When you almost die, it changes who you are. The words are simple. Heartfelt. True.
She sits across from me, brown eyes filled with a mixture of strength and vulnerability. It hits me that vulnerability may be the biggest strength a person can have. The ability to shatter apart and rebuild, living within your own scars and cracks, reshaping who you are, and embracing all aspects of yourself . . . placing it all out there for everyone to see and identify with . . . that is huge. Monumental. Yet the woman in front of me is as humble as they come.
Those of you who know AK Whittaker, or who have read about her on my website before, know how far she has come from the time of her addiction and incarceration. How she has grown to be an inspiration to those around her. How she has lived her life being the change she wants to see in the world. So it should come as no surprise that her tale is far from over. Daily, she is writing the story of who she is and what she is yet to become. And a lot of it has to do with honoring the past and recognizing how all the pieces of her have a place inside of her.
AK was the picture of health and at the peak of her performance. Inside was a different story. (Photo courtesy of the Snoqualmie Tunnel Race website)
One of those pieces, which I didn’t mention in the earlier blog, was facing ovarian cancer as a nineteen-year-old. At that time, all the cancer was removed, and it has never returned. However, over the subsequent eighteen years, adhesions and scar tissue built up—undetected—around the area of cancer removal.
She’d accomplished her dream of running the Boston Marathon and was attaining more goals when the world shifted under her feet. She had just completed the August 2018 Snoqualmie Tunnel Marathon in Washington, helping a friend qualify for Boston, and she became horribly sick on the flight home.
Doubled over in pain, she threw up until nothing was left in her stomach. Then came the dry heaving. The pain persisted, and she couldn’t sit upright. She asked a flight attendant for assistance watching her son until they landed. That night, she went to the ER, but nothing showed in the CT scan or her blood work. She went home with instructions to return if the pain medicine didn’t work within twenty-four hours. For the next thirty-eight hours, she lay balled on her living room floor. She arranged for help with her son so he could get where he needed to be and have proper care. A friend came to check on her and, upon seeing her condition, rushed her to the doctor, who called her into the ER after one look.
AK lost a total of thirty pounds. (Photo courtesy of her personal stock)
The adhesions had obstructed her bowels, and her appendix was caught in the mix. Her system was toxic. Hospitalized at West Valley Medical Center, she underwent surgery three days later. They stripped her intestines, removed her stomach, tossed her appendix, and temporarily patched her fragile parts back inside her. She was left in ICU overnight for them to determine if her GI system was even viable. The next day, a foot of her small intestines was removed along with about six inches of her large one.
At day nine of her hospital stay, her bowels began to awaken after her catheter was removed. On day eleven, she had her first bites of soft food. Two days later, she was sent home. The majority of her body had been eaten away, with more muscle atrophy visible on her left side. Over all, she faced a thirty-pound drop in weight.
Five days passed. She hadn’t put on weight and was experiencing pain in the right side of her body. She returned to the hospital. Fluid from her surgery had leaked through her diaphragm and into her chest cavity. Her right lung was the size of an orange, and they had to perform a thoracentesis, which drained 860 milliliters of fluid, allowing her lung to re-expand.
Yoga is a part of AK’s self-care routine, a way to maintain balance between peace of mind and strength of body. (Photo courtesy of AK)
In November of 2018, she was allowed to start walking and doing light-duty work at the Caldwell YMCA. January of 2019 brought full-time work—as long as she stayed away from severe physical exertion. This is when she started really working with a physical therapist to rebuild her strength.
But she had almost died, and life wasn’t the same. The ten-minute drive to work drained her. Her sense of self-identity was shaken. She worried about being able to rebuild her muscle mass. She compared herself to others and to what she used to be able to do physically. For a time, work consisted of verbal coaching and desk-duty and paperwork. Her inside critic got loud. Loud enough that it was hard to function. Fortunately, she realized mental well-being was as important as physical well-being, and she began seeing a counselor—something she continues bi-weekly to this day. Learning a new form of self-care took precedence in her life.
Over time, her body started reshaping itself, and her mind was learning to better connect and communicate with all aspects of who she was as a complete person. Running, she figured out, had kept her alive, but it had also kept life at bay. She wasn’t just running to, she was running from. While she owned her past—and grew from it—she felt she had to stay distant from that part of herself, to keep herself fractured in order to progress. Her therapist said it was time to allow the addict a seat at the table. To honor the addict for being a piece of her. To acknowledge she had been trying to survive—even though she was doing it in the most destructive way possible.
Now AK can look at herself as a whole, say the words, “I battled drug addiction,” and talk more openly about “when I was incarcerated.” It does not hold the same degree of shame over her. With the addict having a seat at the table, the past has no draw—no pull—to that way of life. Instead, she can look the addict in the eye and say, “I am where I am in my life because I went through you to get here.” They are not separate pieces but a whole, amazing, beautiful human.
