On Conscious Choices

I wasn't sure if I was going to write a blog post about that race in StG, but every once in a while I sort of enjoy going back and reading some of my thoughts from years past and I think it might be an interesting thing one day to go back and read them all together and see what kind of 'evolution' I've had over the last decade+... Plus, as some who know me well already know, I've been "trying" to retire from triathlon racing for the last probably 5-6 years. How many times have I said, "I'm never doing that again!" only to sign up for the same races year after year hoping maybe it would be different/better somehow next time? I have never been able to just let it go. Why is that?? I've seen other people let it go. I remember very specifically one post-race experience with an athlete I was coaching... it was 8 years ago. We'd both just finished IM Cozumel. She was happy with her race. I wasn't. You know what's funny? I cannot remember the outcome of that race (ie my time/place or whatever). All I remember is not feeling satisfied. She did though. She said, "I feel at peace." I was jealous. That's how I wanted to feel.

After this 70.3 race in StG, I remember feeling like I was at peace. What's funny is that it's not like I look back at my time/place and feel like it was exactly what I wanted. It wasn't. And yet, I had this novel feeling of "peace". I think I always expected that "peace" comes when you absolutely crush/nail every aspect of a race... Like, you finally achieve your perfect race then you can be at peace. But that's not how it works. Or I should say, that's not how it worked for me.

I've spent the last year or so working on a remodeling project of sorts. It's been both an internal and an external remodel. I think the internal part is the most important part. It's really hard to summarize in words what all I've done (or how), but since I always try to be upfront and honest in my blogs, I'll try. The short version is that I've done a deep dive into better understanding my nervous system; I've learned to use my breath to help me not only read my state but to change it when I want to; I've learned to quiet my own mind and create space for objectivity and analysis; I've learned to not be a judgemental wench, especially when it comes to how I talk to myself internally (this has been a huge win); I've greatly improved my CO2 tolerance; I've improved my posture; I've developed more patience. I suspect I could go on, but I'll leave it there for now. Suffice to say, positive changes that have been a long time coming.

Leading up to StG, I was really trying to focus internally on myself. I was trying to remove any judgemental comparisons of myself to others, and to that end, I took a few steps to help myself achieve that goal. One of which was disconnecting my garmin from my Strava profile. That lifted a little weight off my back. I felt more free to just do what I wanted to do with my training without having a little birdie in the back of my mind worrying about other people silently judging what I was doing (or not doing). Turns out, even when you take those steps, you'll still get judged. Maybe not even silently! I was accused repeatedly of "secret training"... That made my head spin. There is no secret training. Training methods in this day and age are VERY well known. I was swimming and biking and running consistently. Mostly easy but sometimes very hard. That's it. No secrets.

I had the thought that the only 'secret training' I was doing was happening on my living room floor. And even that wasn't secret. I told anyone who would listen what I was doing there! It's not easy work, remodeling yourself from the inside out on your living room floor. Most people are unwilling to do it. Progress with it is slow. The process is tedious. You have to just sit there, quietly, focusing on your inhales and your exhales and then come back to that focus every time your mind wanders ... over and over and over. Every day. I found motivation to keep going with it though when I started seeing signs that I was making progress. What did that progress look like? For starters, I started noticing pretty flowers on my dog walks. I found that I had more patience with people and situations. I felt calm. I was more creative. My memory improved. I could make reasoned decisions eaily. I slowed my life down. I was sleeping better. I did less mindless eating/snacking. I felt happier overall as a wife and a mom. All great reasons to continue down that path!

I sought out other learning opportunities and enrolled in courses titled "Art of Breath" and "Skill of Stress". Wow. Mind blowing information there for anyone on a path of self-improvement! When you learn how your breath is connected to your physiology, and how you can take conscious control of that when you decide you want to, it feels like a superpower. The night before the StG race, I was flipping through some of my notes trying to remind myself what exactly I wanted to focus on the next day. I found this note from the Skill of Stress course and decided it would be my race day mantra. I had no idea at the time how impactful it would actually be.

