It's Halloween night. Steve and I just spent the evening with my brother James, his wife Heather, and my nephew Dylan, on his (Dylan's) first "real" Halloween, the first one when he went trick-or-treating. Family time is some of the most valuable hours I spend. And as a result, my planned run dropped on the priority list--all the way off the list, actually. It was much more important that I share this experience with my loved ones than it was to fulfill my training plan. This is one of the major benefits of this off-season: I can make choices like this without anything suffering. Instead, I thrive.
Being October 31st, I wanted to reflect on my post from October 1st. I wasn't sure how this month would turn out. A month ago, I was hopeful, and admittedly skeptical, that this October would be different. I pledged that I would shift my mindset, that I would think differently about this autumn than I have about previous autumns, that I would approach this time of rest and rejuvenation as exactly that. And you know what? It worked. I came across another quote just the other day that is very timely.
I don't have any more bad days. I have good days and great days. ~Lance Armstrong
Surviving (and thriving through) cancer most definitely changed Armstrong's outlook on life as well as how he lives it. I can change those things, too. What I like about his words is that he suggests that it's all about language, about what we call things. What we call things determines how we see them. It's a skill called framing. I teach it and practice it daily in my work. Funny how I don't always apply it to my life. But it's there for me, waiting for me to use it. And it is powerful. Is it a tough workout? Maybe. Or it's a workout that will make me stronger. Is it insufferable pain? Maybe. Or it's my body telling me to knock it off, a sign I've done enough, too much even. Is it an impossible climb? Maybe. Or it's a chance to prove something to myself.
So this year I re-framed what October meant to me. Rather than being my time to fall apart, I told myself it is my time to focus on other things, to nurture this amazing body that does so much, to honor all the things I am capable of by doing much less of it.
This certainly was possible only with your help and support. The response to my October 1st post was overwhelming. On this site, in person, over email, and in spirit, I heard and felt you. Your comments, your commiseration, your optimism, your reflections, your stories--all are invaluable and I will carry them with me through the rest of this "between-season" (what I'm now calling the "off-season"), through Ironman training, on great days, and on bad--I mean good--days. (Thanks, Lance. This will be my new MO--looking at days as good or great, nothing else.)
I am excited for the rest of fall and for winter. Today also marks the last day of my structured training plan until Ironman training begins...as I mentioned in an earlier post, I will stay active in November by relying primarily on intuition and how I feel when I wake up each morning and when I leave work each afternoon. Nothing else will tell me I must get out and swim, bike, or run. Nothing else, that is, except you all. You don't know this, but you all are my "accountability coaches." Yes, I am accountable to myself first and foremost. At the same time, knowing that you are reading, caring, and responding, helps drive me to be and do nothing short of my best.
Thank you.
How are you all doing this fall? What are you happy about? What are you struggling with? Please use this space to share with us all.
I have a confession to make. I've had a habit for many years that I can't break. It's a necessary something that gets me through each and every day. Without it, I would bottom out. I find infinite satisfaction in feeding this habit and when others offer me more of it, I consume voraciously. I am a quote-junkie. I collect the wisdom of others like my mom collects those state quarters. I can't get enough. I have them posted everywhere within sight: on my computer, at home, in my car, in my planner, in my office.
I go for short, concise quips that capture the human experience so precisely and with such humility and authenticity. Now is the time I'm beginning to compile quotes to keep me inspired through Ironman training. I will carry some with me while I race. So I wanted to share some with you. And please share your favorite quotes with us all here.
- Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself. ~unknown
- To get something you never had, you have to do something you never did. ~unknown
- The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best time is today. ~Chinese proverb
- Fall seven times, get up eight. ~Japanese proverb
- The difficulty of success does not relieve one of the obligation to try. ~Bill Clinton
- Don't audit life. ~unknown
- I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing. ~Anais Nin
- The shell must break before the bird can fly. ~Tennyson
- What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
- Leap and the net will appear. ~Zen saying
- Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly. ~proverb
- Knowing others is wisdom. Knowing yourself is enlightenment. ~Lao-Tzu
- Always be a first-rate version of yourself, rather than a second-rate version of somebody else. ~Judy Garland
- Think with the whole body. ~Taisen Deshimaru
- Have you begun today what you wish to be tomorrow? ~unknown
- I was going to change my shirt, but I changed my mind instead. ~Winnie the Pooh
- Life shrinks and expands in proportion to one's courage. ~Anais Nin
- If we do not change direction, we are likely to end up where we are headed. ~Chinese proverb
- I would rather regret the things I have done than the things I have not. ~Lucille Ball
- Act the way you'd like to be and soon you'll be the way you act. ~Leonard Cohen
- Forever is composed of nows. ~Emily Dickinson
- Until never comes. ~Ron Luyet
- Whether you think you can or think you can't, you're right. ~Henry Ford
- I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work. ~Thomas Edison
- We cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are. ~Max de Pree
- One of these days is none of these days. ~Henri Tubach
- Storms make trees take deeper roots. ~Claude McDonald
- Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
- The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change. ~Carl Rogers
- It's not who you are that holds you back; it's who you think you're not. ~William James
- Come to the edge, he said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, he said. They came. He pushed them...and they flew. ~Guillaume Apollinaire
- They may be strikeouts to some, but to me, every one of them was nearly a home run. ~Mickey Mantle
- The best way for your dreams to come true is to wake up. ~Paul Valery
That's what my tri coach just told me. "Take November off." ACK. I don't do "off" well. I don't know how. Every ounce of my being cries out against it. And yet--SIGH--I know she's right. My desire for order and structure and predictability, my discipline, my tendency to make a checklist for everything, my preference for schedules--all of this will serve me well next year during the height of Ironman training. Now, however, they risk becoming liabilities. If I'm not careful, I will burnout before Ironman training even begins.
