Give It Away

Sometimes an idea comes and I write about it right away. Other times one comes and I sit with it, stew on it, chew it up a little.

This one has been bouncing around in my brain for weeks. I painted it for my office. I thought I might write about it then. Instead, I held onto it through 31 miles of an ultramarathon. In the middle of that race, I made a choice to give it everything I had, to go for the win, a course record, and a huge PR all in one. In the end, just a few miles from the finish, the choice backfired. The PR came, but in the end, first place slipped away while I struggled to finish, having given away just a little too much, too soon.

On the drive home, I planned what I would write, disappointed by letting the win slip away, yet inspired by the utter exhaustion that comes from knowing that you truly gave every ounce of yourself in a race. Of course, that exhaustion hit later and the writing never happened.

Instead, I thought about this idea for two more weeks- while I massaged, while I ran on ridiculously tired and chafed legs, while I searched for Big E's stolen bike, while I mopped a flooded basement, while I cooked and cleaned and basically got on with life.

So what did I think?

Quite frankly, it was always the same. I thought about how what happened that day in the race- that moment when I chose to give it all away to go for it- I want to live that way as much as possible. Obviously, I realize it's much easier to give everything in a race than it is in life. The risks are lower. Give too much in a race, you risk a bruised ego and a tired body. Give too much in life, you risk a broken heart, an empty pocketbook......but I want to live that way anyway.

Do I know it's risky? Of course. Do I know it means I'm going to flop into bed exhausted at the end of most days? Yes. Do I realize that I might give a lot more than a receive? Definitely. Am I planning to let any of that stop me? Absolutely not.

Why? Because I think at the end of my life, when I look back (if I have a chance to), I will be most satisfied if I gave as much of myself as possible. In the end, what is left of each of us is what we give away. For Picasso maybe that was his paintings, but I believe we each have a lot to give away every day even if we don't have his talent for one specific thing.  Every interaction we have with another person is a chance to give. Every activity we start is a chance to give. 

Hopefully, in the end, I can plan it just right and have given it all way. If not, if I screw it up and give too much too soon....

It'll probably be worth it.

The Pull

Lately I've spent a lot of hours running and very few on the bike. This is by choice, of course, although that choice is strongly influenced by time. If I had more hours in the day, I would run and bike every day, but I only get 24 so I fit in what I can.

Yesterday I'd planned to run twice- not that this was written down, because I don't keep a training log. (I discovered years ago that training logs are a bad idea for perfectionists.) After the early run, errands took over. At some point during the day, I checked my email. There was a reminder that today was the Ride of Silence, when cyclists all over the world ride in silence to remember cyclists who've been hit by cars.

That planted the seed. I started to think about the bike. I really wanted to ride just a little to think about my mom. Of course, my perfectionist side wouldn't let go of that second run. I thought perhaps I might get all of my errands and projects done and still get to squeeze in both a run and a ride.

A few hours later, Big E came home, did a quick-change and headed out to squeeze in a bike ride on one of my favorite trails. As he left, he asked if I wanted to go.

Of course, I still thought I could fit in that run so I said no. With two hours of light left, I still thought I could do both AND somehow finish an art project and make dinner.

A few minutes later, I discovered a text on my phone, sent 20 minutes earlier. My favorite riding partner was also headed to the trail. Not long after, she called and basically said, "Whatever you're doing, stop. Get your bike. Get here."

That was it. I finally gave in to the pull. Clearly I wanted to ride my bike and needed to let go of that run.

Less than 30 minutes later I was at the trail, ready to squeeze out the last bit of daylight on the bike. I'll admit, it wasn't silent. In fact, I was having so much fun enjoying the unexpected ride with a friend that I never stopped talking. That was okay with me. It was just like one of the non-stop talking walks I used to take with mom.

The run never happened. Dinner was late. I finished up my art project while I cooked. I ended up cleaning the floors at 11pm before collapsing into bed.

It was totally worth it.

