Bridges.

"Sport is a universal language, building more bridges between people than anything else I can think of." 

-Sebastian Coe

Base miles with the boys.

10K Swim. (too brain-dead to think of a more creative title)

I am proof that the holidays can make a person a 'lil crazy.  (No, I'm not referring to my recent trips to Target).  I've been pondering what my next  big thing will be on the race calendar for 2014.  So far, nothing stood out.  Then, after listening to Hillary Biscay's race report of Ultraman and how she swam a 10K once a week to prepare for that, I was inspired.  This past year, I raced the Del Valle Open Water 5K swim, and visions of racing the 10K next year suddenly made me excited.  So excited, that I wanted to revisit once again how that distance felt.  The last time I did my 100x100s was in February of 2012.

This time around, I enlisted the support of Coach, who was kind enough to join me for part of it.  He even let me borrow his Phoenix triathlon cap so hopefully some of that Aussie speed in the pool would rub off on me.

Aussie Aussie Aussie, Oi Oi Oi!

We swam at Heather Farms in Walnut Creek since I knew this would take awhile, and the 8-11am timeframe at Dolores Bengston Pool wouldn't cut it.  

Steamy swims under the full moon in the mornings have been the usual at Dolores Bengston.

Heather Farm's pool was too warm and so gross.  I knew it was going to be a long day.  Luckily, longcourse was on the menu for today, which was a pleasant surprise- cutting the number of flip turns in half made the sets easier to digest mentally.

Funny how Instagram filters can make the water actually look clear! #totalfacade

Here's the set, in case anyone is interested.  I found part of Rappster's workout for his 10K swim sets, and I liked the variety that the 400s added.  Honestly, the last set of 3x400 IMs were done with one-arm butterfly drill.  After 7000 meters in, I could barely manage to swim let alone pull out some butterfly.  (maybe next year??)

10x100 (50 drill, 50 swim)
10x100 swim on 1:45 
3 x {400 IM/ 400 pull paddles/ 100 kick/ 100 back}

10x100 (50 drill, 50 swim)
10x100 swim on 1:45 
3 x {400 IM/ 400 pull paddles/ 100 kick/ 100 back}

Have fun, kiddos.

Here's some things I learned in the 3+ hours I spent in the pool today:

1) Company makes things better.  Coach joined me for a bit, and it helped to have someone next to me, count with me, and commiserate with.  When he left, it took more to stay focused and motivated.
2) Be focused on the lap at hand.  I would find myself thinking about the next set and how much more I had to do, and I would want to quit.  Then, I'd bring myself back to the lap and tell myself, "At this moment, I am focused on quality freestyle pull with these paddles..." which brings me to my next point...
3) Quality trumps speed.  I didn't concern myself with pace too much.  I wanted my stroke form to be my first priority- doing an incorrect or sloppy stroke for that far of a distance could cause some serious damage and potential injury.
4) I should have eaten more.  For most of my normal swims (3500-4000 yards), I just drink water or an electrolyte drink.  I started eating my ClifShot blocks around 5000 meters in and felt like I had fallen behind.  When you can feel yourself actively bonking, it's a bad sign. 
5) I felt weird eating.  At the end of each 1000m, I would reward myself with some chews and the girl sharing my lane would just stare.  I felt like the chick at the gym who was drinking a 400 kcal protein shake after doing 30 minutes on the elliptical.  A part of me wanted to say, "Sistalove, pleeease. Put your snorkel back on and mind your own beeeezness- I've been swimming long enough to have shared my lane with 2 different people before you who all did their workout already."  And another part of me just said to myself, "Eat, put your goggles back on, and swim."
6) I feel invincible now.  Why?  Because I swam a 10K?  No, because I swam through a bloody bandaid and a yellowjacket without barfing or screaming.

During the swim and after I had finished, Coach gave me some really good things to think about for the future- about racing vs participating, about how I am still learning what 'my fast' is, and how it's not about the races that you do, but rather how you race them.

So, am I going to race the 10K swim?  I don't know.  It's like asking someone after they complete Ironman if they're going to do another one.  For now, it's back to the drawing board again for me, hopefully with something exciting in the making.

Ask me in a week.

Mosaic.

