Monday, January 22, 2018

Inspiration, Determination and Perspiration

There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.
-Beverly Sills

When I can identify with effort instead of performance, there is no need to quit.
-George Sheehan



I was not made to compete. I rarely ever enjoyed it. Oh sure, there have been some magical moments of me feeling a sense of power, strength and immortality while in a group setting, but these times are so few and far between I can never count on them to be "truth".

Please don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoy group rides and the personal push which occurs when riding with a stronger pack. A few of these rides each month test me. Test what I've been working on personally...during my solo rides. They do not, however, make or define me. In fact, for most of the year, I opt for at least 75% of my miles to be alone. It has always been that way...since I was a junior racer.

I look back at what inspired me to push myself beyond my comfort zone as a youth. Yes, sometimes it was my coaches forcing me to do hill repeats until I almost fell over or I threw up (I didn't appreciate hills back then the way I do now), and sometimes it was my teammates forcing me to wring out one more drop of fuel from my crying cells so I wouldn't become the victim of crack the whip as our paceline quickened. But most of the time, I would say the push came from within. I remember having conversations with myself as early as age six when I'd dive for toys I purposely sank at the bottom of the pool. "Just one more before coming up for a breath" I'd chant to myself. Each week I'd try for another and another, thinking I was training for deep sea free diving. A few years later, I would wander through the quiet alleyways during the worst snow storms in Minneapolis pretending to be an Arctic explorer. I would hollow out a small cave between two garages when the snow would surpass the roof line, and I would sit as long as I possibly could (essentially until either my mom came out to find me or I had no sensation in my hands or feet). I would imagine I was toughening myself up for adventures I would be on when I was old enough to venture out alone. I knew I would be an explorer of one kind or another. 

Although I took on racing, my father's choice not mine, and did alright (my best races were actually solo time trials), the "fire in the gut"...what my dad said was needed to be a successful racer, never called to me. I look back the only old racing photos I kept of myself and I always looked nervous, queasy and unsure. Not one of them holds a death stare I'd see on the other junior racers or a clenched jaw. Truth be told, I am usually looking down at the ground with a body posture which screams "get me out of here".

I didn't shy away from competition because I wasn't prepared. On the contrary. I trained my ass off. For years it was difficult to get me off my bike. If I wasn't on my weekly junior rides or at races, I was doing 30 mile routes my dad taught me all throughout the Twin Cities. I would time myself on segments and try to beat it the next time. But even then, I never shared my training calendar or my results with anyone and I begged my parents not to attend my races. Heck, I would go out of my way to hide ANY competition I was in from them (including a few other sports I played as well as those surrounding academics). It made me cringe to think of them, or anyone I knew, giving me a "pep talk" prior or either a congratulations or condolence speech afterward. I didn't want any of it. I knew if I had prepared myself for whatever event I was in, I knew if I had taken the lazy route and had only done enough to get by, I knew, before I ever stepped up to the line or on stage, WHERE I stood and what I deserved because I knew what I put into it prior. Even as a kid, I knew I couldn't hide from what was most important...myself and truth. 

Far Better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered with failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the grey twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.
-Theodore Roosevelt

I had given an honest try at bike racing. I just didn't like it. I like cheering on my teammates and spending weekends watching crits but when I hit age 17, I was quite sure I would never walk up to another starting line. After that, the challenges I took on for myself changed immensely. I had periods of complete weakness where I set lofty goals and allowed them to fall by the wayside. I gave myself the green light to become utterly complacent at times as well and wallow in self pity. Finally, I found my spark once again. I dreamed of long solo road trips marked with solo backpacking trips throughout the West and Southwest. Then, one day, I packed up my recently purchased pickup truck and left. I left the comforts of my home. I left my friends. My goal was to be gone the entire summer. I was 18. No, I didn't reach that goal since I was repetitively forced out of wilderness areas due to massive wild fires, but I did make that first step. The first step which reminded me I was stronger than I thought. That step, along with my first actual move across the country, that changed my entire life.

Since then I have taken on many new challenges, and have allowed myself to sink into what I call "the dark places" several times. I have been trained in helping others (especially youth at risk) override their self doubts and find their own strengths and have acted as a catalyst (my personal term for my profession as a personal trainer) in hopes of helping others improve their health. I am quite solid in where I stand and who I am. But there are still some doubts. Doubts which arise when I see all of my cycling friends taking on enormous feats be it racing or endurance rides. I see their training schedules, their Strava and Zwift numbers. I hear them discuss not only race strategies but also inspirational books, podcasts and quotes. They are all so dedicated and vocal with helping each other push to the next level and test their limits. And I...I want to run. Run far away. Hell for me would be having someone see my ride data, give me a "thumbs up" on fitness social media or try to pump me up for a race. I watch all of this unfold around me and I question myself as an athlete and a personal trainer. I wonder why I don't fit in and why I want my biggest challenges to be secret before and after I accomplish them.

You cannot turn your back on any challenge, physical or mental. If you do, you diminish yourself, and the next time it will be easier to say, "no, I can not do it". If you take the hazards as they come and survive, you will be stronger and better and the trip will be a milestone in your life, one you will always know as a turning point.
-Sigurd Olson

As the years have past, and I've gotten to understand how hard I can push myself without breaking (physically and mentally), I have chosen different obstacles. I will not and can not say I won't ever be swayed into the training modes used today. I cannot say I won't become the type of trainer who acts more like a drill sergeant than a physical therapist. To set those "nevers" and "won'ts" in stone is a very dangerous act. It's not that I judge anyone who trains in either way. Both are extremely useful tools to many. It's more like I wasn't made to use those tools. So as another season of racing peers at me from around the corner, I have to remember I'm not being stubborn or purposely ignorant, I'm just being true to myself. And with this, I return to my regularly scheduled radio silence from blog posts...at least for now.

To have courage i not to be without fear, but to act in response to one's own true being.
-Brother Ramos