This little light of mine...

Years ago, before kids even, Jerry and I signed up for the 2004 Marine Corps. Right after we got married.  Like less than a month after we got married.  Who's brilliant idea was that?  While on a 16 mile training run that got cut short because it is too darn creepy to run the B&A trail in the dark, I remember singing the hymn 'This little light of mine' in my head and later chanting 'thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path'.  These are two scriptures that come to my mind frequently.

Recently, I happened upon this in the kitchen....

It's not the first time.

It won't be the last.

I try.

I really do.

I've posted these shenanigans before and have learned from them.

But someone is just so clever and persistent.

And who am I to dim her light.

Sacrifice

(press play first!, then come back and read)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYZIcKkxrYg

I don't make it easy.  And I don't deserve it but somehow you love me anyway.

Yes, you, Jerry Michael Bryl.

Sacrifice.

Surrendering your evenings, bearing the brunt of me not being home, my moodiness, exhaustion, and selfishness.

Surrendering any chances of golf or running or any personal time for that matter.

Behind every Ironman is either a fully supportive spouse, family, and friends or divorce and carnage.

I am lucky.

I had the full support.  And in time of doubt and throwing in the towel, the following words:

'You CAN'T quit.  Because WE are not doing this again!'

Perspective.  Tough Love.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Thank you for being there for the whole ride.  Thank you for the surprises along the way.  Thank you for 'getting it'.

Thank you for sacrificing with a smile on your face.

Thank you for ensuring that the children were not making too many sacrifices.

As much as we butt heads, I think we make a pretty good team.

And after spending ALL day Saturday chasing me around the Blackwater Refuge with this sign, you said Sunday morning:

"Maybe it's my turn for a triathlon"

As I saw the tear in your eye several times during the brunch I knew full understanding of this remarkable journey had been attained. 

It is your turn. Whatever the dream may be.

I love you.

Dear Tri Columbia,

You are AMAZING.

Disney World may be the happiest place on earth, but you make peoples dreams come true!

1991, a junior in high school, was the first time I happened to come across the coverage of the Hawaii Ironman on television.  I watched in awe and cried through most of it listening to the stories and seeing the strength of these athletes.

Then and there I decided I was going to do this!

So sure was I that I put it in stone in my senior year high school yearbook in 1992.

(ALWAYS being thin is no longer a blip on the priority screen)

I could run and swim and bike.  

But there was one big problem.

FEAR.

Of OPEN water.

 (you can read about that here)

http://brylfamily5.blogspot.com/2011/07/fear.html

Not an unusual fear for many a new triathlete but a raw feeling none the less.

I went to college, ran cross country and track, fell in love with swimming since every Thursday we had to swim a mile.  Never really got into biking but was not opposed to it.

Throughout my 20's the thoughts of triathlon continued to creep into my brain but I would quickly shelve them because of FEAR.

In my early 30's I got married and had three children once every 2 years.

Gained weight, lost weight, gained weight, lost weight, gained weight, and just kept gaining.

All three of my children were gifts, showering me with new purpose and new perspective.

My third child, my daughter Bridgie came with something extra.

A Chromosome.

Bridgie was born with Down syndrome or Trisomy 21.  

There had been no indication of this during pregnancy but this did not matter.

I took one look at her as they placed her near my head as I lay on the operating table (c-section) and I saw a beautiful baby girl with sparkly blue eyes who had Down syndrome.

As quickly as they brought her to me they whisked her away to attend to her.

I was changed in that instant.

My mind raced a mile a minute and my only real concern was how will this impact Erin and Eoin's lives.

Our physical care was great but our concern over the extra 4 inches of skin at the back of her neck (nuchal fold) was met with blank stares and a declaration that we were 'crazy' she was perfectly healthy.

And so the journey began.

A journey of a single step that required us to STAND up against FEAR and advocate for our precious daughter with the beautiful speckled eyes.  The speckles in the iris are called Brushfield spots and are a marker for Ds.

