"And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
-Nelson Mandela
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Let It Shine.
"And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
-Nelson Mandela
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Small Wins.
It was around mile 70 when I could start to feel the tears welling up in my eyes. My legs felt like lead. I was dropped and watched the rest of the group ride away. Last week at this same hill, I felt so good. This week I could barely pedal my bike.
Keith dropped back and as I slowly rolled up to him he asked, "How are you feeling?"
It was hard to breathe because I was crying. "I'm having a hard time. Today is a bad bike day."
With the physically and mentally challenging day I had experienced, I was perfectly fine riding back at my own pace since we were only 10 miles away. His answer surprised me. "You didn't work your a$$ off for 70 miles to ride home alone. We're all gonna ride back together."
The last 10 miles were a tangible reminder that in life we are never alone- there are people who act as our steady wheels, shielding and blocking the wind from us so we can arrive at our destination in one piece.
In his book The Power of Habits, Charles Duhigg presents the concept of "small wins." A huge body of research has shown that small wins have enormous power. Once a small win has been accomplished, it fuels transformative changes that favor another small win. This chain reaction and momentum that is created can convince people that bigger achievements are obtainable. Even in difficult or challenging times, this momentum still continues to propel you forward. Pyschologists refer to this as the "science of small wins." The concept applies specifically to business and work models, but I found it can equally apply to sport.
Thinking back on past training workouts, I rarely remember the easy, good days. It's those hard days; the ones that really made a dent physically and mentally- that I can recall vividly.
I can remember the first time I climbed through Morgan Territory, feeling the lactic acid in my legs, and with each turn, seeing the pitch in the road curve ever so slightly upward. Countless times I contemplated getting off my bike to "stretch" (aka. catch my breath). But I didn't. I kept chugging onward. I kept moving forward. And I remember how that ride taught me that my little legs have more stamina than I give them credit for.
Or that steep little climb right at the top of Mt. Diablo. You know, the one where you want to zigzag your bike to offset the grade percentage, or walk your bike up, or kill whoever constructed the road at such an angle? Yes, these are the rides I remember. These are my "small wins."
Physically, there was nothing "winning" about this ride today. But it taught me that it is important to finish what you set out to do, and there are people who look after you and help you reach your goal. During Ironman on the lonely parts of the course when it starts to feel hard, these are the moments that you recall. This recollection of "small wins"- the times when you resisted the temptation to quit, moved past it and finished intact- provides the momentum that fuels you to that finish line.
Today at mile 70 I said that it was a bad bike day.
I was wrong.
Today was a small win.
Keith dropped back and as I slowly rolled up to him he asked, "How are you feeling?"
It was hard to breathe because I was crying. "I'm having a hard time. Today is a bad bike day."
 |
| Yes, this did happen. |
The last 10 miles were a tangible reminder that in life we are never alone- there are people who act as our steady wheels, shielding and blocking the wind from us so we can arrive at our destination in one piece.
 |
| Was able to do this with the wisdom of my teammates and coaches. |
Thinking back on past training workouts, I rarely remember the easy, good days. It's those hard days; the ones that really made a dent physically and mentally- that I can recall vividly.
I can remember the first time I climbed through Morgan Territory, feeling the lactic acid in my legs, and with each turn, seeing the pitch in the road curve ever so slightly upward. Countless times I contemplated getting off my bike to "stretch" (aka. catch my breath). But I didn't. I kept chugging onward. I kept moving forward. And I remember how that ride taught me that my little legs have more stamina than I give them credit for.
Or that steep little climb right at the top of Mt. Diablo. You know, the one where you want to zigzag your bike to offset the grade percentage, or walk your bike up, or kill whoever constructed the road at such an angle? Yes, these are the rides I remember. These are my "small wins."
 |
| Today's ride distance and the yummy Wolf food that helped fuel me. |
Today at mile 70 I said that it was a bad bike day.
I was wrong.
Today was a small win.
