Tahoe

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I enlisted some help for my A race in Tahoe.  For those that do not know, I am an amateur obstacle course racer and aspiring endurance runner.  I am still embracing the label “athlete”, because I go to great ends to do things right by my body and its movement and despite not being a paid professional or even an elite performer, the things I do and the things I enjoy would be described as athletic.  So, for today’s purposes, I am an athlete. 

Before I sought the bodybuilding stage, I was a horseback rider.  No, not the weekend warrior with an old pair of boots, but a professional rider and trainer and high-level competitor.  I started riding when I was 3, and that was my full-time sport by 10.  I dabbled in softball and swimming, soccer and cross country, but the horses had my soul and I never thought twice.  I was fortunate to have parents that could support my sport, because horses are the most expensive I have ever encountered. 

I started competing seriously by 11, as I then had 2 horses.  By the time I was 16, I was teaching lessons and training horses for money, and was then told that I was pretty good at this.  Fast forward to college and I pushed myself to graduate early with a Spanish degree and started my own horseback riding and training business by 20.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I did know that I didn’t have it in my to sit at a desk all day and answer to someone.  My parents are both entrepreneurs, and I have discipline and work ethic in spades, so this seemed to be the easier, softer way for me.  Fast forward 8 years and I burnt myself out and no longer wanted to ride (at all), and I sold my business and quit riding entirely.  Now, there’s clearly a lot more to this story, but y’all don’t have time for that and my wrists aren’t up to the typing task at this moment.  Maybe that’ll be book number two: why you tread lightly on turning your passion into your job.  It seems to be all the glory for some, but I have direct experience knowing that when you have to do something every day and you have to do it to eat food and have a home, it will lose its beauty and innocence and may one day not be your passion any more.

When I hung up my boots there was a void.  I had maintained my own competitive horses while I taught and trained and helped my students at horse shows, so hanging up my boots was more than hanging up my day-to-day.  I no longer had competitions, I no longer had scheduled goals or performance aspirations, and I no longer sought a trainer to help me do my job better.  (That is a huge upper hand I will take credit for: I never thought I was better than getting help.  I never thought I was above getting my own riding lessons.  And because I always sought the most difficult animals, I needed more help and more often).  Enter bodybuilding.  What better way to have scheduled goals, performance (aesthetic) aspirations and competitive spirit?  If I only knew.  That is another book of its own, but it came and went within a few years and I am grateful for the pictures, the things I learned and the things I still need to unlearn some days.

Now, obstacle course racing.  I had always had a knack for being able to pick up a run here or there.  I had always been strong from years of riding and literally molding over thousand pound animals, but I had never put it all together.  I had never trained to run right or well – it was to remove the food I had eaten the night prior or to burn off steam.  I had never trained to carry heavy ass sandbags up hill or to climb 8’ walls by myself, but this is what obstacle course racing entailed.  And it is as hard and intense and acute suffering at times, as it is empowering and uplifting and inspiring.  Obstacle course racing brings you back to childlike roots: scaling monkey bars, playing in the mud, traversing mountains – it pushes you beyond what you think you’re capable of, and beyond what you think your body (and mind) can do.

Putting performance together in this way, coupling strength and conditioning (cardio as some of you would call it) made sense to me, and I quickly wanted to be the best.  I then saw the best in action, and happily reserved “just damn good”.  I am still working on “my best” and comparing me to me.  As I raced different brands and experienced different obstacles and toured different venues, I found more empowerment and fulfillment after the longer, more mountainous courses with strength obstacles.  I found more fun and joy from the more intense and challenging questions.  In order to show up at these venues and participate at a level that was doable and not entirely insane, I had to train.  In order to recover in a reasonable amount of time and not injure myself, I had to train well.  So I hired a trainer.  And I did this before I really knew why I was touring the OCR world and why I wanted to do this, so my balance from “fun” and “my best” quickly scaled to “this is who I am and these metrics define me.”  Sound familiar?  Immediately I found my joy being taken from me, my freedom and balance removed.  I found I was stressed and not listening to my body.  I found I was getting injured and not able to participate, to only then find something else to busy me and push me and ultimately lead me back to doing my own thing for a few years and really learning my body and my mind.  (AKA the Universe injured me in a way that I had to stop and start paying attention).

