True North

Over the weekend, I saw a news story about a Mount Rainier hiker who set out on a hike with a friend.  Near the end of the hike, this particular hiker planned to finish the rest on snowshoe, while his partner finished on skis and they were to meet up at the end.  As he set out on snowshoe, he would find himself caught in a sudden squall.  A blinding snowstorm would cause him to be less sure footed to where he took only baby steps as he was not entirely sure where he was headed.  He would be found a full day later, in the Nisqually River drainage, unconscious, hypothermic, covered in bruises, and ultimately would go into cardiac arrest for 45 minutes at the hospital.  Finally when nothing seemed to be working, as a Hail Mary, he was placed on a heart lung machine.  A week had passed by the time the story aired and here was this man, a little on the thin side, miraculously sitting on the side of his bed offering thanks to his rescuers, who spent 24 hours locating him, and his medical team that refused to give up on him. When asked what he thought he did wrong to get in the situation he replied,"I made a rookie mistake.  I failed to check the weather."

I suppose if I am really thinking about it, lost in an unexpected snow squall is a decent description of 2020.  Starting in March, I think I can truly say watching my fitness goals vanish one at a time with race cancellations, gym closures, and losing the time I had come to treasure with my tribe. I too had lost my way, to where at some point in August, I found myself at the bottom of my own proverbial Nisqually River drainage, completely lacking direction with no end to COVID in site.

Since that time, I started grasping at some attempt at normalcy.  I signed up for races that were actually available.  Therefore, to date I have done two socially distant Savage Races.  The first was in September.  That race was particularly challenging, as despite training at home and some in my regular gym after it reopened, I was still making up ground from months of lacking the formal training I had become accustomed to and it showed.  As my performance on the obstacles was a bit lack luster, I allowed fear of everything dictate the entire race.  I wasn't as strong as I had been.  Was I going to fall off the cargo net?  How was I going to get off the wall and not plunge 8 feet?  I had never been submerged into chest high mud, and the sudden confining feeling only fueled my fear to where, if I am being real here, ended up being six full miles of terror.  Even to look at that September medal reminded me of something I said out loud on the course,"I just hate being afraid.  I hate being like this." 

Left feeling like my racing life was on life support, plus a little encouragement from my team, pushed me to register for another Savage Race.  I was hoping this would give me a prayer of not leaving fear as my legacy of 2020.  I had 9 weeks.  Nine weeks to mentally and physically prepare for the race that took place this past weekend with my 1DOS Foundation leadership team.  My very own 2020 do over.  Out of the gate,  I began to dial in and train.  I started working with an actual OCR coach and amped up my upper body training at home with the addition of battle ropes and slam balls.  An entirely new training style than I was used to even in pre COVID times.  I'll even go out on a limb and share I did the mental work with guided imagery to start to put fear behind me on the course.  There were the regular check ins with my accountability partner as well as my son, both of whom constantly reminded me I am much more capable than I give myself credit for.  When I emerged Sunday with my son and partner by my side, my efforts showed.  I conquered obstacles I failed nine weeks prior and even came over the cargo net without the fear I had in September.  That may or may not have involved me saying out loud when I approached the obstacle and got a little nervous,"oh no.  I'm not fucking doing this today.  No way."  Head up keep climbing, over the A frame and back down.

We would cross the line and I knew damn well this time, I earned that medal fair and square. Even though this medal is exactly the same as the one from September, somehow it shines a little brighter as I know digging deep, putting the work in and discovering my own true north in the last nine weeks has put me right back in the game.  None of us could have checked the proverbial weather for 2020, and most of us have become lost in our own way from the pandemic.  However, as I celebrated my 51st birthday on race weekend, I find myself with a simple new piece of jewelry.  A sterling silver compass that I have no plans to take off any time soon.  A simple reminder that no matter how lost we are, true north can always be found when you take the chance to face the fear, identify new goals, not be afraid to let loose of old methods and work hard.  Probably even more important than those things is to surround yourself with the people willing to walk along side your journey, pushing you and believing in you even in the moments you are not so sure.  Those are the people who will always show us the best is yet to come.

From Finisher to Crusher

 Wow.  September 21.  Yep that's the date of my last blog post, more than a full month ago.  I guess you could say life got in the way.  Working in a leadership role in a rapidly growing urgent care that offers COVID testing during a pandemic has proven for long days, and lots of hours.  I suppose the sheer amount of work to be done has also put a damper on my creative juices to a degree as well, so there you have it. A month blog free.  However, tonight I find myself finally at my desk with a few hours off.  Admittedly, the craziness of the last month has left my desk in shambles.  There are scraps of papers left over from me working on schedules, lists of things for Foundation related activity  and in the far right corner a medal.  A Mileage Monsters 5K medal from last Saturday.  It was our second annual 5k fundraiser for my 1DOS Foundation.  All things considered, we had a good turn out of 110 socially distanced runners.  Everyone played by the rules, masks on, no gathering before or after, and courteous running.  In all, a fun time for all in one of the first live events of 2020.

