I was
playing solitaire this morning waiting for my daughter at the dentist. I almost
started laughing at myself because out of 10 games, I only beat the computer on
1 of them. But I just kept playing. I knew there was no danger if I didn’t win
– the Queen of hearts was not going to jump out of my computer screen and shout
“Off with her head!” followed by a hundred spear wielding playing cards chasing
after me. But what do we do when we’re faced with something that could have a
potentially dangerous outcome?
I recently
read the book Jonathon Livingston Seagull. The main idea is that really, the
only limitations in our lives are the ones we place on ourselves. If a seagull
believes it can do speedy, break-neck dives and gracefully come out of it, it
can after a lot of practice and trial and error. Even though I read that a
little over a week ago, it didn’t really hit me until this morning. If I
believe I can finish an Ironman, I can.
Ever since
the Ogden marathon, something switched off in me. I haven’t known how to fix
it. I only know I’ve been incredibly down on myself about everything. After the
marathon, I had no desire to run, and then I had no desire to bike or swim either.
Then I fell apart during the swim at the Half Ironman in Boise and didn’t
finish. That was a huge blow to me mentally. After that, I had a really hard
time getting back into open water. This weekend I did my first Olympic
triathlon and during the first lap of the swim, I barely put my face in the
water because I kept panicking and thinking I couldn’t do it. It was miserable
and I almost quit in the first 300 meters.
Then as
Kermit describes it, I had a break through before starting my second lap. Something
clicked and I just put my face in the water and swam. Maybe the key was that I
stopped thinking about failing and just did it. My second lap was about 6-8
minutes faster than my first. It felt good to finish it, but it didn’t get me
the confidence boost I had hoped for. Instead, I found myself focusing on how I
was last coming out of the swim for the Olympic distance, last coming into T2
because of a flat tire, and finishing near the end of the race. Then I was so
tired and down on myself, I did horribly on the 50 mile bike we did for the MS
150 the next day.
Kermit
kept telling me it was all in my head and while I knew that was part of it, I
just wasn’t listening. Then I realized this morning how I was so defeated all weekend. But in thinking about it, I further realized I’ve been feeling defeated ever since the marathon.
Part of it
is that I haven’t made the time to train properly. Part of it is that I’m
having a hard time juggling everything in my life and not letting things
overwhelm me. It doesn’t help that I’ve been focusing on all the bad things
rather than celebrating the little accomplishments. Sure the marathon was hard
and I was cold and wet, but I didn’t give up and finished. Sure I finished near
the end at this weekend’s tri, but I didn’t stop and I finished it. That was a
huge breakthrough to not let my fears get the better of me during the swim. I
wanted to quit so bad and I was terrified – not just of drowning, but that I
couldn’t do it - failure. But some miracle happened in my head, and I kept
going.
When I was speaking to a friend about my recent race experiences they said “stop having limits”. That
reminded me of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. The Seagull had no concept of limits on himself. He believes he can do amazing things – and he just keeps trying until he does it.
He believes, with child-like faith that I’ve lost along the way, that he is capable of anything.
There are
so many pieces to this idea. I picture myself in a box – a box I made for
myself based on failures and inaccurate judgments of myself. The box is obsidian
colored glass with funny mirrors all around the outside of the box. I’ve been
looking at myself with a dark, negative, distorted view. I only see my
perceived limits – failures, weakness, mostly things I don’t like about myself.
And after so many years of focusing on that, that’s all I can see. It’s hard to
believe in myself and that I can accomplish super hard things and change the
things I don’t like.
The second
part of this is that it’s a glass box. On the one hand, if I just worked hard
enough, I could shatter the glass. I could be done with the limitations I’ve
set on myself and then conquer the world (or least fly to the moon like
Superman – my ultimate dream). But I’m afraid. Afraid of getting cut by all the
slivers of glass. I’m afraid that once I break free, I’ll see I wasn’t distorting
the truth and I really can’t do the hard things I’ve set out to do. I know
achieving great things doesn’t come without struggles, getting hurt, and having
to start over a few times. But I’m still afraid that after all that – the
struggle, hope, pain and tears – that after all that, I’ll still fail.
Perhaps
because that’s how I felt, and still feel, about my marriage. I went through so
much over the years to make things work. I wasn’t perfect, and there are things
I do much better now than when I was married. But I really felt like I gave it
my all – but for what? Failure. At least that’s how I see it. It was hard, and
I hurt many times, I still hurt sometimes. I got cut, I was broken, but I kept
having hope and faith, and still failed. So maybe the issue goes back much
further and deeper than just 26.2 miles in the cold rain.
So now the
question is, what do I do about it? How do I take a leap of faith, break
through the glass, stop placing limits on myself, and in Kermit’s words, “just
do”? Via the Strengths Finder 2.0 book, I know my biggest strength is problem
solving. I thrive most and nothing satisfies me more than having a problem,
researching, finding a solution and then doing it – and fixing it. So this is
the most decadent of all chocolate desserts for me.
I
understand the why. I know what the results will be if I can demolish the glass
box – a great race in Cozumel in December, and the pure joy of knowing I
overcame something I’ve been struggling with for a while – a lack of mental
strength. And I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that I have no limits.
Kermit inspires me with how much he has accomplished with his races after
everything he’s been through and the physical limitations his body has. He just
keeps going and doesn’t give up. So how do I get to that point? And even more
so, how do I have a positive attitude about it?
This will
be one tough cookie to crack (hopefully its chocolate chip since that’s my
favorite). But I know this is the key to finishing a full Ironman for me. If
you’ve had experiences with this, and learned something about it, please share!
I’m in the research phase and would love to hear your experiences.
