Shhhh... it's a secret!!!

I have a secret. But I’m simply bursting at the seams to share it. I’ve learned the secret to being successful in triathlon. I’m pretty sure this could also apply to a career, school, having a family, or even underwater basket weaving. Although I haven’t scientifically proven it yet. But you don’t have to take my word for it (Oh how I miss Reading Rainbow).

I’ve been vacillating between being happy with my race performance at this past Saturday’s Rock Cliff triathlon, and being disappointed in myself. Yesterday, I was in that awful dark place again. The one where I’d rather be in oblivion than alive. I tried my best to not succumb, but didn’t feel successful at all.

The swim was cold enough to form ice cubes on your nose hairs (not really, but my face felt frozen until I got past the first buoy). The way back on the bike was a white-knuckle sandwich. I kept praying the gusts of cross winds and head winds, sometimes at the same time, wouldn’t knock me off my bike and into the next town.

Leaving T2, most of my toes and my quads were totally numb. I mumbled, please don’t fall flat on your face in front of all these people. It took a good mile and a half for all my toes to regain feeling. The good news was, I ran all the way up a good sized hill, and my time was more than two minutes faster than Salem Spring two weeks ago.

I was primed and ready to get a PR at this race. I’d had a good solid few weeks of training, and I felt stronger. No one knows when Mother Nature will throw a curve ball though. As it turns out, in the USAT standard age group Female 35-39 (the age groups were condensed at the race to 34 and under and 35 and over), I placed 3^rd out of 9. 3^rd out of 9!!! Even though I had my slowest bike ever, and was slightly slower in the swim, I started thinking about what would have happened last year if conditions had been similar. I most likely wouldn’t have finished the swim, just coming off the Boise 70.3 where I didn’t finish the swim. Or, I wouldn’t have gone nearly as fast on the bike with all that wind. And this time around, I kept a positive attitude throughout the entire race. That almost never happens to me.

As I looked at my training schedule for this week, now prepping for a tough first leg at Ragnar Wasatch Back in two weeks (a 7.4 mile 1,161 ft. elevation gain), I started wondering if my coach got my week mixed up with one of my old Ironman training weeks. I am almost positive he and my swim coach got together and planned two of the hardest workouts I’ve ever done – on the same day – on purpose. Not really, but after a boot camp session that included about 700 reps – most of which were push-ups (dang those spider man push-ups. I needed webbing to attach to the ceiling to pull me up off the ground by the fourth set), a 45 min easy spin, and a crazy 3000 swim, I was beat.

But on my way home, a strange thing happened. It really hit me just how far I’ve come. I’m still not the fastest swimmer, but there are now quite a few people in swim class who are slower than me. I may not be the strongest triathlete compared to my boot camp buddies, but I never would have been able to complete this morning’s workout a year ago. I may not be at the top of the podium in each race, but I am climbing and getting faster.

And that’s when I figured out the secret to success at triathlon, or presumably anything else challenging in life. Really, two keys. The first is experience. During Saturday’s race, when things got hard, I could tell myself, it’s okay, the Provo Rec Center pool is uber cold, and I don’t have a wetsuit on for those swims. When the water started getting choppy on the third leg, I told myself, it’s okay, the waves were much worse in Cozumel. On the bike, with the winds whipping around me like I was nothing more than a leaf, I told myself, hey, at least you aren’t riding uphill into these winds like in Cozumel – and it’s only a sprint distance! Finally, when I didn’t think I could keep running up that hill, I reminded myself that I’d just done 1 min hill sprints at a 9 min pace – 10 times – a week before. I could totally do this hill at a 10:40 pace.

In hindsight, I had no way of knowing I’d get to this point when I first started out. I always felt so frustrated with my slow progress and seeming utter wimpiness. I mean, I have about the same amount of muscle mass now as I did a year ago, but am 5 lbs heavier. So why am I doing better? Experience.

Experience wouldn’t be possible without the second key. Since I had no way of knowing how I would progress, or what the future held, I could have quit and given up for good. There were so many times I wanted to write off triathlon for good because I just didn’t feel like I had what it took to be any good. And I’m sure I’ll have many more challenging moments as I work my way back up to doing a full Ironman again in a couple years or so. The second key is not giving up, and just trying. It really is. Consistent, persistent trying. I can’t count the number of mornings I wanted to stay cuddled up in bed with my hubby over the past few months. But I got myself out of bed at 4:30am to do my workouts. And now,  not only am I slowly but surely gaining fitness and speed, I’m also gaining experience from those tough races, especially the failures, so that when I’m faced with something hard in the future, I know I can do it. But the only way to gain experience is to just plunge into the water!