I got two massages this week by different massage therapists.  And they were two completely different experiences- not necessarily 'bad' or 'good,' but each had a unique 'thumb," so to speak, while working with my muscles.  One had an extensive knowledge of muscle physiology since she was an athlete herself, and I left the room feeling like all those painful knots finally got some attention.  The other massage therapist had a lighter touch and perhaps less experience, but it was her life story that touched my heart.  There's something about being completely naked on a table in front of a stranger that makes me ask really good questions.  It's like the act of being stripped down makes me turn the tables and strip down their walls and find out who they truly are.  And she was equally as vulnerable and answered my questions and was not afraid to unveil her past and share her story that led her to massage.  I left that massage feeling profoundly different- not necessarily muscularly-speaking, but my heart was touched, loosened, more malleable.  Both were amazing experiences but in completely different ways.

Even if it is the same activity, different people can provide different perspectives.  Today's bike ride with some new (and old) friends was the perfect solution to my off-season burnout funk.  It was motivating to hear some of their 2014 race goals (Ironman Cairns! Wildflower!) and hearing their excited chatter about race wheel deals and powertap machines reminded me of why I love this sport so much.  It's about having fun, getting better, getting stronger, getting faster, and having goals.

I'm still nailing down the last one- it's been a work in progress.  I know for a fact though, that a good goal for me right now is to look forward. I need to stop overanalyzing (Coach's wise words, not mine). 

I need to stop looking back in the past.  Forward facing, from now on.
Bring it on, 2014!

Proof that winter base miles can be fun!

Oh, you know, just doing our usual mid-ride yoga stretches...

                                 

Oh yeah, and new toys make it more fun too!

So yes, lots of work to do, lots of fun to be had in the near future.  For now, I am celebrating the joy that comes from hearing about different journeys, and being inspired by different people.  A mosaic, if you will- and when the light shines through, that's when it's the most breath-taking and beautiful.

Five Kernels of Corn.

This past Thanksgiving, we all sat down to this...

Five kernels of corn.

I listened to my mom as she shared the story of the pilgrims- it had literally been years since it's been told to me.  Usually we are so busy filling our bellies with sweet potatoes and turkey and stuffing- such a stark contrast to staring down at a plate with five lonely kernels of corn.

The first winter for the Pilgrims, the food shortage was so severe that each person was given a ration of five kernels of corn per day.  The next spring, the Pilgrims planted the remaining corn, and that fall, they had an abundant harvest of crops.  Every Thanksgiving thereafter, they placed five kernels of corn next to their plates to remind them of their blessings.

The first kernel reminded them of autumn beauty.
The second kernel reminded them of their love for each other.
The third kernel reminded them of their family's love.
The fourth kernel reminded them of their friends.
The fifth kernel reminded them of their freedom.

This was such a powerful object lesson for me.  Daily, I am making an effort to be more grateful, more aware, more awake- and to recognize and appreciate the kernels in my own life.  Especially in this season where everyone is inundated with purchasing, buying, wrapping and consuming- it becomes so easy to gloss over these fundamental truths of what truly fuels our fulfillment and happiness in life.

And it's funny, because all of these five blessings are free.  They do not have a price tag.  Yet they are priceless.

My first kernel- autumn beauty on the trails...

My fifth kernel- freedom from running pain.

Five kernels of corn.  Have you counted your blessings lately?

Butterflies.

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty." -Maya Angelou

Seen on my run today...

Change has been a prominent theme in my life lately.  So it seemed fitting that during today's short run close to sunset, I was accompanied by butterflies.  It was strange phenomenon- I didn't even know butterflies resided on that hill.  So I took it as a sign- a symbol- validating that this current stage of "change" was exactly where I needed to be in life.

It's a fact that everyone changes.  We need to change in order to grow.  It is a gift to have friends who stand by you, especially during those crucial years- who love and accept every single beautiful and flawed aspect of yourself, and remain loyal.  Other friendships come into our lives, serve a direct purpose, and then suddenly exit.  It's these others that I am learning to let go of, with grace, with non-judgement.  Sometimes the foundation of the friendship is based on a common thread (and not always a positive, empowering one), so with change comes goodbyes.  In most cases, I am the one doing the exiting.  

