Breathing Rambles
It’s remarkable that I haven’t written anything since April. There is so much that I want to write, but when I have the time, I fill it with something else. This morning, though, while I was sitting in silence, I envisioned this post and the information that I planned to share.
I get it - 2020 sucks. It sucks for all the reasons. Right now, for me, it sucks because I can’t get away. Multiple getaways were cancelled - some of those trips have more importance than coming home with a tangible souvenir. I come home with my soul fed. Each of those places hold importance in my heart; I need to connect with the space (I think) in order to be whole again. My toes didn’t hit the sand, my nose didn’t inhale the trees and my hands never skimmed the water.
This morning, halfway through my breathing practice, I thought about all the races that had been cancelled thus far. Today, I should have been dehydrated, losing my voice, exhausted as all hell, and stinking to the heavens in Lake Placid. But, I’m not. The training, the sacrifices, the money spent for all these athletes is heart breaking to me. Then, I was whisked away to Ironman Virginia 70.3 in May of 2019.
During the athlete briefing, the race directors informed us about a tricky spot on the bike course. As a hard right approaches, there are a set of aggressive rail road tracks that need to be crossed as the turn is being made. Because the weather predicted rain at some point, the possibility of sliding on those tracks with a tri bike were likely. In order to cut down on the likelihood of athletes wiping out, the race directors were going to create a small section of timeless racing. Huh?
Yea, so, as we would approach the tracks, a timing mat would pause our race time. We actually had the option of getting off our bikes to walk across the tracks. A second mat placed sometime after the turn would put us back in game. It took the group enough time to wrap our minds around the opportunity to live in a section where time didn’t exist. I joked about it - I could make a sandwich, have a drink, and even smoke a cigarette (chill out, I don’t smoke).
I said:
“Oh, hell no. I’m not getting off my bike. ”
We drove the course later that day.
“Definitely getting off my bike.”
Race day I got off my bike and spent time (ha) in the timeless vortex to slow down. I took some deep breaths, stretched out my ass, and refueled. I still had miles to go. Timelessness is a gift.
“Cool story; what the hell does this have to do with anything?”
I thought about that space between. I used it to my advantage. Sometimes I feel that we’re living in the space between. Sure, time is going by, but nothing else seems to exist here. Let’s use this space between to slow down. Take some deep breaths, stretch it out, enjoy the silence.
I know that day I had my mind sent on that finish line. While we don’t know when this current state is going to end, I know, for damn sure, that I’m going to be screaming down that finisher’s chute with my hands in the air.
What will your finisher’s picture look like?
