Winning is in the Process

This spring I decide I needed to increase the cardio in my life. I use the word "increase" with a slight smile because it was not going to take a whole lot to increase from nothing.

Sure I did my fair share of yoga asana (poses) and kept fairly active through my own practice as well as teaching a couple adult and several youth classes a week if not a day. I was aware, however, that the most important muscle in my body—my heart—was not getting enough attention.... well, at least not physically.

Growing up I was encouraged to set goals and move toward accomplishments. While both of my parents were influential helping me create this foundation, I would say my dad was the more  influential coach.

Now my dad, like many dads, is quite a guy. I recall one summer in college I was interning at his work place in graphic design. I am fantastically fortunate that my parents had the ability and insight to pay me minimum wage to volunteer at various jobs to help me discern my interests and abilities. His colleagues shared with me that he was known for greeting everyone with the same resounding "good morning" and bright smile no matter the person's position or rank.

I love that about my dad.

I also learned that I do not care for sitting at a desk all day so "graphic designer" was crossed off the list of potential professions. Today I often joke with my design team that I know just enough to be dangerous. (*insert smile for my team who often correct my mishaps.)

With cardio and goal setting, I find do need a goal to check off my list, especially to get to the point where after a month or so my body, heart and mind crave the activity. To get this party started I decided to sign up—and pay—to participate in the Danskin Sprint Triathlon in Austin. It was June 5th.

I did my first one of these Tri's 8 weeks after I had my first baby, Jordan. It was my present to myself—and no doubt to those around me—to take time for myself. This time, Jordan often swam with me and we giggled while high-fiving each other when passing in the swim lane. Jordan was excited for me and wanted to stand (swim?) with me.

I love that about Jordan.

I also wish to say I picked a Danskin for several reasons, mostly because its goals resonate with mine: support healthy choices. With an only-women participant pool and funds going toward breast cancer research and awareness, the sheer experience of standing with 1039 other women of all ages, shapes, sizes, backgrounds and experiences, I wanted to stand with and in their light. And bravery. OMG. There are women who can barely swim but ask for a "Swim Angel" to stay with them during the half-mile open water swim.

Along with adding cardio to my life, I became aware that this process of training in 3 sports (swim, bike, run) had numerous lessons for me and my 3 kids. Most resounding for me and perhaps them was that mommy was not just competing in a race, mommy was setting goals and trying really hard to take better care of herself including nutrition and rest. In fact, I found incredible opportunities to talk about the importance of the process of training and not the product; race day would come and go, but would I continue to work toward a healthier me?

After entering my credit card number, gulping, and clicking "send" to register for the event, I decided that based on my other responsibilities and interests, I would set the goal to add each activity once per week. Clearly that meant I was not going to "win" in the competitive sense, as I had to advise especially my son, but perhaps I would win more important things, like health. Winning is in the process, I tried to explain. "Oh, like in baseball you win by playing," Cole reflected.

I love that about my son.

As the days ticked on I rediscovered the joys of "life getting in the way." Besides spring flowers the month of May brings a slew of school activities for the kids. It also brought two trips for me and I am just not good at exercising when traveling. Did I meet my goal every week to complete one of each sport? Nope. Instead, I tried to embrace and expound on my favorite of Ruiz's four agreements: do your best everyday knowing that your best varies from day to day.

As race day approached I considered withdrawing. Though I was confident I could complete each leg and probably get only a little sick on the finish line, I found my inner-competitive voice surface with a whole lot of nothing good to say.

"You didn't do enough."

"You're not ready."

"You will do worse than you did IN YOUR 30's!"

"Jordan will see you struggle."

Wait. What was that? Jordan will what? Now, I try to not listen to that competitive voice. To a great degree I usually disagree with this voice. And you can see this voice, right? A sort of Jane Fonda-meets-Richard Simmons jogging in-place shaking its head voice?

But this time the voice was 100% right—at least in theory. And I smiled my dad's "good morning and bright smile no matter the person's position or rank" smile. And then, with all due respect, I giggled right in it's larynx.

It's true: I didn't do what I intended to do to "train"; I was not as ready as I hoped; I would probably take more time than when I was 31; and Jordan would indeed see me struggle.

Now, Jordan at age 11 has seen me struggle her whole life. These stories may be revealed another day, but rest assured this girl has your basic bionic sense of perception and awareness. This time, however, we were able to watch and discuss with objectivity and some connecting the dots to other life experiences how struggling was part of life we often do not choose. We can, however, choose how we respond and find parallels in life to prepare us for crafting those responses.

Additionally, I am aware that, like me, Jordan's metabolism is such that she must monitor her eating and physical activity or she will appear heavy. I grew up with nick-names as lovely as "Beth Reese is Obese" and "Elefat" and without the ability to eat whatever I wanted and be rail-thin like my brother. I hated the name-calling and some days I find myself struggling with how I respond to those wounds. Accordingly, this "race" also was about modeling for Jordan ways to be respectful of my body and its needs. These were ways I could "win."

On race day I was lucky enough that my dear friend and colleague, Meredith, woke up at 6am and brought Jordan to the race. Meredith later shared with me that Jordan was really excited for me, and worried.

"My mom really worked hard, Mere. I hope she does ok."

As I completed the swim (which was insanely difficult as I had a tough physiological reaction of sorts to the cold water and my adrenaline) and attempted to jog to the transition area, I heard a "GO MOM!" It was Jordan, smiling a big smile. For whatever physical, emotional, intellectual discomfort I felt preparing for this moment, Jordan's smile of support erased them all.

"Oh good, Mere! She looks happy."


And I was. After the initial struggle in the swim I felt great. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed each leg. I loved the compassionate camaraderie constantly displayed among participants. I found a new love and compassion for my body as each transition felt fluid, especially from bike to run when my muscles often laugh at me with a big REALLY? I asked my body to embrace the process and it responded with grace. Yes, I was winning... at least in the process.

When I crossed the finish line sprinting (ok at least that's what it was in my mind) and not puking, I could not resist smiling and laughing. I was offered a medal for participating and cold water. More smiling.

I returned to the transition area to gather my belongings. I noticed I was one of the first participants in my group to return. Funny, I thought. Where is everyone?

The competitive voice popped up and nestled against me, flirting, whispering: I think you might have done well! You finished ahead of many people. Maybe you're really good at this. Maybe you will place in your division. Or maybe you're last.... maybe everyone is at the winner's circle.... maybe.... maybe.... maybe......

"Mom! Mom! That was sooooooo cool! I wanna do it with you next year!"

BAM.

Take THAT Competitive Voice: I did win after all.