Friday, March 15, 2013
B.L.I.N.D. Dates
(The following is an article I wrote for North Fitness last year. With training volume increasing, the B.L.I.N.D. dates have made a reappearance to supplement the usual gels/GUs/Shotblocks that are starting to bore the palate)... Enjoy!
 |
| B.L.I.N.D. Dates (Blended Lime juice In Nutty Deliciousness) |
“There’s nothing worse than almost
marrying someone, breaking if off, and having to start over with a blind
date. It’s like failing your senior year
of high school and having to go back to kindergarten.”
-Cindy Chupack
Ahh, the month of February.
Heart-shaped chocolates and truffles.
Romantic dinners with wine and red roses.
However, for those individuals whose significant ‘others’
take the shape of a bike, a running trail or a pool, perhaps now is a good time
to start thinking about ‘dating.’
At the peak of Ironman training when I was juggling
double-workout days and working full-time, it was hard to properly fuel my
workouts given my time constraints. As a
result, I would go into a training session either starving and burn out too
soon, or I’d eat a substantial snack that would in turn, need substantial time
to digest. By that time, the sun had
set, and so had my motivation.
Enter, the blind date.
A colleague of mine noticed my dilemma and kindly shared her creation- a
mixture of natural energy consisting of dates, lime juice and nuts. Oh, the joys of simple nutrition! I appropriately nicknamed them B.L.I.N.D
dates (Blended Lime juice In Nutty Deliciousness).
Just as real-life blind dates can sometimes be a pleasant
surprise, these little creations were surprisingly delicious, and served their
purpose well. Not only were they easily
digestible, but the energy from the dates was quick-burning, and the
monounsaturated fats and protein from the nuts kept my stomach satisfied. They conveniently fit into a gym bag or into
the back of a jersey pocket for energy on the go. Try it for yourself!
B.L.I.N.D. Dates
-2 c. nuts (almonds, cashews, pecans, walnuts, pistachios)
-2 c. pitted dates
-1/2 c. dried sour cherries
-2 Tbs. flaxseed
-juice from 1-2 limes
Directions: Using a food processor, combine the above
ingredients. Add enough lime juice to
bind the ingredients enough where they can be easily rolled into balls. Enjoy!
Feel free to get creative with this basic recipe…try adding
a scoop of protein powder, other dried fruit, shredded coconut, or even morsels
of carob or chocolate for a sweeter variety.
Love is complicated enough.
Keep your nutrition simple. Happy
“dating!”
Saturday, March 9, 2013
The Icarus Deception
"Stop swimming from behind. Swim YOUR fast." Coach first said this to me from the pool deck on Tuesday morning. He repeated these words to me this morning before practice. I first thought he was referring to my swimming tendencies with my lanemate, since I tend to mindlessly gauge my efforts on his pace. He is a strong, steady fish, and sometimes it's easier to swim in his shadow than listen to my own body and what is my own perceived effort.
But Coach was referring to the fact that I am swimming slower than I am capable of, mostly because I like to be comfortable. How can I get faster if I refuse to swim and challenge my body to a higher threshold of work? (notice I deliberately didn't use the word pain...)
Remember Icarus, from Greek mythology? He attempted to escape from Crete by wings made of feathers and wax. He ignored the instructions not to fly too close to the sun, and the melting wax caused him to fall into the sea where he drowned.
I recently heard of Seth Godin's book, The Icarus Deception: How High Will You Fly?, where he challenges the old rules of playing it safe and staying in your comfort zone in your career and life. He flips the lesson on the classic Icarus myth, and instead praises Icarus for his willingness to take a risk and challenge preconceived notions. In society, the real innovators and artists are those who defy traditional rules and strive higher. They are not afraid to risk. Godin writes about how it is better to be sorry than safe. We need to fly higher than ever.
In sport, our 'dangerous sun' is also know as our "red line"- the point that you reach where you either quit, vomit, or have to slow down. Ironically, that line is rarely reached since our head prevents our bodies from ever coming close to that breaking point.
