Sunday, July 31, 2011

Balls

Balls. That's right you know exactly what I mean. If you're confused let me help. I don't mean a basketball, tennis ball, golf ball, or even those little red rubber balls - though, well....never mind. I mean "balls" as in courage or bravery. I've seen it a lot lately, particularly with my Tri and Multisports teammates.  As I think about it, examples flood my mind racing in and out, leaving short snapshots that are almost overwhelming. My dad getting cancer and fighting it head on with spirit and humor. It took him from us and I can still see myself watching him slip away that day. He was a strong man and I'm sure he had days where he felt like giving up. Maybe he cried. I never saw it. He worked, took his treatment and never bitched to us about it. He taught me a lot and I still miss him today.

My youngest son Taylor when he found out he had a brain tumor. He looked at me without fear or tears and simply wondered how soon they could take it out. Through a zillion tests and MRI's he stood tall. I cried like a baby, not sure if he would live though it. He was the rock. He lost all peripheral vision and we would walk together after the surgery and talk about it, wondering if it would come back - the doctors had said it was likely but nothing was promised. He took it in stride and came through it all. I am still amazed at the courage he displayed through it all.

I hate water. Hate may be a strong word. No, it's the right word. I have learned to swim in the pool with the help of my friends and my heart rate no longer puts a hummingbird to shame. Balls? Maybe. My friend Mike feels the same way about water as I do yet today I saw him once again swimming in open water. Open Water!  He doesn't like it but he's doing it, pushing himself through a place he'd rather not go. Balls. F yeah. Courage - a shitload.

Does it take balls to run your first 5K?  Half marathon? Marathon? To do your first triathlon? To move from a Sprint to an Olympic?  It does. It takes nerve, guts, courage. Often the courage falls in with what it takes to prepare for the event. The hours of training, time away from family, sessions that can beat you down if you let them. Pushing yourself past the place of comfort. I've seen my teammates push through the barrier time and time again. We nod heads and say good job but in reality we should celebrate - the accomplishment deserves it. How about training for an Ironman 70.3?  1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and a half marathon to finish it off.  I've watched Sharon train for this and heard stories about her 60 mile bike sessions with 17 miles of hills with Dan and others (I forget names), her latest 3 hour run at the Watershed and it goes on and on. I'd have to visit one of those Hollywood doctors to hope to come out with the balls to do something like that.

Let's be clear, I'm no pussy. I've accomplished a tremendous amount in my mind and given enough time I could speak to nearly some of them. None of which would have ever happened had I not told myself they had. Clear?  Take some time this week to look around and see the examples of bravery and courage that are all around you. Stop in front of the mirror and say thank you to the person you see for the courage and bravery they display - for the big things and the small. That person does more than they think and carries more on their shoulders than they may realize - have the balls to tell them so, you just may get a smile in return.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Possibilities

Monday I ran faster than I have in 18 months. Why was this 5K different? After all I am older so in theory my speed should be decreasing – that’s what the experts say. They also say that as men turn 50 they begin to lose speed, they start to focus on endurance. Probably because once the lightning leaves your feet you feel like to have to hang on, grab on to something to prove “it’s not over”. Running longer and slower keeps you out there, out there with the runners, the athletes, the vibe. Sometimes it’s hard to line up for a race and in front of you is a sea of well tuned young runners with so much pent up energy that they are bouncing up and down just waiting to get out of the gate. Meanwhile I’m telling myself it’s only a race, remember to breathe, start out slow, have fun. Deep inside however I want to run hard, run fast, faster than them, I want to win. I know I won’t. They will break the tape well before me.

So what made Monday so different? Have I been holding back? Maybe. Why? Fear? Maybe. Confidence? Probably. It’s not easy to push yourself to that place where your body tells you to stop it. Your legs and lungs tell your brain that you are being stupid, you should slow down before something bad happens. The next thing you know, you’re slowing and justifying in your mind that it’s the right thing to do. You become comfortable, safe. Once there, you’re screwed. You’ve lost. Lost not only this race but those you have yet to run. I admire the fearless runner – you know who you are. You hear the same voice but your push it away, you turn a deaf ear to it and you run, run harder, push harder. I admire you for that. I’m trying to learn from the strength you display.

I did learn something about myself at the Rock n Roll Half Marathon. Maybe not so much in the first few miles but certainly as the race went on. I’ve been holding back. Holding back - afraid to cross that threshold that puts you in a very dangerous place. Dangerous because once there, no one can help you. Dangerous because you hear so many voices and only one of them urges you to keep going, the rest are anchors ready to stop you in your tracks. Dangerous because it can define you – one way of another.

I heard the voices Monday. They started a half mile in when my pace was sub seven. They told me to slow the hell down because I could never keep that pace up. That voice was right. I slowed between a 7:00 and 7:19. Still fast, in fact faster than I have managed in a long time. A mile in the voices urged me again to slow down. “You should be running an 8 minute pace right now, what are you doing?” I decided to let them talk but I wouldn’t listen. Ok, I was listening a little but doing my best to ignore them. Finishing mile two my legs began to feel like rubber. My pace was 7:18. Voices spoke louder and my brain said slow down. I thought about previous races, failures, the Rock n Roll and decided at that moment that I wasn’t going to slow. I would push through and if the good Lord wanted to take me than what the hell, my next 5K would be with wings and harp music. Amazingly my lungs felt fine. Air was flowing and that gave me a renewed since of confidence. Damn cross training. Frickin pool…bike…core…and the various cardio machines that taunt me. Thanks Sharon – I used to give you crap about it and here I am, running stronger because of it.

That last mile was hard but I’m still here. Crossing the finish line at 22:29 felt amazing. Part of that feeling was the time clock but most of it was the mental victory which meant more to me than the time. The time simply serves as a checkpoint, a stake in the ground that said I did it. I guess it’s not over for this guy – I still have some ass to kick - granted it’ll be older ass…Maybe all my races won’t be good, but some will. I’ll take the good with the bad as long as I know I did the best I could that day. Running is now full of possibilities for me again. We all have possibilities. Some point us in a new direction, be it a scary direction some times. You may have voices in your head telling you to slow down, to stop, to settle. I don’t think you should. You deserve more than that. Possibilities – they are yours for the taking – take them.