It has been well documented we can be influenced by our surroundings or by what we hear even when our conscious mind is “turned off” or totally out of it, such as when we are asleep or under anesthesia. As previewed here on this blog, Mrs. Disco and I are doing everything we can to have as positive an influence on my healing process as possible. This meant we had a huge opportunity while I was “under the knife. During surgery, a time when a patient is most vulnerable/susceptible to picking up on what doctors/nurses are saying, we felt it would be a great opportunity to apply a powerful technique Mrs. Disco is not only trained in, but also amazing at: Guided Imagery.
Guided imagery can be explained in many ways—many of which I’ve heard, but I’m still not confident enough to publish what it is. So I’m going to leave that to Mrs. Disco in the paragraph below.
We look at it as a therapeutic tool using carefully chosen language, suggestions, and visualizations to positively influence the mind and body. What this means is that while Chris was under anesthesia for his Tommy John surgery, instead of listening to the voices of the medical staff and the beeping of machines, he was going through images and feelings of miraculous healing, among other things.
I find all of this fascinating. Mrs. Disco teaches me more about this kind of stuff every day as we go along the healing journey. There are some particular aspects of all of this we find truly intriguing. First one is the mind, in an altered state (under anesthesia for example), is capable of more rapid and intense healing, growth, learning, and performance. The other is that medical literature suggests when we have a sense of being in control, that, in and of itself, can aid in healing and recovery.
One of the things I was worried about with the surgery was that I would be able to feel what was going on, but be able to do nothing about it. Not sure where I got this, but maybe I’d flipped through an after-school drama one day and seen this phenomenon. Thankfully this didn’t happen, but based on how amazingly good I felt immediately after coming out of anesthesia, my mind was still working and listening.
So, if we can hear while we’re undergoing surgery and we heal better if we feel like we’re in control, then I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear a doctor say, “I don’t think he’s going to make it” or “he’s bleeding all over the place” and I also want to feel like I’m in control in some way, shape, or form. Thankfully, I had an incredible surgeon, Dr. Kremchek, who is not only all about this, but we’ve noticed, he is also someone who focuses on the positive, naturally and effortlessly. So when Mrs. Disco came up with the idea for me to wear noise-canceling headphones to listen to an mp3 she made especially for my TJ surgery, Dr. Kremchek was all about it.
So how is someone supposed to feel like they are in control when they are actually completely out of it? Good question. I wondered the same thing.
I will add this aside…For some reason during the 2006 baseball season (before even meeting Mrs. Disco), I decided every time I wanted to sleep on a bus, I would play a mix of Radiohead songs. I had a bunch of their songs, but never actually listened to any of them, so I decided to listen to them while I was asleep. To this day, I have not purposefully listened to a Radiohead song while awake, but when one does come on the radio, I instantaneously know that I know the song and have heard it. Interesting…huh? I couldn’t tell you one lyric of any Radiohead song, but I have heard them—consciously or not—for hours and hours (long bus rides in the Midwest League) and they are implanted somewhere deep in my brain.
This brings us to my surgery. Mrs. Disco’s research told us we are susceptible to suggestion while unconscious, her experience made her the perfect candidate to record an audio track with Guided Imagery, and I had experienced first hand already the effects of listening to something while unconscious. It was all coming together perfectly. So for my surgery, I wore noise-canceling headphones while listening to guided suggestions asking my body to move blood away from the surgical area for a clean working space for my surgeon, asking my body to regulate my blood pressure, heart rate, and breathing by keeping it stable and by telling my body it’s okay to accept the new ligament as if it belonged there all along.
I’m so grateful God gave Mrs. Disco this amazing and totally pertinent ability to motivate me and help me heal through language and imagery. The mp3 is about an hour and twenty minutes long and its expansive content encompasses a bunch of stuff I don’t know much about, just know it works. She included the three sensory modalities (visual, auditory, kinesthetic). We all have preferences of how we like information presented to us and usually tend to respond better when they are presented in our “choice modality”. For instance, some people are visual learners who like to see what you mean in a diagram or picture. Auditory learners tend to “get it” when they simply hear an idea, while kinesthetic learners need to experience what you are talking about for themselves. Like learning to ride a bike – some may only need to see someone else riding the bike to know how to do it on their own. Others may only need instructions given and are able to get on the bike and start riding. While others need to actually get on the bike and try it themselves before they can fully learn. Most people learn through a combination of sensory modalities, so Mrs. Disco included all three on my mp3.
