Vigilantly kind
As my body recovers from another endurance race — this one a 50 mile mountain bike with 6,000 feet of climbing in the Black Hills of South Dakota — I’m back home and thinking about where I could have found a few minutes of improvement, to earn a few more spots higher on the finisher’s list, to feel a little bit better about the effort of a completed event.
A few key moments stick out:
- A broken chain at mile 4 sent my brain spiraling back to a week prior when I was getting my bike serviced and decided to forego buying one more part (read: being cheap). That was the incorrect choice but mechanical issues are part of the game!
- Needing to make up time meant I needed to make quick decisions and be vocal about passing at every single opportunity I had instead of hanging back and not wanting to seem pushy or impolite. Instead, a couple of times I sat at the back of a slow pack, pedaled way too slowly and thought that I belonged there, even though this was clearly untrue.
- There were the sections where my legs cramped, simply locked up and there was nothing I could do in those moments but wait a few painful seconds to let it pass. I thought my nutrition and hydration were on point, especially on a day that crept into the 90s for the second half of the race, but my body said otherwise. Thankfully some pickle juice at the mile 30 aid station provided a little bit of relief.
- And then there were the moments where my body had little to do with my success. It wasn’t my fitness nor my bike nor my opponents nor the conditions but my mind that I had to grapple with. It was telling me that I should just quit. It was telling me that despite me physically being out there doing an objectively hard thing, it challenged me in negative ways in hopes that I would simply listen and fold, make the discomfort go away. Eventually it would, but not until I’d ridden 5 hours and 25 minutes to cross the finish line.
- I was proud of myself for finishing the damn thing and overcoming a few sizable obstacles, but perhaps even more encouraging were the tiny moments in the race where I simply allowed myself to be fully present. I’ve advised others before a big race or event to remind themselves: “Don’t forget to look around.” I told myself that over and over when I was struggling through much of my Xterra triathlon in Italy back in May. I love new places, sights and sounds and when I looked out a few times, I reminded myself that I had set out a lofty goal, I put in the work, I showed up and I am doing the damn thing. Right now. At this very moment! And better yet, it was pretty damn beautiful! The rolling, forested hills of South Dakota didn’t disappoint.
So now, having been there, done that and got the T-shirt, now what? Of course there’s one more “race” on the calendar — a trail half marathon in Aspen in three weeks — that I’m going into with zero expectations or care for my time, just time with friends in another beautiful place.
Today I’m grateful. How fortunate am I to have the means, the time and the health to participate in these events and do so with close friends!? Today my inner world feels a bit of calm. I’m feeling good about what I did and am savoring these fleeting moments.
Today, I am choosing to be kind, to myself and others, to quiet the noise that will eventually work its way back into the hum of life. This inner work we continuously do is about being vigilantly kind in order to heal. Often that feels like a daunting, unearthly task, but only if we try to do it all at once. I so wish I could wake up one day and never have to do “the work” any longer. Like crossing a finish line, I crave just being done with all of the effort.
But if we can focus on small tasks, small wins, small bits of awareness, perhaps that healing just becomes part of who we are a bit more than the hurt and the pain and the negativity and the fear. Perhaps the scales will tip in favor of more positivity and gratitude and presence and joy.
In honoring the parts of us that are scared or want to stop or want to run or want to soothe or numb, we acknowledge that it’s in the doing where healing comes from. Our logical brain thinks it knows what’s best and often, when calm, it’s a great helper. In moments of [enter difficult emotion here] our bodies and minds become intertwined to save us from ourselves, when in reality we no longer need to be saved.
We need to be kind.
Vigilantly kind.
