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?

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.

Welcome Home.

"Inhale, plank. 
Exhale, chaturanga.  
Inhale, updog.  
Exhale, downward dog."

The room was filled with glistening bodies as we lost ourselves in the beat of deep House music and the subtlety of our breath.  My mat was inches from Mike, a fellow cyclist who had introduced me to this studio and instructor.  Synchronized together, we flowed from Warrior I to Warrior II pose.

Imagine this- but sans the ocean waves...

I could hear the instructor's deep voice- "Be brave.  Be strong."

My mind focused only on the rhythmic movement of my body, in sync with my breath.  Sweat droplets streamed down my body and face, mixing with my tears.  It was a cathartic release from the earlier events of the day- coming to terms with the abrupt closure in a relationship dear to my heart, and the looming uncertainties with my foot within the scheme of Ironman.

On the mat I realized that with closure in one area , there is always room for new opportunities in other areas.  I relaxed into a space of non-judgement, neutrality, and acceptance.  In that moment, I let go.

Inhale, exhale.  Ebb and flow.  The ending of a sequence leads to the opening of another- both on and off the mat.

We continued the sun salutation sequence on our own, each connecting with the rhythm of our own bodies and breath.  We all met each other in downward-facing dog, taking three deep breaths.  That's when I heard the instructor's voice again, resounding with a quiet strength that gave me shivers since it fit so well with my state of bliss- "Welcome home."

Saturday's 10-hour training session followed suite- a long swim, bike and water run where I hoped to be in the same mental space- one of acceptance, neutrality and non-judgement.

I knew I needed a solo ride to prove to myself that I could endure a mentally and physically long day without the playful stories and jokes of training partners (aka. awesome distractions from the distance/course/screaming legs).  I packed the ipod shuffle as back-up, just in case my mind turned negative and I needed to shut it off.  I had people praying for my safety and specifically, that I would have positive thoughts running through my head during the long day.

I had one of the best rides I've experienced all season.  I rode my favorite routes- the same familiar winding roads that healed my broken heart and that were shared with dear friends.  I was reminded of all the good company throughout the years and all the people in my life who have helped me get this far.  I found my rhythm, my breath, and effortlessly pedaled up hills that I remember being difficult in the past.  As I crested up to the top of the hill to Skyline, I pedaled past the point where I had fallen over, clipped in, after sheer exhaustion from climbing back in 2009 (thanks, Merrick!).

"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view.  May your mountains rise into and above the clouds." -Edward Abbey

My legs kept pedaling, I was smiling, and mentally was in a space of absolute gratitude- thankful for the coaches I've had in my life, for my squadmates, for PK (who taught me that yoga is so much more than asanas), and for my family.  

I rode into Danville, past my crash site from last year- and was reminded of how grateful I was for my safety and for the SAG support I had for that day.  The day ended with a 2 hour water run.

The proof is in the pudding, err, pruney fingers.

On Friday, Coach warned me that the 10-hour day could bring out a lot emotionally for me.  These past few weeks have been littered in self-doubt, negativity, and fear.  He told me that this day was not only about the physical component, but more about the emotional one- I would experience extreme highs and lows.  But as he ended our conversation, he mentioned that with everything I've been through lately, "the tenacious girl I saw during those long winter rides is still in you."

Saturday was about refusing to give up- to keep moving forward with courage and faith.  I rediscovered that tenacious girl- the one who overcomes obstacles both on and off the bike- and the overwhelming joy and thrill that comes with having the willingness to risk.  I reconnected once again with the girl who felt supported, loved unconditionally, and comfortable enough to get uncomfortable-

And as I wrapped up a solid 10-hour training day on Saturday, she whispered to me, "Welcome home."

"Sometimes when you think you are done, it is just the edge of beginning.  Probably that's why we decide we're done.  It's getting too scary.  We are touching down onto something real.  It is beyond that point when you think you are done that often something strong comes out." -Natalie Goldberg

Asking the Right Questions.

There was a dark period in my life when I felt completely numb, traumatized, angry and victimized.  I wasn't sleeping.  It was difficult to function in my daily life, and some people even gently suggested medication.  I was anti-meds, and found that the only breakthrough I had was through EMDR (Eye movement Desensitization and Reprocessing).  This technique miraculously allowed me to move on in my life by reprogramming 'triggers-' things that once caused a spiral of anxiety and stress were now considered harmless memories once they were reframed.

In essence, I learned to stop asking the pitiful and selfish question, "Why me?" and instead probe, "What can I take from this experience?  What has this experience taught me that can help me make better decisions in the future?"

Coach knew the hills in Tahoe made me feel like a victim- angry, weak, subordinate and questioning everything.  And so, before we rode the hills on the 3 Bears ride on Thursday, I was asked to reframe my view of the hills.  Instead of hating them, I was told to ask them, "What are you teaching me?  What lessons can I gain from you?"

With this new open attitude of nonresistance and surrender, I was able to relax and receive.  I allowed the hill to guide me like a gentle elder, giving me wise words that will stay safe in my journal.  Instead of being tense and angry at the bottom of the hill, I actually enjoyed climbing for the first time- I was hungry to hear what the hill had to teach me.  I even had some fun on the climb, spinning away and feeling much more empowered and stronger than before.

A view after one of the climbs.
Just like the sun's rays, the answers to good questions always penetrate through the clouds.

Even in meditation, so often people think about what they want. They spend their minutes focused on the question, "What do I need in my life?"