Here are a couple very basic examples of the three modalities she used on my mp3 (Mrs. Disco asked me to tell you these are the most simplistic forms of applying these techniques)
Visual: See your body healing. Picture your elbow becoming stronger, now.”
Auditory: “When you hear the beeping of machines, your body relaxes even more as you tune into your Inner Healer for a miraculous recovery.”
Kinesthetic: “Every time air enters your lungs, you’ll be reminded to relax and experience pleasant sensations of healing”
The day of surgery, I asked the nurse to give me at least a ten-minute heads up before getting wheeled into the O.R. so I could start my mp3 to help me relax a little more. All I remember is hearing my wife’s sweet, soothing voice calming my thoughts, reassuring me I was safe and in good hands. Next thing I knew, I was in the recovery room elated with my amazingly strong, new elbow and telling anyone who walked by how awesome it was.
Today if you were to ask me what was on that CD, I would have no idea. But the surgery went perfectly and from day one I have been healing amazingly well and have been ahead of schedule. And every once in a while Mrs. Disco says something that makes me think…hmm, I know I’ve heard that before.
Next up: NLP & Hypnosis
For those of you incessantly checking the blog, all one of you, (hi Mom) – we apologize for way too long of a delay in getting blog post number dos up here. Mrs. Disco writing, Disco is currently whipping a BodyBlade around in physical therapy in hopes he’ll actually learn how to fly.
As we mentioned in the last post, Chris’s injury came out of left field. As bummed as we initially were, the week immediately following his injury was filled with such contrasting medical opinions that we had the opportunity to step back and do some serious self evaluation. We were obviously hanging on the hope he wouldn’t need surgery, so the stark contrasts in each doctor’s opinions really threw us for a loop. Going from one extreme to the other was emotionally draining and by the end of it, it got pretty ridiculous.
So, to bring you on our journey of the emotionally radical highs and lows, I’ll give you the timeline rundown of what we were told the week following his injury.
Basically, this is how it went down:
1. Mid game, Chris leaves the mound for elbow pain. (Emotions: Oh crap! How bad is it??)
2. Immediately upon entering the clubhouse he passes initial elbow stability tests, which lead us to believe it’s not blown out. (Emotions: Pretty bummed he had to come out of a game b/c of pain, but figure with a couple days rest he’ll be ready for his next start. We are optimistically cautious.)
3. Next day Chris is examined by an ortho surgeon. Ortho says, “nope, you didn’t blow out your elbow; probably just a forearm strain. Rehab it and you’ll be back in a couple weeks”. Trainer pushes for MRI anyway. (Emotions: Yes! Feeling relieved it’s not serious. Can’t wait for MRI confirmation.)
4. Later that evening, radiologist calls to say, “Sorry, rehab isn’t an option because you have a torn UCL. Surgery is the only answer. You’re out for the rest of the season.” (Emotions: Shocking, shocking blow. Lots of tears. How could it be torn?? Surgery? More tears. Really, really sad tears. Sad. Sad. Sad. Feeling pretty darn low right about now.)
5. First thing the next morning, two new orthopaedic surgeons examine Chris’s elbow and decide they disagree with the initial MRI report. They believe there is no tear, just a forearm strain. They recommend 6 weeks of rehab. Surgery not needed. (Emotions: Relieved there isn’t a tear and feeling lucky that he doesn’t need surgery. At this point we are feeling hopeful, like we got a second chance after enduring last night’s sadness. Dodged a big bullet. Today is a good day.)
