P.M.A.

I first heard of this term a few years ago, but never really used it.  Then during one practice while I was talking to Wolfie, it resurrected itself.  

"We just need to have a P.M.A." 
"What's that?" she asked.
"Positive mental attitude."

And just like that, it became a permanent part of our vocabulary.  I've learned on this journey that there are two ways of approaching hard workouts- 1) Embrace the suck (the preferred masochistic approach of Macca and Hulk) or 2) Have a PMA (the preferred approach for Wolfie and me).

One of my favorite amateur triathletes Sonja Wieck said it best- "It's true that your ability to remain positive in all situations will give you a leg up on your competition, and even if it doesn't...at least you will have a positive outlook on things.  If you are fast and happy, you're good.  If you are slow and happy, still good.  But if you are fast or slow and unhappy...no bueno.  If you are slow and unhappy, I'm pretty darn sure that shifting to slow and happy will give you the best chance at becoming fast and happy."

An example of NOT having a PMA.  A mud-covered face and booty during a rainy bike sesh.

And this here folks, is Wolfie, the fresh-faced PMA model.

So the recipe for success, alongside a good coaching program?  PMA.

On Tuesday morning in the pool, I was chatting with Wolfie.  That night my group was supposed to do power climbs up Mt. Diablo.  And I was not really that excited.  Did I mention that I was not that excited?

"Ohhhhh Shadow, you gotta have a PMA.  It'll be FUN!  You might see Bambi!  It's soooo pretty up there."  It was semi-sarcastic, but it made me laugh, and it did change my perspective.  Wolfie knows all the right things to say to me.

That night, I resolved to have a PMA.  It helped a lot.  And my new climbing gears on my road bike helped too, as well as the fact that I had really awesome company.

Doing power climbs up Mt. Diablo with this as the backdrop?  No complaints.

No Bambi sightings, but I was trailing behind these guys. #thenextbestthing

And yesterday was my first double-run day.  I like double mint gum.  And double chocolate chip cookies.  But double runs?  Not so much.  I was especially not exactly looking forward to the run after work, but I loaded up my ipod shuffle with Rich Roll's new podcast featuring Hillary Biscay, laced up my shoes, and didn't forget the most important thing- my PMA.  In all honesty, it was the most energizing/relaxing/beautiful run I've had in a long time.  It actually felt better than the run I had in the morning.

Double runday funday.

Having a PMA helps not only in sport, but also in your professional life.  If shifts occur on the work horizon, having a PMA is critical in allowing you to embrace changes as growth opportunities and creative new endeavors, rather than scary roads.  I think it's true- you can change your life by simply changing your attitude.

In everything that we do, we have a choice about how we approach it.

So either embrace the suck.

Or have a PMA.

Race Day Magic.

Three days after my Lake Del Valle open water swim, I was flat on my back feeling like all the energy had been sucked out of me.  My nose was running, I was coughing, and I had the worst headache.  I slept for almost 2 days straight and was convinced that I had some strange microbial infection from the lake that would eventually kill me.  A 'real' doctor told me I had sinusitis.  And to stop freaking out.

Mom saves the day with homemade chicken soup, garlic bread, an orchid, and Mucinex-D.

Another friend brought over organic lemons (he knows I'm a snob).
With tea.  And chocolate.  And cookies.
I think all this worked more than the Mucinex-D, in my humble opinion.

The thought of having to navigate again in the open water swim just one week after I had recovered from this bout of feeling-like-crapitis made me nervous.  Granted it wasn't Shady Cliffs, but still...

Some races, things just all come together- I can't really explain it- so I just call it "race day magic."  The day before, I had an awesome pre-race lunch (eating fresh fish somehow always channels my inner fast fishy).  I got my good luck pre-race hug.  And pep talk.  Which really wasn't a pep talk, but it felt like tradition.  And it made me happy.

Having most of my GL Coaching teammates also participating made it so much fun.  On the drive over, I opened a super sweet card from Wolfie that made my day and inspired me to swim fast.  According to the Gary Chapman's book The Five Love Languages, Words of Affirmation is my primary 'language.'  So encouraging emails and cards and pep talks are all positive forces that act as huge motivators.  It was perfect timing.  And Hulk (aka the mailman) didn't get in trouble because he remembered to deliver it on time!

Wolfie's words of affirmation. 

Coach said the 2.4 mile swim was just "time practicing in the open water."  I'm not sure if he tells us that to keep us calm and relaxed, but secretly, I think this is what he really means- 

Er, sexiest wetsuit...

Aside from the fact that the anti-fog Spitz was burning my eyeballs within the first loop (Iesson learned for IMLT- rinse them out!) and the fact that my half-a$$ Body Glide application had left my wetsuit chafing my neck with every stroke, I felt good.  It seemed like I was swimming all alone- I couldn't see anyone else around me.  After the first buoy turn, I looked up and saw another human being!  And it was Hulk!  I let out a shriek of joy, partly because I wasn't lost alone in the middle of Chesbro Reservoir, and because Hulk=fast feet. I hopped on his feet for a few seconds and then noticed they were doing a hard kick of BACKSTROKE.  I lifted my head up and we both started laughing.  Then, we got to work and did what we do best- we swam together and it was good enough for a 5th/6th place overall.

