Adventures in Colorado



Notice where the step meets my body! 

 Start of the run, 8000 feet, finally hit peak to turn on trail....14,500 ft!  Distance to get there, 1 mile.  It was insane and brutal but of course I loved it.  Switchbacks for 6 miles down were crazy and could have been crazy fast except for the lack of oxygen in my lungs and severe dehydration setting in.  Less than 24 hours in Colorado and triple digit heat wave added to the challenge.







At the top

And the world seems a little better now that I got to go for a run with Craig again.



So very sad

Change of plans, wildfire broke out while we were on the mountain running.  We got out with hundreds of others and changed outline for the day!

Mountain biking through here, of course yet another adventure whenever I am involved.  Flat tire means a race back to vehicle to rescue Matt!

Well yes Craig I will bungee jump with you!

Royal Gorge Bridge. Highest suspension bridge

Amazing view and so beautiful.  Took ride to bottom of gorge and also cable car across the gorge.  Completely awestruck!

Blog: Life Lessons 70.3

LIFE LESSONS; To Be Continued

 Today as I crossed the finish line, earning the 70.3 title, I crossed it a wiser person than I had been at the start line.  This morning, waiting in my wave to head into the water, I was filled with fear and uncertainty.  If I was honest with myself at the lowest common denominator I was afraid of failing and in fact had verbalized this several times in the days leading up to today’s triathlon.  I am not sure how I could have defined failure, mostly it was a vague cloud hovering over me.  As I headed into the water this morning, the only thing I could think of is wondering what the hell I was doing there. 

I was given the gift of several lessons today though.  Or perhaps I re-learned the lessons. I was reminded of  what finishing and winning means, and also was reminded about who I am in this sport.  I have always been quick to point out that I am not a triathlete and  I am still uncertain about my ability to make it to the start of Ironman in September.  Ironically enough, my IM goal was sparked while running 220 km across Africa which should be an indication of what it is that I love to do, versus what I am doing. 

I waited at the start of the swim today, looking at the buoy’s  and although I am sure I had thoughts, I couldn’t tell you what they were.  Primal fear was the only emotion I can recall and I am sure any thoughts I had were related to the fear.  Let me be clear on how much I despise swimming and how completely uncomfortable I am with it. My swimming is always one step shy of desperation and completely miserable.  Most times I can settle into a somewhat calm feeling after the initial waves of panic.  Today I couldn’t find it and fought my swim and fear the entire way.  1.2 miles is a hell of a long way to fight and by the time I got out of the water I was exhausted. 

Coming out of the water, I had two thoughts.  First relief it was over and a sense of pride I had done it.  It wasn’t pretty but I did it. I was reassured by the thought that cycling would be easier, although I have also yet to have a great ride this year.  I have been plagued by an inability to find a fit that doesn’t result in screaming pain from my back all the way down my legs.  With a recent bike fit, and new components I was feeling confident today would be a better day on the bike.   Within 5 minutes on the bike I was filled with dread.  My back was hot with pain in the first few minutes and with 55.5 miles to go I realized there was a chance the finish line would not be in my future today. Looking back I am not sure how I managed to finish the bike, other than sheer stubbornness. A few weeks ago it was pointed out as a criticism that I was stubborn, and thankfully yes I am. I will admit that the pain was so bad that I literally spent miles crying on the bike. I had one driving thought the entire time and that was to get off my bike and just be done.   I am not sure I why I didn’t, why I stayed on. 

The two memories I will have of the ride is the pain and the rainstorm that popped up with winds that moved me sideways. It rained so hard it sounded like hail on my helmet.  I tucked in as far as I physically could at that point and I remember just laughing and thinking “well we do need the rain”.  The winds were strong enough I thought I was done as it blew me from one side of the road to the other.  I had about 2-3 miles left to go when the storm popped up.

I could hear thunder and see lightning and despite spending hours fighting the urge to get off the bike and quit, I felt desperate fear they would close the race down.  My immediate thought was that no matter what I was going to run my 13.1.  WHAT???  It was an automatic thought and even as I thought it I wondered why the hell I wouldn’t wish for them to close the course.  There is no more dignified way out than if you are not allowed to finish right? I wish I could explain it to you, because it doesn’t make sense to me either.  It didn’t make sense to me last month in Utah either when I had a chance to run the half marathon instead of the full.  For a brief moment I was overwhelmingly relieved at doing a shorter distance and then although it would have been so much easier in many ways, I realized that I was going to do the full no matter what it took. 

I do understand though, my physical urge to get off the bike and quit was just that.  A physical urge, disconnected from who and what I am.  Isn’t this true for anyone doing their own race, from a 5k to an Ironman.  Our bodies recruit our nerve endings, enlisting a relentless campaign to somehow stop the pain.  My finish line is really about the ability to override the constant battle. I imagine they will have to pull me from a course before I ever raise the white flag.  It has less to do with pride or stubbornness, and much more to do with knowing what it feels like to not be able to move my body. 

My second lesson today came on the last part of the race, the run.  It is no secret running is my love and it is what makes my world right many days.  Having made it through the swim and the bike and feeling more beat up than I ever remember, I came out of transition wondering how I would possibly run 13.1 miles.  My body was on fire, the pain and fatigue were overwhelming and despite my love of running, 13.1 seemed completely impossible.  I headed out onto the run and the first half mile is a solid uphill climb.  I was pretty sure I was not going to make it and yet like on the bike I also knew it was not an option to quit.  Ever.  One foot in front of the other, I kept going and watching people finish the run as I was just heading out which added to my defeat.  Adding to my misery I knew I had to do two loops, which is always a form of mental cruelty in my opinion.  Well-meaning volunteers would yell out encouraging words of “almost there” and I wanted to scream at them that I was just starting my $#@! run!   Thankfully words took too much energy at that point and I just kept moving. 