6. Later than night, right before bed to be exact, the chief radiologist calls to confirm doctor’s thoughts. Says, “definitely NO tear in your elbow. No tear at all. Initial radiologist was wrong. You definitely do not need surgery. You just have an over-stretched UCL, making it appear “wavy”. You only need rehab.” (Emotions: Holy roller-coaster ride the past few days. Up, down, up, down, yes it’s torn, no it’s not, etc. Still bummed about Chris having to sit out for 4-6 wks, but thankful it’s only a month compared to a year. Hoping to get one final opinion from one of the top sports surgeons, we overnight Chris’s MRI to a few of the best elbow surgeons in the US. We go to sleep feeling very happy and very blessed.)
7. Late the following night, 10:30 pm to be exact, we get a text from Dr. Timothy Kremchek (doc for the Cincinnati Reds) asking if we have time to talk. Dr. Kremchek says, “Absolutely no question about it, Chris’s UCL is definitely torn. Text book MRI. He further explains that a “wavy” tendon does not mean stretched; it means torn. If Chris wants to continue playing baseball, rehab will not solve the problem – he will need surgery.” (Emotions: Impressed at the personal attention from this amazing surgeon. He made us feel like he genuinely cared about Chris’s well being. BUT… now with those new results, we are back to being bummed, a little discouraged and confused. NOW what are we supposed to do?? hrmph.)
8. Next day, we get a call from a different ‘top surgeon’. He’s very rushed and says, “yes it is a tear”, but gives generic information about rehab and says he’s “got 50 more MRIs to review today so if we have any questions to call his fellow”. Fellow says Chris could try rehab for 6 weeks to see what happens. (Emotions: Not feeling very important to this particular surgeon. More confused. A little more discouraged. Should we try rehab? Should we not? What the heck are we supposed to do?)
9. That night we talk to Dr. Kremchek again. He is confident it’s a complete tear. Doc explains Chris could try rehab, but a torn ligament is a torn ligament is a torn ligament. Kremchek understands all of the recent conflicting medical opinions causing our current state of uncertainty, so he suggests Chris try to throw. He says, “the proof is in the pudding. If Chris can’t let loose, if he can’t just ‘let it go’, he’ll have his answer”. (Emotions: Bummed, but feeling optimistic about gaining clarity. Thankful for Kremchek. That night we pray for clarity and nervously await the next day when Chris will throw for the first time since his injury.)
10. The next afternoon, Chris goes out to the field to play catch with a teammate while I watch nearby from the bullpen. It’s not good. He feels pain through the first couple soft tosses and is afraid to even try and let loose. He sucks it up and tries anyway. No chance. No matter what he tries, his body just won’t let him throw any harder than the 38 mph heat he’s currently throwing. (Chris’s addition: “At this point he’s barely throwing hard enough to be a tee-ball pitcher” nyuk nyuk.) Exactly as Kremchek said. He finally convinces his body to throw a tiny bit harder and it doesn’t go well. At all. Significant pain in his elbow. He can’t put anything behind it. He catches one more ball and instead of throwing it back to his teammate, Chris walks towards me… head down, shoulders defeated. He looks up at me with tears in his eyes and says, “well, at least we got our answer.” (Emotions: Tearful relief. Feeling grateful God granted us the clarity we prayed for the night before. Sad to acknowledge Chris’s season is officially over.)
11. We walk in from the field together with the amazing trainer, Jess, and call Kremchek. We’ve got some serious questions for him. He patiently and thoroughly answers each and every one of them. We know some surgeons don’t actually do their surgeries, so we ask Dr. Kremchek if he would consider doing Chris’s surgery start to finish. Kremchek says he does all of his surgeries and explains the entire process. We ask him to explain his “docking” technique of how he attaches the new ligament and ask why his is a little different than Jobe, Andrews, and Yocum. Before hanging up, we learn one final piece of information we feel valuable enough to choose Dr. Kremchek to perform Chris’s surgery. Kremchek makes a strong effort not to disrupt the ulnar nerve during surgery unless absolutely necessary because some patients experience nerve pain, tingling, or other side effects. We don’t want Chris’s ulnar nerve touched. We schedule surgery 4 days away.
