This is the second part to My Epic Adventure. The first part is posted in the articles section of my website. I figured I would just post this next instalment as a blog.......
The flight across the Pacific was for the most part very enjoyable. I had an entire row almost all to myself where I could stretch out and get a good sleep in. But I wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet. I had a ton of nervous energy so I thought I would start writing in the journal that my friend Wadley had given me. He is a very creative character and is always drawing things or making really cartoonish cards for people. Wadley had also given me a set of pens that I would assume were with the intention that I would be as creative. So I gave it a try and found myself reflecting on how I got to where I currently was. It was quiet interesting to look back because if you had asked me a year ago if I would be on a plane to go train for triathlon in New Zealand I would have told you that you were nuts!
In fact, when I first started triathlon for fun I encountered a HUGE number of injuries. I think part of that was because I did have the running background but I didn’t understand that I would have to build back up to it slowly. I developed two stress fractures straight away. One in the foot and one in the shin. After those buggers healed I went for a run and caught my foot in the loop of my shoe and went down in mid air (COMEDY) fracturing two ribs. I couldn’t believe it!! I was 5 min from my house and was just going on an easy jog. I laid there in the middle of the street with the wind knocked out of me for a good 10 min. Broken ribs are one of the most annoying fractures you can get. Nothing you can do for them and they hurt ALL the time. But luckily I heal fast and they were under control in no time.
I figured I was out of the woods with injury. I mean, how much dumb luck (I don’t really believe in luck) can one person have? All these injuries were postponing my debut at the ½ Ironman distance. I was frustrated because I really wanted to do one. The next race that I could get into was the Vineman ½ Ironman. So of course I signed up with the belief that everything would go smoothly now that I was free of broken bones. Hillary was excited and put me on a pretty intense (intense for the then) plan. Things were rolling along and I was getting better with my longer rides. She had me down for a 3 hour ride every Wednesday. Since I had a flexible schedule with my work ( I was a massage therapist at the time) I always did that ride in the middle of the day.
It was the Wednesday before Memorial Day Weekend and I had gotten up and started to get ready for my ride. I usually rode from my house on Olympic out to the Pacific Palisades and back. It was a nice ride and at the time one of the only routes I knew. For some reason I felt very unmotivated that day. I kept putting the ride off until later and had the hardest time finally getting out of the house. When I did I had all these strange feelings that made me want to turn around and go home. I think we do have some intuition in us, but at the time I just thought I was being soft.
It was pretty congested for a Wednesday afternoon. As I rolled down Venice Blvd a car parked on the street swung it’s door open and almost took me out. I freaked out and couldn’t believe at how close I came to just being tagged. This didn’t help the mood I was in. I stopped the bike for a second and thought “just go home and call it a day.” But then I remembered that I actually wanted to get good at triathlon so I go back on the bike and continued rolling. I made it all the way to the beach with no interruptions. Things were starting to get better but I still had this “feeling” that I can’t quite explain.
I took the bike path until it dumps you out in Manhattan Beach. Once there you take roads all the way to the turn around. I had about another 15 miles until that point and was now on some small surface streets. The sun was out, the ocean looked crisp and clear and I had started to feel like I wanted to ride!
Then it happened. Another parked car without any warning flung its door open and I went flying into the door. I had about a split second of time to react and I do recall trying to crash the bike on it’s side. Luckily I didn’t go through his window but my right hand went into the door so hard that when I got up you could see the hand was shattered. It was completely limp and the metatarsal of the middle finger was close to ripping my skin.
I was in a world of pain. I couldn’t believe how quickly my thoughts started to race. Not only was I in shock that this happened and that Vineman would most likely be off but I was also able to understand that my job as a massage therapist was now over. I tried to remain as calm as possible. It wasn’t easy when the guy that opened his door started yelling at me! Of course being the hot blooded Italian that I am I yelled right back. It was as if he opened the flood gates of my emotions.
While we were in our screaming match I had gotten on the phone to 911. I knew I needed some help and was giving the dispatcher the details in between my rants of “You fucking asshole have you ever heard of a side mirror!” Anyway, as I am on the phone with 911 he gets in his car. “Where the fuck do you think you are going!?” I said. He looked at me and just said “It’s not my problem you ran into my door.” I hung up with 911 because I was going to need my other hand to kick this guys ass.
