Last Sunday morning I woke up tired. The long week of challenging workouts stacked up against my eyelids, allowing them to budge, barely. But the promise of an interval workout after an hour-long commute to one of the few (and my favorite) tracks in Los Angeles open to the public, (my Alma-mater, Claremont High School), nudged me out the door and onto the 210 freeway toward a date with transcendence.
The highlight from the previous Saturday was another 100 mile bike ride with over 6,000ft. of climbing which included two of my favorite climbs in the Santa Monica mountains, Mulholland and Encinal.
It took some time to find my legs during that ride.
I was trailing my teammates all morning, but I wasn’t worried, and surprisingly not embarrassed, because I knew it would be a long day, that my legs were pacing themselves, and had faith they would show up when I needed them most. Then about two-thirds of the way up Encinal, (the second climb), at around mile sixty, my legs hit their mark right on cue.
Yours truly, Lynne Fiedler, and Jess Zaiss checking in at the Malibu Rock not quite halfway through our ride last Saturday.
Also, there was a formidable headwind blowing south on Pacific Coast Highway, so the miles I rode north against the wind were harder than either of the steep climbs, but vastly more satisfying and fun.
And fatigue and frustration are never a match for fun.
I wish I had learned that lesson earlier.
Years ago.
But small windows can still open.
So although the first few miles of my supposed speedy track workout on Sunday were not speedy at all, I was completely fooled, let go of the ridiculous, rusty expectations of yore, and reached for the tangy ingredient I passed on for years, fun, and it felt like I was flying!
Air time.:)
Next, a crazy, yet completely rational miracle occurred, I started running faster.
Lap after lap I was chipping away time, it was as if my body had completely forgotten it was tired, (and it had every right to feel tired), rather it was just ecstatic to be let loose and free to do exactly what it loves most in the world, to run as fast as it possibly can.
Granted, my 200 splits were double-digits slower than what I cranked out during the Clinton administration, but I felt just as good running them on Sunday, or maybe better, because I knew in those moments I was living the full version of my favorite self. An indescribable fleeting feeling that is unique to all of us, seemingly unreachable to some of us, but is within every one of us.
The song and video choice this week was a hit the Summer after I graduated high school, and it was inspired by watching the finale of Season 4 of Netflix’ Formula One hit show, Drive To Survive. Emily and Hadara, I hope you enjoy this one.:)