Goose Attack on the Run Commute

On Monday I moved into my new office. There are endless reasons to be excited about this place. It's part of a state of the art training facility. There are showers. Clean ones. It's close to Chipotle. My coworkers are fun and they let me talk about poop. Best of all, however, is the commute.

No, not the drive. The non-car commute. It's bikable AND runnable. Seven miles through decent neighborhoods without too many stoplights.

Today was my first attempt at the run commute. Since I'd only run on about a half mile of the route before, it was like exploring while on my way to work. A mile in, I discovered quotes stamped in the sidewalk.

I was tempted to read them all, but stopped after two, realizing I could save them for future run commutes. I smiled the rest of the way in, feeling like I'd found a secret place, even though everyone on that street has probably seen these quotes every day for years.

The run home was nearly as pleasurable, once I made it past the geese. Unfortunately, the geese also like our little paradise of a workplace. I made it past the few that inhabit the parking lot only to encounter a killer goose just down the street. I was trudging along, minding my own business on the sidewalk, when I was suddenly charged by a pissed off goose ready to peck my legs off.

At this point in this story, I'd like to tell you I was brave and stood up to that goose. On the contrary, I completely forgot I was armed with mace. (I was expecting to need this only in the case of pervert attack. The goose attack caught me by surprise.) I did not stand up in fight. Instead, I turned and ran straight into the street, screaming like a terrified child. Thankfully the car in the street stopped. I'm not sure if they stopped in order to avoid hitting me or to watch with amusement as a grown adult ran away from a bird. Either way, I was thankful not to be hit.

I would've been more thankful if they'd run over that damn goose.

In the end, I made it home safely, which I was also quite thankful for. After years of being terrified of death by shark, moose, bear, wolf, I certainly didn't want to be the girl who died of the dreaded goose attack.

That goose better watch out. Next time I'm fighting. Maybe...

The Fish Whisperer

Flying the day after an ultramarathon seemed like such a good idea when I booked the ticket. Of course, when I purchased tickets to FL with a 50 minute layover in Atlanta, it did not occur to me that if our plane was late I might be expected to travel the length of this massive airport in less than 30 minutes on legs that refused to work properly.

Long story short- I clung to Big E's arm while he drug me through one terminal, onto the train and most of the way through a second terminal only to discover we had no plane.

At least the walk to a new gate and plane was at a much more leisurely pace.

Once in sunny FL, we tried our hand at some new, non-snowy sports. Although the kayaking and paddle boarding were a blast, I have to confess, the deep sea fishing was my favorite. This, of course, had nothing to do with the fact that I caught more fish than anyone on my side of the boat.

Just call me the fish-whisperer. (A couple of those are Big E's too, but don't tell.)

That said, it's quite possible that Big E never actually had much of a chance to put his hook in the water. It turns out that while I excel at catching fish, I'm completely inept at removing them from the hook. What can I say? They're slippery little suckers....

Big E's job was not done with hook removal either. He also had to protect my prized fish from these guys while we waited for our fish to be cleaned on the dock. (Because, of course, I also don't know how to filet the fish I catch.)

Hopefully I redeemed myself slightly the next day by at least cooking my own fish up for the family. At least I mastered the beginning and end of the process....

Maybe someday I'll master the whole hook removal thing. Until then, it's back to running....

Mud Wrestling with Raspberry Bushes

The after-effects of mud wrestling while running. Those shoes were green when I started!

Today's 50k was the first race with the new "Do what you can" motto. The first race in my year of going after it and not making excuses.

I definitely had my work cut out for me.


Ten miles in I was already tired. The usual tricks to keep my brain from realizing this did not work. So I was faced with 21 miles of running while the negative voices in my head tried to tell me to quit. Thankfully the positive voices in my head are stubborn and refuse to let me quit unless I'm risking hypothermia, crapping my intestines out on the trail, passed out cold... You get the drift. Fortunately none of those things happened today, which meant I did what I could in the moment. Or moments -all 1,200 of them it took to finish.

Days like this, when the body doesn't quite work how we'd planned, are never easy. They are, however, great for character building. They are they days we recall during tough times and say, "I did that so I can do this too."

