Has anyone ever been dumped and never felt sad about it? In history? Ever? Even if you did everything you could think of to make it work, when it doesn’t, it hurts.
That’s how I feel about Ironman right now.
It’s as if I’ve devoted countless hours of time and attention to a crush that thinks I’m nice and fun to hang out with, but just doesn’t see me that way.
Just about to hit mile 13 of the marathon at Ironman CDA.
I first wanted to race an Ironman in 2006.
I was working on a Saturday morning in the middle of July in 2005, pouring over the Ironman website, and decided that Ironman Brazil would be my premiere race. However, I quickly discovered that Ironman racing is wildly expensive, (especially an international race) and at twenty-five I was nowhere near in a place financially to afford it, so just like the hot senior that goes off to college, out of sight from my longing Freshman heart, I let Ironman go.
For a little while...
Then in 2008, I started to feel pulled toward something deeper. I was overworked and uninspired by my career in Visual Effects, (Why am I killing myself for a Yahoo! commercial?) and felt incredibly guilty for falling short on my parenting responsibilities, so on June 1st I threw in all of my chips to pursue a ludicrous goal: quit my job to train and race my first Ironman in Louisville, KY.
Starting my first Ironman Marathon at Ironman, Louisville, 2008.
True, Louisville was not as exotic a locale as Florianópolis, Brazil, but it was a race I could get into and afford to go to, a double-feat that seemed like a miracle at the time.
I had no plans to race Ironman again after I crossed the finish line on 4th St. in downtown Louisville on that hot, late evening in August, but the Summer I spent training for it changed everything. I was suddenly fueled by “What if?” questions to leap back into the only part of my identity that had earned any real success my entire life, the athlete.
CUT TO: THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
EXT. HIGHWAY
DAY
(A tall redhead, TARYN, halts her bike to a stop, looks down at her flat, oozing front tire, looks back at cyclists barreling down on her, and then up to the sky.)
TARYN
You’ve got to be kidding me, Ironman? What are you trying to tell me?
It has been over two weeks since that horrific, and/or unlucky moment on the side of the scorching road in Coeur d’Alene, but last Wednesday I believe I finally received the message Ironman has been whispering or rather yelling at me for over a decade, The outcome of a race means absolutely nothing. Also, stop using me as an excuse to run away from your life.
Somewhere on the course after being revived from the bike techs, and riding on a brand new tire.
The fact is I am not the same person I was when I boarded the plane to Idaho three weeks ago.
I am stronger and weaker than I’ve ever been.
I really wanted the race to go differently. Honestly, I thought I could achieve my greatest result yet, but the irony is that I guarantee I would still be upset, or at least feel unsettled right now if it had all gone to plan.
Ironman was right, there is no such thing as a perfect outcome of a race, (or anything worth pursuing), but I think it got the running away from life part wrong.
I don’t believe I’ve been running away from my life, rather I believe I dropped the shovel that I had been stubbornly digging a trench with, jaded and exhausted from learning what goes on behind the Hollywood curtain, and ran toward a more authentic life.
I have learned through years of physical suffering through swimming, biking, and running for hours, that I can handle a lot of emotional suffering, that I don’t give up easily, that I follow my instincts, often take the hard way, and that I love to dance; in front of a crowd, or all by myself. And most of all, I appreciate the devastation of not reaching my goal more than the numbness of not trying at all.
Post-Run/Pre-Jump Choreography strategy session last Sunday with my dear friends and teammates, Jess Zaiss and Lynne Fiedler.
Finale photo:)
So, Ironman, you may think I’m a nuisance, that I haven’t gotten the picture, that you’re just not into me, and will keep kicking me to the curb (literally, in the last race) but I suggest you take a seat, wipe that smirk off of your face, and get comfortable, because I’m not giving up on wearing you down.
Priceless family time at Rat Beach last Thursday.
The song and video choice this week is a fitting tune from P.O.D, Alive.