Hulk always tows me on the bike, so I was happy to tow him around for a bit in the water.

I was really surprised with my results- I was the 1st woman in my AG, and even more cool- 1st overall woman in the 2.4 mile wetsuit division!  

Game face.

#willraceforwine

I can only say that it is because of unique coaching I've been receiving, and for all those early mornings with Hulk and Wolfie beside me in the pool, encouraging and pushing me to swim 'my fast.'  We all need each other, and our individual wins are really a reflection of the group's wins.

Turns out, GL Coaching's group is full of fast fishes who also placed really well!

Most of the crew with our winning schwag...

I have memories of the last time I did the 2.4 mile Catfish Crawl.  This year's theme all around seems to be re-writing the past and moving forward with an improved technique and mentality- which is translating into better race results.  I love the coaching I'm receiving.  I love my inspiring teammates.  And I've always loved the open water.

But I'm still taking Mucinex, just in case.

The Sweet Spot.

My favorite part of the trail.  With my favorite trail buddy.

During one windy bike ride, I remember Hulk telling me to tuck behind the wheel in front of me and "find that sweet spot."  You know, that perfect spot where you are shielded from the wind and can pedal easily and effortlessly in the draft.  You continue to move at a fast pace, but with absolute flow and ease.

Lately, I feel like I've hit a sweet spot in life.  I think back at the numerous paths that my life could have taken, and how drastically different things would be now if I had followed down those roads.  Back when I was 24, I thought I would be married and have kids by the time I was 32.  I've learned that happiness and success are not contingent on the trajectories (heavily constructed by society and culture) that I held for myself way back when.  Things change.  But more importantly, I've changed.

What if I had stayed in Southern California?  What if I had gotten married?  The endings to those scenarios that I  sometimes envision fall short of what I would consider being truly happy and fulfilled.

The path I'm on now feels more authentic- it feels good under my feet and I'm always curious to see what is beyond the next curve.  The feelings of joy and gratitude fill my heart- not fear- and for me, this is monumental.

I'm reading more books.
I'm watercoloring.
I'm meditating.
I'm surrounding myself with quality individuals who motivate and challenge me to aim for higher levels- physically, mentally and spiritually.  
And of course, I'm loving every minute of swimbikerun.

Life isn't always easy.  I know that.
So it makes it that much better when you hit a sweet spot.

Calidoscopio.

This morning I believed with all my heart that today would be a really fast swim day, and hopefully fast enough to secure a 1st place AG win.  It may seem trite to some, but I really wanted this.  Sure, I've never raced an open water 5K, but I did the math, checked results from last year against my old 2.5K results, and trusted the amazing coaching and swim sessions that I've had since February.  As I was eating my pre-race breakfast, I happened to stumble upon this video.

It left me tearful over my bowl of oatmeal, and there were some valuable lessons I gained- Fall into your own tempo.  Don't allow the pace of others to dictate your race.  Find your own 'fast' and have faith in it.  Trust it, even if others may judge you, and comment- like the track announcer did- that you're "way out of the race right now."

Lake Del Valle. 5K = 2 loops around.  Feeding boat on bottom left! 

The swim start was competitive and fast, and unlike triathlon where strong swimmers can 'out-bully' weaker swimmers, everyone here was stubbornly battling for position and no one was letting up.  Someone behind me kept grabbing and pulling my feet down so I couldn't breathe (I know this was likely unintentional as they were probably trying to stroke their arms forward).  But still.  At one point, another swimmer and I got entangled in each other's arms so we looked like BFFs.  That actually made me laugh.

This is cool on the beach.
During a competitive open water swim?  Not so cool.

I settled into my rhythm and kept asking myself and self-assessing- "Am I giving everything that I can?  Am I squeezing out every last drop?"  I just imagined myself in the pool next to Hulk, and all of those times when we'd have butterfly interspersed into a long swim set to build endurance- just enough to raise the heart rate, but short enough to still recover from that effort and settle back into your rhythm.  Like the butterfly, I'd sprint to chase the bubbles in front of me, roll through it, and recover.  And repeat.  On the second lap around, there was no 'pack,' but merely random individual swimmers sprinkled throughout the water.  To choose a target was meaningless.  I just put my head down and kept swimming "my fast."

As I passed the final turn buoy, I turned on the motor as high as it would go.  At this point, we were all so spread out, each of us choosing a different line to the finishing chute.  I channeled Calidoscopio, coming along that last turn- strong, in rhythm and in flow.

I ran up the ramp and almost lost my balance as the volunteer removed my timing chip.  "Good job, Bob!" I looked up in surprise at who knew my secret nickname, and it was Talia- we had swam together through high school and at UCSD. It was great to see her there. Another friendly face had also perfectly timed his bike ride to hear the announcer say my name- it really made my day.

