“Never, never, never give up.”

Keep trying and never stop working at it.

I have a hard time talking about or sharing details from my near fatal brain injury. Mostly because I don’t remember a thing for about four months of my life, but also because talking about it brings overwhelming emotions.

I begin with a quote from Winston Churchill, “never, never, never give up.” I didn’t give up and won’t, although there are some days I really want to.

Let’s rewind a bit. There was a bike rider and a deer. The two collided at 30 MPH one summer morning 5 years ago. When I awoke from a coma weeks later, I had no idea where I was or what had happened. I didn’t like the tubes attached to my body. So, apparently, I began to pull them out- the IV, the catheter, and about to pull the suction tube out of my head when I was stopped and restrained. Restraint #1.

Fast forward a few weeks- I was now at an inpatient rehabilitation center. My husband gave me back my phone. After my first phone call to my best friend, I was determined to get a Starbucks. I must have realized what town I was in as I had gone biking in the area before and knew there was a Starbucks nearby. The kind barista at Starbucks let me know they did not deliver. I proceeded to outline why it would be a great business model to delivery warm chai lattes, especially to the rehab facility. They politely declined. But I wouldn’t give up. Still unable to walk, I somehow rolled out of the bed, into the wheelchair and tried to exit the facility. They stopped me before I could roll out of the front doors, put me back in my hospital bed tied down. Restraint #2.

My recovery continued. I was excited to get home, be back with my husband, three sons, our two dogs and get a chai latte. I asked my amazing physical therapist when I could go home. She said they’d like me to be able to stand and maybe even walk. Well, determined and stubborn as I am, I proceeded to push myself up and out of the wheelchair to walk. Guess what? I was unable. She had to quickly run around, catch me and seatbelt me back into the chair. Restraint #3.

Through the care and support provided to me, and utter determination, I made it home. And eventually a year later made it back on the saddle. Back on the road bike that my son had repaired and was in working order.

I do remember coming back from a ride one day to my boys meeting me at the door, begging me to never ride again with tears in their eyes. They said when I went out for rides, they would just sit there and wait, hoping I’d come back home OK. I hung the bike up and later permanently donated it to my girlfriend’s daughter, Charlotte, who had just taken up competing in triathlons.

They knew me well though and knew I didn’t want to give up, so for mother’s day, they all pitched in and bought me a gravel bike. Less speed, no cars and pavement = less scary.

Fast forward five years to this past summer. On the anniversary of my accident, or rather re-birth, Charlotte and I committed to competing in a triathlon together. She finished second in her age group on my handed down road bike, I placed third on my newish gravel bike.

I had been restrained three times, but through determination, grit and being a complete PIA ended up in third in a whole new way. I couldn’t give up and didn’t give up. There have been too many pills, too much alcohol, a few attempts to take my life, luckily unsuccessfully. I’ve forged forward. I may never podium again, but I will continue to fight, rebuild, and never give up.