Hey World (Don't Give Up)

Welcome to 2020.  Aside from all of my pithiness and whining about the year, it seems, in fact, that it’s not all about me (So glad I finally figured that out - took me long enough!)  Unless you live under a rock (hell, it's probably reached there as well) the little virus known as COVID-19 - or- the 'Rona, as it's called by the cool kids - has totally taken over life as we know it.  Forget the blizzard of '77. The Ice storm of '91. ‘Rona 2020 has completely eclipsed any stories of our parents walking 2 miles each way to school uphill, barefoot in the snow. Obliterated our stories about how we had a rotary phone without - gasp - texting ability- or even the internet (or as Rob would say, the "internots") and were off from school for 10 days during a "horrific" ice storm.

Running is not cancelled.  Neither is Dabbing, apparently. 

Nope - Gen Alpha has it, hands down.  Ten years from now they will be recalling the time that school shut down indefinitely.  The time that Mom and Dad (attempted very poorly) to be their teachers. The time where jammies ruled the day, and ice cream parties were dinner.  The time where we drew rainbows for the windows and wrote letters instead of visiting. The time where “I wouldn’t touch you with a 6 foot pole” became the rule, not a suggestion,  and none of their friends could come over to play. The time where they talked to Grandpa via Skype, even though he lived down the road. Whatever the age or their point of view....normal was no longer normal.

For the adults raising those kids,it became the time of the unknown.  Where life turned on a dime and what was normal yesterday was done with today (or even an hour ago).  Depending on the circumstance - a time of fear, of deep breaths, and of an intense digging deep to survive - on a physical, economical and emotional level.

I've been one of the lucky ones.  My job is essential (thank goodness someone recognizes this).  Our kids are young enough to know no more than some people aren’t feeling very well and that we are on an adventure which requires creativity and a different way of doing school, play and life in order to stay healthy and to keep others healthy.  There's lots of throwing any normalcy out the window, many melt downs ( yep, even with the 4 and 6 year old) and lots of hugs and snuggles to cope with the uncertainties.

Regardless of how you feel about the whole thing - in terms of how the state, country and world are handling it - it’s been a time to dig deep and stay positive...reaching within your reserves to keep some sense of normalcy - whether it be putting on pants every day (fail), not eating all your cookies in one sitting (double fail) or getting out and doing something to stay sane (is running 40 miles a week and biking nowhere 7 plus hours staying sane?  No? TRIPLE FAIL.)

Guys, I'm not gonna lie.  I've been struggling. I think it's partially because I like to believe I have some form of say over my life - whether it be making choices for my family, at work, my marriage, or my life goals - and I just....don't right now.  Not only is there a lack of knowing when and if life will ever return to "normal", it seems that everyone has some conjecture about how long this will last with little, if any, solid evidence to back it up. School won't be in session until September.  No races until 2021. We won't gather in groups for another 18 months. No more handshakes, ever.

It's really disheartening.  Even if you strip out the desire to have some solid answer (which won't happen), the concept of hope right now is downright dangerous and quite often, laughed at.  It doesn't matter who you are or what choices you are making, somehow, you are wrong for them. The judgement going on in the world right now makes me not only doubt myself as a reasonably intelligent human being, it makes me want to throw my phone out the window, light my computer on fire, and escape to a deserted island with my husband and kids.  

And my natural optimism is fading.  I remember on my first week of training post March 13 (basically known as "the day the world decided to stand still") and I struggled to figure out why I was doing what I was doing.  What was I training for? Why was I doing this?

I came up with the answer pretty quickly - it was life.  I love what I do so much that I knew hanging onto this small sense of sanity was necessary.  As the weeks have gone by, oddly enough, I find myself getting physically stronger and stronger, but my mind - the mental strength that I pride myself in - is fading.  

I remember my first Ironman.  My first ultra marathon. When the finish line seemed so far away and I had to put myself in my own "space" to section off the miles and get through them one at a time to make it to that end goal - the finish line! - in one spot.  The "hurt locker" that every athlete faces is real - and if you can't count on your mind to talk you into a reason to get to the finish, your body will come up with enough reasons to quit.