Many people would embrace sanctioned downtime, an order to take it easy. We're all so busy I could sell my month off. Me? I found her advice stressful, until I realized she's not telling me to do nothing. Rather, she's saying that I need a month away from the do-exactly-xyz-for-this-long-on-that-day regimen. A month? I can do this, right?
I'm the first to admit that I can become over-reliant on my schedule--whether it's for work, for training, or at home. For me, a schedule creates predictability and that feels safe. It also leaves little room for spontenaeity and last-minute changes. Unexpected rainstorms? A broken chain? Even--gasp--an injury? Forget it--they're not part of the plan. And yet they have to be. Yes, effective training requires adherence to a concrete plan. It also requires the ability to be resilient, to assume there will be unexpected snags and to bounce back from them without taking it to mean the sky is falling. This, precisely, is my work now: to practice not being tied to a piece of paper that has the next 48+ hours spelled out for me.
What is a month, after all? November is 30 days, taken one day at a time. I've learned well that training for and achieving my athletic goals requires one workout at a time, one lap at a time, one stride at a time. Surely I can put aside the training schedule for 30 days and rely instead on intuition and what I feel like doing on a given day. After all, when my daily actions are dictated by my Ironman training plan, I will still need to listen to intuition and what my body tells me it needs.
Today was the Denver Rock 'n Roll half-marathon. This marks the official end to my 2010 race season. Rather than being sad as I have been in years past, I am quite happy. I am excited for the upcoming period of rest and healing. This is primarily because my body is hurting. But first, the report from the race.
Jacquline and I ran together the whole morning. Before I continue, I want to give a public shout-out to Jac, who set her personal best time for the 13.1 distance. Congratulations my friend! She did it without falter and feeling great. As always, it was a fun race precisely because Jac was with me.
It was a typical race for me: start feeling strong and fast, suffer a dip around mile 9, and finish feeling as strong as I did at the start and at my fastest pace. The route was beautiful, a perfect representation of Denver: after starting in Civic Center Park by the capital building and the City & County building, the first 3 miles took us through the heart of downtown past the Pepsi Center, where the Nuggets and the Avalanche play, and Coors Field, home of the Rockies. We then headed up to City Park, a massive green space in the middle of the city that houses our Zoo, the Museum of Nature & Science, a golf course, and countless trails, paths, and picnic areas. Then we wound our way through some historic neighborhoods to Cheesman Park where you can find the Botanic Gardens. We finished back in Civic Center Park, passing the Denver Art Museum along the way. All of this with bluebird skies overhead and the snowcapped mountains as a backdrop. The route organizers did the city proud and we overhead many out-of-towners commenting on how magnificent the route was.
Being part of the "Rock 'n Roll" series of races, we had 11 live bands entertaining us along the way, accompanied by cheerleaders from the local schools and the best volunteers manning the aid stations. Running with Jacquline through some of my favorite parts of Denver helped me forget temporarily exactly how ready I am for the season to be done. Instead, I had a blast.
And then I got home. Minute by minute I felt my lower body stiffen up, creakiness settling into every nook and cranny. I crept into an Epsom salt bath and enjoyed soaking the aches away as my cat sampled the strange pink-colored water. Then I crept to the shower. During my creeping I had a realization: I am a much better runner when I'm also swimming and biking. During the half-ironman in August, I felt positively as fresh as a daisy when I started my 13.1-mile run after swimming 1.2 miles and biking 56. And the next day? I could have done it again.