He starts his car and begins to maneuver out of the parking space. My bike is still in the street. My phone has been thrown to the curb and now there are a few people gathering around. One woman had called the cops and was yelling at me because us “stupid bikers” are always causing trouble. She basically got a big “Fuck off” from me. I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want this guy to get away and now my phone was too far away to take a picture of his plate. So what would any irrational person do? I jumped in front of his car. He started revving the engine and inching forward. “What are you gonna do? Run me over?” I told him that he wasn’t going anywhere and then I took off my shoe and told him that if he doesn’t put the car in park and get out that I was going to beat his hood with my shoe. I had speed plays at the time and the metal would have been pretty damaging. You obviously get the idea that I was extremely pissed at this point.
He did get out of the car and the cops and the paramedics came. Did the fire department really need to bring the big truck with the ladder? How embracing! I gave my report to the cop and then got taken off to the hospital where they confirmed all the fractures in the hand. Here is the ironic part. Before I started working as a massage therapist full time I was working in a rehab clinic that only dealt with hand trauma. The head therapist there, as much as she drove me crazy, was the best in town. I knew I would be in good hands. No pun intended.
The point of this tangent is two parts. The first is that I truly believe that I could sense something was going to happen to me that day. The second point hasn’t really been described yet. It is that this incident is part of the reason I was on that plane to New Zealand. The guy that opened his door on me was 100% negligent and my friend Geo that had pushed me to do triathlon in the first place just happened to be a kick ass lawyer.
The broken hand forced me to take a new direction. It also gave me some funds allowing me to take that new direction. I don’t think I would have stopped doing massage to go attempt what I was about to do. For one thing, it was really comfortable. I made plenty of money, had a great schedule and was becoming set in my ways. It would have been hard to give that up with out a little universal intervention.
Universal intervention is exactly what I think happened. On the inside I wanted to go do something like this but on the outside I didn’t really see how I could. Breaking my hand proved to be the best way. Go figure. It was a long road to recovery as I had to have it reconstructed and after that I had to regain use of it. I am very fortunate that I am able to do the things I can today. Seeing many cases in the hand center I knew that full function may never be a reality.
Hillary couldn’t believe what happened. We were so bummed but I thought “We still have some time for Vineman” I had my surgery and ignored many of the doctors orders. I was on my bike trainer with a bag of ice on the bandages trying to keep my fitness. Once out of the bandages I was running on a treadmill holding my hand above my head. Anytime the hand went below my heart it would throb and start to burn pretty bad. But honestly I think that the exercise I was doing was in fact helping the healing process. I was creating high amounts of blood flow while keeping it elevated to reduce swelling. People at the gym thought I was nuts….but everyone in LA is nuts.
Several weeks later it was time to get the bandages and cast off. I was so excited to get my hand back again. I knew from working in the hand center that once bone was fixed by plates and screws you were pretty much good to go and would not damage it. What I forgot was that all the other stuff in the hand probably wouldn’t work.
Geo came to the doctor with me for the unveiling of the hand. I remember sitting there excited to see how it looked. The hand surgeon was not just the top hand surgeon in LA but was also a very prominent plastic surgeon so I figured it would at least “look” good.
He slowly unwound the bandages. Once completely off, the hand looked so skinny and pale. It was just resting there and he made some comments about how good it looked. He then asked me to move my fingers. This is when the freak out occurred! I can’t really explain it, but I felt like my mind had no control over my hand. I had no ability to move anything. As hard as I tried nothing worked. Of course I had seen things like this in the hand center but to me it felt like it was never going to come back.
He put me in a smaller splint type cast and told me to take the hand out every so often and try to move it. The nerves were just damaged and it would take some time to retrain the fingers. Of Course after some time went by the fingers did start to come back. But the real problem now was that the scar tissue was building up in a rapid manor and I couldn’t close the hand at all.
My friend Lana, who many of you now know as the murder victim of Phil Spector, had broken her hands in a bad accident and lost all mobility of her wrist. As hard as she tried the scar tissue was too dense and she was forever left with “Kung Foo” hands. She was never upset about it though and always made jokes by going “HIIIII YAAAAH!” Man I miss her…..
Anyway, I thought that my hand would do the same thing so I went into my old work everyday and had one of the therapists wrap that hand down to the point of tears and dip it in the hot wax. Those were some painful days but I was never going to be able to ride a bike again if I couldn’t make a fist. At this stage I wasn’t even close to being able to hold a tennis ball.
Weeks of rehab slowly got the hand to come around. I had made a special splint to swim in to protect my wrist as that was damaged as well. I was just doing some slow swimming trying not to loose what I had gained. It wasn’t easy but I think that it was well worth it and helped my rehab.
Vineman ½ came around and I went up and did it. I had not been outside on the bike since the accident and didn’t feel like I was ready but I couldn’t handle one more missed ½ Ironman. I wanted to get my first one out of the way!
