I need to change focus for Sunday.  Instead of focusing on my fears and doubts, I need to put my .energy towards belief, courage and confidence.


It's lack of faith that makes people afraid of meeting challenges, and I believe in myself.  ~ Mohammed Ali.

Bust portrait of Muhammad Ali, World Journal Tribune photo by Ira Rosenberg

Mohammed Ali is one of my heroes.  Right from a young age, he looked adversity in the face, stood up to it and said, "Yes I Can!".  Sometimes he said it quietly and sometimes with humour and flair.  He always said it with courage.

On a balmy October afternoon, in Louisville, Kentucky, 12 year old Cassius Clay, as he was then called,  rode his brand new bike to the Columbia Auditorium.  He parked it, went about his business, and, when he returned to ride home, the bike had been stolen.  Enraged, he sought out a policeman in the basement of the auditorium.  The officer happened to be Joe Martin who ran a boxing gym. He encouraged Clay to learn boxing in order to effectively get even with the thief.  If he was going to take him down, he might as well have a leg up on the other guy. Only six weeks later Clay won his first fight. 

I love this true story because Ali stands at the fork in the road and makes the more difficult choice.  At 12 he is able to postpone instant gratification, consider advice an adult gives him and take action.  He does something it has taken me most of my adult life to learn to do. 

Unlike many elite sportsmen, Ali has, throughout his career, acted with dignity and grace.  He has made bold decisions based on well-reasoned principles and he is still making them today. 

Most impressive was his decision, at the peak of his physical fitness, and the height of his boxing career to go to jail for refusing to fight in the Korean war.  He may have been a fighter, but he wasn't a thug.

He is still acting with courage and humour while living with parkinson's disease.  He may no longer be the world champion boxer, but he is living life with courage, one step at a time. 

So, on the eve of my biggest race yet (500 swim, 20k bike, 5k run), I take positive inspiration from one of the few remaining heroes in my adult life.  When on the course I will have faith.

Cheers!

Barb and I talking after I pulled out of the race. 

It's all part of the journey.

The journey is rocky, unpredictable, and I stumbled and fell.  I pulled out of a race Sunday, 16 October.  I wouldn't have conceived of doing that last season.  But, surprisingly, it wasn't a fail.  It was another step in the journey.  All the things I learned Sunday are lessons I needed to learn before Nepean. 

I had swum about 300 meters.  I had begun stopping already.  Each time I rested, I took longer and longer to recover.  A voice inside my head said, "You can't possibly swim that whole way."  I looked at the buoy.  It was so far away.  The voice became emphatic:  You won't be able to make it.  Your body can't cope.  Everyone around you is gone.  The spotter is walking with YOU!  You are dragging the race down.  You better get out of the water. 

Glenn W. approached me on the board and asked if I wanted a rest.  I jumped on the board and asked to go in.  He seemed surprised, but I knew I was defeated.  My body, my mind, my heart had all joined forces to undermine my fighting spirit.  They won this time.

But not for long.

After doing my civic duty by informing officials and my husband that I'd finished for the day, I sat by my bag and went inward.  My body was shaking and tingling.  I lay down on the grass and looked up at the ceiling.  I closed my eyes.  What happened? 

First, I have actually been sick.  I don't know what I've had, but I haven't been 100% since July.  This has really psyched me out. I don't feel powerful. I don't feel like I'm making progress.  I feel foolish, tired and old.  These are all things out of my control and this is usually the kind of reasoning I use to talk myself out of something.  This is the obstacle in my path, my own personal dragon. 

I do races and triathlon because it's something I don't feel I'm capable of doing.  If I was good at it, it wouldn't be the same kind of challenge.  It brings up all my feelings of less than.  And in doing so, it forces me to quell my ego and face the demons.  This is the exhilerating part of finishing a race.  I look the dragon in the face and keep moving.  If I finish, I win. 

Also, I wasn't properly prepared.  I rushed around in the morning without a clear head.  I must prepare it all the night before.  This last minute organising is interfering with my goals. 

Next, I'd forgotten how to race.  I'd forgotten what it felt like and that it was hard.  I'd forgotten that it is always painful.  Nepean is going to be a hard race.  I was thinking that because I was training, I had it in the bag.  No problem.  Walk in the park.  I have such a short memory!

Finally, my confidence is low because of my running injury.  Confidence is a powerful force.  I am only learning how much my own thinking can affect my actions.  I was demoralized because I was coming last.  It turns out I was ahead of David the whole time.  It didn't actually matter in the slightest what place I was coming.  What mattered was what I thought.  Afterwards, someone told me to run my own race.  This is great advice. 

I am currently suffering from a three-pronged undermining condition.  I imagine it to look much like the Devil's pitchfork.  The three issues are boredom, illness, and challenge.  Although challenge usually appears as a friend, it can also morph into this rubber wall of lack of belief.

This week, I'm on holidays, which also means that I have gotten my usual holiday viruses.  You know the drill.  Body lets down, relaxes or, really, is just worn out.  Everyone in the family has some virus that they've brought home from different places.  We are all shuttered together in a rain-induced and damp castle.  We exchange viruses and it takes us most of the holiday to get over them.  It happens every time.

Anyway, also each time i get to the training facility, I am initially tired and bored to the extent that I am continually glancing at the clock to see how much more time we have in the training session.  I am unmotivated.  in addition, my mind keeps telling me that I hate this and i just want to go home and have a simpler (read sedentary) life.  ughhh!  what's happened to my drive?  What's happened to the enjoyment?