Most of us train in the gray zone, that comfortable place where we give some effort but not enough to make us faster in the long run. I've been guilty of this. I know my body and when things start to feel uncomfortable, I dial it back a little, recover and conserve. I'd rather have "something left in the tank" than crash and burn. I live up to my nickname at times, where I have a tendency to rest in the shadows and put out effort when I feel like I have something in the tank. The problem is, I always have more than enough left in the tank. I have yet to fly close to my sun because I have been afraid of the melting wax on my wings.
Hence, my coach's words of advice.
So today I swam MY fast, in my triathlon kit with more drag than I'd prefer. I felt the lactic acid build up in my muscles. I kept swimming. I dismissed the negative thoughts telling me to slow down. I concentrated on feeling strong and relaxed, and gliding effortlessly over the water. I adopted the attitude of staying curious, not afraid. Exploring my limits, and moving past them.
"Stop swimming from behind. Swim YOUR fast." Don't gauge your rhythm, your pace, and your path in life upon someone else's. Pave and discover your own way.
I am still finding my fast in the pool and on the bike, and in life. Today I came one step closer.
Stay curious.
Dance upon the edge.
Be like Icarus.
But Coach was referring to the fact that I am swimming slower than I am capable of, mostly because I like to be comfortable. How can I get faster if I refuse to swim and challenge my body to a higher threshold of work? (notice I deliberately didn't use the word pain...)
Remember Icarus, from Greek mythology? He attempted to escape from Crete by wings made of feathers and wax. He ignored the instructions not to fly too close to the sun, and the melting wax caused him to fall into the sea where he drowned.
I recently heard of Seth Godin's book, The Icarus Deception: How High Will You Fly?, where he challenges the old rules of playing it safe and staying in your comfort zone in your career and life. He flips the lesson on the classic Icarus myth, and instead praises Icarus for his willingness to take a risk and challenge preconceived notions. In society, the real innovators and artists are those who defy traditional rules and strive higher. They are not afraid to risk. Godin writes about how it is better to be sorry than safe. We need to fly higher than ever.
In sport, our 'dangerous sun' is also know as our "red line"- the point that you reach where you either quit, vomit, or have to slow down. Ironically, that line is rarely reached since our head prevents our bodies from ever coming close to that breaking point.
Most of us train in the gray zone, that comfortable place where we give some effort but not enough to make us faster in the long run. I've been guilty of this. I know my body and when things start to feel uncomfortable, I dial it back a little, recover and conserve. I'd rather have "something left in the tank" than crash and burn. I live up to my nickname at times, where I have a tendency to rest in the shadows and put out effort when I feel like I have something in the tank. The problem is, I always have more than enough left in the tank. I have yet to fly close to my sun because I have been afraid of the melting wax on my wings.
 |
| Exploring those limits with 3 minute TT relay efforts on the bike. Gotta love the nickname! |
So today I swam MY fast, in my triathlon kit with more drag than I'd prefer. I felt the lactic acid build up in my muscles. I kept swimming. I dismissed the negative thoughts telling me to slow down. I concentrated on feeling strong and relaxed, and gliding effortlessly over the water. I adopted the attitude of staying curious, not afraid. Exploring my limits, and moving past them.
"Stop swimming from behind. Swim YOUR fast." Don't gauge your rhythm, your pace, and your path in life upon someone else's. Pave and discover your own way.
I am still finding my fast in the pool and on the bike, and in life. Today I came one step closer.
Stay curious.
Dance upon the edge.
Be like Icarus.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Broken.
I'd like to consider myself a pretty strong person. But today was one of those days that rocked me to my core. Tears fell at work. A lot of tears.
When your intentions are good and your actions are all done for a greater purpose of helping the situation, and it later all comes back to bite you in the bum, sometimes it causes you to question the entire system and the effectiveness of your role.
