I'd better go see.

I'm a story teller at heart. I love connecting with others through the telling of stories especially about my various adventures. A kind coworker asked me how I was doing today, and really wanted to know, especially about my running and physical activity. So I told her about my newest adventure. 

Rock climbing. 

My first time climbing.

This could be as high as I got.

So the story begins maybe a year ago when my buddy started climbing and asked me to join. I wasn’t interested in adding another time consuming activity into my week so I passed. While I was in the midst of some hard trail training I think I was also reluctant to try something new. Trying a new physical activity is a very vulnerable thing. Being willing to suck at something for a while is tough, and I’m learning that I need to be in a pretty good headspace to take something like this on. I said no to my friend’s invitation. For a long time. 

Fast forward to the last 6 weeks post DNF and while I already feel like my body sucks at everything why not prove it by trying something new? Hahaha 

I went with my friend 2-3 times and at the end of the last time I said something along the lines of “I don’t think I like it”. I wasn’t ready to give up yet but I was close. 

Then last Friday morning I went for a run and it felt amazing. I’m slowly getting back to running and while the Friday run was short it was a good solid run. I knew my friend and I were going to climb later that night so I spent the run visualizing myself climbing to the top of the rock wall really strong. I actually pictured it in my head and decided that I would take one step at a time, stay out of my head and was going to make myself push through the fear. 

That lasted only about few hours 😂

By the afternoon I had lost all of that confidence. I again questioned if I could really do it and wouldn’t I get half way up and freeze again? My hands will hurt. It’s too much disappointment. I suck at it. All of this negativity screaming so loudly inside my head. 

There was a point when I was texting my friend about meeting up that I actually typed “or we can just wait until tomorrow to go” but I didn’t send that text. I hit the back button and instead finalized our plans.

We made it to the climbing gym and I was both fearful and determined. Armed this time with my own equipment and new-to-me shoes. After watching my friend climb to the top of a wall I clipped myself into that wall shown above and started climbing. I took one step at a time, one hand, one foot, one climb and before I knew it I was higher up than I had ever been. 

Then I tried another wall, and another. And another. All of them the same. One step, one hand, one foot, one climb at a time. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe. Make it to the top.

As we were leaving we decided to try the 2-story wall. My friend climbed to the top as I watched. I needed to get home to the kids but I saw the red course and said I wanted to try it before we left. 

I climbed it one step, one hand, one foot, one climb. Breathe. One step at a time and before I knew it I was at the top. It was intoxicating. 

I was chatting with another friend this week and he was bragging on his life partner and how she is always fearful and does things anyway. This is so me. I’m afraid of everything. I’ve always been the worst case scenario thinker which has disrupted my natural enthusiasm to live an adventurous life. I have to make myself do the thing.

Many of the cliches I’ve shared have been what I need to hear. Do the thing that scares me. Do it scared. Life begins in the other side of our comfort zone. On the other side of fear is where the magic happens. 

For me, whatever I’m looking for might just be at the top of that rock wall.

I'd better go see. 

On my way up the 2-story wall

The top of the red route 💖

Taking a Long Hard Look

It’s been 10 days since I toed the start line for my 3rd attempt to finish the LOViT 100-mile foot race. I’ve been debating whether to even write this out, since every time I begin to write it in my mind it always sounds like I’m making excuses for not finishing. That’s right, for the third time I failed to finish this race. I could list all of the reasons out but in reality, my whole race was a shit show from the start, and the short story is that I quit. I made it 72 miles but if I’m honest I quit long before that. 

I’ve chatted with my closest people about this and have taken some time to process the extreme disappointment, both in the race and in myself, and have made peace with this race and am ready to put it behind me. 

We sign up for these races to finish for sure, but the hope is that is not all we gain from these experiences. If we sign up to finish and we don’t, and we wallow in our sadness and despair swearing off these big races forever, what good becomes of that? I went to a pretty dark place this week, darker than the last few times this happened. I sign up for these races to learn about who I am deep down inside. Nothing strips away the facade of a seemingly perfect life than facing the reality that comes along with staring down a distance that’s just out of reach. 

Perhaps the journey comes with all the things we need to learn whether we finish or not. How often do we hold a mirror up to ourselves and truly try to understand why we do the things we do and explore what it really is that is standing in the way of us meeting our goals. 100 mile races hold that mirror right up in my face and say, see that? That’s you stripped down. You think you’re strong? Take a look at the parts that hide under that strong exterior. Take a long hard look.

So instead of listing the reasons I didn’t finish I’m going to list the things I learned during this race. 

• One can simply have a really bad race day. 
• I can outrun blister pain. 
• The bad news is that no one is coming to save me. The good news is that I can learn how to save myself. 
• Caffeine is a magic pill for me. 
• I need to learn how my body processes salt, electrolytes and fuel while racing. 
• My friends will always show up for me. Always. 
• Nate loves me, even when I feel the most unlovable. My phone died at the race and when I stopped at 72 my friend handed me my charged phone and I saw a text from him that simply said “I love you ❤️” He didn’t know I had stopped so in that moment where I felt physically and mentally defeated, I felt loved. And whether I finish a race or not he will always see me as lovable.
• I have accomplished things in this life that are more impactful than finishing 100 miles will ever be. 
• And finally, while I may not ever finish a 100-mile race, I will certainly never finish a race that I am too afraid to start.