So I probably don't need to recap again the drama that was race day weather conditions for those who started the race in later waves, but since I can see myself reading this again a decade from now, I'll describe the whole day with a bit of detail.

My wave started late. Like, almost 10am. The pros went off at 7. I had rented a house that was like a mile from T1 so I had the most relaxed race morning ever. Woke up with no alarm. Drank my coffee and ate my oatmeal while watching the live coverage of the pro race on my ipad. Used the nice bathroom in my own house (several times ha ha!). My husband drove me over to T1 and dropped me off and I was super relaxed as I was putting my bottles on my bike. Waiting in the corral with my fellow W45-49, I chatted light heartedly with several of them. The sky above us was blue was we entered the water. I saw the black cloud off in the distance but didn't give it any power. Instead, I kept my focus on the present moment. While I was swimming, I was 100% focused only on giving whatever effort was necessary to stay on the feet of the gal who was doing a brilliant job of weaving her way through the swimmers who had started ahead of us. I wasn't as cold as I'd anticipated I would be and I was very much enjoying the swim. I could feel some chop picking up as the swim finish was nearing, but truly didn't give it a second thought. Just stay on her feet. Simple. Not easy. --- Running through T1 was where I started to understand how conditions had changed while I was in the water. Yikes. It hadn't started hailing yet, but the wind had blown some of the fencing in the transition area away. I had a hard time running with my bike to the mount line. The most interesting part was that through it all, I was laughing. I suspect that laugh was actually a stress response, but it was a better stress response than freezing in fear, or getting angry, or any other common reaction to stress. --- I am consciously choosing to engage with this storm/stress.

In the first 10ish miles of the bike (for me), the conditions were among the worst I'd ever ridden in. Strong wind, hail, lightning. Utah flash storms are legit. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't comtemplating quitting. I absolutely was. There were a few women riding aggressively, but most were riding as carefully as I was. I heard or saw 3 ambulances. What was I doing? Is this worth it? Should I stop? Where do I go if I stop? I mean, the reality was, I needed to get to T2. That's where my family was. I had some awareness that the storm was unlikely to last all day. And I didn't want to live with the regret of quitting a race because the conditions were ugly. I knew I'd regret that choice if I made it. So I kept riding and eventually the storm did pass. Roads were still all wet but it felt less scary overall and I just kept repeating my mantra to myself. --- I am consciously choosing to engage with this storm/stress. --- The only time I had dry roads on that ride was the climb through Snow Canyon. And I was super happy at that point! My legs weren't tired since I hadn't given a lot of physical effort in the first 40 miles (that was all mental effort I was giving, which is still a lot of energy, but at that point my legs felt pretty good). I was climbing and happy and singing out loud... The other thing that struck me during this race was how nice I was to those I was riding around. Normally in a race situation if an athlete was riding in the middle of the road and therefore not leaving room for others to pass on the left, I'd yell something very direct. MOVE OVER! Maybe even MOVE OVER BITCH depending on what kind of mood I was in. On this day, when I encountered that exact scenario, I calmly said to a woman, "It would make it easier for everyone else if you moved over to the right." And I pedaled on. Who was I anyway???

Last 6 miles were all downhill to T2, which could have been super fun, but that's where the sky opened up again. Flash flood style dumping rain in drops so big an iphone camera could capture them in an image. It wasn't actually as fun as I'm making it look here. Lol.

I am consciously choosing to engage with this storm/stress. --- It's possible that was the most relieved I'd ever felt in any T2 in any race in almost 25 years of racing triathlons. There was a volunteer in T2 telling me to go slowly over some very wet carpet as I was on my way to grab my T2 bag. No worries lady I was in zero hurry and walked through T2 soaking it all in. My lack of desire to RACE others in this race meant that rushing through transitions wasn't something I was going to do. I mean, I didn't have a picnic lunch or anything but I walked and took my time putting my shoes on (no speed laces required) and I joked with some others around me about how happy we all were to be off the bike. I found that the majority of women around me all day had amazingly positive attitudes. Given everything that was thrown at us that day, it was inspiring to see/feel. Female triathletes are bad ass, you guys. We endure.