There is a garage parking attendant who has always been very sweet. We don't know each other's names, but have developed a friendship over the past year. He knows not to touch my badge because I'm bacteria-conscious and will drive close enough to swipe it myself. Some days, I give him fun treats and snacks as I leave the parking garage. Today all I had for him were the tears streaming down my face- what's the point of censoring your feelings when you have the road ahead and a box of kleenex in the car? He touched my arm through the booth, and with sympathetic eyes he said, "Bad day? It'll be ok tomorrow."
A phone call from a friend on the drive home helped. It was a reminder that there are people who know my heart, my intentions, and that my work is valued. These are the moments in life where special people, like those specks of sunshine, create a rainbow in your rainy day- reminding you to stay hopeful and keep your chin up.
And like the parking attendant said, "It'll be ok tomorrow." And I trust him.
When your intentions are good and your actions are all done for a greater purpose of helping the situation, and it later all comes back to bite you in the bum, sometimes it causes you to question the entire system and the effectiveness of your role.
There is a garage parking attendant who has always been very sweet. We don't know each other's names, but have developed a friendship over the past year. He knows not to touch my badge because I'm bacteria-conscious and will drive close enough to swipe it myself. Some days, I give him fun treats and snacks as I leave the parking garage. Today all I had for him were the tears streaming down my face- what's the point of censoring your feelings when you have the road ahead and a box of kleenex in the car? He touched my arm through the booth, and with sympathetic eyes he said, "Bad day? It'll be ok tomorrow."
A phone call from a friend on the drive home helped. It was a reminder that there are people who know my heart, my intentions, and that my work is valued. These are the moments in life where special people, like those specks of sunshine, create a rainbow in your rainy day- reminding you to stay hopeful and keep your chin up.
 |
| Rainbows after the rain... |
And like the parking attendant said, "It'll be ok tomorrow." And I trust him.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Enjoying the Process...
So often many of us are so fixated on a goal, on a certain outcome, on a destination- myself included.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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).
 |
| 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).
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Sharing the Same Spirit...
"The water is your friend...you don't have to fight with water, just share the same spirit as the water, and it will help you move." -Alexandr Popov
I've always thought of the water as my friend, but now I'd say that we are being reacquainted once again. I've pretty much swam the same way for almost 25+ years...the same swivel of the hips, hand entry, "S" shaped curve down my body with my arm...
All of that is changing, and I am embracing a new technique and way of moving through the water. I used to repeat "skewer" to myself while I swam, as a visual reminder to rotate my shoulders and hips and keep my core centered.
Coach made it clear- I'm not a kabob. I'm a swimmer.
I'm relearning my entire swim technique; thinking quite consciously about not making an "S" curve, and instead feeling my hands pull me through the water with one streamline forward pull. I feel like I'm hydroplaning. And I feel faster.
Just like swim technique evolves through time, so do we as individuals. Don't stick to old school techniques just because they were the best way back when. Learn to adapt and embrace change. Trust the process. Trust your coach. Trust yourself.
Then you will truly share the same spirit as the water- as a fluid-like and seamlessly calm and courageous individual.
 |
| It's pretty awesome to finish your cooldown to this backdrop. I'm starting to love mornings again. |
All of that is changing, and I am embracing a new technique and way of moving through the water. I used to repeat "skewer" to myself while I swam, as a visual reminder to rotate my shoulders and hips and keep my core centered.
Coach made it clear- I'm not a kabob. I'm a swimmer.
I'm relearning my entire swim technique; thinking quite consciously about not making an "S" curve, and instead feeling my hands pull me through the water with one streamline forward pull. I feel like I'm hydroplaning. And I feel faster.
Just like swim technique evolves through time, so do we as individuals. Don't stick to old school techniques just because they were the best way back when. Learn to adapt and embrace change. Trust the process. Trust your coach. Trust yourself.
Then you will truly share the same spirit as the water- as a fluid-like and seamlessly calm and courageous individual.
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