The Version of Myself that didn’t what was coming down the path…
Read Part 2 first.
Pausing sounds like it should be easy.
Rest should be “easy.”
That is a BIG nope.
Rest allowed the fatigue to finally catch up with me—and gave my body the opportunity to start repairing.
I didn’t want to watch my Fitness number on TrainingPeaks take a nosedive, so I checked out.
I stopped opening TrainingPeaks and communicated with my coach through email.
I went invisible on Strava.
Then I deleted the app.
No bike.
No running.
No pool.
No strength training.
Walking… and only walking was the most cardio I could do.
Everything that had helped me feel like an athlete was gone.
My new “training” was learning how to rest.
And somehow, at first, I felt worse.
My HRV took a nosedive.
My sleep suddenly became worse.
My body protested the change.
Eventually, I was slowly cleared to begin easy activities again.
And I struggled to do them.
It felt like I had fallen off a cliff in fitness.
The change was startling enough that my doctors and specialists continued evaluating me to make sure we weren’t missing something.
We weren’t.
This was recovery.
Here I am.
I finally became adopted myself as an athlete.
And I’m broken.
At 2025 USAT AG Nationals- the mental flip of “becoming an athlete”.
I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and now I couldn’t even do basic athletic things such as a easy swim for 500m in the pool or go for a easy jog.
We continued progressing with easy training.
Then something strange started happening.
Every once in a while, I’d get to experience these tiny bursts of power and speed.
And they felt…
easy.
I was taken aback.
“Fast” never felt easy to me.
I’ve always and forever identified as the slow person.
At least, that’s what I had always believed.
These little flashes didn’t last. They would appear and fade again as recovery continued.
I was told to think of them as a preview of what might be waiting once I was healthy and recovered.
And I’m curious about that.
The longer REDs recovery continued, the more time I had to process my future goals and aspirations.
Eventually, I realized I had a choice in how I told myself this story.
This could be the defining moment where everything fell apart.
Or…
This could be the defining moment where I finally became healthy enough to discover the strongest version of myself.
So what does that version look like?
I have absolutely no idea.
And that is incredibly exciting.
I’m 35.
I have a passion for triathlon that even Severe REDs couldn’t shake.
I literally went until the wheels fell off.
(I don’t recommend it.)
I finished third at State and qualified for Age Group Nationals while dealing with Severe REDs
I was PRing and still able to complete a 47-mile ride while dealing with Severe REDs.
And every once in a while during recovery, I’ve caught these tiny glimpses of something I didn’t expect.
For the first time, instead of looking at everything I haven’t accomplished yet, and the mistakes I’ve made.
I’ve started wondering:
What can healthy Cali do?
I don’t know.
Nobody does.
How exciting.
Maybe I get healthy and become age-group triathlete who simply loves racing. That is enough.
Maybe I’m my paces are faster than I ever imagined… and in the movie version of life Cali ends up going to Worlds and earning a pro card spot. Wouldn’t that be wild.
Maybe I surprise everyone.
Maybe I surprise myself.
That’s the fun part.
I get to find out.
Fast forward, and life finally starts clicking again.
Training begins feeling easier.
My energy starts returning.
I feel like a new person. A new and improved fully charged battery version of myself.
Surely we’re finally getting somewhere.
Right?
Pool swim- starting to get energy back
Another Curveball : The Non-Flu Flu.
That spring, I came down with a flu-like illness from one of my patients.
And almost overnight, it felt like every bit of progress I had made disappeared.
I couldn’t even walk for five minutes without feeling completely depleted.
I had to take three weeks off work just to get my feet back underneath me.
It was disheartening.
But this time, I knew something I hadn’t understood before:
Recovery isn’t linear.
I fought back.
Slowly.
At that point, I also knew I needed to make changes in my life to better align my current life with the future I wanted to build.
I accepted a virtual-care position that would allow me to work from home.
It was an extremely difficult decision because I deeply cared for my work family.
But it was time.
Fast forward again.
I slowly start coming back.
Training starts returning.
Life starts falling into place.
And this is where I’m supposed to give you the ending.
Except…
I don’t have one.
This time, I’m leaving you on a cliffhanger unintentionally.
Because this is where the story catches up to today.
If this were a movie, this would probably be the part where the music starts playing, the main character comes back stronger than ever, and she goes on to conquer her dreams.
But this isn’t a movie.
This is life.
The future is unwritten.
I don’t know what my body will be capable of once it’s fully healthy.
And for once, I don’t need to know.
I love the process.
I’m writing my story of history one day at a time.
How fun.
So if you’ve made it through all three parts, you’re officially caught up.
From here on out, we get to find out what happens together.
I’m glad you’re here to share the story as it continues to unfold.
Welcome to Palm & Pedal.
