November 2014 – Page 2

November 7, 2014

What Art Teaches Me About Ironman

I have been watching a lot of films lately. Partly because I’m editing one; but more importantly I’m trying to be more patient, disciplined, and mentally prepared in life — and training. It’s not easy in the day of Social Media.

When I was preparing for my first Ironman I would eagerly log onto Facebook for the inspirational posts. There was always a flood of workout recaps and this either made me feel guilty or gave me motivation.

But I have become increasingly frustrated with this strategy. The real stuff is inside us, not cloaked in headline chatter of strangers.

Serendipity often presents itself if we’re listening and last night I was blown away by a documentary on performance artist, Marina Abramovic, who pulled off one of the more incredible feats of mental strength I have ever discovered. For three months, she sat in silence for her exhibit “The Artist is Present,” at the Museum of Modern Art.

Talk about patience.

This is how her installation is described on the film’s website:

ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, FROM EARLY MARCH UNTIL THE END OF MAY, 2010, SHE WILL SIT AT A TABLE IN THE MUSEUM’S ATRIUM, IN WHAT SHE DESCRIBES AS A “SQUARE OF LIGHT.” MEMBERS OF THE AUDIENCE WILL BE INVITED TO JOIN HER, ONE AT A TIME, AT THE OPPOSITE END OF THE TABLE. THERE WILL BE NO TALKING, NO TOUCHING, NO OVERT COMMUNICATION OF ANY KIND. HER OBJECTIVE IS TO ACHIEVE A LUMINOUS STATE OF BEING AND THEN TRANSMIT IT––TO ENGAGE IN WHAT SHE CALLS “AN ENERGY DIALOGUE” WITH THE AUDIENCE.

Talk about discipline.

What captivated me most was how the people reacted to Marina’s energy. By the end of her exhibit people were sleeping outside MoMA for a chance to sit in the chair across from her the next day. She gave each person her full attention. Her eyes pierced their souls and many described it as a healing experience. The only place Marina could go, was deeper into the moment.

I mean, can any of us sit in silence for 10 minutes, let alone 9 hours a day for 3 straight months?

Talk about mental preparation.

How did she prepare for this? The film didn’t focus much on methods, but there was an omnipresent stream of anxiety leading to her exhibit. It reminded me of my preparation for Ironman, which more or less centered on the unknown. Would it be the end of the world if she didn’t finish, no, but the potential was very real.

Somehow, Marina had to prepare for the unknown. Sitting in silence for three months can only happen one moment at a time. Focusing on the end by guiding the current breath in the right direction.

The Hardest Part

On the surface, her feat was exactly the opposite of an Ironman. We travel 140.6 miles, she didn’t move an inch.

But those hours she spent sitting on a chair sound exponentially more difficult than racing a triathlon.

For me, moving is the easy part. Patience, discipline, and mental preparation are the real challenges.

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November 4, 2014

What My Dog Teaches Me About Racing . . . and Life

To be honest, I never really wanted a dog. Somehow, Matisse, just sort of landed in my life.

As the story goes, she was abandoned on the side of the road and survived on her own for a few days. I like to say she grew up in the streets.

She’s a good dog, but dogs are a lot of work. At least for someone who isn’t used to having one. It’s getting easier, though.

When I’m present, she teaches me a lot, especially how to be satisfied with the simple things in life. Like stopping and smelling the roses, coffee, or in her case . . . anything!

Mattie’s lived with me most of her life, and I think she likes it, but sometimes it’s hard to tell. It doesn’t seem like she’s truly happy unless she’s moving around. I know the feeling.

Lately I’ve made a commitment to take her on longer walks and it seems like good karma. We’ve ventured off the trails into the deep woods, even started hanging out along the hidden creeks.

It sounds cliche’ but she is truly in touch with nature. Every scent, sound, or movement takes her breath away.

She’s insanely curious and goes absolutely bat-shit whenever she meets . . . anyone!

Keith Urban might as well be Keith Fleck from down the block. Jack Freedmore is just as big a deal as Jack White. And Sparky might as well be Old Yeller.

It just doesn’t matter. She loves everyone and gives them all a chance.

Every morning after a perfect downward-dog, she tears into the backyard to chase squirrels. She’ll run up and down the fence for an hour, barking at the top of her lungs. I keep expecting her to give up, but she never does.

