tough! Still, I absolutely love the fact that I can go out and train even if it is zapping the rest of the life out of me. I don’t think I will be signing up for another one that’s for sure! So with just under four weeks to go I will soon be winding the training back and looking forward to my first trip to the South Island of New Zealand. I plan to go sky diving, canyoning and to the Amisfeild winery in the days following my race. 

I have some other plans lined up for the year but it looks likely that this will be my final year in the sport. I now miss my friends, my life and my family too much and have an ever growing list of things I want to do that are unrelated to triathlon. But for now it’s four weeks of lock down, wrapping myself in cotton wool with the big plan to give it to myself 100% on February 20^th.

Rachie xox