Immediately onto the run I saw my family and also Tia, which was fun! There were thousands of spectators - some all dressed up in costume while others were half naked in crazy hats. That part felt somewhat chaotic but it goes with the territory of big races like this and honestly, that's what makes a race a 'big' race. It's not just the athletes that make a race a big deal. It's the spectators who care about the race that make that happen.

The run course was harder than I expected. I mean, I knew it was going to be hilly but when I read 1200ft gain in 13 miles I just totally assumed that was a misprint. Somebody's garmin had to have been drunk when it measured that I mean anyone who pays attention to elevation gain on their training courses knows that 1200ft gain in 13 miles is insane. I was wrong! I'll tell you- I'm super impressed by everyone who completed that run course. It went up up up forever then DOWN this crazy steep pitch for something like a mile... then repeat! I've worked hard on my run this past year and I know it has improved. It didn't come out on that course on that day, but that doesn't deplete the confidence I have that my run is improving.

I finished that race feeling more proud of myself than I expected. Given a week removal from it, I think the pride I felt was more about how I handled the whole situation with the course/conditions than anything else. My goal going in, as stated the day before the race even started, was to choose to engage with the storm/stress, to consciously carve a new canyon of healthier response, widening my response options and tolerance to stress of all kinds. At the end of the day, that's it, isn't it? The reason we challenge ourselves to do hard things?

This morning as I was rolling out on my ride, it started to rain. It was just drizzling though. It wasn't hailing and there was no lightning and no garbage cans were flying across the street. Little bit of rain? Zero issue. The race last week served as a vehicle to allow my Window of Tolerance to widen. --- Goal achieved. After 25 years of racing triathlon, I feel at peace.

Quit being Such a Judgmental Wench

 Turns out, a year and a half away from racing was a good thing for me personally.

I very much enjoyed training this past year+ and genuinely wasn't sure if I was actually going to enjoy racing again. But here's the thing! 2020 taught me that I do not *need* to race triathlon to be happy. So hypothetically speaking, had I not enjoyed racing Honu, it would have been fiiiiine with me bc the alternative (just train, yo!) was something I'd come to realize I could do quite happily for quite some time. I think this was a huge piece of my ability to go into the race weekend feeling literally zero stress. It wasn't that I didn't care about my performance - I did! - or that I wasn't going to give my best all day - I would! - but just that I was not very concerned with the outcome of how it would all play out. 

That was brand new mindset for me.

What's interesting is that I had a coach a few years ago who tried to teach me this mindset. Looking back I can see now that I was simply not ready to learn it at that time. To me, RACING meant it was me against you. One of us wins, one of us loses. My focus when racing would often be more about what other people were doing instead of what *I* was doing. That takes a lot of emotional energy. And spoiler alert, it was not working for me. Read back to just about any of my race reports over the last decade. Just about all of them include an element of dissatisfaction (sometimes deep/severe) and I can see now that was all stemmed from the fact that I was trying to satisfy my ego more than my soul. #deepthoughts

So what was the big change in 2020? Good question! ;) I can trace the origin of it back to the fact that Lawrence van Lingen modified his business plan to start presenting his knowledge online, which allowed me to have easy access to it. (Mahalo, Lawrence!) He started hosting live online classes and seminars, teaching athletes how to let go, unwind, reduce tension, live at the bottom of your breath... I'm not sure that's a method I would have necessarily embraced had life not taken such a drastic turn, but the timing of it was right for me last spring. My mind was open, I was eager to learn more, and as I immersed myself in his methods, I felt immediate and lasting benefits not only in the way I was physically moving, but also in the way I was seeing/interpreting the world around me. 