12. The next day we pack up our car and make the 534 mile drive out to Cincy to meet with Dr. Kremchek. He is amazing. He does a saline MRI and as he noted earlier, this new MRI confirms a full and complete tear of Chris’s Ulnar Collateral Ligament. Because there wasn’t obvious trauma to any of the surrounding structures, the doc and radiologist concur that the UCL had probably been tearing little by little over a long period of time. This piece of information is unbelievably paramount to us for so many reasons. It is the final nod, the official “yes”, the complete confirmation that we are officially on a new journey better than we could ever imagine and we are oh so excited for surgery.
Emotions: bring. it. on. tommy. john.
I guess it’s a sign Tracy and I are on an amazing journey that seemingly every step of the way we look at each other and one of us will say this is going to make a great chapter in the book. The book itself doesn’t exist in paper form, yet as each page turns in our life, it’s so good, we just can’t put it down. But then again, we don’t really have a choice.
I don’t know if we’ll ever sit down to write our story years after the baseball journey has come to an end, but seemingly countless “low points” have, at the time, looked like perfect opening chapters. Ours is a story of progress—ascension, in a way—and we’ve thought it would only make sense to start at the lowest point and let the reader work “up” with us through the book. Yes, there have been peaks. Almost always they have been more spectacular than we could even dream up. But there have also been plenty of “valleys”. And as the journey continues to unfold, each new “valley” we’re mired in makes for the best opening chapter yet.
Two weeks ago, I tore my Ulnar Collateral Ligament.
It was Saturday, May 21st and I was pitching in Somerset, NJ against the Somerset Patriots with two outs in the bottom of the 3rd inning. After five submarine offerings including a foul ball on the last one, I decided to throw Josh Pressley an overhand sinker. I came set and delivered the pitch. Upon the release I felt sudden and sharp tightness in my forearm.
The pitch was fouled off and the count remained 2-2. My heart began to race and as I got a new ball from the umpire, I shook out my forearm to evaluate what was going on in my arm. I knew it wasn’t good, but adrenaline was in charge and a fair assessment was near impossible. I remember thinking in the next 10 seconds before I should deliver the next pitch, I easily could either grossly under-diagnose the issue just as easily as grossly over-diagnose it. Neither were good options.
I don’t normally check the radar gun in the ballpark while I’m pitching (the ego can only take so much), but I wondered if the pitch, despite feeling like it came out with good velocity, actually was insanely slow. I figured if I had blown out, which I didn’t think I had, I’d turn around and see a big FIVE-EIGHT. Turns out I was wrong…on both regards.
I should take a step back and acquaint people new to this blog. Ever since I was a tiny child I have thrown things, balls, rocks, crunched up paper. You name it, if it could be thrown, (even if it couldn’t be thrown) I’d throw it. It just feels like the right thing to do. I remember one time throwing a Nerf baseball against a door and counting how many times in a row I could do so error-free. I honestly don’t remember what the number was when my mom asked me to stop, but I do remember saying “one-thousand” to myself a lot of times. I’m not saying this to brag (frankly it wasn’t very difficult going error-free for so long when I was only five feet away from a perfectly flat surface) I’m saying this because despite knowing I would no doubt make an error, I still did it over a thousand times. I don’t know how old I was, but I do know we moved out of that house when I was eight. In that same house I remember breaking countless artifacts my mom held dear to her heart. At that point in my life, I threw harder than I should safely throw in the house. And come to think of it, I guess my aim pretty lousy.
From those roots, I became a soft-throwing control pitcher in professional baseball. The Disco nickname comes from my fastball not being able to get out of the 70s. Overhand I have thrown as fast as 86 and maybe on occasion I’ve been lucky enough to have hit 87; but then again, I’m not quite sure.
The stadium radar gun in Somerset read 91mph. That is faster than any radar gun has ever clocked me, ever, in my entire life, even on a good day with a fast gun.
I don’t remember experiencing any excitement over the 91; I was still in diagnosis mode and this was just another data point. It couldn’t be blown out if the pitch came out that well. I stepped back on the mound and found the rubber. The pain wasn’t in my elbow; it was in my forearm. Our catcher called for a fastball. Just throw it, don’t baby it. If it’s blown out, it’s blown out. I came set. What if it’s just hanging on a thread? The submarine offering was again fouled off and the count remained 2-2. The tightness continued to clamp down.