Today I had the privilege to spend some time with a woman who I deeply admire.  She has witnessed me grow up from a little girl, has celebrated my triumphs, encouraged me during my darkest hours, and has inspired me to never lose hope.  We also happen to share the same birthday.  She is transparent, humble, and hopeful always.  I looked her in the eyes- here is a woman who has been through hell and back, and not only survived, but is thriving. I saw in her someone who has embraced change- not only in the letting go, but also in the allowing back in.  As she shared her wisdom, I looked at her and saw a butterfly.  

These were given to me a few weeks ago and reminded me of today.
We were both born on November 2nd, but one is much wiser...

And in the spirit of this blog, I feel like a caterpillar finally emerging from the cocoon (aka. cam-walker boot and brace) and testing out my wings (running feet)... It's been beautiful and refreshing for my spirit...

Changing leaves + crisp weather = happy girl

This is true ananda (bliss)...

Silence.

Silence is a funny thing. 
I've found, if you allow it to- it can eat you alive.  
It's frustrating when you ask questions and you get no answers.

I've also found, if you allow it to- it can heal your soul.
If you sit long enough in the silence, your questions fade, and all that remains is Truth.

It's good to have friends who know you well enough to let you sort out your thoughts in silence.  Sometimes you just need a good headwind and mindless pedal strokes to come up with your own answers that suffice.

Today, out of the blue, I received this from a friend in my inbox:

Yes, please!

After hearing him speak on Rich Roll's podcast, I had been interested in downloading his entire meditation program but held back due to the cost.  I just had to laugh at the impeccable timing and how really, this was exactly what I needed in my life right now, and especially for today, 11/11.

It's true, sometimes pain stems from silence.

But if you can ease the chatter in your mind, sometimes you will find that all of your questions are answered in silence.

The Beauty in Crashing.

Of all the days in the year, I think today probably was the best day for me to crash my bike.  It seems that I always learn my lessons best in the most tangible ways.  So today, this is really what I needed for my heart and my head (not so much for my body or bike).  So I am counting it as a blessing.

The calm before the storm.

84 miles in, on an out-and-back coast ride from Santa Cruz to Half Moon Bay, a sudden sketchy span of curvy railroad tracks left me sprawled out in the road, my leg open and bleeding, with my bike strewn across the tracks.  I know that you should always approach railroad tracks perpendicular.  In most cases, they naturally run perpendicular to the bike lane, not curvy-parallel.  It caught me completely off-guard.  But aside from the physical shock of hitting the ground, nothing was broken, the bike was fine, my brand new Betty Designs kit was not torn (big sigh of relief)...

The remaining 10 miles were rough, but I survived.  My left wrist felt sprained and my leg was stiff, but it was good for me to immediately get back on and spin.  I told myself, "Get over the fear.  You're ok." Surprisingly, I was still able to enjoy the coastal view for the remainder of the ride, and to know that yes, this sport is risky, but with those risks come incredible rewards.

This view beats the stationary bike, that's for sure...

Sitting on the couch could be deemed safer (you don't need to wear a Road ID to change the channel), but I would miss out on the sights of the waves crashing against the rocks, hearing the calls of the seagulls, and feeling the wind upon my face.  Being vulnerable and open to new experiences has its risks always- but when you are in that space, it reminds you that you are a living, breathing, feeling being.  And there is exquisite beauty when you have the courage to venture and stay in that space. 

How sad if we allow the pain and scars from our past crashes to keep us locked in a cellar of fear, numbing us completely from the outside world?

Today was a perfectly timed tangible reminder that sometimes we are lucky in life to coast effortlessly.  And sometimes we suddenly and unexplainably crash.  And even if we don't know exactly what took us down, or how we got down- we just know it hurts a bit in places, but really, we're ok.  In the appropriate context, vulnerability is a good thing.  How much safer and easier it would be to never risk, to never fear rejection, to never really open up to love again- But wouldn't life feel shallow and superficial if you always played it safe?

Thankfully, the stiffness and scars eventually fade.  You get back on the bike.  Because there are countless beautiful roads yet to be explored.  And there are beautiful people still waiting out there to explore them with you.

Resilience.

"In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.

In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.

In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.

I realized, through it all, that...

In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.

And that makes me happy.  
For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, 
there's something stronger- something better, pushing right back." 

-Albert Camus

Fogginess.

I'm all about maximizing things.  And one thing is for sure- I'm taking full advantage of this Indian summer.  I'm doing my best to enjoy every ounce of sunshine during October before rainy season is upon us.  Because let's be honest, indoor trainer sessions sadly don't provide the same endorphin rush...