When I get into something, I tend to jump in with both feet, and that's what I did with Lawrence's InneRunner stuff. I did all of his weekly mobility classes, Slinky Spine course, InneRunner course, etc. Then eventually I discovered that oh wow breathing deeply and slowly does actually make a big difference in how much tension I'm carrying around... so I added those weekly breath sessions in too. The meditation stuff he does took me a little bit longer to embrace but now I'm into it. I still have a lot to learn there but my Headspace streak is currently at 87 days in a row. A couple months ago I created a new morning routine for myself that includes a 10min brain training session via that Headspace app and given how I'm feeling it changing me for the better, there's zero chance I'm going to give that up any time soon.

So it was from this perspective that I went into the Honu race weekend. I had enough experience to know what to expect, but also with what felt like a brand new brain which allowed me to race with more of a Beginner's Mindset. I wanted to race with a sense of curiosity about what I could do, instead of with a tension filled sense of needing to get to the finish line at any particular time or before any particular person. If that sentence sounds completely foreign to you, trust me, it would have to me a few years ago toooooo....

Anyway, I'll keep the race recap to lessons I took away from the race experience. And I want to start with addressing the wind on the bike. The forecast was calling for 25mph winds, and it was not wrong.

So I don't have any real issues with riding in headwind, and I'm normal (in some ways!) so I enjoy tailwinds. I do not, however, enjoy riding in strong crosswinds. So when I got out on that ride and felt the first wobble with that wind pushing me sideways into the road, I tensed up and pretty much remained that way for the rest of the ride. I tried talking myself out of it... positive self talk!... Relax, breathe, keep pedaling, you're fine, etc. I tried singing songs in my head... Look around look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now... Angelica remind me what we're looking for... Eliza I'm looking for a mind at work WORK I'm looking for a mind at work... I remembered some of the brain training work I'd done... The problem is not the wind, the problem is your perception of the wind... I tried to stay present in the moment, while at the same time trying to just steel my brain that I was going to be out there riding forever so just settle in, while at the same time promising myself that this would not indeed last forever and at some point I would be able to get off that bike. So ya, I probably have more work to do there on that mental piece. #progressnotperfection

But you guys, what I did NOT do was start beating the crap out of myself for riding like a pussy. This is such a big win I cannot even tell you. It genuinely is fascinating at times to think about the way we talk to ourselves and compare that to the way we talk to others. I would never berate others the way that I used to berate myself when I'm not performing up to my own impossible-to-reach expectations for myself. So I'm currently in this place where I can accept that I need more practice again riding in strong crosswinds to redevelop my ability to do that confidently while at the same time not being a judgmental wench to myself about not nailing that part of the race. Whoa.

Here's another piece that's fascinating> Post race we're all standing around chatting and some people are with me whining about that wind so scary! Others, though, acknowledged that it was windy but mostly just brushed it off. What? How could they just brush that off? It was freaking SCARY out there!! Or was it? 

The problem was not the wind. The problem was my perception of the wind. 

Let's relate this back to the swim. Post race everyone has the same story... I couldn't see the buoys on the way back at all! There was genuinely a lot of concern about this, posted onto the Facebook groups and everything. You know what? I couldn't see the buoys either. You know how much that bothered me? Not at all. So why is that? Why were some people bothered by not being able to see the buoys but I wasn't? Probably for the same reason I was bothered by those crosswinds while some others were not. Likely our own perception of how big of a threat these things are to us. I'm super confident in my ability to ocean swim and I swim ocean all the time without specific buoys to aim for so I am comfortable just heading in a general direction and not giving it a second thought. For others with less experience in the ocean, I can absolutely see how that mindset would be as foreign as I think it is that they were unconcerned with the crosswinds... Our perceptions matter.