After two more non-competitive pitches out of the zone, the batter headed towards first base and I began to pray. I started to pray for health, but then without any conscious intent to do so, my prayers shifted towards asking for the strength to summons the trainer and our manager out to the mound to let them what was going on.
I have been blessed to wear a professional uniform for over 1,000 games in my career and up until this point had been unavailable to play in exactly zero of them. Gaining the courage to admit I actually had an injury was significantly harder than I thought it would be. I surely didn’t have the strength to do so, but my prayers were answered.
When I told my manager what had happened he immediately signaled to take me out of the game. I was hurt.
That night, my arm numb from the effects of the ice, we couldn’t help it… This is going to make for a great chapter in the book. Heck, THIS has got to be the opening chapter.
I’m going to ask Tracy to write this section of the blog. I will preface it by saying I sit here absolutely thrilled about what comes next for us. We have talked about this for hours on end and we both feel exactly the same way, but my perfect and pretty little wife has an amazing knack for making things especially uplifting and it wouldn’t be fair to you to have me try to write this and obstruct her energy even in the slightest. Without further ado, here’s Tracy:
Honey, first let me say, I’m so grateful you decided to start blogging again. (Holy cow! I already have to add a side-note here. Sheesh! Before I started writing my little portion only moments ago, I quickly prayed for the perfect words. A simple and quick prayer to help me engagingly express our excitement with the perfect words and as soon as I said Amen, I felt the urge to start typing and this is what came out: “Honey, first let me say, I’m so grateful you decided to start blogging again.” Then craziest thing happened (at least for us anyway), as soon as I typed that sentence, a beautifully hovering hummingbird appeared right outside my window!! You see, hummingbirds are incredibly, incredibly special to Chris and me and have appeared out of nowhere, more times than we can count at the perfect times… just like now. We’ve never seen a hummingbird in this area. Ever! Didn’t even know they existed here! For me, it was just yet another little wink and thumbs-up from God showing we’re still on the right path and most importantly for right now, He’s glad Chris is back, too. So cool.
Okay, I’m back. I’m not sure how much or little Chris wants me to write, so I’ll pick up where he left off – the night of his first ever game-removing injury. That night was especially peculiar for us because he had never been hurt. Together we’ve dealt with rough games, tough calls, disappointing roster moves, you name it – baseball related stresses – we’ve been through almost everything… except an injury. That night and over those next few days, the list of unknowns, what-ifs, and the inherent fear of what a real injury might mean for us were with no doubt at the forefront of our thoughts. Will he be ready to go before next start? What if he’s not? How long should he rehab? Can he even rehab from this? What if it’s a serious injury? What if he needs surgery? “Could you imagine if you needed surgery, honey?? Ha! You? Surgery? Mister always perfectly healthy. That would be crazy. So didn’t see that one coming.” How long would it take him to come back? Would he come back? What would we do if he didn’t come back? Is it even possible to come back? 28 years old in independent ball and now with a potential injury. At first glance, a future in baseball ain’t lookin’ so bright … or is it??
I don’t know how or why, but over the days following his injury we can honestly say God did some serious intervention with our thoughts and has shown us so many irrefutable signs and reasons why playing baseball is not only still very much a part of our future, but that He is preparing to absolutely blow us away in sheer amazement and awe of what is in store for us and what has already begun unfolding before our eyes.
I think I’m actually going to end my portion here. I didn’t even get to the good parts yet, but I’m getting the sense that for now, this is perfect and I will trust my next guest appearance will begin sharing the stinking awesome and amazing things that have happened to us recently. I can’t wait to share them!!!
In 2006 I had already begun writing down some stories from my experiences early on in baseball. The first one I ever wrote was my first professional appearance as a pitcher. I gave up something like 4 runs in 0.2 innings. At the time, it was a crushing experience. But there was a story within the inning that, despite not making any sense at the time, I knew was noteworthy. So I wrote it down. It was such a miserable performance on the field and a miserable feeling wondering if I just wasn’t good enough, I remember thinking at the time this is the perfect start to the book.
