To change or not to change

 What's better? A come hell or high water non-negotiable plan or one that has some flexibility?

I swam 5000 yards today. That's 3 miles of following a black line on the bottom of the pool over a period of 1 hour and 48 min. 🏊‍♀️

I didn't plan on swimming that long. I figured that 3300 (2 miles) would be good enough. My swims are never less than 2400 yards (1.5 miles) and up to 5300. To swim 5000+ takes a certain mindset. I didn't think I had it in me today.

Though I started off sort of slow, things kicked in about halfway. When I got to 3300, I started thinking about something and time sped up a little. By the time I hit 4200 (2.5), I figured that if I was only 800 yards away from my goal of at least one weekly 3+ mile swim, I might as well keep going. I was glad I did. It's another box to check off.

But what if I felt terrible halfway through? Would it be equally OK to change plans and back off?

I can have a hard time being flexible - especially when it comes to training. I was raised with the mindset to set a goal and don't stop until it is achieved no matter what. Anyone with me?

If I downgrade my goal, it feels like I am simply finding an excuse to be lazy. And honestly, that is probably more the case than not.

But is flexibility the evil cousin of commitment? Is it possible to remain flexible to accommodate circumstances and not feel like a cheating fool?

As I've said before, there is an infinitesimally thin line between dedication and obsession. Cross it and you might find yourself falling into the bottomless abyss, never to be seen again.

I do think there is a time and a place to grant ourselves grace to change plans. It should probably not become a habit but more of an exception. Still, sometimes changing plans is the reasonable thing to do.

Anyone feeling me on this? Tell me about a change to a plan you had to make. It can be big or small. In the aftermath, was the change an excuse or legitimate reason?

Geez- life can be so hard to figure out. 🥺

Find the door!

 

Find the door!

That was the charge to my cross country runners every time they stood at the start line of the race.

Why? If they were running hard and with courage, it was inevitable that they would "hit the wall" at some point during the race. But here's the thing: 

 

In every wall, there is at least one door. The key is to find it and then fling it open to charge through.

 

But most will give up when they run smack into the wall. It hurts. They slow. They mentally quit. The will to continue vanishes - even if the door is in sight for a fleeting moment.

 

It takes exceptional courage and will to give the door a good boot. You see, just cracking the door does no good because you are no further along than before you found it. You are simply left to get a glimpse of what could be.

 

That said, when you fling open the door to burst through, the wall is suddenly behind you. You now enter uncharted territory where you are doing more than you ever thought possible. It's a brave new world on the far side - but there is pain and sacrifice coupled with bravery, valor, and grit that gets you there.

 

Finding the door is tough. Really tough. I've looked for it plenty of times in the context of an ultramarathon but can only count on one hand the times I actually found my way to the other side. When I did fly through the door, the feeling of incredible accomplishment was like no other.

 

Lest you think that finding the door in a wall is relegated to athletics, it is not.

 

No matter the venue, there can be a big, scary wall in front of you. It is formidable. With no way around it, you have to find a way through. So you:

 

Try something novel

Consider a new approach

Commit your mind, body and soul to find a solution

 

And every once in awhile, the door opens, you pass through, and a new realm of possibilities opens before you.

 

Next time you are confronted by a wall, look for the door.

Strengths and weakness

 

300 miles. 5 different mountain ranges. 40 peaks over 6000' bagged, 15 of which had no trails. 3 women bonded together to set a women's speed record.

The Western NC challenge was called the South Beyond 6000 (SB6K for short.) I was in my 50s, Anne 10 years my junior, and Jenny 10 years Anne's junior.

After 6 days, 13 hours, 31 minutes, we summited the last peak and grabbed the record. But honestly, it was not my finest hour.

I struggled. The other 2 women were faster than me, my frustration compounded by thunderstorms, legs ripped apart from the necessary bushwacking, difficult orienteering, and deep down fatigue from an average of 42 miles per day and tens of thousands of elevation gain.

Even by the second day, we needed to find a solution. After a heated discussion and many tears atop a mountain, we came up with a solution. Rather than me feeling the pressure of trying to keep up, we would run in reverse birth order. Me, then Anne, and then Jenny.

Ironically, our pace increased. Why? Because the freedom to set the pace released me to escape the "have to keep up pressure" while providing the "I get to lead." It brought out the best in me.

That does not mean that the remaining days were easy. By no means. We all struggled. It was hard. Really hard. But we stuck together and finished.

Sometimes the performance of a team is not contingent on pure talent. Rather, performance is optimized when individual strengths are blended together so that individual weaknesses are covered.

Uninvited guests

The alerts kept coming announcing new photos. The trail cameras were focused on a spot behind our house where a corn feeder periodically releases the corn to draw in the deer. (And yes, it's legal this time of year in Virginia.)

Last evening the photos revealed an unintended guest. Mr. Bear investigated the area before standing on it's hind legs to pull the feeder from its spot, hoping for a free meal.

How many times are we surprised when someone unexpectedly shows up in our circles? It's not a bad thing. It's an opportunity.

Pay attention. Don't miss out.

Relationships matter

 

Relationships matter.