I've been addicted lately to the coast.  There's something soothing about the ocean and the waves, and whether I've headed up the coast or down the coast, one thing rings true-  It makes my heart really happy.  I think if everyone in the world could escape for an hour just to sit and watch the sun sparkle along the water's edge, the world would be a much better place.  People would be kinder and calmer.  We would be more patient as a whole.  Witnessing the endless blue ocean and the horizon line is a reminder of how small we really are in the grander scheme of life.  It reminds us that there is a bigger picture.

View from our lunchspot near Tomales Bay..

Enjoying oysters at The Marshall Store

Today's ride started out extremely foggy.  Visibility was scarce, and my fingers were crossed that the cars would see our rear small red blinking light. 

Really diggin' the Zipps...

After a few hours heading back down to Santa Cruz, all the fog had burned off and beautiful deep hues of the ocean and the sky were breathtaking.  And then, bam, it occurred to me.  The beauty was there all along.  The fog was just covering it up.  How true- in life, love, and sport.

Sure, be aware of the fog, but also practice patience and trust that it will burn off to reveal something beautiful that's been there all along.

Heading back to Santa Cruz on Highway 1

Sometimes I feel cheated that I was never able to race my "A" race.  All this work since February at times felt like a huge loss, and some mornings when the alarm still rings before 5am, I really have to wonder, "What am I working towards?"  It's been encouraging to see athletes work through injuries and take months off from running, only to come back stronger than ever.   So then I remind myself that in due time, this season's fog will burn off and will reveal something fast and amazing (fingers crossed!).  I just need to stay present and keep showing up.

If you currently feel like you are in a fog, plagued with an injury or in a muddled relationship, remember to give it time.  Be patient.  Learn all you can from this frustrating season so you can channel it into helpful tools to aid others in the future.  When you can use your own personal experiences to be of service to others, it transforms you as well.  And that is true beauty, which has been there all along.  In due time, the fog will finally burn off, and you will recognize it too. 

Cycle-Speak

I just read something that made me really laugh, and I'm hoping it will make you laugh too.  What follows is brought to you by Jonathan Vaughters, former professional racing cyclist and current manager of the Garmin-Sharp professional cycling team...

"I'm out of shape."
Translation: I ride 400 miles a week and haven't missed a day since the Ford administration. I replace my 11-tooth cog more often than you wash your shorts.  My body fat percentage is lower than your mortgage rate.

I'm not competitive."
Translation:  I will win the line sprint if I have to force you into oncoming traffic.  I will crest this hill first if I have to grab your seat post and spray energy drink in your eyes.

"I'm on my beater bike."
Translation: I had this baby custom-made in Tuscany using Titanium blessed by the Pope.  I took it to a wind tunnel and it disappeared.  It weighs less than a fart and costs more than a divorce.

"It's not that hilly."
Translation:  This climb lasts longer than a presidential campaign.  Be careful on the steep sections or you'll fall over-backward.  You have a 39x23 low gear?  Here's the name of my knee surgeon.

"You're doing great honey."
Translation:  Yo, lard ass, I'd like to get home before midnight.  This is what you get for spending the winter decorating and eating chocolate.  I should've married that cute Cat I racer when I had the chance.

"This is a no-drop ride."
Translation:  I'll need an article of your clothing for the search-and-rescue dogs.

"It's not that far."
Translation:  Bring your passport.

Letting Go.

Now that it's officially triathlon "off-season," I have more time and flexibility with my schedule.   There is still a lot of fun riding which has been going on...

Shorter days mean faster rides.  Sunset spins on Palomares Road...

And art...

Lake Merritt sunset with a lil' Warrior I action going on...

All of this free time not consumed by swimbikerun means more time for yoga, which I've grown to love even more.  I saw this the other day and thought it was very true...

#2 really struck a chord with me.  "Let go of things that no longer serve you."  It seems selfish when you say it at first, but the more I let it marinade in my mind, the more it made sense.  I have a history of being the peace-keeper, being nice and accommodating to the expense of myself, and in the end, everyone involved.  I'm so used to muddling around in the gray area to keep everyone happy, but my very good black-and-white friends helped nudge me out of that gray zone quickly.  I'm learning now that it's just better for all parties involved to let it go if it doesn't serve you.  Close that door.  Move on.  Don't look back.