The 13.1 miles today were a wholly different story. My training has largely targeted running since late August. My focused cross-training is on hiatus. And I'm paying for it. Cross-training definitely makes me a stronger runner. I don't think it works the other way around--that is, I don't think running helps my swimming and biking. But in training as well as in racing, my body does well with variety. Triathlon recruits my entire body--both the major muscle groups and all those hidden supporting ones. I'm a stronger athlete overall when I'm training for all three events.
I was quite surprised by this insight, that I'd rather run a half-marathon after several hours of swimming and biking than do just the running. This must bode well for Ironman training, right?
On another note, I wanted to give an update on my "October experiment" as I'm calling it. It's October 17th, past the half-way point in the month. And this October is truly different than others. This is due in no small part to YOU all, to all of your comments on this site and to me in person. Thank you for empathizing, for commiserating, for supporting. I know many of you struggle with this time of year, too.
In recent Octobers, my energy was largely spent around trying to prevent or at least delay the inevitable: the end of summer and, thus, the end of the race season. This year I find myself embracing season's end. As much as it hurts to hurt, I am listening this time to the pleas my body is making for rest, for easing up, for recovery.
I must enter Ironman training strong, healthy, and injury-free. And this gives me a whole new appreciation for this dormant period. I'm no longer fighting nature and her tendencies. And that is tremendously liberating.
Yesterday was a long day at work. It began well before sunrise and ended as dusk was falling, and a lot happened in between. And I still wanted to get in a bike ride. At one time I would have made excuses for why a post-work ride is exactly the thing not to do: It's too late, too dark, too cold. I'm too stressed, too tired, too hungry. False barriers, really. Now I remind myself that I'll actually feel worse if I skip the ride. And it never fails: I always always always feel better after a ride. My bike makes me happy. Yesterday was no exception. The air was crisp--the kind that tickles my lungs on a deep inhale. I did lap after lap at our local park and after an hour, everything was once again right with the world.
During my ride, I got to thinking about the other things about my training routine that delight me, that bring me peace, that provide immeasurable enjoyment. I think it's appropriate for me to reflect on them given that it's October and all. Here they are, in no particular order:
Rest. I just mentioned how movement, physical activity, especially the vigorous kind on the bike, is my medicine. And it is therapeutic precisely because I know when to stop moving. I have learned to appreciate the value of rest. Rest comes in many forms: whole days off, shorter swims, easier bike rides, restorative yoga. Rest feels luxurious right now; come spring, deliberate rest will be a crucial part of Ironman training.
How many people use our paths and parks. I get up early, both during the week and on the weekends. I often finish my weekday morning run before sunup. Despite the early hour, I'm not even the first one up--dozens have beat me to the trails. And they only get more populated as the day wears on. Families, couples, friends, owners and their pets are everywhere on the paths and in the parks at all hours of the day and well into the night. The parks and trails teem with energy and this aliveness is contagious.
Kind drivers. I am a very safe cyclist. I always wear my helmet, I obey traffic laws, and I am vigilant about my surroundings. Still, regardless of how safely I ride, I am keenly aware that at any moment, a car could take me out. And yet I refuse to let this keep me off the roads. This is thanks to the drivers out there who look out for cyclists and also obey traffic laws. Colorado has some of the most bicycle-friendly laws in the country. And I always make a point to clearly thank drivers for following them.
A long climb. I've been fortunate to have ridden some of the most beautiful mountain passes in the US. They're also some of the most relentless and challenging. This past summer, on Ride the Rockies, I did my longest, toughest climb: 24 miles with grades topping out at probably 15%. What I love about a long climb: the rhythmic pedaling, the slowing of time, inching past breathtaking vistas, the sharp focus preventing me from riding off the edge, reaching the top.
A screaming descent. After a long climb comes a long descent. That 24-mile climb? It rewarded us with a nearly equally-long drop into the next town. We were blessed with smooth roads, long straightaways, and little traffic. What took over three hours to go up took little more than 30 minutes to come down. What a rush.
Breathtaking views at 11000 feet. 'Nuff said.
My yoga mat. My mat is peace, nonjudgment, compassion, nurturing. Too many days apart and my muscles start to protest. I find release on the mat that I achieve nowhere else. An hour on the mat is enough to reset the world.
Please share what delights you, whether or not you're training for something!
I spent the weekend in San Antonio with three of my very best girlfriends--Lisa, Jenn, and Diane. We've been friends since 7th grade. Every year, we pick a destination and meet up for a long weekend. And I return feeling refreshed, renewed, and nurtured.
I am not a light packer, and this weekend was no exception. Many years ago, I used to be able to get by with a small carry-on for a weekend trip. These days, however, my portable training equipment is my constant travel companion. So, off to San Antonio I went, armed with running shoes and gear, the Garmin GPS, the yoga mat and clothes. Fortunately, it's relatively easy to track down a yoga studio and the class schedule. With websites such as mapmyrun.com it's also quite simple to chart a running route in a new location. I even found a website that lists all swimming pools that are open to the public and have adult lap swim hours. If I'm driving somewhere, either for work or for play, I bring my bike. Worst case scenario, if I happen to be stuck in a recreation desert or am sidelined by unhelpful weather, I run the treadmill in the hotel gym and do push-ups and Pilates in my room.