Little Bridgie had no heart or intestinal issues that can be common for newborns with Ds.  In fact, it was the day of her heart ultrasound that I knew we were in for a great ride.

As the ultrasound tech tried to place her wand on Bridgie's heart, my 10 day old baby girl wrapped her tiny foot around the cord as if to say 'get that cold thing away from me'.

In the first 6 months of her life Bridgie taught me more about perspective than any one or anything thus far.  How wrong I had been about so many things, myself, and the purpose of life.

I maintained my highest weight for these first 6 months despite my regular exercise routine.  I saw my Dr. and started a new plan of healthy eating by reading 'Eat to Live' by Dr. Joel Fuhrman.  This was the first time I paid attention to the nutrition behind what I ate.  

Simultaneously, a dear friend brought  to my attention a very short triathlon called Rec Deeds for Special Needs.  All proceeds would go to support the Special Needs recreation programs in Anne Arundel County. 

Those old dreams crept back in, only to be quickly shelved under the file FEAR.  

However, the dreams began to kick into overdrive.  I had a different world view and new purpose now.  

Why can't I swim in open water?

I signed up and so did my friend.

We began training for the .25 mile swim, 12 mile bike, and 3.1 mile run.  

About mid way through, I realized that I had been having gall bladder attacks for months.

3 months before the triathlon date I had my gall bladder out.  10 days later I was back in the water, moving ever so slowly.  3 weeks later I had resumed 'normal' training.

Now to face the demon.

My dear Rachel picked me up and drove me to Sandy Point state park and we waded ever so slowly into the water.  She dove right in, I tried a little breast stroke with my head out of the water.  We 'swam' parallel to shore with her on the outside and me closest to shore. So long as I could be next to her I was fine.

I actually kind of enjoyed it but was exhausted for the rest of the day.

The second time we went we wore wet suits and it was after a storm so the water was choppy a lot like Saturday.

Somehow I convinced myself to get in.  And I 'swam' breaststroke with my head above water again.

I faced my fear and completed my first Triathlon in October 2010.

 (you can read about that here)

http://brylfamily5.blogspot.com/2011/07/fear.htm

Ft. Smallwood Park, Pasadena, MD

From there it was on to bigger and better things.

Iron Girl 2011

Skipjack 2011

Iron Girl 2012

(my dear friend joined ASA this year)

And of course the coup de gras.  A death blow to fear.

Chesapeake Man Ultra 2012

So, this has been my journey.  Of conquering fear and embracing life.

There is no finish line.

But I'll take this one any day!

Coincidentally, Today marks the beginning of Down syndrome awareness month.

31 days of advocacy, education, and acceptance.

Yesterdays brunch brought this journey full circle.  My husband sat there with tears in his eyes, listening to the multitude of stories of courage, feeling the energy in the room, and witnessing the abundant happiness.  This was the first of over 13 triathlons he has attended.  Ever supportive, I don't think he truly 'understood' until yesterday.  Even commenting, maybe it's my turn to do a triathlon.  

Tri Columbia YOU are a class ACT.  I chose to finish this journey with you.  From the announcer, to the venue, to the volunteers, to the unidentifiable feeling at all of your races that if you falter someone will be there to pick you up.

An emotional weekend for sure, topped by the brilliant words spoken at the brunch.

You guys just GET IT!

For as long as I live I will hear the voice of Jeff saying 'What a strong Ultra finish by Cynthia Bryl of Crofton, MD"!

There are no guarantees

 

For almost 30 years, circa 2004, I lived with an expectant heart.

IF

If I followed the rules, if I was good, if I worked hard, if I trained hard, if I was nice, if I was thin, if I wore the right clothes.

If, Then.

The life of a perfectionist involves a lot of if, then scenarios.

If, then, expectation usually guarantees a person one thing:

Disappointment.

Expectations of yourself and others can lead down a road of anger, hurt, fear, and loneliness.

For almost 30 years I felt powerless to stop this roller coaster of unrealistic outcomes.

For almost 30 years tiny mustard seeds were being planted in my mind and heart.  

There was not an AHA! moment where I thought I GET IT!  No, there was effort.