But this medal....  my partner and I had a love/hate relationship with this medal.  Last year we set out to be creative.  Who needed another 5k medal anyway?  Oh no.  We had kick ass swag bags and awesome shirts.  Oh weren't we cool?  Apparently not.  The feedback we got from one runner in particular was she would never have run the race without earning a medal.  Several others were on the same page.  So, this year we had medals.  We had $300 worth of medals.  Granted they were pretty cool, but I have spent a long time trying to understand what it was about it that was so important about a medal coming from a small time inaugural 5k.  In fact, as I sit here, all of my medals hang to my right.  Spartans, marathons, half marathons, Disney medals.... now those were medals.  

Suddenly it dawned on me who it was last year that was so disappointed by her swag bag.  It was our last finisher.  She did not appear to be an athlete and our photographer explained she was part of a bigger 5k series where runners were to complete 20 5k's in a season.  This particular participant always managed to finish, albeit usually last. She appeared to be an unlikely candidate to finish 20 5k's and would guess maybe she had not done that before.  Gaining 19 medals instead of 20 perhaps destroyed the visual representation of the accomplishment of a bigger goal she set for herself.  

As I scan through my own medals now I see my very first Spartan medal.  The Fenway Sprint of 2016.  I was terrified at the start line.  I was surrounded by badass racers and here I was 46 years old, fresh off a lifetime of obesity, not totally sure I belonged there or that I could even finish.  The gun went off and we took off through the park.  People were faster than me.  Some did the obstacles better than I did.  My son had to constantly say,"just run your own race."  He was right.  In the end, I would finish and burst into tears on the infield. I had done it.  A year of training reflected in one hunk of medal on a colorful ribbon.   I'm quite certain if I looked at the medal closer there may in fact, be salt stains on said ribbon.  There was my first Spartan Beast ribbon from summer of 2017, where five of us took on my longest race at the time.  Twenty miles on the side of a mountain.  Physically and mentally taxing.  Yes, that medal meant a lot to me.  Still other medals reminded me of fun times spent with a race team I would describe as second to none.  There were Ragnars, half marathons, 10k's, and even two full sets of Dopey medals reminding me further what normal years look like for me.

However, this year, as we all know, racing is largely cancelled.  From my girls' weekend half marathon in the Hamptons, to the Boilermaker in Utica, to a Spartan Super in Denver, to what was to be the pinnacle race of the year for me, the Spartan Beast in Tahoe, all cancelled.  A veritable racing silence.  For as much as I miss racing the various events, in their absence I came to realize something.  I over commit.  I sign up for everything I can with my tribe, which is awesome, but I effectively have become the proverbial athletic Jack of all trades, master of none.  I'm not fast, I'm not the talented obstacle racer like you see on Ninja Warrior, I have stayed where I was planted after that first race.  I am a finisher.  I earned that first Spartan medal fair and square.  A year and a half of training, a lifetime of obesity and an epic finish.  Hell, I even earned that first trifecta medal fair and square, but what has happened since?

I have remained a finisher.  I have trained the same with an amazing gym family and have gone on to finish 15 other obstacle races, two Dopey Challenges, umpteen half marathons and a smattering of 5k's and 10k's, and have the medals to prove it, but here's the question.  What have I CRUSHED?  Crushing a race and completing a race are two different things, and as long as I am asking, what would it take to crush a course?  As I talked it all over with my accountability partner it became obvious.  Finishing a race for the first time was awesome, but by the 15th time I find myself now asking,"shouldn't I be better at this by now?" and better yet,"Do I want to be better at this?" 

As anyone with a good accountability partner will tell you, they always say the thing you think you don't want to hear, but is the best for you anyway.  Yes.  I should be better, but despite training hard, my training has not changed.  Stuck in my proverbial comfort zone maxing out my abilities within those confines.  As far as did I want to be better?  of course.  Who doesn't?  It's the bigger hurdle of what that is going to take.  That is something I am learning.  It's going to take dialing back the commitments, and changing what I normally do because,"if nothing changes, nothing changes."  So, today I took the plunge.  Stepped away from my usual workout for my first private session with an awesome tactical OCR coach.  I learned about breathing, bracing, grip strength and that I was way stronger than I gave myself credit for.  A little glimpse that with the right type of help, hard work and second to none training partners I will continue to take newbies to races as watching someone else find their own success is a passion of mine, but personally? It’s time to work my way past finisher and right into obstacle race CRUSHER next year, and no.  There better not be a bag of swag.  I will save a space for a kick ass medal that will remind me there is always something bigger to reach for and in doing so I will always see the best is yet to come.