The Philadelphia Tri was about 2 weeks away, and I felt ready other than I should have been swimming more. I was having trouble fitting it into my schedule, and my body was been begging me for some rest days. I had trained longer, harder and on a more broad spectrum than any of my other events. After having a rough time emotionally in early November, I dove into a new workout plan. For the first time in years, after working through some quirky injuries, I was back to running on regular basis. I had added a lot more weight lifting and core work this time.
With the tri 2 weeks away, I reflected back on the last 8 months as being surreal. One thing is certain, the Universe keeps sending lessons until your wounds are healed.
The first lesson: Being physically strong, I have determined, helps with being mentally strong. There are also clear physiological benefits exercise has on your brain chemicals. Exercise boosts dopamine and serotonin; and endorphins counter cortisol (the stress hormone). When it comes to oxytocin though, (the love and trust hormone) you're on your own; there is no artificial substitute for something that just happens naturally and unexpectedly.
November to this day has been a long journey.
November: As I was in emotional turmoil and also in a self described "literary black hole", a good friend loaned me "The Shack". This book is about a journey, and I realized that I myself was on one. I did not understand why it had started or where it was supposed to go, but the book helped me to find direction and most importantly, healing and a belief that I would be ok.
The second lesson: you need friends who know how to push you without breaking you. These are the people who tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear. They increase your energy level instead of taking it from you, and reflect your own kindness back to you.
Towards the end of "The Shack" I read these words: "If anything matters then everything matters. Because you are important, everything you do is important. Every time you forgive, the universe changes; every time you reach out and touch a heart or a life, the world changes; with every kindness and service, seen or unseen, my purposes are accomplished and nothing will ever be the same again". I finished the book just after Christmas and began looking at life a little differently.
When I signed up for the Philly Tri in January, I tucked the secret goal of having a podium finish way in the back of my mind. Planted there like a seed, I got to work. I even went to the lengths of checking last years times for my age group, so I knew where I needed to be... and that place was far away. First, I needed help with drinking less wine, and finding an eating schedule that worked with my exercise routine. I reached out for help and support from friends and found it easy to accept, In fact the more I allowed myself to accept help and caring, the stronger I got. Another book was shared with me: Running and Being by Dr. George Sheehan who wrote: "But it is not the reckless pursuit of catastrophe, it is the acceptance and perfection of the persons we are meant to be. In that perennial process so frequently fatiguing, often depressing and occasionally painful, courage is the bridge between our minds and our bodies".
Cathy and I were more or less raised that big girls don't pout or cry; so when my life started to unravel I did my best to put on a brave face every day. I have always been good at hiding my feelings and emotions except around those very few, whom I trust and have allowed to know my soul. And fully unravel it eventually did, like a ball of yarn in a room full of cats. In April my husband and I did marriage counseling, which ended with me saying I didn't want to be married anymore. With very little sleep during this time I came down with bronchitis; and did the Hempfield Tri a week later even though I was exhausted. Tweaked my hamstring there, the run was bitterly cold. While I was running a 28 minute 5k before, I now had to take a full week off to recover from bronchitis and a sore hamstring and start all over again.
The next several weeks were very difficult for someone with a sensitive heart. Ultimatley, I filed for divorce in May, and moved out a few weeks later. Again, more time taken away from training and loads of added stress. My secret goal was fading into the vague notion that I might be able to obtain it next year. George wrote in the latter chapters of the book about crying happy tears. I had cried plenty of sad tears and even a few angry or frustrated tears over the last several months. Reading that a few days before the Tri, I wondered what it would be like to be so happy, that you would cry happy tears.
Heading to Philly Saturday I was so excited just to be having an adventure. That's what life has always been for me, and the best adventures are always shared with good friends and people you love. I was ready for the event physically and mentally, but mostly just so ready to laugh and have fun. Sunday, I woke up before my alarm, ready to take on the day and leave no doubt that I had given everything in the race.