When you set out with an expectant mind and heart in search of God you will be disappointed. 

If I followed the rules, then I should be rewarded. 

If I was nice, then I should have lots of friends.

If I studied hard, then I should get an A.

If I was thin, had the best hair, and the best clothes, then I would be happy.

The laundry list of 'IF's'  is infinite.  

I am not sure how or when I began to see the mustard seeds in my life and to feel the guiding hand of God. 

I am certain though that the alone and quiet time that running has afforded me, has been where and when I began to hear Him.

Hearing God takes effort.  Effort in the sense of quieting ourselves, opening our hearts and minds, and analyzing our behaviors.

 October 30, 2011 was the moment where I realized this truth.

There are no guarantees in this life.  We can work hard and still fail, we can love hard and still lose, we can do it all and not be happy.

October 30, 2011 was my third attempt at mastering the Marine Corps Marathon. 

http://brylfamily5.blogspot.com/2011/11/414.html

I ran in Honor of the Fallen, specifically Travis Manion and Brendan Looney.  I had pledged to Honor them by Challenging myself.  

I also pledged that this marathon would be different from my first two attempts.  This time I learned that I had to fuel myself for the race.  Fuel my body, my mind, and my spirit.  I used sports chews to fuel my body but it was the Holy Spirit that fueled my success.

Race day brought a bombardment of images of courage.  Marines taking turns carrying each other, physically carrying each other, over the course of 26.2 miles.  The word of God clothed my fellow runners with scripture verses on their backs.

The truth of my life was ever present and became my mantra for the race.

Whether the road is long or short, I can do all things through Christ who Strengthens me.

I still have expectations, goals, and dreams.  They are lofty. 

Living with a giving, grateful, and servant's heart instead of an expectant heart allows me to surpass my goals and dreams and creates new dreams and goals.

I am not perfect, I am not a superlative.  I am God's child.

Linking up with Ellen Stumbo's writing prompt:
http://www.ellenstumbo.com/a-truth-i-live-by/

Different than expected

Different than Expected

This is the second post in a writing prompt series by Ellen Stumbo
http://www.ellenstumbo.com/writing-prompt/



When we got married we knew we wanted to have kids, not necessarily RIGHT away, but we certainly were not preventing it.  We thought that it might take a while and that was okay.  When we found out we were pregnant, less than three months after we were wed, we were excited.

We did not want to know if the baby was a girl or a boy and were happy talking about both boy and girl names. We did not have great expectations, we were content to be pregnant and enjoying the journey.

We agreed that we would decide whether or not I would go back to work when the baby was here.  We both subconsciously knew that I would not got back to work, but hey we are pretty much never say never people.

I did not expect to become so SWOLLEN with my pregnancy.  Having been an avid runner I thought I would continue to run throughout pregnancy.  This did not materialize.  Weight gain, edema, back pain coupled with the desire to eat whatever I wanted did not lend themselves to a fit pregnancy.

Many women complain of cankles late in pregnancy, I had tree trunks for legs by the middle of the 8th month.  I was never diagnosed with pre-eclampsia but had I gone to term I probably would have been.

16 days before our due date I went into labor.  Labored at home over night, went to the hospital got sent home, went back in the early morning, was admitted, got an epidural, was getting comfortable with my mom in the room, Jerry had just left to go get some coffee and breakfast...

Whoosh, POP POP! went the monitor.  Simultaneously, the bed sheets were soaked.  My water had broken and my mom and I were kind of laughing about it when the monitors started beeping.  4 or 5 nurses came into the room at once, turning me from side to side, not really talking to me but to each other.  I could see the seriousness on their faces.  One of the nurses asked my mom where the father was and my mom went to go get him.  I began to understand the medical lingo and that they could not find my baby's heartbeat.  The doctor came in for an internal exam and said they would need to take the baby via c-section.  

We learned about c-sections in our birthing class and like most women I was hoping against that option.  

Flashback....