 

More than a decade ago, I was their coach. That was my job. But it didn't stop there. 

 

We ran together. Solved life problems together. Went to mountain trails together. Celebrated marriages, babies, and careers together. And today we are still connected.

 

Never let your job be the end of it.

Be brave

 "Be brave. Be brave. Be brave."

With eyes closed tight, my granddaughter, a bundle of joy and energy, whispered those words to muster up needed courage. Perched atop an inclined rounded log with fierce winds blowing, she then started her journey.

She made it, gleefully jumping off at the end. She used all the resources available (her hand in mine) and her strong determination.

There's gotta be a lesson in that for all of us. Facing a new task at work? Needing to repair a relationship? Taking on a huge fitness challenge.

Be brave. Wisely use resources. Go for it!

Take the time and effort

 

The receipt reported a total of 18.29.

Addy, my granddaughter asked me to help extend her sewing skills, wanting to make flowy pants for our vaca next week. We probably spent more on the pattern, material, and elastic compared to what it would cost to buy the simple pants off the rack.

That said, I shall not complain. Ever. It was money wisely invested in making both pants and memories.

Don't ever overlook opportunities to grow meaningful, deep relationships.

Lesson to Self #15: The beautiful duet of time and effort

“How many songs are you guys going to play at the end of the year concert?”, I inquired of Addyson, my  ten-year old granddaughter. We were chatting cheerfully as I steered the Grandma Taxi to deliver the child to her classical school that places great value on music education and the arts. The first semester of the year introduced the students to the recorder, performing the practiced songs at the Christmas concert. Now, after five months of playing the violin, she answered my question: “We will play four songs.”

Having previously experienced the lovely squeaks and squawks of novice string musicians, I posed yet another question. “Do ya’ll sound good?”

The answer? “A whole lot better than before!”

She’s on to something. Progress requires equal doses of time and effort. Excellence doesn’t happen in a void. In fact, the standard 10,000 hour rule first attributed to Anders Ericsson and propagated by many, argues that expert status is only achieved after thousands of hours of prescribed, quality, and focused practice. While one might argue the quantification of this road to excellence, few can deny the powerful combination of time and effort.

Addyson knows this. Though she has absolutely no aspirations of becoming a competent violinist, she realizes how important time and effort are to her growth as a competitive gymnast. Foundational skills, precise practice, mental focus, and countless hours in the gym are a must as she makes advances through the Junior Olympic  program.

But one does not need to be an athlete or musician to understand the principle. Whether in business, medicine, construction, education, race car driving, or endless other vocations and avocations, we have no chance of optimizing our performance without optimizing our preparation, which takes considerable time and effort.

The moral of the story? Don’t be discouraged if you think progress is slow and cumbersome. The prerequisites of becoming really good at something always include substantial time and effort.

Is it hard? Sure. Is it tedious? Yep. Can it be frustrating? Of course. Is it worth it? Absolutely.

Lesson to Self #14: Wait Well

As I type these thoughts, I am waiting for something to happen at EMS Station 14. It is quiet, both my partners intermittently scrolling their phones or catching a quick cat nap going into their 24-hour shifts. The donuts kindly donated by some unknown party sit ignored on the large dining table. There is no hustle and bustle. Rater, we quietly await.

Waiting can be excruciating. A friend posted just this morning the difficulty of waiting for critical medical test results. An online acquaintance wrote of Biblical examples of profitable waiting, citing Joseph and King David as exemplars. My own thinking turned to Jairus’ daughter, spoken of in the synoptic Gospels, who had taken ill and died before Jesus arrived. Parental hope must have plummeted to an all-time low when they thought—erroneously—that their waiting for the Healer to arrive would yield only sorrow. Rather, their wait turned joyous when the girl was given back life.

Waiting is hard, mostly because we (read that, I) tend to add too much activity and worry into this period that is intended for rest, faith, and regaining perspective. I want to do, move forward, make progress. It is against my nature to stand still.

At one point in my life, I enjoyed hunting. Before climbing into a tree, I used to joke with my husband, an avid, anything-but-fair weather sportsman, that I was going waiting—not hunting. After all, I was not going to actively stalk, aka hunt, a deer. No. I was simply waiting for one to come close enough to my tree stand so I could whack it and take it home for dinner. My waiting while nestled among the branches proved to be a delightful time of reflection and rest, whether or not it yielded venison for our table.

Are there lessons to be learned in the wait? What should—and should not—happen in the time period between initial activity and continued action?

When we wait well, a solid foundation of patience and contentment develops, especially helpful when the end point is not easily identified. We come to understand that there is little we can do to speed the wait along. Thus, we take a deep breath and settle in, trying to wrangle our obsessive ponderings of “what if” scenarios, which do nothing to alter the outcome.

But do we twiddle our thumbs while we wait or be productive in some way? As a personal example, I am in a waiting period following a serious orthopedic injury. I don’t know when—or even if—I will heal completely. And yet, I am learning to embrace the wait by simply doing what I can do rather than mourning what I cannot. No more, no less makes for a better wait.

What about you? Have you honed your waiting game?

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Lessons to Self #1-13 are available in prior posts.