My dear friend (PK, you are secretly my guru!) challenged me to ask a different question- "How can I serve?"

Oh man, that changed everything!  All of a sudden, it was not about me.  It was about the bigger world around me, other people and communities, and how my life could somehow fit into that larger scheme and make a bigger difference.

In life, sport and spirituality, it is amazing how perspectives and judgements and attitudes can dictate our experiences.  All of these perspectives and judgements and attitudes are contingent on the questions that we ask ourselves.

So make sure that you are asking yourself the right questions.

Enjoying the Process...

So often many of us are so fixated on a goal, on a certain outcome, on a destination- myself included.

One of my dad's many masterpieces, now residing at my place!

Being in the presence of a master ceramicist (my dad) and working with clay was a gentle reminder to enjoy the process.  I started out by making pinch bowls, just to get a feel for the clay.  It felt so freeing to work with my hands; to use my thumbs and transform a glob of clay into a bowl by starting from the center and working my way out.

The pinchbowls I made (left); my cup I made on the wheel (right).

My second bowl was ironically more difficult to make.  The walls became thin and as I tried to 'fix' it, it seemed to become increasingly more uneven.  At one point I became frustrated.  I was tempted to ball the entire thing up into a glob again and start over, but then decided to stop being so attached to making a perfect bowl.  I ended up folding some of the walls in and it suddenly became a star bowl. 

Working the wheel was a different story.  It took me awhile to get a feel for the clay, to learn how much pressure to exert, how much water to add to make it pliable, and how to fold my hands and cup the clay in order to center it and form it.

Working the wheel...

I asked my dad what the most common mistake he saw in people when they worked the wheel.  He answer resonated deeply with me.  "They rush the process.  They try to get from A to Z in 30 seconds.  It's not going to happen that way."

The beauty of ceramics is that you may have in mind what type of piece you will create, but it may change as you work with the clay.  It is a continual process of reworking the same piece of clay until you achieve your final product.  Similarly in sport, just as clay is constantly being reshaped and reformed, training plans sometimes must be modified.  There is no one perfect training plan because adjustments always have to be made...what if you feel more fatigued than usual?  Have life-stressors that affect your training?  Are dealing with injuries?

Modification #1: Water running for now...

Growing up, my dad's ceramics were everywhere in our house.  They graced the tables at church during potlucks, and decorated the houses of friends and family.   It was apparent that as a ceramicist, once you are done with a piece, you still continue to create more, as your work is a snapshot of your expression and manifestation of who you are.

Pieces drying and ready to be fired soon...all part of the process...

Dad found an old bowl I had made from (10+??) years ago!
Now it's going to be fired and glazed with the others.

In sport, oftentimes athletes get so caught up in a goal or "A" race.  But after they cross that finish line, then what?  If it was all about crossing the Ironman finish line for me, I would have hung up the bike and wetsuit after Nov. 2011.  I am learning that like a ceramicist, it is not about that one piece of pottery that I create, I just enjoy the process and the journey of becoming a more refined master of my trade, and making adjustments where needed as I learn more about myself, my pre-conceived limits (and how to surpass them), and how much more there is to go.  

Learning tactical group riding skills.
And how being the only girl isn't an excuse to slack off.

I have so enjoyed this triathlon journey through the years but also have to remind myself to be patient as I gain more skills, technique and mental confidence.  Be fully present.  And don't rush the process.  Just like dad said (funny how he is usually right).

Going With the Flow (#14: Meditate Consistently for One Week)

Yoga doesn't get much attention on this blog.  Until now.  I have this competitive streak that mostly shows its face in sport.  I like to strive, to push, to dig deep, to win.

You can't win yoga.

Through the years I have learned to be more accepting of my body in yoga.  Early on, I used to strain and pride myself on being able to do 'advanced' poses.  No blocks for me, thank you.  I'm flexible.  I had no concept of the breath- I was too busy holding it just to keep my balance in an unassisted asana.

Luckily now, I have a deeper appreciation of my practice, my breath, my awareness.  Although I am still learning to let go.  During one class, the teacher gave us the option of going into headstand or bridge pose.  Immediately, my instinct was to take on the headstand challenge (for the record, I can't really do a headstand).  It seemed as though everyone in the class was stabilizing themselves into the headstand, until I saw someone who I fully respect go into the (easier option) of the bridge pose.  I followed her lead.  I felt a sense of relief and of acceptance as I humbly arched my back and wiggled my shoulders underneath my body.  I took a deep breath in, and then exhaled.  This is where I'm at now.  And that's ok.

I let go.  

This concept  of 'letting go' within my yoga practice has assisted me as I started my meditation journey.  Yes, it's a struggle at first not to think about my to-do list for the day, but after awhile, it became easier to gently release those thoughts.  Instead, I would be still- and in this stillness, I'd invite other thoughts in, allowing them to marinate in my conscious, and then lovingly let them go.  I started specifically practicing metta meditation and have experienced amazing breakthroughs in my personal life from just one week.  

My favorite meditation spot- in front of the fireplace on my bolster

The inner athlete in me is learning to finally be still- without the need to pause the Garmin...to finally know what it feels like to be more grounded.   Sometimes less is more.  Yoga blocks aren't crutches, they are just props.  

When you experience acceptance and forgiveness towards your physical body, this can be strongly translated into your meditation- which ultimately results in huge transformations in your external world.

Trust me.