As we readied ourselves for our second trip to the hospital that September night, I grabbed the bag in the hallway by the front door as another contraction gripped my insides and randomly said "We are going to have a c-section".  There was not discussion or further explanation.  Just a statement.

Back to the birth...

As we prepped for surgery, my mom said a prayer for our baby and we were whisked away to the OR.  My whole body convulsed with shakes and my teeth were chattering, my arms were strapped to the table making my body into a cross.  The anesthesiologist became our guide.  Telling us what was taking place behind the white sheet.  As the Ob tested my numbness, she warned me to stop trying to move my legs.  Within 10 minutes our baby was free from the womb.  It's a girl!  Jerry took one look at her and said "She's Erin!"  Wrapped in warm white blankets and stocking cap I saw her blueberry eyes for the first time.  She was nothing I had expected.  She was so much more.

As fast as they brought her too me they took her away.  I still had some business to take care of, a few organs and tissues to be situated and put back in order.  Jerry left to be with Erin so I was alone in that operating room with my new BFF, the anesthesiologist.  I was no longer cold and could feel the weight of the blankets on my chest and the warmth of the morphine in my veins.

The birth of my first child.

Erin Kelly Bryl

6 1bs 6 oz, 19 inches, 12 noon, September 7, 2005.

It was not how I expected but once I held her in the recovery room, she was everything I never knew I wanted.

Just for a day...

Rainbows, Unicorns, Fairy Dust, Tea Parties

These are not words one would associate with me.

Serious, driven, passionate, brooding.

Those might be a better fit. I am not one for labels preferring instead to see myself as ever changing and evolving. At one time I might have changed this about myself, just for a day.  I even spent an almost three year period trying to change this about myself. It damn near killed me.

I don't like looking back on that period but looking back has propelled me forward to a place I can accept and embrace.  I live with a heavy heart.  I feel almost constantly. For many years I did not know what to do with these feelings, the pain, the joy of my own and other people.  For as long as I can remember I have put myself in other people's shoes if only for an instant.  Long enough to feel.  It has made me angry, disappointed, hurt, scared, desperate, raging, blinded, and overjoyed.  

Hard, harder, hardened.  I tried to be strong against these feelings, to push them away, to hide from them, to run away, to ignore.  I've medicated against them. None of which created the rainbow, unicorn, fairy dust, tea party atmosphere I thought could exist for me.

I have often viewed this trait of mine as a weakness.  Why can't I just be like everyone else? Why can't I just be happy? Why can't I find things funny? Why can't I just relax?

Just for a day?

I've literally tried to run myself into the place of Unicorns and Fairies and Rainbows and Tea Parties.

I kept running and running and seeing glimpses and willing them to appear.  Only to be exhausted.

Slowly over time I began to find God on my path.  Maybe He could help me find the Unicorns, only to discover that even Noah could not find them before he was commanded to set sail on the Ark.

I began to read God's word and learn of God's unending love for me.  I began to see and hear. Baby steps, baby steps. I addressed my fears, analyzed my faults, repented for my sins.  

God kept whispering.

Just for a day, He whispered lowest of all.  He was there as the love and light in that operating room.  He was there in the eyes of my third child.  He was there in the silence, denial, indifference, and inappropriateness of the doctor's and nurses who overlooked my child's differences, ignoring the obvious.

God spoke directly to my heart, causing me to see beauty that I never could have seen, forcing me to open my heart and believe.  Believing with an earnest fervor and peacefulness I had never experienced.  Sharing my belief openly, that IT did not matter.  Whatever IT was that no one would address, IT did not matter.

In Luke 6:10 Jesus says to the man with the withered hand "Stretch out your hand".  Jesus says this in front of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law and they are Angry.  In this simple act of acceptance and love the man's hand is restored and the men of the land are ANGRY.  Jesus showed them the power of surrendering your weaknesses to God by restoring the man's hand and the authorities were ANGRY.

How dare Jesus aide the weakest among them, the disabled man.  Did Jesus not know who THEY were?  You dare to usurp our authority? 