Since then, I had supplanted the story of my first outing countless times with other deeper “valleys” that have been “better opening chapters”.
Which takes us to the present. I get Tommy John surgery this week. I’ll miss the remainder of the season and be in a brace for weeks. We’re left hoping my left hand can step it up and Tracy won’t have to wipe my valley in the meantime. I’m 28 years old in independent ball and hurt for the first time in my career. Can’t get any lower, right? THIS is going to make for a great chapter in the book. Heck, THIS has got to be the opening chapter.
It may very well be the opening chapter. But if it is, it won’t be for the reasons we used to think. True, ours is a story of progress—ascension, in a way—but we have seen time and time again without exception that the supposed “valleys” turn out not to be “valleys” at all. Remember that confusing, noteworthy part of my first outing? Now it makes perfect sense and has perhaps helped me as much as anything I’ve learned in my entire career. I won’t share it here (this is painstakingly long enough already), but suffice to say each and every low point has proven to turn out in such a positive way. We could go on and on. We are grateful we have been more blessed by our low points than any other points along the way.
The only difference is this time—for this Tommy John chapter—we didn’t have to wait until after the fact for the low point to reveal it is actually a true and amazing blessing. This time it hasn’t taken us until after the fact to see that we’re not actually in a valley at all; we genuinely feel how blessed we are as each new page turns.
Here’s Tracy again with the final run down:
Much to Chris’s lovingly adoring chagrin, I admit, I can sometimes be the kind of person who needs a little explaining during a confusing movie, “Wait, so how did that guy end up there?” Like Inception with Leo DiCaprio, for instance. Confusing, yet amazing movie that I intentionally mention here because it also just so happens to have NLP (neuro-linguistic programming), subconscious suggestions, and hypnotherapy mixed in all over the place… which is a foreshadow into our coming blogs. See, instead of just leaving those comments here for someone to hopefully pick up on the foreshadowing in later blogs, I will just spell it out for you:
Here’s what’s to come –
- Disco officially back to blogging. Yay. Took ya long enough!
- Blog posts catching you up to the present day are coming, so if you read this and, like me, get confused when timing isn’t what it should be… I promise in a week or so, we will be up to speed, in real time, everyone all caught up, fully understanding what the heck is going on.
- Very cool, very awesome happenings we can’t wait to share
- Robotarm. It’s a thing.
Can I get a woop woop?
Roger. Over and out.
As promised: an elaboration to Disco’s 1 Minute Monday mention of getting stocked up on Nike gear.
So, let me first start off by saying I love Nike clothing. As someone in the fitness profession, this kind of gear has been my entire wardrobe like Banana Republic might be for you business folks, so the opportunity to be a Nike VIP for a day was pretty awesome… especially under the top secret conditions by which we were admitted.
The deal is if you work for Nike, you get a 50% discount off Nike merchandise and have premiere access to their Employee Store (the only one of its kind) in Beaverton, Oregon. Each Nike employee is allowed five guest passes per year for family and friends, but come on, how many Nike employees do you actually know who would also be willing to share their coveted guest passes?
Well, this is where we start feeling like total VIPs. Somehow, some way, someone within the Portland Beavers knows someone who knows someone who was able to put the entire Omaha Royals team on ‘the list’ for admission to the Employee Store on Saturday, August 15th between the hours of 9:30 AM and 4:30 PM ONLY. If you’re not on ‘the list’, no matter how you swing it, you will not be admitted. In fact, my name was not on it and when Chris inquired about getting my name on, he was met with, “Sorry, ‘the list’ already went out and we can’t get anyone else on it.”
Chris says, “Okay, I’m sure they’ll just let her in right?”
“Oh heck no. They are super tight with security over there. She has to be on ‘the list’ or she won’t be allowed in.”
So, not only do I need to be on the list like everyone else, but the team was strongly advised not to wear any athletic items that didn’t say Nike. If you only had Adidas shoes, you had to borrow a pair or go barefoot. One player admit that since he was sponsored by a competitor, he had nothing to wear except his dress slacks and button down he wore on the plane, so he was strongly advised to wear that while everyone else was in jeans.
