Ten days to think...

Ten days ago, I was ready to lose my shit. I don’t know what it was (actually I do, but I’m used to just being able to deal regardless) but I couldn’t get out of my funk. Just looking at people annoyed me and I honestly just wanted to move to a remote location in Maine.

Commence the pity party, right? I’m so lucky I can’t stand myself. And yet…sometimes you fail to see the good beyond the mildly bad. I’ve been struggling with parenting issues and career issues, family issues and logistical issues. And as much as I want otherwise, I’ve been struggling to live with the slowness and heaviness of my body right now.

I am so excited to race IMMT, but as much as I thought I’d done the prep work to be ok with what I can do in THIS body, I’m finding otherwise. It is so frustrating to watch others be able to put in decent run volume, when I’m trapped at 20-25 miles per week of fairly easy running. Maybe more frustrating is working with clients and training partners who can run the same mileage as me, but run it hard and get faster. I want to be ok with being the last of my friends to cross the finish line, but sadly I am not.

I will not give up.

I tell myself that if 3 hours of strength training aren’t enough, I’ll do more. If I can’t run, then I’ll just put in more quality and quantity on the bike and the swim. If the ankle breaks down, I’ll just do more PT and yoga and get over it. If it all fails, I’ll just learn to be ok with whatever happens on race day.
There is NO reason that I can’t overcome. A lot of other people have overcome a lot more.

Right? Right.

Except maybe they are better or different or smarter than me. Because for the life of me, sometimes I can’t figure out how I can be a decent mom to two high-energy, high-need kids, a wife to a demanding husband, a well-educated, dedicated coach, and a committed, participating citizen all at once. You throw in IM training and I pretty much feel like a loser all around.

We just spent the week in Florida, and a lot of that feeling went away. I ran and swam and did yoga every day. I played with my family and relaxed into the version of myself that doesn’t fixate on logistics and bark orders like a drill sergeant.

But now I’m back. Heavier and as slow as ever.

Look…I can already hear the criticism. I’m not supposed to say this stuff because I’m supposed to be a role model and a coach. I’m not overweight and I’m insensitive to call myself heavy. I regularly place in my age group...I’m not slow. I understand the physiology of why I’m at where I’m at, so I shouldn’t complain.
But you know what? Forget it. Everybody feels this stuff…that’s how pervasive all the pressures in our lives can be when our dreams don’t match up with our reality of the moment. Will I get beyond it? Yes. Should I hide it? Maybe. Is that who I am? No.

I think when we try to deny what we feel, that’s when it all piles up and we fall apart. It’s ok to acknowledge your frustration and fears and sadness, as long as you keep working towards a better place. It’s also ok to talk about it when you want to, and keep it to yourself when you don’t.

My friend Beth just lost her wonderful husband to cancer. She runs. She once told me that she only does it to get the trophies, and I think that IS a big part of why she runs, but that’s not the only reason. I know that because in Tom’s final days, when she couldn’t train for trophies or big races and her speed declined, she still ran. She ran for her head space, she ran for the friends who did it with her, and she ran for Tom, because he couldn’t.

We’re multi-faceted and complicated as athletes and as people. We want to be more than who we are sometimes, even as we want to be accepted and respected as exactly what we are in the moment. Sometimes we can acknowledge that. Sometimes we’re just train wrecks. Sometimes we want more than what we can be. Sometimes we can reach beyond our capabilities and realize our wildest dreams.

The tension of existing between those last two realities can be a lot to bear. But it’s a worthy state to me, even when it takes a toll. The chance to be better than I thought I could is worth the pain of realizing that I’m not able to be the person and athlete I wish much of the time. Because I’ve made the seemingly impossible happen before – rising above a childhood of poverty and abuse to get where I am now -just as often as I’ve fallen on my face. But it’s a real cost, and one that calls for acknowledgement.

I think, in the end, most of us do our best and the chips fall where they may. They fall right often enough to convince us to keep trying, but they fall wrong often enough that we should be reminded that we are lucky just to be alive and well enough to worry about our state.