My epiphany came somewhere around the 6 mile mark.  Despite being on the course way longer than I had wanted to, despite the brutality of the first two events and despite the heaviness and fatigue in my entire body I realized I was loving the run.  The trails are home to me, I know every inch of them and I felt peaceful and happy being there.  Although it had been hours since I crossed the start line I felt happy.  I found myself thinking how great the day would be if it had been hours of running instead of having to do the other two events first. 

I have wondered if I would be one of the people who stood in line to get a spot in IM 2013 when I get to Madison this year.  I figured I would know when the time got here, and maybe I still will.  I realized today however that although I have unbelievable pride in my ability to not quit today, I am really not a triathlete.  I am a runner who is registered for a triathlon.  I came out of the first two events so defeated and tired.  Yet, still I can say with all honesty that even in the pain of the run I didn’t battle once with the thought of quitting, nor did I curse the run as I did the entire bike and swim.  This will be my summer to have an affair with the triathlon world but in the end I have no doubt running will remain my true love.  The Dr. Suess quote "be who you are" comes to mind and I am proud to be a stubborn runner.  Perhaps I will evolve over the year to feeling like a triathlete, but I have a difficult time imagining the peace and joy I did today when I finally got to run.  I am determined to finish what I started and will march toward the start of Ironman Wisconsin, yet in my heart I will get through the first part so I can do the best part.  

So many moments brought tears to my eyes and I walk away today, proud of finishing.  I am aware I still have many obstacles in getting to the IM start line in September, and I am grateful for today’s lessons.  I was brought to this journey by them, by women like me and by the fight to the finish line.   I am grateful in ways no words can explain for every moment of today and I carried several ladies with me reminding me that to be able to fight is the greatest gift we are given. 

Blog: Capture the Moments of Life

Olympic Stadium Beijing~Family wanted his picture with the "blonde"

The moments of life speed by and at some age, seem to gain momentum.  Some days gain the momentum of a downhill slide, careening out of control.  Today was another one of those days and after a day that stretched too long, I got home and spent an hour playing with my dogs in the back yard. Watching the sunset, I found myself letting go and forgetting the day.  I had not even taken the  time to change out of my work clothes and running around the yard barefoot, laughing at the playful antics of my dogs, I didn’t care.  I grabbed my camera, laid in the grass taking pictures of the dogs with an amazing sunset in the background, and forgot I was still dressed up. 

Most days I spend listening, coaching, counseling, and sometimes challenging people who want to make changes but don’t always want to have to make those changes.  I am passionate about my work and  grateful I get to do it.  I am lucky to be a part of the process as people experience amazing life changes.  However as much as I love what I do, by the end of the day I feel as though I need refuge. I live in a world where every part of it has grabbed for a chunk of me my energy and spirit is often drained.

Taking pictures of the sunset, playing silly games with my dogs, I forget everything else, my brain slows down and I lose my edge.  I couldn’t tell you what my list has on it and what I should be doing.  I simply smile, laugh and play and feel love as they unselfishly give to me with their own natural ability to be in the moment with me.  

Embracing the moment is challenging for me, and it does not come natural.  Often as I race through my days I check myself realizing I am not in my moment, I spend a lot of time fast forwarding or reviewing the tapes from the last game. It’s a little dance I play in my overloaded life, this mental tug of war. Experiencing the moment and tugging myself back to it again and again.

Last week  I tucked in tight on my bike and allowed gravity and a hill to do what it does. I watched my speedometer hit 35 mph and felt the amazing thrill of the moment.  There are times when the moment is so powerful it is impossible to go elsewhere.  Freefalling at 120 mph, in those moments before you pull for your chute, the moment cannot be ignored. Jumping off a platform attached by a rubber band, feeling the thrill of weightlessness in space. Those experiences are too strong to allow the moment to escape and those experiences make being in the moment easy. But what about the moments every day.  Last night laying in grass playing with my dogs and feeling filled by the beauty of my surroundings and my experience, I remembered the most important truth.

This moment will never come again and I have lived long enough experienced life enough to know the moments can be gone in an instant.  I get  this one section of time and when I am in the past or future moments I am cheating myself and also honest enough to admit often trying to escape myself.  In the pain of self-expectation I destroy the chance to do what I am truly supposed to be doing which is to just be.

Although it likely was not intended as a statement of self reflection Nelson Mandela once said  “If you want to make peace with your enemy,
you have to work with your enemy. Then he becomes your partner.”   When I read this I think of the enemy as myself.  It is my expectations, my fear, my ability to hover over the timeline of my life with a magnifier, second guessing and predicting. My enemy is the judgmental critic  with anger and blame, fear and shame, and a need to push beyond what I would expect of anyone else.  It is the place in me that guards against vulnerability, demanding adherence to a standard I have not yet found the author of.

A few days ago, someone said to me “You are so stubborn”.  It was not meant  as a compliment.  My immediate response was “So what? It’s one of my best traits”. 

It is also my enemy at times, and just as all of carry our greatest strengths in the same hand we carry our greatest weakness. I accept that I will never be satisfied on a large scale and not only do I accept this, I embrace it.  In satisfaction I find complacency which is dangerous.  I am reminded while running in the grass with my dogs or feeling the wind in my face downhill, that fulfillment is a different thing.  It is lasting and but only found in the moment.   In my moments of love and laughter, tears, beauty and life I am grateful for being able to embrace the moment.