Now, please somebody remind me of this post when I’m facing the next big challenge in my life, okay? J

So, the lesson from today’s post is: don’t stop trying, just do it, and know that experience will give you what you need to succeed. Now get out there and swim, bike, run (or whatever cool thing you want to accomplish)!

To write or not to write? That is my question.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved to write. I learned to read before I started Kindergarten. I started writing stories as soon as I could write. I started writing in a journal when I was 7 or 8. I started writing poems when my first boyfriend introduced me to it when I was 13. And now I write professionally. Or at least I used to do all of these things.

Writing was my venting mechanism. When I felt like no one understood me, or when I felt like I’d burst wide open if I didn’t let all of the things rumbling around in my head out, I’d grab a pen and paper and get it all out. Kind of like when you’ve been holding your pee for so long that when you finally make it to a bathroom, it hurts at first and you have to push it out to begin the process, and then there’s this huge relief as you let it all go. The emptiness when you were done felt good, just as my head would when I’d get it all out on paper. I could make better sense of things, decide which direction to take, if I got things all out on paper.

When I started this blog, my biggest goal was to not only have a new place to share my thoughts and feelings, but to also share my story in the hopes that I’d inspire someone to keep fighting each day. And I was hoping to let my future spouse know exactly who I was so there would be no surprises, and so he would love me, the real me, faults and all.

The past few months, since my blog admitting I have been going through depression, I have pretty much shut down all my writing. I’ve battled in my head over what to even say. Everything in my mind has been so negative lately that I knew it would be incredibly difficult to write something inspiring when I wasn’t inspired myself. I’ve thought about writing a blog dozens of times, but each time stopped myself, worried I’d say something too dark, too personal, or inspire someone to do something bad rather than good. I have others to consider now – a husband, step kids, and new in-laws. I can’t just say anything I want anymore.

So I haven’t been writing in my journal, or on my blog, or on Facebook as much. My new job doesn’t provide as many opportunities for writing, especially for telling people’s inspiring stories, which is what truly makes me feel like I have a purpose in this world. This all makes me feel like I am slowly shriveling up inside. Yes, there is something to be said for not baring all, especially when one is going through a very dark period in their life. Unfortunately, depression has also made me question my ability to write anything of value at all. My lack of fulfillment at work also makes me wonder if I have any marketable skills that any employers need or want, since I applied for countless jobs but nobody is interested. Contrary to how I used to feel, I don’t want to write things out because I feel like I can’t make any good decisions anymore. So why bother writing it out if it won’t make any difference?

But, I know there are others out there who feel the same as I do right now. I have a friend who has been looking for work for months. She has the education, the experience, and is a wonderful person, yet finding a job since she got laid off has been impossible.

Since my blog about being depressed, a couple of friends contacted me and told me they know how I feel because they suffer from depression as well. They offered help and support, although I haven’t taken them up on it because I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own.

I’ve started seeing a therapist, but I am very skeptical about it working. I have a few core beliefs about myself that I’ve held since I was a child. How do you change those? How do you convince yourself you have worth, you’re loveable, and you don’t have to constantly be achieving great and amazing things so people will love and accept you? How do you change your core belief that no matter how hard you try, it’s never good enough? And how do you learn to let go, and learn to relax, and not stress about dishes, laundry and keeping the house clean – for fear you’ll get kicked out if you don’t keep a perfect house? These beliefs about myself started in childhood, and have nothing to do with who I have been married to or who I am currently married to. It is up to me to change – not anyone else. I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to love myself.

My hope is that this therapy will help. Because I’m tired of being sad. Tired of thinking everything in my life is wrong and mixed up. Tired of feeling worthless. So tired of feeling like everything I do is wrong. Tired of believing that bad things happen to me not because that’s just life – but because I deserve it because of the wrong choices I’ve made along the way, and because I’m not worthy of love and strength through bad times.

I do know that I need to write. It is a core part of who I am. I need interaction with people. If I keep pushing people away and recessing, I’ll only get worse. I am trying. And not just for my kids, or my spouse, or my parents, or coworkers, but for me. I want to be happy.