That was all well and good.  I learned, over the subsequent ultras, how to control my mind and to remember the end goal - the finish.  Then I got pregnant. I figured labor was much like an ultra - mental toughness and BAM! Goal reached.  

But they don't give you an estimated finish time with labor.  Doesn't matter how much you train, how fit you are, what kind of " race plan" you have going into it - you have no idea how long that ultra will last.  With kid #1 it was 33 hours. Kid #....about 5 (I have no favorite children. That's my official stance).  

Still, at the end, you have the most beautiful post race prize you could ever want - a perfect little human that you love more than life itself (now is not the time to talk about having two kids in quarantine.  Stop it).

This....has neither.  I'm constantly feeling like a fish out of water (which is pretty accurate, as we can't swim right now) - no clear direction, no ability to navigate life, and completely out of my element.  It sucks.

And the fishies in aero....what a little overacheiver!

I've been sitting with this feeling for awhile.  Trying to make sense of the world around me and the choices that are being made to battle this epidemic (it didn't work.  I'll leave it at that.) Trying to find some modicum of hope or a sense of "normal" via texting with friends, planning virtual races (which are a far cry from anything I love doing, but connecting virtually is the only way to do this), and joining online communities for running where we post funny pictures, motivational words, and silly dances. 

This afternoon, I had a 9 mile run on tap.  It's been a horrible week. Our funding at work has been cut in half, they are furloughing staff and implementing pay cuts (which hasn't happened to me yet, thank goodness, but my some of my co-workers are not so lucky), my poor kids are off the walls and can't understand why Easter won't be the same this year, and my husband and I stare at each other, helpless to come up with any concrete answers.  

I stepped outside into the dreary day - complete with heavy winds and gray skies -  to get my run done. Why? Who knows. I'm certainly not looking toward a finish line anytime soon.  Not looking for a PR. Not even able to meet up with my best buddy to log some miles and talk through any of this.  Why am I doing this?

For fun, I decided to run point to point along the lake- a place I have loved ever since I was a kid and now that I am lucky to live next to.  The husband planned a pick up spot 9 miles out, and I was off. It was windy - though a cross wind or tail wind, which was good. Taking it easy, my HR spiked.  F*ck it. I picked it up - and mile 2 was an 8:19 (about 40 seconds faster than my easy pace). F*ck it. As I logged the miles, the sun peaked in and out over the lake.  The angry waves became whitecaps. I smiled at the sun. Stared at the water. Had a good cry somewhere around mile 4. As I ventured out further to where I had only biked before, I took deep breaths and thought about my rides out here last year.  Where I started to learn to love the bike. Where I did the “big scary things” of 2019 that made it the best year ever. In the last two miles of the run, I hit the “hills of Ginna” - two beastly hills that suck on a bike - and powered up them with a force I didn’t know I had.   I was on a mission. I had no idea my pace. No idea of my HR. It honestly felt effortless. I hit mile 9 at the top of the hill and took my run the extra .18 cause who runs up a hill without running back down it.

The husband picked up a sweaty, happy runner, flushed with success of a great run, intent be damned.  

An hour later I found out that my A race - my Ironman in August - was almost certainly cancelled.  

I’m feeling a bit numb right now.  It’s not the race. There will be other Ironmans.  I’m quite certain at this point my whole 2020 race season will end up being one fantastic 2021 season.

But I don’t know.  And that’s the whole feeling of 2020.  Can we still live life to some semblance with everything being so unknown?

I had started the afternoon with a heavy heart that lifted during a run with no limits.  

And now I’m reminded that there are, in fact, limitors.  Lots of them. And that there are no answers.  

I’d like to say that I have some words of wisdom.  A nugget of optimism. But I don’t. Right now I’m grieving this.  And not the race. Honestly, I don’t give a shit if I race an Ironman this year.  But I’m sitting here, trying to find something. I don’t know what it is, but I’m sure it’s out there. 

Hey World, Don't Give Up. I know we an get through this. Somehow.