It's funny now what I see when I travel. Steve and I were on Catalina Island a couple of weeks ago. Sitting on the beach looking out at the bay, some people see a place where boats dock for a vacation. I see imaginary lap lines and calculate in my head how many meters from one end to the other. When I was in Carmel with my mom and stepdad in August, I saw the steep hilly streets downtown not as obstacles to overcome while shopping but rather as a great interval workout. When in Florida this past January, I knew I could trust my father to give me a good 5-mile run route--one with wide shoulders or sidewalks, little traffic, and good views.
Back in San Antonio, Lisa and I mapped out a 6-mile run along the riverwalk--a lovely way to see the city. This is one thing I love about running, biking, and working out in a foreign place: I get to experience the town as the locals do. I frequent their gyms or workout studios. I run their side streets. I bike their highways. I maneuver through their rush hour traffic and witness their weekend activities from a different vantage. I look like a local, doing things the locals do. I remember one work trip to Pueblo, Colorado this past spring. I brought my bike, excited to hit the open road for a long ride.
Well, I had to put the kibosh on those plans once I realized that the highway and railroad created this nearly impenetrable barrier to anything without a motor. So, instead I enjoyed a leisurely ride through the historic neighborhoods, admiring the Victorian homes and large lots. And once back at the hotel, I threw on my running shoes and attacked the hills on foot. Aha! I'll get my heart rate up one way or another.
The bottom line is this: if training is to be a part of my life, it must go with me wherever I go. I also must learn to improvise. Planning will get me only so far. Sometimes the run route is under construction or, as happened to me one May traveling through the Colorado mountains, winter dumps a late-season snowstorm on my bike ride. And if things don't go as planned, I've learned that it doesn't help to obsess over the training session I'm missing. Instead, I listen to the message being sent and take advantage of the forced rest. And catch up on my reading.
It's October 1st. That in and of itself is not terribly newsworthy. But this is a really big deal for me, and here's why: I tend to fall apart in October. Historically, October has been my toughest month. Physically, I'm feeling the effects of a reduced training load. Psychologically, I can't stand the increasingly later sunrise and earlier sunset. Emotionally, I want to eat my way past the blues to comfort. It's time to hibernate, my primitive brain tells me. No no, silly girl, my rational brain starts. You know that preparing for winter was once adaptive for survival and that now that we've evolved as a species to better control light and dark cycles blah blah blah... Thanks. That rationalization is so not helpful. I know all that, but I sure don't feel it.
Which wins? Both do. So I end up in a weird place, in some holding pattern between stellar days when I power through some spectacular workouts and days when all I want to do is fall asleep until spring.
Okay, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. Yes, life is pretty great. And yet October continues to be my darkest month. I can look back on previous journals and see the clear pattern: as autumn descends, I lose motivation. Big time. Every year, at the same time. It's so predictable I could take it to Vegas. You'd think by now I'd have this figured out and know how to head it off at the pass. That I'd be able to anticipate it, have an alternate plan in place.
Maybe I have. Time will tell. Things are slightly different this October 1st. First, like much of the country, we've been having unseasonably warm temperatures. Right now, it's 80 degrees. We hit 90 several times this week, setting records. I've yet to pack away the shorts and sandals. It feels like July.
Second, I enter the "off-season" feeling better than I ever have. Even though training has dropped in volume, I am more active now than I have been at this time in past years.
Lastly, I have a half-marathon in two weeks. It's the first year I've had a race so late in the season. I like it--this might be my new plan from now on.
I got to thinking last night about how much our minds create the reality we live. Without going into deep philosophical meanderings that would max out the space on this site as well as my brain power, I wondered if I would sink into my regular pseudo-depression if I didn't know what day it was. How much does it matter that I see October 1st on the calendar? I do believe my bummer of a mood swing this time of year is partially physiology-based. Less light entering the eyes = change in hormones = change in mood. But beyond that, how much do I create my own suffering by saying "oh, here I go again, it's time to feel sad and stop working out and start eating a lot. After all, it's what I do."
Never have I told myself "this year will be different." Never in Octobers past have I turned darkness and the cold temps to my advantage--to work on technique in the pool, to work on strength in the gym, to rest my overworked muscles, to enjoy not melting in the summer heat.
This is my year to experiment. Let's see how much my thoughts impact my mood and my actions. I will report my progress here. In the meantime, enjoy your own autumns wherever you are!
