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?