Anyway. Since I had no particular time goals, I left my Garmin at home on race day. I think that was one of the best decisions I made over the weekend bc it truly helped me to do what I suggested my athletes do out there: Focus on WHAT you are doing, not on HOW you are doing. I think if/when we start judging our performances in the middle of the race, we start going down a slippery slope. That's when it becomes really easy to throw in the towel... or even if you technically finish but you know in your heart that you gave up on yourself and didn't really give your best the whole time. That just sucks, right? So I eliminated that variable for myself by racing without a watch and I'll probably never use a watch in a race again. (I have also said with 100% confidence that I would NEVER do another full Ironman... #spoileralert #neversaynever)

Ok so the run story. This is how I ended up running with the CEO of Ironman for ~90 minutes. ;) My plan on that run was to be pretty conservative. I wasn't hugely confident in my run fitness and I've melted down on that course more times than I can count in years past, and I just really really really didn't want to have that experience again. So right from the start my plan was to walk all the little kicker hills but to not let my walk breaks ever be longer than ~20 steps. But I gave myself permission to take a walk break whenever I felt like I needed ones long as I got back to running as soon as I felt ready to do so. Very early on some guy next to me asked, 'What's your pace?' I showed him my naked wrist and replied, My pace is whatever I feel like running in each moment! I might have mentioned at that point that this wasn't my first rodeo... I can't really remember... but I think I did mention that this was my 14th attempt at this course. After a few minutes where he parroted my run/walk/run pattern, he asked me what my name was. Then, because I am not rude, I asked him what his name was. He told me his name was Andrew and honestly that was the first time I even looked at him and that's when I knew... Holy shit I'm running with Andrew Messick. So it took him a second but eventually he said, "MamaSimmons. You skewered me on social media!" 

OMG talk about a moment... Ha! I mean all you can do is own up to that, right? So I laughed and admitted that I'm sure I did! The crazy part is that he remembered specifically at least one time where I was ripping him for the decision to start women's behind the men instead of one big mass start... People who know me know how I feel about this and that was an open invitation to discuss it again so oh man... I started into it... again... I got all riled up! Like to the point where I had to take a short walk break on a flat section because I needed to calm myself down... It went on like that for the whole first lap... then the second lap... He told me that he was genuinely interested in my opinions. I mean, as a CEO maybe getting to hear what people who have been at this for a really long time experience when they're out there on the courses is a good idea. I could tell he was listening so ya, I continued to just open my mouth and spill it! I was fair though and I gave credit where credit is due (yay return to racing!) he told me about the different caveats that different race venues were requiring and how it varies so much depending on the location. WTC as a corporation has been under massive stress (as you can imagine, if you think about their position at all!) so he said he's just happy the whole company didn't go under last year. And as much as we gripe about how WTC does some things, I mean, lets face it... How sad would we we if WTC folded?

Anyway, in our conversation, he asked me if I would take the local Hawaii Resident slot to Kona if I earned it. I replied that I was not sure. My thinking going in was that 1) I did not want to be concerned with whether or not I would end up in a situation where it was offered to me and 2) I was not going to put myself through that brutal Ironman again if I did not truly enjoy myself while I was out there racing. And since we were at mile 1 or 2 of the run when he asked that question, I could not give a straight answer. So far I had been happy enough, but 13 miles is a long way to go on a golf course in 90 degrees with full sun. As they say, anything can happen.

Let's sum this up, shall we? I ran the third lap on my own and was absolutely amazed that while it was certainly challenging, I was doing an amazing job at staying in the moment and running and being happy and cheering other athletes on and not even for a half a second being a judgmental wench to myself about not running faster. My legs functioned reasonably well all the way to the finish line and for the first time in a very long time, I threw my hands in the air and smiled so big as I crossed that line. I did not know my time. I did not know my place. But none of that mattered. I had achieved my goal of racing happy. Being kind to myself. It's the way, you guys. I'm telling you.

The next morning I got a text from a number I did not recognize...

So I currently find myself in a pretty cool position. I get to coach 8 athletes through Kona this year (!), one of those athletes being myself. I've never done that before, but I am very much interested in attempting it!