I decided to chronicle my stingray story, since I told it many times and find that it’s both entertaining and educational.
On Thursday, April 4, I experienced a new kind of pain I wish to never repeat. I was practicing my run-in beach start for the Oceanside 70.3 (which was later deemed unnecessary since the swim was moved to the harbor, where we would start while treading water), and I was about 20 meters ahead of Nick and Lisa. I was running into the water and was knee-deep when I felt a pinch and I screamed. “Crab?! Or a lobster?!” was my immediate thought, living near the lobster capital of the US (Maine).
But two seconds later, I knew this was no everyday crustacean, as I started limping out of the water, with blood rushing out of my ankle. I would later learn that stingray venom has a decoagulant feature, so your blood does not clot as quickly as normal.
Nick and Lisa immediately came by my side and carried me to shore. Nick flagged down a lifeguard in a yellow pickup truck and I sat in the bed of the pickup. The lifeguard put gauze and pressure on the wound, a centimeter-long slice just below my left inside malleolus, while nonchalantly explaining that I would be feeling a burning sensation until I could put my foot in a bucket of hot water. Well, my ankle, calf, and hamstring “burned” the way Sha’Carri Richardson jogs…it was not just a burning sensation but rather a combination of cramping, muscle contracting, and full on fire inside my entire leg. He handed me a small heat pack that he admitted was pretty old and not that heat-activating. I buried my head in Lisa’s chest while he checked and rewrapped my ankle and tried to breathe instead of yell and groan while the venom coursed through my bloodstream.
Nick drove me and Lisa to the Airbnb while blasting the heat and seat warmer despite it being 75 degrees outside. Our 10 mile drive took 25 minutes (standard CA traffic!) while I held the heat pack on various parts of my leg, trying to chase a moving target of what felt like fire ants inside my veins. Nick reminded me to breathe and that it was “just gonna suck for a while” while Lisa googled stingray treatment protocols on her phone and texted her ER doctor-boyfriend. I’m so grateful for those two and felt bad to pull them away from their own race prep, but I was also helpless at the time.
Nick princess carried me from the car to the couch inside the garage of the Airbnb. Lisa immediately brought a bucket of hot water. I put my foot in – bandage still on – and immediately felt the relief promised by the lifeguard and Lisa’s google search. It was like putting a burnt finger on a block of ice – when I removed my foot, the burning venom feeling came rushing back. After two hours during which Lisa brought me a snack and Marc brought me a sandwich (teamwork! 🥰), I removed my foot, elevated it, and put ice on it. I wasn’t even thinking about whether or not I would race at that moment, instead focused on the immediate task at hand – reduce potential swelling.
The next morning, it felt like I had lightly sprained my ankle – I immediately knew running was not possible at the race the next day, but at the time, I thought maybe swimming and biking would be? (Lol, I don’t know where this optimism came from!) I spent the rest of the day going to the pro briefing, icing my ankle, and sending my doctor friend Meaghan pics of my laceration to monitor signs of infection. I contemplated what I’d gain from doing an aquathlon the next day (e.g. a planned DNF). I decided to save some money and transfer my entry to Boulder 70.3 instead.
I woke up with my teammates and went to the race with the goal of being the best sherpa and Real Tri Squad instagrammer ever. I walked about 3-4 miles that day with ice wrapped up via a swimsuit tourniquet and watched the final straightaway with Lauren Brandon, who brought me my first coffee of the day (writing this as a note-to-self that I owe her a coffee!). We were both bummed not to race, but we had the entire year ahead of us! Little did I know my “entire year ahead” wouldn’t start until 4 months later.
I celebrated with Lisa, Nick, Jackson, and Marc, then packed my bags. Still a little limpy, I navigated the airport just fine, figuring I’d have a good story to tell about why I didn’t race. With my cut completely closed, I went to Masters swim practice on Monday, unable to kick but fine to swim with a pull buoy. My swelling was 90% gone by Wednesday, enough that I could fit into a cycling shoe and ride the trainer!
On Thursday, one week after the incident, I noticed my ankle start to be puffy again. I went to urgent care and asked to have an x-ray done to see if any barbs or other material were left inside my ankle. They said a technician wouldn’t be there until the morning and sent me home. I returned first thing the next morning and they told me to go to the ER. I drove home, got snacks and coffee, and put up an OOO message for work (I realize how very American it sounds that this was a part of my pit stop on my way to the ER!!) I drove to the ER, limped inside, and was immediately taken in a wheelchair, which felt very dramatic but much faster than my speed of gimping by that point. I had blood drawn – 6 vials worth, thank god I didn’t ask ahead of time – and an EKG done. The nurse said I’d be on an IV drip of 3 different antibiotics to treat all possible sources of infection – water, air, not sure what else…fire?!
This was my first hospital admittance since birth. I’m very glad my instincts told me to bring snacks, but I didn’t think far enough to bring a cell phone charger. I had my boyfriend come on his lunch break to bring me a charger. The IV machine angrily beeped once because it was out of medicine and a second time after my CT scan (which showed no barbs were in there!) because there was no medicine in it at all. I was there for 4 hours total, again a little traumatized but figured I had the entire season still ahead of me once the swelling went down again!
I spent the next 10 days on another two antibiotics, taken orally, for 5 antibiotics total. This did a number on my stomach and gut health. The swelling went down a little after two days…then stayed there. A week later, despite the swelling still being very present and unable to wear sneakers, I swam with my friends Ben and Ann. A combination of light movement and social interaction made it feel so much better, and I continued to swim with a pull buoy for the next few weeks. The swelling was still very present, but the stiffness was the worst part – it felt like I was in a medical boot all the time. I couldn’t flex my foot past 90 degrees, which meant I couldn’t effectively ride a bike either.
I didn’t run for 5 weeks, then I spent another 7 weeks running on the Lever and alter-G treadmill at 60-95% of my body weight. I started cycling two weeks after the hospital visit, though my Achilles ached after my first two rides. I’ve since learned that venom kills tissue and that the antibiotic I was on, Levoflaxin, is a fluroquinine, a body of antibiotics known for increasing the cause of Achilles rupture due to inhibiting the body’s ability to produce collagen. I immediately was PISSED (there are so many antibiotics which I expressed to the nurse that I’m responsive to!!!) and I also got the collagen HARD. And that shit ain’t cheap, so thanks to Sun Warrior for their effective, tested, well-sourced products.
On June 5th, one day before the Boulder 70.3 (which I did, in fact, do as an aquathon), I ran at 100% body weight for the first time since the stingray incident. I did a lot of PT along the way – huge thanks to Caitlin at Hu Performance in Boulder and Natalie at Ability Allies in New Hampshire for the treatment. I cried in Natalie’s office in my first visit post-sting and she reassured me everything was going to be okay 💜
I built up to 9.2 miles by July 23rd, my last hard workout before IRONMAN 70.3 Maine, where I returned to full racing! There were many walk-runs (thank goodness for friends like Chris who were ok with walk breaks!), many mind-numbing water runs, and numerous expensive Alter-G appointments to get there.
I ran 5 minutes slower than last year at Maine and finished 12th instead of 3rd. It’s not a fairytale ending, because it’s not an ending. It’s the beginning of my season. One that didn’t start the way I thought, but one that I am steering back in the direction I want it to finish.