The race was fine, minus my huge panic in the swim causing my legs to cramp. I had to stand on the river front for about 10 min before I could walk. Again, I thought “Are you kidding me? I am not going to be able to finish this thing!!!!!” I did finish and biked about a 2:33 and then ran a 1:33. What a hard run that was. I couldn’t walk right for several days. My overall time was 4:51 and I was about 15th in my age. At least the first one was done!
About this time, my law suit was settling the first part of the case and the insurance company was going to pay out on his policy. The money I received was a big reason why I was on that plane reflecting about my journey. Granted, I did have a friend at the time help me with the ticket but living in NZ was going to cost money and now I had some.
You really do have to be careful about what you wish for. I wanted to be able to quit my job and do triathlon. Not being a top dog I sure as hell wasn’t going to get sponsored so I guess the universe came up with this plan instead. Thanks! But how about next time a less painful route?
After my period of reflection on the plane I came to the realization (again) that I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I shut the journal and decided I would try to stay up a few more hours and then hopefully sleep the rest of the way. It isn’t hard to keep entertained on these long flights. Every seat is very big and has their own TV so I decided to watch “War of The Worlds.” Fun special effects but pretty lame overall. Tom Cruise doesn’t help with the lame factor. Is anyone really buying what he is selling?
After my flick I took advantage of the empty seats and stretched out. I was asleep for about two hours when BAM! The plane hit some seriously harsh and unexpected turbulence. I was thrown on the floor and a few of the luggage things pooped open and dropped out some bags. The plane was bouncing around and I was racing to get my seatbelt back on. Next time maybe I will listen to the captain when he suggest you were it at all times!
We were hitting these air pockets the made the plane drop huge amounts. It felt like we would zero out for a second and then there would be some massive shaking and then we would be taking G’s in the seat. It was very uncomfortable and lasted way longer than anyone wanted. I was looking around and could tell that I was not alone in my “oh shit” feelings. I do know that this kind of thing is somewhat common on the higher flights and that the risk is still pretty low…..BUT STILL!
The plane made it out of the turbulence and we all had a big sigh of relief. The flight attendants were putting luggage back while the rest of us pooped pills and ordered booze LOL! So much for sleeping the rest of the way. I went back to watching bad movies and just figured I would sleep when I got into town.
I had a layover in Auckland. It seemed like I would have plenty of time to catch my next flight but I had to get all my stuff and go from the international terminal to the domestic which was about 1,000 miles away. With my luggage and bike case it was like having two small children with you. I couldn’t believe how far I had to walk and how cracked out I felt. I had no clue what time or day it was. All I know is that is was light out and it felt like it should be dark out.
I made the connecting flight down to Christchurch and got a few Z’s on the short ride. Once in I started to wonder if anyone was going to be there to pick me up. This guy Mike that owned the lodge had said he would but we didn’t make contact with each other before I left so I was a bit uncertain. I had no idea what he looked like or how I would find him. So I just went and got my stuff.
The bags came first and then I went to odd sized to wait for the bike. There were a few of us waiting on bikes. I kept looking around for someone that maybe had a sign on it with my name. All I saw was this guy standing on the wall that kept looking over to all of us waiting on bikes. He was a taller guy that had a mustache and hair that was thinning a bit but looked totally normal on him. It seemed as if he was trying to hear what we were saying. In fact that is exactly what he was doing. Once he heard me speak he knew I was American and came over and asked if I was Brandon. I said yes and we introduced and started chatting. A very nice guy but I couldn’t understand a word he was saying! He had the THICKEST Kiwi accent LOL. He was a bit of a talker and I had to laugh and tell him that he wasn’t making any sense to me. He found that amusing but really didn‘t slow the speech down at all. I turned on the “uhh huuh’s and noods”.
When we got to the van I of course got in the drivers seat on accident. Mike was doing something at the back and came around and laughed at the mistake that I made. It was weird to drive on the other side of the road again. I hadn’t been in a country that did that for a while now. The ride to the lodge was pretty quick. I got out of the van and had my first impressions of everything. It was interesting to say the least. He showed me to my room that was quite small with a single bed, desk and drawer.
I wasn’t too sure what I thought of everything. It all looked so different to me and I was very exhausted. I told myself I wouldn’t make any judgments until I had a good sleep. All I knew was that whatever I thought, this would be home for the next four months.
Me, Jen, Denny, Bill, Trix, Mitch and Terresa. We made the cover of http://www.blueseventy.com/