Of course, i am getting satisfaction from improving in my training and from completing each session.  but, psychologically, it is very hard work.  There's hardly any fun in it.

Family Visit

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.” - Steve Jobs

What does a family visit to the U.S. have to do with training? A lot for me. As they say, the most difficult part of the race is getting to the start line. And getting to the start line always involves confronting our individual demons. And demons have arisen...

I remember now what real demons are. I remember what being in a haunted house is. It is not translucent white things floating around a victorian style home. Ghosts and demons are not kind enough to confine themselves to a home. They haunt in my head and my heart. And their fuel, their accelerant is family relations. The closer they are to family-of-origin, the more they burn.

We have been visiting in the U.S., my place of origin, my country, my people. Excitement, exhilaration, joy, anxiety, devastating pain, despair have all arisen as the ghosts and demons of family relations. And with all these come the doubts that interfere with getting out on the road, putting one foot in front of the other and getting it done.

I have managed to do 2 training sessions in 10 days. This must improve.

Musings on an Early Morning Swim

5:30 a.m. Tuesday

I read yesterday that a writer writes, not to communicate what he thinks, but to become aware of what he thinks. This is true and one of the reasons I need to write.

It is 5:30 a.m. and I do not want to go swimming. Instead, I want to nurse my foot, feel sorry for myself and drink coffee. I want to read about the news of the world, feeling self-righteous in my thoughts and feel fulfilled like only Monday morning quarterbacks can.

I have to go swimming this morning. If I don't, I won't go at all today. And I have a perfect excuse for it. My foot.

O.k. I've had two cups of coffee. Now I'm working on the third and two pieces of toast. All I have to do now is grab my suit and I'm out of here.

Half a toast eaten.

Got my swim bag. Need more coffee.

One shoe on, one to go. Drink more coffee.

Almost there. See ya!

Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.

~Later~

I'm arriving at the pool when I realise I left my towel...again. People are going to think that I like to put on my clothes when I'm sopping wet, I forget my towel that often. Sometimes I forget my bra. Once I forgot my undies!

The pool is quite crowded. I'm astonished. There are about 30 people there. I see a bike with a familiar water bottle and wonder who is here from the club. I'm so glad I'm not alone. I love company.

I am not feeling 100% as I stumble into the locker room, undress, dress, out the door with my swim bag. Unbeknownst to me, I left my purse in the locker room. I won't find this out until I am finished. Lucky nothing happens to it. We are all bleary-eyed and crazy to be out at this time in the morning on a weekday.

I jump into the pool. It's Elissa there. Probably there are others. At one point I see the grey & white PTC swim budgies. I am too worn out to look up. After I see Elissa, I don't care anymore. I swim 4 x 100 w/u but it is difficult. My heart is beating too fast on the warm up. I am getting sick. I can tell. I'm out of my faithful antioxidant that we've dubbed The Magic Bullet. It has kept us healthy all year. I finished 3/4 of the session until I have to get out due to time.

I have 102 days until the race. My trainer, Jodie, is now talking about walking the 10 k. I'm discouraged. I miss running. I do too much then suffer for it. I know I can keep swimming, keep cycling, but it's not the same. My ego is involved now. I want to say I've done it.

I see myself write these thoughts and I know I am headed for a danger zone. This is how people begin to look towards half IronMan races. Each race is not enough. What will I do when I'm no longer racing? How will I find this camaraderie? I will manage. I'm not the addict I used to be.

I have all sorts of posts that I've written and not posted. I don't know why. When I was struggling with motivation, I suddenly lost all interest in writing. I have, however, regained interest in reading. Here is some great sports writing:

John Feinstein is one of the best sports writers ever. He introduced me to the soul of sport. His most famous book is, perhaps, A Good Walk Spoiled, about the PGA.

http://www.feinsteinonthebrink.com/index.php

George Plimpton is a very famous American sports writer. He was also an actor who appeared in many films and TV shows. You'll recognise him when you see him.

http://openlibrary.org/authors/OL388011A/George_Plimpton

The idea that blow by blow sports writing is the way to go may be the work of

Thank You Barbara

My friend, Barbara suggested this song to help me realise I'm not alone and that I CAN DO IT. She said something very valuable to me: Why would you let anything keep you from doing what you LOVE? The song's lyrics are below:

"It's The Climb" by Miley Cyrus

I can almost see it

that dream I'm dreaming but

there's a voice inside my head saying

you'll never reach it.

Every step I'm taking

every move I make feels lost with no direction

my faith is shaking

But I gotta keep trying.

I gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain.

I'm always gonna wanna make it move.

Always gonna be an uphill battle

And sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.

It ain't about how fast I get there

Ain't about whats waiting on the other side.

It's the climb.

The struggles I'm facing

The chances I'm taking

Sometimes might knock me down, but

no I'm not breaking.

I may not know it But

these are the moments that

I'm gonna remember most

Yeah, just gotta keep going And I

I got be strong.

Gotta keep on pushing on, cuz

There's always gonna be another mountain.

I'm always gonna wanna make it move.

Always gonna be an uphill battle.

Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.

Ain't about how fast I get there

Ain't about whats waitin on the other side.

Its the climb.

Keep on moving

Keep climbing

Keep the faith, babe.

It's all about, It's all about the climb.

Keep the faith. keep your faith Whoa oh oh oh