Arriving at the river, the half mile swim in a less than clean environment which had daunted me in January looked calm and serene. I was not afraid, I knew I could do this. It was hard. The water was a little colder than I expected, murky, and there was the usual random panic attacks. The buoys went by one after another: 800, 700 (don't stop), 600, 500, 400 (I'm almost there) 300, 200, (there's the dock) last 100 and I'm out of the water. I ran full speed up to my bike and did my best to collect myself before grabbing my bike off the rack and running out of transition. I kept a close eye on my average speed on the bike leg, I was feeling good and pushing hard. The hills were no problem after doing the hills of Gretna for the last several weeks, and I passed riders at every opportunity. Towards the end I was averaging over 16mph, which is very good for me. "Keep your pace" and "don't let up" were in my mind. I dismounted the bike and ran it in to transition. My legs were sweaty and I had a hard time pulling up my knee sleeve. I considered going without it, and later would be so glad I didn't. The first mile was steady, "I feel pretty good". After running for months with no knee pain, the second mile was sheer agony. I had no idea why my knee hurt so badly and I just kept saying "don't stop" and "don't walk". I've always had a kick at the end of a race, and in his book George talked about staying on the person in front of you until the last 1/4 mile to be more energy efficient. So I did just that, hanging behind people - passing them and hanging behind someone else. Using other people's energy George style until the last 1/4 mile; and then the final 100 yards where I sprinted to the finish as usual. I handed in my chip, got my medal, and looked around for the rest of our group. I knew my run was a disappointing 32 minutes, but I was proud of my effort, and for not giving up any of the times that the pain in my body told me to stop. I ate some food, drank a few sips of Mike's beer, then he told me where I could go to get my official time. At the tent, a receipt with my time spat out from the machine and I looked at all my leg times with a small degree of satisfaction.
Then I saw it: Division Place: 3
I just looked at it in disbelief, "this can't be right". And then the happy tears came.
Under it there was a disclaimer: The division place listed above does not guarantee you an award. Well there you have it, it was probably some sort of computer error. But it wasn't, I placed third in my age group, and had achieved the podium finish I had dreamed of in January.
The third lesson: So you see, big girls do cry. They cry sad tears, angry tears, frustrated tears, and train for triathlons anyway. Then they cry happy tears, and take home a trophy.
I joked with Cathy, "maybe there were only 3 people in my division" and we laughed hysterically. She said if that were true, then there were a bunch of people who had decided not to get out of bed that day.
In the words of Dr. George Sheehan: "We forget that the opposite of the present is not the past or future; it is absence."
Life is like triathlons, you have to show up to win.
With the tri 2 weeks away, I reflected back on the last 8 months as being surreal. One thing is certain, the Universe keeps sending lessons until your wounds are healed.
The first lesson: Being physically strong, I have determined, helps with being mentally strong. There are also clear physiological benefits exercise has on your brain chemicals. Exercise boosts dopamine and serotonin; and endorphins counter cortisol (the stress hormone). When it comes to oxytocin though, (the love and trust hormone) you're on your own; there is no artificial substitute for something that just happens naturally and unexpectedly.
November to this day has been a long journey.
November: As I was in emotional turmoil and also in a self described "literary black hole", a good friend loaned me "The Shack". This book is about a journey, and I realized that I myself was on one. I did not understand why it had started or where it was supposed to go, but the book helped me to find direction and most importantly, healing and a belief that I would be ok.
The second lesson: you need friends who know how to push you without breaking you. These are the people who tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear. They increase your energy level instead of taking it from you, and reflect your own kindness back to you.
Towards the end of "The Shack" I read these words: "If anything matters then everything matters. Because you are important, everything you do is important. Every time you forgive, the universe changes; every time you reach out and touch a heart or a life, the world changes; with every kindness and service, seen or unseen, my purposes are accomplished and nothing will ever be the same again". I finished the book just after Christmas and began looking at life a little differently.
When I signed up for the Philly Tri in January, I tucked the secret goal of having a podium finish way in the back of my mind. Planted there like a seed, I got to work. I even went to the lengths of checking last years times for my age group, so I knew where I needed to be... and that place was far away. First, I needed help with drinking less wine, and finding an eating schedule that worked with my exercise routine. I reached out for help and support from friends and found it easy to accept, In fact the more I allowed myself to accept help and caring, the stronger I got. Another book was shared with me: Running and Being by Dr. George Sheehan who wrote: "But it is not the reckless pursuit of catastrophe, it is the acceptance and perfection of the persons we are meant to be. In that perennial process so frequently fatiguing, often depressing and occasionally painful, courage is the bridge between our minds and our bodies".