AK’s story is one featured on WVMC’s website. (Original photo by AGR Photography By Andrea; photo of billboard courtesy of WVMC Facebook page)
Currently, AK is working on the inner critic who tells her she is not strong enough, healthy enough, fast enough, thin enough. This aspect of her also has a seat at the table, trying to keep AK safe and protected. But AK is learning to keep the criticism dialed down, letting her inner voice know it’s not all about the accomplishments, but more about honoring the best version of herself. It hit her when she realized from March to December of 2019 she had more than twenty podium finishes. What exactly was she trying to accomplish with each of her races? She didn’t want everything to be about how fast she could run or for her sense of self-worth to be wrapped up in how well she placed. Instead, she wanted to focus on her joy meter. What, she asked, made her truly joyful? Top on the list: helping others.
She wants to connect with others and inspire them to live their best life. She doesn’t want to be so competitive that she misses the opportunity to soak in the moment and encourage people. During every race, she makes sure to smile and cheer others along. When spectators take the time to encourage the participants, AK is intentional in saying “Thank you” and enjoying their cheers and music with a smile, fist pump, or dance move. If a participant needs a boost, she’ll give a high five—though she’s learned to go for the fingertips, as a whole hand slap tends to knock everyone out of rhythm. She had been told so many times during her life that she couldn’t do it, she wants everyone to know they can. She wants the spark to spread and grow and set everyone on fire with hope and inspiration within their own lives.
AK can show her scars now; her inner critic no longer calls them a flaw. Instead they are a testament of survival. (Photo courtesy of AK)
Strength comes in all forms, and one of AK’s is purely physical—a piece that came out of her addiction. She’d needed to feel in charge of her body, strong enough to fight her demons and make the right choices in her life. As a way to honor that aspect, this year she’s stepping away a little from running and focusing more on weight lifting and participating in triathlons, which she calls a great equalizer because they push her from her comfort zone. She is confident as a runner, feels she’s a decent cyclist, and accepts that she has lots of room to grow as a swimmer.
As she fortified her body and mind, she took a major step in her personal life. Having spent years focused on her son and getting herself in a position of stability and confidence, she hadn’t been ready to welcome someone steady into her life. But with progress made, she felt it was time to step even further outside of her comfort zone. She reconnected with a friend from junior high, and they began to date. The relationship ended, but it was just what she needed to take another big step; she was ready to actively seek out a relationship rather than fall into one. She matched with someone online—someone who happened to be a department of corrections parole officer. And not just any parole officer, but one who worked in the same department as the parole officers she knew from the other side of her life.
AK, a Humans of HOKA athlete. (Photo courtesy of Fleet Feet Facebook page)
She was straightforward about her past; he was supportive and wanted her to meet his friends and co-workers and be a part of get-togethers that included them. For the first time, they would be meeting as peers on equal ground. She was no longer the subordinate, the person who felt inferior in their interactions. One particular parole officer had meant a great deal to her, though she had never been sure what about him made her want to prove herself. As the years passed, she didn’t want to disappoint him, even in memory.
When this officer learned who his friend was dating, he said, “I’m so glad she is living up to the potential I always knew she had.” The words filled her, and she understood at last why it had been so important to make him proud—he had believed in her even though she hadn’t seen it or felt it at the time. If nothing more ever came from the relationship she had with the man she met online, this chance connection, this circular weave of life, and this closure to a choice in her past was a gift to her. One more of her pieces clicked into place.
Fleet Feet’s nomination of AK for Humans of HOKA. (Photo courtesy of AK’s personal stock)
As she worked her way back to athlete-level fitness, six organizations stood behind her: Therapeutic Associates-Nampa, who she credits with helping her move again; Upright Chiropractic; Fleet Feet; Humans of HOKA; Treasure Valley Rossiter; and Blue Circle Sports. The people she needs during this chapter of her life have surrounded her, taken her in, and lifted her up. This includes her family at the Caldwell YMCA, where she is still coaching, teaching, and training. In turn, and especially while thinking of her growing son, she’s been reflecting on this phase of her life and what most represents where she’s at now. And the gift of being alive fills her.
“Most people don’t get to see what they leave behind,” she says. “I look at my son and think, what do I want him to learn from me? What is he going to pass on to those he touches? I want to enrich every single life I come in contact with, leaving humanity a better place to be. No judgement. Everyone has worth just because they are human. It’s more than living the change. It’s living the legacy. I believe the life I lead is my legacy. The fingerprints of that legacy touch others and spread.”
If we can look inside ourselves and welcome all the bits and pieces of who we were and what we’ve become, if we honor our journey, and if we support others along the way, the world is wide open to us.
Her brown eyes shine.
She is hope. She is strength. She is redemption. And she is every one of us.
AK running toward her future. (Photo courtesy of Fleet Feet Facebook page)