Enter now.  I have come to a place that I didn’t think I’d ever find.  I love running long distances and I love running by myself.  I run without music and I run without a pacer.  I run because I have come to know more about myself and my mind and how it attaches to everything so easily.  I run because it allows me to explore the world around me at a pace that I can actually see things.  I can see the seasons coming and going, I can see the animals and their habitat, I can see the ground and the way it changes with the weather.  I can hear the birds and the bugs and the distant people.  I can hear me.  I can hear God.  I can hear my body and I can feel every step and every breath.  I can slow down while my feet keep moving.  I can watch the pain move from one hip to my knee to my foot to the air.  I can watch how it returns and then fades depending on where I’m at in the run and what my brain is doing.  I can actually see my brain and how it is the center of our experience.  I can see how it lies and how it tells the truth.  I can see clearly and it is my meditation.  I didn’t think I’d have to run for hours to find it, but that has been my truth and I am honoring it.

As you can probably imagine, running long distance bears its burdens.  It can hurt.  If you don’t have proper form, adequate hydration and timed nutrition, you can get sick.  If you don’t portion your energy to the appropriate amount of recovery and rest, you won’t be able to keep going.  I have found that you can’t lift all the days and do all of the exercises and run al of the miles.  I learned this recently and it took a lot of faith for me to let go of my bodybuilding days and exercises but the second I did, my body started to respond.  The jury is still out on how my legs look after not doing 15 exercises on leg day (and hardly even doing a real leg day), but I can tell you that they feel better and I can fly up a hill like I never could before. 

Balance-ish.  I found this on my own.  But I also found it because I have utilized everything I have ever learned from other people, pieces at a time.  I have taken what I liked and what works for me and have left the rest.  I’ve implemented strength exercises from other people, templates from books, methodology from gurus that aren’t me and come up with a package that has been working.  And now I want more.  I don’t need more because I know I am good enough as I am, but I want to do this for a long time.  I want to make it to Tahoe in September (a 32 mile, 60+ obstacle race on a mountain with potential cold weather and definite water) and then I want to do something else.  I want to place.  I want to finish within the time and I want to do it without killing myself.  And in order to do that, I need help.  I want to learn how to run better.  I want to learn how to pace appropriately and when to push.  I want to know more about my body and its metabolic needs.  I want to stop thinking and guessing and hoping I’m doing this right.  I want to learn.  I derive so much from learning – it’s why I read every night and every day.  It’s why I geek out on podcasts and social media from athletes and successful business owners and people that have more experience than I do at doing it wrong, so they can spare me and I can maybe do it a little right. As a natural teacher, I love learning so that I can share what I’ve learned and then teach you.  When I have the opportunity to teach, I learn more myself.  I am able to dissect things in a way that make sense and slow down.

For me, I have found that that is how it works.  We lend our experience to others.  We can elect not to take it, but I’ve done enough detouring in my days to surrender to an easier, softer way.  And taking the leap and hiring a coach again is just that: easier and softer.  I spent weeks mulling over the decision, terrified I’d lose my autonomy and freedom again.  I was afraid I’d lose my balance and prioritize competition and lose the thrills and frills from doing shit that’s cool with my friends.  And then I realized: my doubt left no room for God.  My doubt left no room for the work I’ve done and the growth I am.  No one is taking anything from me unless I give it to them.  No one is asking me to bully my body into the ground and ignore her.  No one is telling me I have to hit any metrics.

No one is doing anything to me, but me.  I am doing these things to me.  I am telling myself I need something in order to be someone.  And it’s simply not true.  Asking for help is just that: admitting you don’t know everything and that you may be better off with somebody who’s been there already.  Asking for help is allowing someone else to share your space with you.  And when we do that, we allow someone the gift and the opportunity to lend their experience and share.  We allow someone to make money, to be of service and to learn more, too.

And today, I want that for somebody else.  And, I want it for me too.  Look out Tahoe.  I’m comin’.