They run a tight ship over there, huh? In an effort to get me in, Chris made a call to the Beavers front office to see if they could help, but their response was, “We’re really sorry, but once the list goes out, there’s no way to put anyone else on and if she’s not on it, she can’t get in. Heck, we’re not even allowed in.”
“Well then who do I call?” Chris practically has to beg to get the number of a guy who knows a guy over at Nike, who might be able to help, but it’s now 6 PM on Friday and we’re supposed to be going at 10 AM tomorrow.
Chris leaves a message for the guy who knows a guy, pleading to get me on ‘the list’ and when he doesn’t hear back, he calls his agent who is all sorts of connected. They’ve got big leaguer after big leaguer, and a bunch of clients with Nike deals, so piece of cake, right? If the guy who knows a guy doesn’t call back, at least we’ve got a full proof way through the agent.
Well, come Saturday morning, Chris’s agent calls back shocked to admit he doesn’t know what kind of store we’re trying to get into, but he went through every contact he had and they weren’t able to get me on. If Chris had a Nike contract, I could get in with no problem, but not otherwise.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
So now we’re on the train heading to the Employee Store and I’m still not this secret list! Chris decides to try the guy who knows a guy one more time and if he couldn’t reach him we devised a method where Chris would take a picture of something he thought I’d like, email it to me standing outside the security gates and we’d make purchases that way. I was totally about to be the ugly girl eagerly waiting outside the velvet rope while all the cool kids walk right past me into the hottest nightclub in town. Sigh. But I was prepared.
We get off the train in the middle of NOWHERE, look around, and there are no signs, no arrows, nothing pointing us in the direction of the store. Luckily one of the guys knew where to go, but even he had a little bit of trouble navigating the team through tall grass, roaring streams, and barbed wire fences in order to spot a “big building with a white roof” as we were told. Okay, we didn’t have to jump a stream, but it is in the middle of nowhere and only if you know where you’re going would you be able to find it from the train. Just as we’re walking up to the entrance with a line out the door jetting into the parking lot, Chris’s phone rings and it’s the guy who knows a guy! Good news. I’m on ‘the list’! Ahem. I can now huff on my fingers and shine my nails on my shirt cause I’m now kind of a big deal, too.
After waiting in line for thirty minutes amongst all the other VIPs, we were called to a counter where our IDs were checked with ‘the list’ and given a small piece of paper with the date, which goes to the cashier when you check out. So, even if you’re able to find this place and somehow sneak past security, without the piece of paper, you’d be sh!t out of luck and shown the door.
We walk in to find a huge warehouse filled with Nike everything: clothing, shoes, golf clubs, bags. You name it they had it. And it wasn’t the stuff you’d find at the Outlet stores, either. This was the real deal, a Niketown on steroids. It was huge and I was in heaven. Chris and I split up and as we browsed separately, the store just continued to get more and more jammed with people. After our second hour there, it was hot, the aisles were packed, and luckily for me, everything was my size; unlike Chris who only found “ah” shirt. That’s it? Just one shirt?? The only downside to the store is if you weren’t an X-Small or an X-Large, you might only luck out with a single shirt like Chris did because by Saturday all the middle sizes had been picked through already.
Once you’ve battled the crowds and survived the line to check out, your last step is making it past the cashier cause as soon as you hand that little piece of paper over, that was it. No turning back so you better make sure everything fits and you like what you got, because they don’t allow exchanges; just returns.
In the end, I made out pri-tty darn well with two pairs of Nike Free 5.0s for the price of Chris’s single pair he got two weeks earlier and workout clothes for half price. Can I get a heellllls yea! And just to make sure we were getting the best of the best, we checked out a Niketown in Seattle today to find the exact same stuff, but double the price.
So, moral of the story here is if you want Nike gear for half the price, you have to be a pretty darn big deal, have a contract with them, or know a Nike employee who doesn’t mind sharing one of their passes. Otherwise, plan on paying full price because getting into the Nike Employee Store is harder to get into than
a virgin’s pants Harvard Law.