It's been an interesting lesson to take off the yoga mat and into the real world, to say the least...but worth it for long-term emotional and physical health.

What things no longer serve you in your life?  What things do you need to let go of?

Enter/Return.

The other day I noticed a certain key on my laptop- you know the one- on the right hand side, middle of the keyboard...the "return" key.

The one on my Mac laptop happens to say "enter" and "return" on the same key.  And I found how my recent trip to San Diego, a time that was originally planned to be spent up at Lake Tahoe acclimating, was a beautiful representation of that key.  Here I was, returning to a city that I loved, yet also entering a new space filled with new friends and experiences that I never got around to doing while I resided there for 5 years...

Kayaking at La Jolla Caves. Sea lions, seasickness, the whole shebang.

Tried out candlelight hot yoga for the first time at Core Power Yoga.

Lunchtime longcourse with UCSD Masters swimming.

Had to see what all the rage was about...and yes, it was delicious!
We definitely need Beaming up north!

And, on the opposite side of the healthfood spectrum...
This was my first time here.  I know, I know.  Sad, but true.

I went from a completely regimented schedule of train/work/train to now waking up, asking myself what I wanted to do, trying to remember what day it was, and then jumping from adventure to adventure.  In a nutshell, it was awesome.

The views were pretty awesome too.
Sunset at Pacific Beach.

Digested my oysters from Crab Catcher while witnessing the seagulls and sunset.

I didn't start riding my bike until after college, so I had no cycling connections in San Diego, nor was I familiar with any of the routes.  Thanks to Instagram, I was able to connect with some really amazing people who I already knew I would like, even without meeting them.  I already knew their cool riding spots, what they liked to eat, and the things they found important in their life, all via pictures.  It's neat to see how social media can connect individuals in the most non-creepy way.  To me, it blows Facebook out of the water.  Yes, your baby is cute and adorable, and with daily updates, I will be able to witness him growing up all the way up to high school!  So yes, Instagram rocks in my opinion.

Thanks to beauty of the hashtag "IMLT," it was an absolute pleasure to meet two fellow IMLT athletes and share a coast ride with them on their last bike ride before Ironman.  The journey we shared as athletes in such a long span of training months was quite similar, and it was a true blessing to meet and hug Heather and Shawn in person.  I'll be cheering for you both on Sunday as you rock Ironman Lake Tahoe!!  

Morning miles along the coast. (thanks, Heather!)

Thank you, James G. for hooking me up with Jim Bean (www.bikecrave.com) whose wheel I followed to the infamous VeloHangar bike shop and back around the Artesian road through some winding backroads of Rancho Santa Fe.  He kindly dedicated his lunch hour(s) just to show me the sights of San Diego on two wheels.  I loved hearing his stories of racing (before they had aerobars and tri kits) and was so humbled to share some saddletime with such an amazing athlete.

What a fun wheel to follow...

The infamous VeloHangar van where all the bike pics are taken...

Looking back, the 'old' me would have been too scared to step out of my comfort zone and bike with people who I knew were more experienced/faster in fear that I would be judged.  But I've learned that sometimes just showing up and giving it what you've got and having a positive attitude makes a huge difference.  When you reach out in faith, people are really kind and generous and take care of you.  And this just makes you want to return the favor to someone else.

Lake Tahoe this weekend for me will represent the duality symbolized in the computer key.   On one hand, I will be returning to Lake Tahoe.  But this time, I'll be entering the city not as an athlete, but as a spectator/cheerleader.  Yes, it does make me sad.  But as Felipe from Breakaway Training told me over the phone in San Diego, "There's always next season." (and next time I'm down in SD, I can't wait to join you for a workout!) Yes, very true.  My eyes are definitely set for next racing season, but for now, I'm really enjoying this current (more relaxed) season of exploring new things in life, love and sport.  Mountain biking, anyone?

Staying Balanced.

"Life is like riding a bicycle.  To keep your balance you must keep moving." 

-Albert Einstein

Yesterday was my first time doing this...

The adventures begin when the sun sets.  Chasing shadows and making memories...

And now I am fantasizing about my 29er, the dirt, the danger, and the dark...

Riding dirrty. Stoked to log some trailtime on two wheels...