Power had gone to the heads of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law. Power had made them ignore, deny, be apathetic to, and often persecute those who were different, disfigured, or disabled.  Power had made them more important than everyone else.  This Power fed on itself until they were unable to see the miracle before their eyes.

True power lies in the ability to surrender our weaknesses and our hurts to God so that we may be restored. This is no easy task.

I could have been angry at the doctor's and nurses who ignored IT when Bridgie was born. I could have ranted and raged and called in superiors.  I could have planned for their demise.  I could have acted like the Pharisee's and missed the miracle.

The miracle that lay in my arms looking up at me with her sideways glance.  The miracle that would solidify my relationship with Him.  The miracle that would help me finally accept myself and see all the gifts that had been given to me from birth.  The gifts that I had almost killed myself trying to rid myself of.
The miracle of life.

No, I don't live in a world full of rainbows, unicorns, fairy dust, and tea parties.
I walk with God, finding my way by listening for his whisper, looking for his footprints, choosing His way.

I surrender my weaknesses and hurts to Him on a daily, hourly, and sometimes minute by minute basis.

I struggle.

That I might make a difference.

Just for a day.

"With great power comes great responsibility"

Peter Parker

The Plan

September 29, 2012

2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile run

Since January I have had my eye on this prize, logging anywhere from 10-14 hours a week of training.

It took me until May to actually register.

10 weeks ago I started a 20 week Ironman plan and this week is week 9, 11 to go.

Weeks 13, 12, and 11 are called theme weeks.

Week 13 was bike week.

Week 12 was swim week.

And Week 11 is supposed to be run week.

Week 12, swim week, was tough on me mentally and culminated with a duathlon on Sunday.

Run 2, bike 26, Run 4.

I blasted through the first mile in 6:48.  I planned this to see what I could do relatively comfortably.  I have not seen a six as the first number on the watch in about 8 or 9 years.  I was glad about this but quickly realized I needed to reign it back in if I wanted to make it to the Run 4 mile part.

I finished 2nd in my age group for this race which was a nice surprise.  I was not overly fast on this day and definitely think I would have kept my goal pace if I had not blown it all that first mile.

Given my history of running, one would think the run part of the theme weeks would be no problem.

Physically, I could do all of it.  Mentally, it's another story.

This week calls for:

Monday: 90 minute bike

Tuesday: 90 minute run

Wednesday: 60 laps of swimming and 30 minutes of running

Thursday: 75 minutes of running and 48 laps of swimming

Friday: 60 minute run and 120 minute bike

Saturday:  27 laps of swimming

Sunday: 2.5 hours of running

So, by itself and on paper it does not look so bad to me.  It is everything before and surrounding the bright orange workouts on my calendar that are killing me.

First of all, I needed a recovery day after the Duathlon.  No big deal just scrap the 90 minute ride for the week.

No big deal except that I am a rule follower, a plan finisher, a highly anxious person.

So, I can 'plan' to skip that 90 minute bike all I want but it will sit in the crevices of my brain and eventually add doubt to my shoulders.

Second, is the National Down Syndrome Convention on Saturday and Sunday that someone is paying for me to go to.  Cannot skip this nor do I want to.  So what to do with that 2.5 hour run.  Now, the gears are turning, the doubts are taunting, and the anxiety mounts.

Third, add in the mental and physical exhaustion from the previous two weeks.

Four, add in the plantar fasciitis that is ever present and ready to flare from a week of hard core running.

Despite all of the stumbling blocks to avoid and work around, I was ready to jump back on the wagon yesterday by knocking out the 2.5 mile run last nite.

Bridgie, however, had another idea.  At nap time Bridgie began screaming and writhing in pain.  This is not altogether alarming around here as this is the scenario each time she has a bowel movement.

This time was different.  This time she just cried and cried and eventually fell asleep on my chest.  Each time she was moved she would awaken, startled, and start crying again and sweating profusely.  Ultimately, I spent the hours of 1pm-5pm holding her on my chest as she cried intermittently, sweating most of the time.  There was no fever but gave her tylenol just in case. 