Which bring me to a beautiful story that I recently read, which sums up this view really nicely, that while we should all aspire to greatness, we must acknowledge that it cannot be the constant state of being for all of us, all the time.

From a piece at http://www.dailykos.com/story/2011/10/12/1025555/-Open-Letter-to-that-53-Guy, from a writer responding to a young man who felt that those in poverty simply needed to toughen up and work harder (something that I sometimes fall prey to myself):

“In the picture, you’re holding up a sheet of paper that says:

I am a former Marine.
I work two jobs.
I don’t have health insurance.
I worked 60-70 hours a week for 8 years to pay my way through college.
I haven’t had 4 consecutive days off in over 4 years.
But I don’t blame Wall Street.
Suck it up you whiners.
I am the 53%.
God bless the USA!...

…First, let me say that I think it’s great that you have such a strong work ethic and I agree with you that you have much to be proud of. You seem like a good, hard-working, strong kid. I admire your dedication and determination. I worked my way through college too, mostly working graveyard shifts at hotels as a “night auditor.” For a time I worked at two hotels at once, but I don’t think I ever worked 60 hours in a week, and certainly not 70. I think I maxed out at 56. And that wasn’t something I could sustain for long, not while going to school. The problem was that I never got much sleep, and sleep deprivation would take its toll. I can’t imagine putting in 70 hours in a week while going to college at the same time. That’s impressive.

I have a nephew in the Marine Corps, so I have some idea of how tough that can be. He almost didn’t make it through basic training, but he stuck it out and insisted on staying even when questions were raised about his medical fitness. He eventually served in Iraq and Afghanistan and has decided to pursue a career in the Marines. We’re all very proud of him. Your picture reminds me of him.

So, if you think being a liberal means that I don’t value hard work or a strong work ethic, you’re wrong. I think everyone appreciates the industry and dedication a person like you displays. I’m sure you’re a great employee, and if you have entrepreneurial ambitions, I’m sure these qualities will serve you there too. I’ll wish you the best of luck, even though a guy like you will probably need luck less than most.

I understand your pride in what you’ve accomplished, but I want to ask you something.
Do you really want the bar set this high? Do you really want to live in a society where just getting by requires a person to hold down two jobs and work 60 to 70 hours a week? Is that your idea of the American Dream?

Do you really want to spend the rest of your life working two jobs and 60 to 70 hours a week? Do you think you can? Because, let me tell you, kid, that’s not going to be as easy when you’re 50 as it was when you were 20.

And what happens if you get sick? You say you don’t have health insurance, but since you’re a veteran I assume you have some government-provided health care through the VA system. I know my father, a Vietnam-era veteran of the Air Force, still gets most of his medical needs met through the VA, but I don’t know what your situation is. But even if you have access to health care, it doesn’t mean disease or injury might not interfere with your ability to put in those 60- to 70-hour work weeks.

Do you plan to get married, have kids? Do you think your wife is going to be happy with you working those long hours year after year without a vacation? Is it going to be fair to her? Is it going to be fair to your kids? Is it going to be fair to you?

Look, you’re a tough kid. And you have a right to be proud of that. But not everybody is as tough as you, or as strong, or as young. Does pride in what you’ve accomplish mean that you have contempt for anybody who can’t keep up with you? Does it mean that the single mother who can’t work on her feet longer than 50 hours a week doesn’t deserve a good life? Does it mean the older man who struggles with modern technology and can’t seem to keep up with the pace set by younger workers should just go throw himself off a cliff?

And, believe it or not, there are people out there even tougher than you. Why don’t we let them set the bar, instead of you? Are you ready to work 80 hours a week? 100hours? Can you hold down four jobs? Can you do it when you’re 40? When you’re 50? When you’re 60? Can you do it with arthritis? Can you do it with one arm? Can you do it when you’re being treated for prostate cancer?”
Great questions. What are the limits to what we can do? And what are the prices that we pay for stretching those limits?

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