Now if I could just get these feet clean....

Shut Up and Write (or Ride or Run)

I was tempted to start this post with a list of reasons why I haven't been writing. Then I realized that would go against the spirit of the above quote, which has sort of become my motto this season. I opted instead to just shut up and write, because right now I have time, words and a place to write.

Like last year, I didn't plan this years races out in advanced. I've come to embrace the idea that I have a lot more fun when I jump into a few races early on and find inspiration from how those races unfold. Last year I was inspired to finish out the year of racing simply. This year, I was pretty quickly inspired with the idea to do what I can, with what I have.

This idea first came to me at the second fat bike race of the year. Conditions were rough. After a dozen crashes, miles of pushing in through rutted slush and a few more miles of riding with ice on my cleats, I really wanted to quit. As I came through to start my last lap, I did a quick mental check and realized I didn't actually have a good reason to give up. I wasn't cold. I wasn't badly injured. I was just really grumpy because I couldn't clip my bike shoes into my bike anymore. So I did the best I could at the moment, which was to run over to the truck, put my hiking boots on and give up clipping in altogether.  I was the last one to finish, but I did what I could. I was happy with that.

At the next few races, I noticed how often people commented on gear. At one point, someone squeezed my front tire before the start of a race and said, "These tires suck." I thought about that the whole race. Sure, I would've ridden faster with better tread, but those tires are on my bike because they're what I can afford right now and they're what I can afford right now because of choices I've made in my life. I can sit on the couch until the day I can buy better ones or I can get off my ass and race anyway. The worst thing that can happen is I come in last place. (Okay maybe the worst that can happen is I crash a few extra times, but you get the idea...)

Once I thought about this concept of doing what I can, with what I have, I realized it's not just about the gear. It's also about accepting where I am in my training and in my life. So many of us hold ourselves back from trying something because we think we're "not ready." We convince ourselves that we're not in shape to run that marathon, or not qualified enough for that dream job or too shy to speak our mind. Of course, that might be the case sometimes, but I'm going to venture a guess that more often that not, we're just not ready to risk what might happen if we try and things don't go quite the way we'd planned.

Long story short- this year will be about racing without excuses. It'll be about choosing races that scare me just a little. (Or races that scare me a lot.) It'll be about showing up on the start line with a whole lotta spirit and determination, even if I have crappy tires, or crowd anxiety, or fear of charging moose, or a little less fitness than I hoped for. (I could go on for pages here, but I'll save you the crazy insecurity that poor Big E has to put up with before every race.) It'll be about silencing that voice in my head that says, "You are not ready," racing anyway and accepting the outcome, even if it's last place. (Or lots of crashes, or coming face to face with a grizzly, or being chased by wolves......)

Did I Really Just Wear Shorts?

One of the fun parts of writing a blog is looking back on myself a year ago or two years ago or four years ago...

It turns out when I look back to last year, not a whole lot has changed. Last March, I vowed to take advantage of every day of snow we had for the rest of the year. This challenge turned out to last me well into April. My love of snow carried over into this year, although this year I was forced to learn to love sub-zero temperatures as well.  Once I learned to keep every millimeter of my skin covered, this really wasn't a big deal.

Or at least it wasn't until about 10 days ago when I realized I have an ultra marathon to run in less than two months and I haven't run more than a mile without snowshoes since December.  Of course, the windchill was something like -15 the day I decided I'd better get my ass running so I was left to devise a running outfit that would cover my entire body.

Of course, most of the sidewalks were still covered in ice and the 5 foot piles of snow took up the entire shoulder, which means I was left running down the middle of the road in this bank robber outfit. In the end, the outfit was a success. I was warm, I didn't fall on my ass and I didn't get arrested or shot.

Of course, just when I found the perfect outfit, it warmed up and this happened:

 It occurred to me while I was enjoying my run in 50 degree weather that while embracing every last minute of winter is a good thing so is learning to embrace every change in the weather.  Or every change in life for that matter.  So here's to embracing tomorrow- wintery or springy, gloomy or sunny, busy or quiet...