The Courage to Continue

Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!

Keeping the light on for you,

Carol

Midlife badassery was mine as I crossed the finish line of my first triathlon a few years ago. I high-fived fellow merrymakers at the back of the pack knowing it mattered not where I placed; the thrill of finishing was more than enough. 

This new activity with sticking power and, dare I admit enjoyment, offered positive internal and external transformations for me; a definite “win” in my playbook. 

As an adult-onset athlete lacking habituation cultivated by those from a sports-minded youth, my progress needed to be slower to avoid injury. My practical coach offered a gentle plan which I followed religiously. 

Endurance work and cross training started gently and consistently, but over time, my personal expectations became overly competitive. An impatient Boomer, I began to covet a higher standing within my age group. The road to aerobic conditioning required lengthy commitment in what seemed an eternity I did not have. Time was, after all, a wastin’, and it was an oxymoron to race slowly.

Historical tape loops in my head of “all-or-nothing” became a mental thorn of doom, asserting that my new athletic prowess would surely vaporize if I could not perform to the letter, or beyond. 

My trainer and internist both frequently attempted to quell this compulsive urgency. It took a few (yes, plural) cardiac stress tests along with their shaking heads and scolding to finally penetrate and shed light on my delusion of fully conditioned grandeur.

While my ticker ended up OK, my melon needed to be sternly talked off the ledge. Confronting this snarl would prove an even more rigorous, and crucial, journey of acceptance with the body I currently inhabit. 

Then came a global pandemic cancelling events and closing training facilities.

Initial relief from the rigors of racing and workouts should have been a hint that I had overdone it. Yet this guilt was immediately countered with fear of losing ground in what gains I was convinced I had achieved. 

No prodding race deadlines and ego-boosting raucous crowds, my days of fame were over for the time being. More disciplined comrades dove into the virtual realm and continued working out. I, on the other hand, shut down. Without a face-to-face connection of cohorts and the sudden invasion by the rest of the family now studying and working from home, I lost my mojo. 

Regressing to a dog paddle in the open water swim of what-now, I revisited the quote my guide had written on that first plan long ago: 

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal, 

It’s the courage to continue that counts.”

~ Winston Churchill

The courage to continue. 

Those words prompted a timely shove back to the start line to cultivate the psychological strength conditioning needed all along for overdue self-love and discipline. 

Exercise habits are painfully simple: you either want it or not. For a perfectionist, however, wanting it can be a marathon through the mire of firmly ingrained, often negative, self-talk resulting in a lack of follow through when life gets messy. Repeatedly putting the cart before the horse, I had sadly allowed the sport of triathlon to morph into yet another over-achieving near-obsession.

Catapulting myself into three sports at once, while fun at the outset, had led to mental burnout and tempted harm to a body needing to last several more rodeos. Those words – the courage to continue – resonated deeply. The courage to effect lasting change in this sport would enable forward motion in other pursuits. The time had come, now devoid of distractions, to put the kibosh on worrying about others’ perceptions, the rumination regarding race schedules, and the habit of exhausting those around me with a deluge of worrisome verbiage. 

Despite my chronological age, my physical and emotional endurance bases were immature, complete with wobbly knees. It was time to make peace with myself. And it was time to seek the even terrain of consistency by becoming reacquainted with a whole lot of patience. 

As the Covid-19 summer of 2020 arrived, I craved (like many) getting outside for lengthy walks. A lower pulse rate made my heart muscle (and internist) much happier. When “not fast enough” percolated into my consciousness, I not-so-gently countered that evil voice with new mantras: “slow is the new fast,” “no deposit into one’s fitness bank is too small,” and “prudence = longevity.” 

With pools closed, a few lake swims reassured me I still knew what to do in the water, and that I still despised the accompanying slimy foliage and bottom muck.  

Autumn brought stationary cycling with cooler temps and the start of slow weight loss. This season also offered a harvest of reflection on past races; one holding more satisfaction than all the others. 

My last organized race before the pandemic fell on the anniversary of the untimely death of a friend’s parents. Swimming, biking, and running in their honor, I thought of those parents unable to run the race of life anymore and empathized with the family left behind struggling to do so. Prayers flowed as the mental and physical strength I possessed in any given moment was forwarded to them. Other similarly marked competitors, eyeing the names scribed on my arm, breathlessly inquired and shared their stories as we all paced together for a greater good. Our fatigue was minimal compared to the tragedies we honored. 

Gratitude for what my body could do, regardless of speed, to honor those unable to use theirs, replaced any personal accomplishment and offered abounding love, recalibrating and crystallizing the “why” that brings many to a start line in the first place. 

Every new year brings the freshness of an open slate and opportunities for change. 2021 is no different. The quiet of winter offers time for appreciation: for lessons learned, for progress on the winding path of change, and for those who thankfully stay alongside for the ride. As well as a growing list of those to honor in future events. 

Clearing mental clutter is necessary for clarity in a head, heart, and body filled with only what matters – positivity and gratitude. 

Am I still an “athlete”? Absolutely. 

Is the journey easy? No, but embracing my head with my heart is a valuable, necessary, and recurrent step. 

Which is why this late bloomer will continue to tri, putting one courageous SLOW foot in front of the other.