I nearly died not too long ago. I suppose if I really thought about it, that's why I am writing this. Right now it's 2:30 in the morning and I find myself sitting here with a glass of Tequila and a playlist of my favorite soundtracks. I didn't sit down to write a blog. But, as I was sitting here I felt suddenly compelled to put down some of the thoughts that have been spinning around my head for the past few weeks. I don't know what the point of this blog is exactly. My thoughts seem clearer and more defined in print though, as if making them into words that people can read makes them more real. Maybe that's what this is about. Knowing that I could just as easily have been dead right now as alive makes me realize how fleeting this life really is. I guess in some way, sharing my experiences makes me feel more permanent. As if somehow my memories could live on even if I died tomorrow. So, here goes. I don't know that what I am writing means much, but it's all I've got right now.
Before I get into who I am and all that stuff, I should probably explain what brought me to this. Like I said, I nearly died not too long ago. It's funny how abruptly your life can change. One minute you are riding your bike down the road, the next minute you are flying through a car window. It all happened so fast that all I can remember was a flash of white out of the corner of my eye, and then pain - the most intense pain I have ever felt in my life. As an elite cyclist (I was training for my first big spring race) I've experienced my share of pain. You learn to embrace it. You push yourself constantly to the edge, till you almost want to pass out from the effort. You learn to push yourself harder than any normal human would, to see where the boundaries of what your body can handle are. In the moment of that crash, I found my limits. Even at a relatively modest speed, the human body is not designed to slam into a solid object. I was lucky actually. There was a window on the side of the van that broke away when I hit it and lessened the force of my impact. If there had been no window, I would probably be dead. As it was I was catapulted through the glass and ended up inside. In the process I destroyed my bike, tore up my body and broke my neck.
In the moments that followed, several thoughts ran through my head. The first was, "crap, that's an end to my ride." Then as I thought a little more I realized the race I had been training for was almost certainly out of the question. Then in the next moment it dawned on me that cycling was over. I am not sure how I knew, but lying there drenched in blood on a carpet of broken glass it hit me with stark clarity that my dream of being a professional cyclist and racing the Tour de France (a dream I had pursued for 13 years) was over. Done. Smashed to bits. Broken. Whatever you want to call it. It was over.
To understand the extent of my loss you would have to understand what cycling meant to me. I first started riding at the age of 3. No training wheels mind you, so even from a young age you could say I was born to ride. Then at the age of 15 I happened to be in Paris the same day Lance Armstrong won his first Tour de France. You could call it coincidence, but there was something more to it than that. I knew that I had to come back one day for myself. That started a journey of over a decade to pursue a career in cycling. It involved moving from Seattle to San Diego and a steady climb up the ranks from Cat. 5 to Cat. 1. In the past year I felt like I had finally figured out the different elements I needed to be successful. I was training right, eating right, I was smart tactically, I was on a great team, I had an amazing bicycle, and besides which, I was doing well. The last few races I had gotten 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Not too shabby. To put it another way, I felt like I was ready to break into the next level. And then it was all taken away from me.
I wont go into details of the next 24 hours. Even if I could describe how awful it was, unless you've been through a traumatic accident like that you could never understand the pain and misery. For sure there are people who have had it a lot worse, but that doesn't diminish how terrible I felt. Eventually the immediate danger passed and I was taken out of the ICU. What's more I had only minor nerve damage in my fingers and toes. I wasn't paralyzed. And I wasn't dead. So now what?
The truth is, I came within inches of being either dead or paralyzed. So I should have been intensely grateful to be alive. And I was. I am. But I was also left dealing with the physical, financial, mental, and emotional fall out. My body would heal. Eventually I suppose the financial aspects will be wrapped up. But that still leaves me with the fact that my dream is dead. I spent all my time and energy focused solely on moving forward as an athlete. The goal was the Tour de France. Now it was gone. How to reconcile that?
As I've said there's been a lot kicking around my head these past weeks. I've tried desperately to keep a positive outlook. No downward spiral for me. I've done my best to accept the help that has come pouring in from family and friends with gratitude. I don't want to feel sorry for myself because of what I've lost. The truth is, no one really gets it - except maybe my wife. No one except her could know just how much time, money and effort I've poured into this. My mom has tried to help over the years, but either because I stubbornly kept her at arms length or whatever, she doesn't really get it either. It's okay. That's life. We all have our own path and only someone else in a similar circumstance could possibly know what it feels like to walk this one that I am on.
So where to now? I promised myself that I wouldn't sit and stare at the door that has closed in front of me. It doesn't change anything. And besides I might miss the windows open all around me. So that's what I've been doing. As soon as I got home from the hospital I immediately began work on a book I had always thought about writing one day. I threw myself into coaching three of my friends in cycling. I couldn't just let go of cycling like that. Besides, there's all that knowledge I acquired over years. No sense letting all that go to waste. Besides all that, here was a perfect opportunity to spend time with my family and friends.
I can tell you that in moments of crisis you know exactly where everyone stands in relation to your life. It's pretty clear who gives a shit and who does not. There weren't too many surprises. Although I can honestly say that one of my friends completely blew me away by how amazing they were. I mean, I expected my family to be there for me, but for a friend to get time off work and fly two states away to be there for me unconditionally like that was ... well I can't describe it. I will never ever think of them the same way. Besides that, my family was of course amazing. They dropped what they were doing in a moments notice and were there by my side immediately. That says something. Especially considering how far I live from most of them.
Through this whole process, my wife has been amazing. If you ever read this honey, I hope you know how grateful I am for everything you are and everything that you've done. I try and tell you every day, but it doesn't seem enough somehow. I love you. My daughters have been thankfully ignorant of this whole ordeal. My oldest is 5 and she gets that something isn't quite right, but hopefully it wont have impacted her negatively. My youngest isn't even a year old yet. All I can say is I am grateful that I get to see all three of my girls each day. I can't imagine what it would have been like if I had never come home that day. I don't even want to think about it.
Life goes on. My body is feeling better. I will probably deal with this accident on some level for the rest of my life, but I don't want to complain. In truth I feel more alive than I ever have. I just want to live, and live and live. I never want to go to sleep. I just want to spend as much time being alive. It's more than just being awake though. I remember this movie quote that went, "My father says that almost the whole world is asleep. Everybody you know. Everybody you see. Everybody you talk to. He says that only a few people are awake and they live in a state of constant total amazement." If that is the case, then I want to be awake.
Right now it's pushing 4:00 in the morning and yet I don't feel tired. I know I will want to go to bed eventually. I will be exhausted in the morning, but it feels good right now to get this off my mind. They say your life flashes before your eyes when you come close to dying. Well, I didn't even have a moment to think about anything before I slammed into that van. But in the weeks since I've thought a lot about my life. I certainly want more. I am not talking about money (although that would be nice) or things either. No, I just want to be fully and truly awake so I can live this life to its fullest. I want to live up to my potential. And perhaps one day I'll even get back to the Tour de France. Maybe not to race it myself, but perhaps I can help others who will. I am not dead and perhaps neither is my dream - it's just been changed. But then who really knows.
The title of this entry and the name of the blog both share the beliefs that I have come to in the past few weeks. The title of this entry is about being fully awake to the world around me and the possibility that it holds. The blog name is Latin for Always Forward. A bit stuffy perhaps, but the English title had already been taken. And anyway, Latin gives things an air of permanence. So here we go. I am wide awake and moving forward. This post is the first in many I hope to share. I am alive and grateful for it. Now, on to new things. Semper Porro right?
C.J. Itaya