I was really happy with my swim- 1:25:35.  Was the course longer than 3.1 miles?  Some said yes.  Regardless, I was proud of my effort and was pretty sure that I had placed.  All that changed when I checked the results.  My heart sank.  Above my name was another 32 year-old girl's name, with a time faster than mine by 15 seconds.  All of a sudden, in a flurry of disappointment, a really perfect swim became the object of detailed analysis.  

"Should I have gone out faster?"  I answered myself right away- "No.  I went out as fast as I could."  I took a leap of faith and wasn't afraid to swim alone, even if it meant ditching the feet in front of me and the effortless draft they offered.  I knew deep down in my heart that I swam the best race that I could.  I told myself, "C'mon!  You should be so happy with 2nd place!"   But still, I couldn't shake the disappointment. 

And that's when I met Susan.

As the last swimmer finishing the 5K, her 5K swim time rivaled that of some people who did the 10K swim... 3+ hours.  In fact, as she was toweling off, some people asked her if she had just finished the 10K swim.  You couldn't tell since she had a huge smile spread across her face.  Her 63 year-old body was beaming.  "That was the hardest thing that I've ever done.  I wanted to quit so badly.  But I didn't.  I'm so incredibly proud of myself that I could cry!"

Wow.  Attitude check.

Susan continued, "I know I'm a slow swimmer.  I know that."  In our conversation, I learned that she had just started swimming when she was 54 years old.  

I was intrigued.  "What did you tell yourself when you wanted to quit?"
"I dedicated this race to my friend who has cancer.  And even though this is hard, it's nothing in comparison to fighting cancer.  I do these open water swims and everyone asks me, 'What was your time?  What was your time??'"

She paused.  It was at that moment when our eyes met and I spoke.  "But really, time doesn't matter.  At the end of the day, you and I both swam a 5K.  And that's a lot more swimming than most people would ever attempt.  Your courage, irrespective of your finishing time, will serve to inspire the people you know to attempt something that is outside of their comfort zone."

She began to cry.  "Thank you."  I looked at her as well with tear-filled eyes.  Really, I was thankful to her.  Her attitude gave me a renewed and different perspective.  Sure, it would have been nice to win 1st place.  But at the the end of the day, it's more about giving all you have, at that moment, and surrendering the outcome.  And that's what we both did today.

When I look at my medal, I'll be reminded of Susan- and even if she never wins a tangible medal for her swim efforts, I know that her heart and her story is adorned with those medals of courage, honor, and faith- things of lasting value.

Hardware to remind me of this day and the lessons I learned.

Perhaps just like Susan and Calidoscopio- even if others label you as 'older' and 'slower,' you must learn to be comfortable going at your own pace in your own race.  In your jobs, relationships, or marriages, outsiders may judge and say that you are "way out of the race right now."  The trick is to drown out the voices of those critics and trust what you know is true.  It's at this moment when the race- and the victory- are yours for the taking.

Blurred Lines.

Lines are complex things.  For the most part, they act as protective boundaries.  But I've discovered in life that sometimes they can become self-limiting.  These lines exist in our personal, professional, and athletic realms for a reason and need to be respected, but it saddens me when protectiveness trumps trust.

Sport has a funny way of blurring those lines.  I've both gained and lost amazing friendships from crossing those lines.  I've worked in companies where the Top Dogs had minimal interaction with ancillary staff.  To a certain degree, I understand that.  So I am extremely thankful for those professionals who do their job and save lives at work, yet are not afraid to ditch the white lab coat after hours and join me for a trail run.  Recently, I was so proud to witness my new running buddy triple the maximum distance he had ever done in a single run with me.  As we were sweating it out and navigating the terrain together, I was able to get to know not only an incredible doctor, but an incredible person.

If you're going to run, run around the whole lake.
Right?

I love how sport can obliterate job titles and age gaps.  In the water or on the road, status doesn't matter.  Everyone just is.  I recall one time in San Diego when I shared a lane with the CEO of Triathlete magazine.  I remember seeing him in an editorial meeting just a few days before, commanding authority while the rest of us scribbled down notes silently.  However, in the water, status didn't matter- we were just two swimmers trying to beat the pace clock.

This Saturday, I'm racing my very first 5K open water swim.  I'm excited to challenge my "redline/I'm-about-to-blow-up" line.  According to Coach, it only really exists in my head.  I must say, however, that "the line" seems very real when I watch Hulk effortlessly swim 2 full body lengths in front of me and I can't catch him to save my life.  I'm deciding now that I'm not going to be scared, I'm going to be curious...

This makes it seem so....easy.

I'll find out the Truth on Saturday.  It's time to get out of my head, get uncomfortable, and obliterate that fictitious line.

The start of our 10 mile time trial.
Clearly I like to cross lines. (This was an honest mistake, I promise.)

Now these are some lines I need to pay attention to for Saturday's swim. We do this loop twice.
Hopefully I can swim in a straight line!

In 15 short weeks, this is the open water I'll be navigating-
Kings Beach, Lake Tahoe.

Lines- sometimes it leaves me wondering how life and sport would be without them.  It seems fitting too, that with all this talk about blurred lines, this currently happens to be my favorite song right now and has been playing nonstop on the iPod...