When one door closes another door opens (for Stacey)

Actually, the entire quote is something like “When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us.” Variously attributed to Alexander Graham Bell, Helen Keller, and every self-help guru in the history of the world. But there is wisdom there.

My triathlon coach Stacey is having reconstructive foot surgery tomorrow to treat a scary list of ills and injuries that have caused her severe pain and probably more than a little mental anguish over her past years as a professional triathlete (not that it prevented her from winning or placing in practically every event she raced….she’s kinda competitive like that). It’s an unexpected turn of events that will likely end her professional triathlon racing career, but not an event that will close the door on the million other opportunities the world has waiting for her. Stacey is a hardworking, incredibly ambitious, beautiful, fit, and inspiring individual. My husband and I have been lucky to form a friendship with her and her family that will endure, even as she kicks my butt around the training field. Oh, and she peppers her correspondence with smiley faces and exclamation points. I knew we’d get along! !

There’s been a lot of talk about how tragic this is for Stacey, about what a loss it is to the triathlon community, and what a reminder it is that we have to live each day to its fullest. I partly agree, but not entirely. We DO have to fully live each day, definitely. The athletes who’ve been out there racing with Stacey will surely miss having her infectious energy on the course (although those of us who have her as a coach will still get to hear her screaming for us….loudly…from the sidelines). However, I guess I’m just not getting the tragedy thing. I admit I don’t share the mindset of a professional racer–I like to be good at my sports, it’s a lot of fun to get faster, and heck yeah I want to beat the people who are snooty and try to bring me down, but at the end of the day I do it for fun and fitness. OK, and so I can eat all the chocolate I want. That may make some triathletes look down their nose at me, but I don’t mind. In fact, I hope I never lose sight of why I got into this in the first place. That said, I also recognize that people like Stacey truly LOVE to race, and that everybody who loves doing something should get to to do it.

But inevitably–and maybe in order to keep our lives as large and lovely as possible–things change. We lose our job; or we get injured and can’t play baseball anymore when it was our dream; or we can no longer race professionally. But as a result of that, we build our own successful business; or we find our true calling (and meet the love of our life in the process); or we become a world-class, pain-free, elite coach. Basically, we find ourselves standing at a big ol’ buffet table of possibilities that we couldn’t see–or weren’t available for–before. The mean people in our lives are now gone, our relationships are nurtured and happy, and we take better care of ourselves. And looking back, we realize that none of these things would have happened if we hadn’t had that big, uncomfortable change. What we thought was a setback was really the key to ol’ Bell/Keller/guru’s open door.

So here’s to the Staceys of the world who’ve been blessed with the unexpected turns that open them up to the next big thing (maybe THE big thing!). There are tears that will and should be shed. Maybe a lot. That’s normal. A lot of chocolate, wine, pizza, and Chips Ahoy will go down. Also normal. Ranting, raving, cursing, despairing. Normal, normal, normal, and normal. And somewhere in there, things will get better.

And while they do, take a swing through our batch of Day Improvers–there’s something for everyone, I promise. (Given the topic at hand, here’s a look back at a fave from May: Lucky the Penguin’s Magic Shoe — now with a funky update)  Stacey, you have GOT to watch this…

(Thanks to Paul for teaching me things like this every day, to Stacey for the things you’re teaching me now, and to Megan for the Lucky story.  I’m lucky to know all of you.)