Gratitude. Courage. Vulnerability. Ask. Patience.

    

Heading in to 2014, I came across an article by Kristin Armstrong. It spoke of her practice of living her life each year by a word. The idea was to challenge yourself by embracing a concept for the coming year. Gratitude was the logical starting place, having come through the 2013 Boston Marathon and a trying year. Gratitude was surprisingly easy and left me wondering why I had not embraced it sooner. And it wasn’t just about being thankful for the big things (a celebration Boston in 2014, my first tri, my first 100 miler and a joyous race), it was about learning to appreciate all those small things. Being grateful to run, to have a body that would cooperate for me, to have friends who would support me. To find joy in chasing a simple sunset, to get up each morning and have fulfilling work, to enjoy a homemade meal with the company of family, even to have a good night’s rest. The perspective shift from what I might be wanting in an ideal world to instead focus on all the blessings I already had in my real world filled me. Gratitude continues to walk beside me each day, in each race, in each relationship.

                Courage was harder as I headed in to 2015. I lived with so much fear. It came at me in stark black and white as I prepped for 2015, making one concrete list of fears and another list of my existential fears. I’ve not yet been able to cross off my fear of mountain lions (because well, let’s face it…), but I have worked hard on my fear of mud and getting dirty, I worked through my litany of bike riding phobias, and I somehow even grew to appreciate and love dogs in the process. Somewhere along the road, I let go of my fear of failure and even embraced it as necessary for progress. I tried new things, sometimes because they were hard for me, but more often because I didn’t ever want fear to manage me. As I got going, the list no longer held sway. It became easier to meet new people, easier to do things by myself, easier to let go.

                Each year I wanted to challenge myself a bit more. Filled with Gratitude and Courage, I was ready to step it up to Vulnerability for 2016. Vulnerability naturally started in the year of Courage, but it was piecemeal without its own space. The tentative experiments in vulnerability handed me a few swift kicks in the ass and I think I battled at the thought of returning to that place of rawness. But as I let go of my fears of failure, I fell and I failed. I felt shame as I floundered during the Los Angeles Marathon. I had trained so hard and I sucked so bad, being so far from my planned execution. Vulnerability was all I was left with. Despite wanting to just cry and scream, I took some chances and I shared the ground I found myself on. It was the hardest race report I ever wrote (yeah, I’ve had plenty of more challenging ones since), but it was necessary to allow that side of me to come out. It was okay to be broken, to let out those emotions, to sit with them, and to eventually use them to be able to move on. That capacity would get me through a trying racing year as failure stacked on top of failure and as I learned to let them go. They will not define me, they will help me grow.

                I never really vocalized the 2017 word. But it was decidedly “Ask.” As in, ask for what you need, ask for help, ask if you can help. It’s not enough to express your emotions, you have to connect through what you need from others and through what others may need from you. It was partly prompted as I undertook the daunting task of raising $10,000 for charity (Project Purple for Boston 2017 for my dad), but it certainly came through in daily life, other races, and pacing gigs. I dread making requests of others, I dread asking for help, I dread inconveniencing others. But I also understood it was the other half of Vulnerability. It’s not enough to sit open with where you are emotionally. In many ways, maybe it means little if you find yourself unable to ask for help. I pride myself on being independent and strong willed, but I am much richer for those who have helped me and for those who have allowed me to ask for help. The connection that comes from generosity and reciprocity is worth the risks we think we are assuming in the process. In truth, I came to look at things differently. What was the worst-case scenario if I asked someone for help and they were unable or unwilling to help? I was back at the same place I started. I really had nothing to lose, but instead only connection to gain and at a minimum, a discussion of the barriers to helping that might be there, not the least of which was my ability to accept what was offered.

                And here I sit on the precipice of the new year. 2018 is about dreams and possibilities. And so, I’m holding on to Patience and am requesting her guidance. One could easily see me as a very patient person, and I am, and who isn’t in the world of endurance or ultra running? Its all about delayed gratification- train for months on end for one single solitary goal. My life may well be about delayed gratification; my career path necessitated it, my temperament is settled by it. But, this Patience for me is something a bit different. I feel nothing but gratitude at finally having the opportunity to run Western States 100 in 2018, but it scares the shit out of me. I’m fairly sure it could strip me down to my core, to my most naked, to my most vulnerable. I will be asking for a boatload of help in the process, from guidance, to encouragement, to pacers, to crew. But I understand that Western States 100 is a journey. And no, it’s not the one that goes from Squaw Valley on June 23^rd and finishes on the track in Auburn on June 24^th.  It’s the journey that takes place over the next six months between now and the start line. And for that, I need restraint, I need Patience. I need, for once, to put some control outside of myself, to be patient with my plan, to make myself coachable, to allow for the process. There is nothing to rush. I need to rest and wait and rest some more when it is time to hold back. I need to move forward when it is time for that. I need to be patient to enjoy the process, to find joy in this journey, to savor the months ahead, to take it all in.

Gratitude.

Courage.

Vulnerability.

Ask.

Patience.

I need and plan to embrace every single one of you.