The thing I love most about sport is how you can continue to recreate yourself, building on your strengths, challenging yourself still, and expanding your horizons in every sense of the word.

Looking ahead with lots of excitement in these bright and hopeful eyes...

Making Lemonade.

So it's been exactly one week since my appointment with the BadNewsBear.  A few things I've learned from wearing the boot:
-Sadly, I was actually able to walk faster in my boot than some people and found myself saying, "On your left..." (yes, like a true cyclist).
-Homeless people even felt sorry for me.  A lady said, "Oh, honey, I'm sooo sorry.  I know how it is!!" (Really??)
-It's easier to walk up the stairs in a boot than down the stairs (kind of like post-marathon).
-The outfits still sucked.
-It helped a lot with minimizing my foot pain. (Duh, but the last time I took Advil was Saturday.  Winning!!)

Speaking of winning, this helped get my spirits up. (Thanks, Hulk!)

It's a strange thing- when you know you can't do something, it makes you want to do it even more.  I see pictures of my friends' trail runs and it makes me crave the moment when I can actually hit the dirt again and be surrounded by the Redwood trees.  I just want to run! (Remind me of this later, please...)

But I am thankful that I can still enjoy nature on two wheels.  And you better believe that I took advantage of this weekend to breathe in the fresh air, spin the legs, and surround myself with as many trees and mountains that I could pedal towards.

Redwoods, sun, and the breeze on my face... #loveontwowheels

There's always something special about those sunset spins...

On Saturday I ran across this...

They had Gatorade too! Smart girls...

It was reminder that yes, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade!  The two girls reminded me of my sister and me when we were young and had lemonade and cookie sales on our cul-de-sac.  Maybe it was meant to be that I only had a $20 bill- big tips are always a good thing when you're a kid.  

Oh, and remember Mr. Celery? 

Mr. Celery.  Yes, I name my plants.

Instead of allowing him to die a slow death in my apartment, I handed him off to my friend PK who has an incredible green thumb.  

Look what she helped him become!

No, he's not taking 'roids.  PK just knows how to make him grow!

And this weekend I was able to enjoy the fruit of her labor...

It's like the Celery Circle of Life!

It was a tangible reminder that we must position ourselves in places that will positively support our development.  With the right people around us, we can turn potentially devastating situations and circumstances into opportunities for new change and growth.  The right people, sunshine, and water have always seemed to be the perfect combo for me...

 And not only in sport, but in love too.  Sometimes it helps to have friends who have got your back, have a glass of wine sitting and waiting for you on the table when you need to vent, and who help get you started on your way to new adventures... 

Cheers to that! 

A New Song...

You know how certain songs can put you in a certain mood?  Sometimes I hear a song, and all the emotions from that time in my life come swirling back.  It's like I've traveled back to that moment, and really deeply feel all the feelings from that experience.  My friend introduced me to Bon Iver a few years ago after a horrible break-up, and somehow, hearing his melancholy voice made me feel my sadness in such a deep way that it was actually healing. I listened to his music while getting ready for work, while driving, and at night.  I probably was borderline clinically depressed, but those songs brought me down and raised me back up again.  On Sunday during a yoga class, I could faintly hear them playing Bon Iver's song "Re: Stacks"- and in a moment, I was transported back to that lonely time in my life and could feel sadness sweep over me.

Sometimes those songs are helpful.  And sometimes you need to change the playlist.

"Those who wish to sing always find a song..."

Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and encouraging during such a hard week.  Your emails, texts, hugs, and messages have meant a lot.  I am blessed to be surrounded by people who help me see the bigger picture, who make me smile, who don't make fun of my boot, who listen to my feelings and validate them, and who inspire me to get out there and go after life!

I am choosing happiness.  Today I was back in the water, chasing Hulk down as best as I could, and thankful that things are healing.  I can't wait for the time when I can finally run again, but I am learning patience right now.  So, what's next?  I can't exactly answer that question, but the song in my heart right now is a new one, and a happy one...

It Is Well With My Soul.

This past Sunday, we sang this hymn and the lyrics resonated with me-

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Knowing the story behind this hymn made it even more touching.  It was written by Horatio Spafford, after two major traumas in his life.  The first was the great Chicago Fire of October 1871, which ruined him financially.  Shortly after, while crossing the Atlantic, all four of his daughters died in a collision with another ship.  He wrote this hymn several weeks later, as his own ship passed near the spot where his daughters died.  Despite his pain and grief and inability to understand the course of events, he was able to trust in God's grander plan for his life.

