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."

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

Flexibility.

It's not news that I like structure.  Believe me, my monthly planner has all of the big workouts written in- the 21 mile run, the 90 mile bike followed by the hour run, the 10 hr day (next Saturday, to be exact)...and to be perfectly honest, I actually enjoy the long stuff.  These were the workouts that I was told about from the beginning, and I was looking forward to them (we're all a little cray cray).  But now I look at them and understand that modifications need to be made.  And I just have to be flexible, breathe, and allow the body to do what it will do.

Translating flexibility now to my training program...

Last week, I was not Ms. Flexible Ironman Training Plan Girl. I was ready to call it quits.  Done.  Game over.  I can't even walk.  Pua.


And then, all of a sudden, it was like the Ironman Cowbird came and laid its eggs into my nest, pushing out the eggs of despair, frustration, fear of failure, and negativity.  Family and friends supported my decision either way.  But this week, miraculously, the foot is healing. But most of all, my spirit is healing.  I've had really positive and supportive encouragement from those who I respect both as athletes and as people.  Hulk reminded me of everything we both have invested already in this journey.  After our conversation, all of a sudden it came flooding back to me- the early 4:45am wake-up calls to swim, the long winter training rides where I'd try my hardest to not get dropped by the boys, the evening rides when I just wanted to go home after work and nap, bowing out of social engagements because I had an early bedtime- both of us understood the sacrifices of doing this sport.  His valuable input sparked the question- "What is better, to DNF (did not finish) or DNS (did not start)?  And my answer resonated with Kathryn Bertine, who failed to qualify for the London Olympics in women's cycling-  

"I have twice tried to cycle my way to the Olympics and did not succeed on either attempt.  And yet, I refuse to use the word 'fail.'  Not reaching a goal is one thing, but to attach failure to it would take away all I did achieve along the way.  From seeing the world to meeting incredible competitors to improving as an athlete, I have only gained, not lost.  To 'fail' at anything means one must first try something, so technically the failure cannot exist without trying; and if there is effort, then perhaps there is no such thing as failure.  The gift of disappointment is it shows us our capacity to care, want, hope and be truly invested in life and go after what we want.  It hurts when we don't reach our goal, but disappointment is an odd sort of victory; it can be felt only by those who try.  I put my heart and soul into trying.  I am pretty certain that is what hearts and souls are for.  There is no greater regret than looking back on life and wondering, 'What if?'"

So now, I am learning to be flexible.  I am still listening to my body, evaluating the levels of pain, and accepting the current foot situation.  Luckily, there is progress.  I can water run with a brace, without pain.  And the indoor trainer doesn't flare it up.  And so, despite the numerous physical disappointments that have wormed their way into my Ironman journey, I continue to hold on to hope, keeping the faith, and reminding myself to never stop trying. 

Multi-tasking at its best- Water running while listening to podcasts.
The guys in the hot tub drinking their beer think it's pretty awesome too.