Cathy and I were more or less raised that big girls don't pout or cry; so when my life started to unravel I did my best to put on a brave face every day. I have always been good at hiding my feelings and emotions except around those very few, whom I trust and have allowed to know my soul. And fully unravel it eventually did, like a ball of yarn in a room full of cats. In April my husband and I did marriage counseling, which ended with me saying I didn't want to be married anymore. With very little sleep during this time I came down with bronchitis; and did the Hempfield Tri a week later even though I was exhausted. Tweaked my hamstring there, the run was bitterly cold. While I was running a 28 minute 5k before, I now had to take a full week off to recover from bronchitis and a sore hamstring and start all over again.
The next several weeks were very difficult for someone with a sensitive heart. Ultimatley, I filed for divorce in May, and moved out a few weeks later. Again, more time taken away from training and loads of added stress. My secret goal was fading into the vague notion that I might be able to obtain it next year. George wrote in the latter chapters of the book about crying happy tears. I had cried plenty of sad tears and even a few angry or frustrated tears over the last several months. Reading that a few days before the Tri, I wondered what it would be like to be so happy, that you would cry happy tears.
Heading to Philly Saturday I was so excited just to be having an adventure. That's what life has always been for me, and the best adventures are always shared with good friends and people you love. I was ready for the event physically and mentally, but mostly just so ready to laugh and have fun. Sunday, I woke up before my alarm, ready to take on the day and leave no doubt that I had given everything in the race.
Arriving at the river, the half mile swim in a less than clean environment which had daunted me in January looked calm and serene. I was not afraid, I knew I could do this. It was hard. The water was a little colder than I expected, murky, and there was the usual random panic attacks. The buoys went by one after another: 800, 700 (don't stop), 600, 500, 400 (I'm almost there) 300, 200, (there's the dock) last 100 and I'm out of the water. I ran full speed up to my bike and did my best to collect myself before grabbing my bike off the rack and running out of transition. I kept a close eye on my average speed on the bike leg, I was feeling good and pushing hard. The hills were no problem after doing the hills of Gretna for the last several weeks, and I passed riders at every opportunity. Towards the end I was averaging over 16mph, which is very good for me. "Keep your pace" and "don't let up" were in my mind. I dismounted the bike and ran it in to transition. My legs were sweaty and I had a hard time pulling up my knee sleeve. I considered going without it, and later would be so glad I didn't. The first mile was steady, "I feel pretty good". After running for months with no knee pain, the second mile was sheer agony. I had no idea why my knee hurt so badly and I just kept saying "don't stop" and "don't walk". I've always had a kick at the end of a race, and in his book George talked about staying on the person in front of you until the last 1/4 mile to be more energy efficient. So I did just that, hanging behind people - passing them and hanging behind someone else. Using other people's energy George style until the last 1/4 mile; and then the final 100 yards where I sprinted to the finish as usual. I handed in my chip, got my medal, and looked around for the rest of our group. I knew my run was a disappointing 32 minutes, but I was proud of my effort, and for not giving up any of the times that the pain in my body told me to stop. I ate some food, drank a few sips of Mike's beer, then he told me where I could go to get my official time. At the tent, a receipt with my time spat out from the machine and I looked at all my leg times with a small degree of satisfaction.
Then I saw it: Division Place: 3
I just looked at it in disbelief, "this can't be right". And then the happy tears came.
Under it there was a disclaimer: The division place listed above does not guarantee you an award. Well there you have it, it was probably some sort of computer error. But it wasn't, I placed third in my age group, and had achieved the podium finish I had dreamed of in January.
The third lesson: So you see, big girls do cry. They cry sad tears, angry tears, frustrated tears, and train for triathlons anyway. Then they cry happy tears, and take home a trophy.
I joked with Cathy, "maybe there were only 3 people in my division" and we laughed hysterically. She said if that were true, then there were a bunch of people who had decided not to get out of bed that day.
In the words of Dr. George Sheehan: "We forget that the opposite of the present is not the past or future; it is absence."
Life is like triathlons, you have to show up to win.