As I sang the chorus, I wondered about my own fate with Ironman, with my foot, and if I was to not compete, would I be able to trust in the bigger picture and confidently say, "It is well with my soul?"

Intuitively I knew the answer after Saturday's ride was abruptly cut short from the pain radiating in my right foot.  Even sporting my new Zoot kit wasn't enough to prevent me from calling it quits and turning around after 10 measly miles.  And the fact that I had effortlessly worked my way already through 1/2 bottle of Advil in the past few weeks had me worried.  At the end of the day, only I knew the severity of my pain, my inability to stand or balance on my right foot, and the agony I endured just from walking.

New Zoot kit before the boot kit.

But the whole draw and lure of Ironman is pushing past those limits and boundaries of pain, sometimes ignoring common sense, and discovering part of ourselves that we could never find without crawling first into that pain cave. (Sounds tempting, doesn't it?) 

So as I sat in the doctor's office anxiously awaiting the results of my X-rays, I had mixed emotions.  I wanted answers, a diagnosis, an objective reason for why I was in so much pain.  But another part of me wanted to sneak out of the office, ignoring everything, and continuing to press on.

Visual proof that my flat feet are more like flippers than feet.

And so through the mumbo jumbo of what the X-rays showed- the extra navicular bone I was aware I had (flat feet make a slow runner but a fast fishy...it's like swimming with two flippers!), I heard ramblings of a tendon on the verge of tearing and the next step if this doesn't heal back into place is surgery and you need to wear this boot during the day for a week so your outfits are gonna SUCK! (ok, maybe he didn't say that last part...but still...).  The only two words that really registered were the ones spoken in the most matter-of-fact, nonchalant way- NO IRONMAN.  I looked at him, searching for some drop of empathy. Nothing.  I held it together.  And that's when I got mad.  I put on my socks.  I grabbed my boot.  

Walking out of the office, I cried.  I felt the wind on my face, the sun, heard the noises of traffic, and it was this huge release of deep intense sadness as the tears streamed down my face.  I mourned the loss of a goal that I had been working towards since February, for the inability to see something I loved come to fruition, and to cross the line with the teammates that I'd been training with day in and day out. 

Oh, how injuries can humble us and bring us to our knees.

In the midst of all of this, I was reminded of the conversation that Coach and I had together on Sunday.  We talked about how there are seasons in life, in our friendships, and in sport- and how the only thing consistent about seasons is that they change.  This is just a season.  ONE season.  And how it is wiser to be smart about not doing one [big] race in a season versus risking permanent injury and thus potentially derailing future years of swimbikerun.

Sometimes it takes more discipline to sit it out and allow an injury to heal versus working through it, or so I am learning now.  And it is ironic how Hulk's nugget of advice is now taking on a whole new meaning...

Funny how it changes when you read this in terms of recovering.

Deep down in my heart, I wanted this season to end crossing a finish line on September 22nd.  But perhaps, like I've always said before, Ironman is really about the journey.  This season has borne fruit- I have met and trained alongside amazing athletes and friends, I've learned how to hydroplane swim, pedal my bike faster, and have learned to be more of a 'thinking athlete.'  

And so, even if my story didn't end with an uber-inspiring finish line race report, my hope is that it can be a candid reminder to do the best that you can with the body that you're given- to challenge and push it beyond what you think you can do, but overall, to respect it and allow it to heal when it needs to.  And for those completing 140.6 miles, when you see a Betty Designs kit on the race course, may it remind you to keep a PMA (Positive Mental Attitude), to keep your eyes open to the beauty around you, and to push a little harder when you see a shadow coming up on you...

This is just another season, physically and metaphorically speaking.  Finish lines are always  fun, but perhaps the bigger lesson this year for me was that sometimes there is no finish line-  that I should live every day without regret, and wholeheartedly.  In that sense, we are always arriving, day after day, recreating ourselves and discovering our pure potential in every moment.  Sometimes it doesn't make sense to me.  But sometimes in life not everything has to be fully understood.  Even through the tears and disappointment, everything really is ok, and I know the Truth- "It is well, it is well with my soul."