Doing Hard Things

I like new experiences, but I’ll admit that I prefer sticking to things I know how to do fairly well. When it comes to exercise, I know my strength – it’s running. As I continue to age – hitting 26 earlier this month, I watch my friends tackle various new challenges, from rock climbing to tennis lessons. I’m envious of their willingness to put themselves out there. My unwillingness to do so is rooted in fear. I hate failing. So much. And I’m uber competitive – I don’t deal well with losing. I honestly cannot remember a race in high school where I didn’t place. But those medals and trophies have all been pitched. Those victories didn’t matter then. And they certainly don’t matter now. All that truly matters – then and now – is that I crossed that finish line, after putting in the work. It’s fun to be to be the best at my thing. But it’s also not challenging.

I am easily frustrated that learning new skills requires a bit more work. I want to be brave – and willing to swallow my pride and try hard things. So, when a friend asked me to sign up for an end-of-summer triathlon back in June, I put my money where my mouth is and took on my first triathlon. I outlined a training routine. I headed to Dick’s Sporting Goods for a swim suit and bought a membership for the local aquatic center. I fixed my road bike – that hadn’t seen miles in over a year (gulp)… and started riding. I laced up my sneakers and took off in all directions.

The race day details were far from perfect. I wasn’t sure how to dress. I wasn’t sure how to transition. I wasn’t sure what swimming in open water with 500 plus people would really be like. But it was a labor of love – being outside in my element… where every smudge was a reminder to me of how insecure it can feel to step out and try new things. Even so, there was affirmation along the way in that learning new skills takes patience, some understanding, and different types of encouragement… I could probably be a lot less hard on myself. Each competitor looked like a professional; I felt weak and out of place. I needed the friendly man zooming by on his bike to tell me to down shift – to save my legs – because I was peddling too hard. I relied on the smiling woman to shout “You can do it!” as I climbed the monstrous hill at the 25-mile mark in the bike segment of the race.

There were moments of peace and splendor. There were birds chirping. And at my pace, I had time to really notice the sun transition – as it rose to a full blown, glorious 75-degree morning. I took in each smell, even the stinky ones… and daydreamed of the serene farm life as I sped past homesteads. My muscles were working. And I had to rely on myself for inner strength.

By the time I reached the running portion of the race – the 10 kilometer homestretch – the experience had lost a lot of luster. I had heavy legs. I was tired. But I needed to find that encouragement… and recommit myself to not giving up. After a mile, I found rhythm with my stride; I found a pace that worked. Running is your thing. You got this. Just finish.

So much of my struggle seemed a reality of aging. I’m not going to argue that 26 is by any means old. But I cannot as easily bounce back in to shape as I once could. I also don't have the free time I once did. I thought two months was plenty of time to train. And had life operated according to my plan… it would have been. Between the ongoings of Summer 2013, the time to train wasn’t always as prevalent as I had hoped. Or perhaps I became the master excuse maker to avoid the treading through this new territory? I am so much more overwhelmed by hard work, than I once was. What starts as enthusiasm collides with the reality of life. I get tired. The load seems too great. My adventure is just not fun anymore. Some days I just have to keep going – remembering that I have a destination.

As I turned towards the finished, I felt revived. The end was in sight. The closer I came to the grandiose finish banner, the larger the grin on my face grew. And laughter and joy, in the form of relief, as I received my finisher medal.

The journey was challenging. I was weary, but I made it.