So, from 1-5pm yesterday I sat in the recliner with Bridgie, trying to keep Eoin and Erin entertained with the remote.  They could both tell Bridgie was not well and were amazingly quiet and entertained themselves with quiet play for a while and then a show for a while.  Erin made chocolate milk and got pirate booty for snack.

For 4 hours I was STILL. STILL.  I cannot remember the last time I was STILL for so long during waking hours.

For the first hour, I was a wee bit annoyed thinking of all the things I 'needed' to be doing, all the things that were not getting done.  Thinking about all the water I was not drinking in preparation for my 2.5 hour run that nite.

By hour 2 I was nodding in and out of sleep as well.  I began letting go of laundry, dinner, toys, and the run.

By hour 3 I was praying for Bridgie to be comfortable and not to have something seriously wrong with her.

By hour 4, I was counting my blessings.  Two big kids who could be quiet and play on their own and one little who seemed to be less sweaty.

Jerry got home and found us in the recliner, changed, and took over.

About 20 minutes after his arrival Bridgie began to wake and cry and the screaming and sweating started again.  Only this time...she pooped.  And she pooped again and again.

Three diaper changes later she was back to her perky self.  

A random Ds fact.  People with Ds can have low muscle tone, which has nothing to do with muscle strength. Bridgie may or may not have low muscle tone in her digestive tract. Meaning the mind to muscle connection is disorganized causing her to 'not know how' to go.  Causing her to hold it in rather than let it out.  It is very exhausting for ALL of us.  However,  it is the worst for Bridge.  We have come a long way from upwards of 30 minute sessions to less than 30 second episodes.  I attribute this to her new mobility. With her new found mobility we have more frequent movements.  Three days in a row a new record!  

Yesterday, however, was an anomaly.

ALL of this was meant for me yesterday.  I was meant to take another day off to rest and more importantly to get my priorities in order.  

Family First.

There would not be a 2.5 hour run last nite.  There would be a trip to the pool for Erin and Eoin since they had been cooped up all day.  And more mommy and Bridgie time to recover. 

Bridgie eventually drank and devoured a banana and we took a stroll around the block and played with the gumballs stored in her little car.

The rule following, plan finishing, anxiety ridden me is still simmering under the surface but has been appeased by a higher power.

As for the plan, it is still there.

But, once again, I have come to realize and appreciate that there is only one plan.

His.

There will be some skipped mileage this week and that's okay.  The big important miles will get done.  And I will spend the measly miles on the important moments here at home and at the NDSC.  

Ironman is a dream of mine.  It is not something that you just do.  It is something to experience.  The ups the downs and the in betweens.

Kind of like raising kids.  There are ups and downs and in betweens.  

Ironman tests your will, your desire, your spirit.  You learn to love what you once hated or agonized over.  You see it as a whole and yet relish in the sum of it's parts.  You can't wait for one part to be over, yet miss it when it's gone.

In college I was meticulous about my running, never skipping anything and even adding to the plan.

While this certainly kept me out of trouble and in great shape it took it's mental toll.

In my late 20's I began to learn that there was something very valuable about rest and living in the moment. I stopped following 'plans' and stopped timing everything and started listening to my body.  It was then in my late 20's that I ran some of my best times.

After Erin was born I stopped wearing a watch all together, because really why did I need to know what time it was.  I did not feed on a schedule or make sure she was down for her nap at a specific time.  For once, I followed someone else's lead, hers.

So now I have been sucked back into the vortex of training and following a 'plan'.  Wearing a watch again and caring what it says.  And I am miserable.

The goal has been to FINISH the Ironman and my focus had been led astray.

Last year I was just happy to be out there, moving my body, strengthening my mind, and feeding my spirit.

So what has changed?

THE PLAN.

The plan has changed.

I am no longer following HIS plan, I have chosen one of man.

THE PLAN is still in my planner and I will review it each week looking for the main goals of the week.
I will no longer FOLLOW this plan.

I will listen to my body and make my own decisions and follow the only plan that matters.

HIS.

‘Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.’Isaiah 41:10