If I decide to take her for a run, she’ll immediately forget the squirrels and move to the pavement. If I jog, she models my speed. If I go faster, she hits another gear. Fast, slow, walk, run. It doesn’t matter, she’s ready to go. She loves to move and always with perfectly relaxed form.

I think running tense is the biggest mistake we can make. The body should flow and we should allow it to so without resistance.

She goes balls-out when awake, but doesn’t hesitate to get her rest. They say dogs take on characteristics of their owner, and I have no reason to doubt them.

Recovery is probably the last thing on the mind of endurance athletes, yet it is the most important to remember. When we’re worn down, no amount of sprints or light jogging or hill repeats rebuild our body.

She eats, sleeps, greets, flows and lives with passion. Oh, and, unlike me, never turns down an invitation to ride.

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November 3, 2014

How I Will Dominate

The last few months have been weirder than normal. I left my job of 15 years to pursue my passions, but I wasn’t clear on what these passions were. I had a vague direction, but at the core, I simply wanted the freedom and space to discover what really made me happy.

This is a very important topic for me and I think it has a direct connection to IRONMAN. Ironman may be a goal, but now it means nothing if I don’t understand the other 364 days before and after each race.

It’s the proverbial, what do athletes do when the stadium lights are turned off? It can’t be the “identity,” there has to be deeper meaning, or possibly no meaning, but either way, it’s important to know why we chase a goal.

It always comes back to living in the moment.

The other night I was waiting at a restaurant for a friend. I asked the server for a piece of scrap paper and went into a stream of conscious writing on a Guest Check.

How I Will Dominate

1. Don’t try (to please everyone)
2. Pay attention
3. Be passion
4. Own myself
5. Captivate
6. Be persistent
7. Walk
8. Run
9. Persevere
10. Roll with it
11. Be an artist
12. Be a musician
13. Be invincible
14. Be humble
15. Love

When I wrote “dominate” it was more about Crushing Life than Iron, but it’s appropriate for both because in many ways a long and challenging race like Ironman is symbolic of what we face each day. If we’re not enjoying the process, what’s the point?

I think it comes down to having faith and not being consumed with the end, and frankly I have been terrible about that most of my life. Putting myself into uncomfortable situations just to prove to the world I can be amazing. But none of that matters because history has proven that humans can do just about anything they put their minds to, except consistently be in the moment.

So, really, it has nothing to do with proving anything to anyone, except myself. And the more I think about it, that burden lies in exhibiting a happy and consistent pursuit of a life I love.

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November 3, 2014

Don't Look Back

Sometimes while I’m running, even 3 or 4 miles, I try to re-create the pain of an Ironman Run in my mind. It’s not easy, or likely possible, but I dig deep for that feeling. It’s elusive, and more or less, unexplainable.

I’m reading “What I Talk About When I Talk About Running,” by Haruki Murakami, and I think he explained it pretty well when he described his feeling while running at 62 mile Ultramarathon:

“All I can see is the ground three yards ahead, nothing beyond. My whole world consists of the ground three yards ahead. No need to think beyond that. The sky and wind, the grass, the cows munching the gras, the spectators, cheers, lake, novels, real it, the past, memory — these mean nothing to me. Just getting me past the next three yards — this was my tiny reason for living as a human. No, I’m sorry — as a machine.”

Why would I want that feeling in the first place? I think it’s a pretty valid question and I’m not convinced there’s a logical explanation. I suppose it has something to do with being prepared, but we can’t really control our future.

Two times I’ve climbed off a one-hundred-twelve mile bike ride with aspirations of running a marathon. Both times the feeling was different.

At Wisconsin, I could barely walk and the thought of running 26 miles was laughable. But somehow, I pulled it off and crossed the line in ecstacy.

At Louisville, I actually felt pretty good, and had my running legs very quick, but they fell apart just as fast. I blew up in the heat and was overwhelmed with relief when I heard Mike Reilly shout my name.

But, both times, I remember feeling like I was in another world. A very small world, three yards in front of me. It was less like running than searching the deepest places of my being to manage the pain.

Wisconsin was like a Chinese water drip torture. A consistent, nagging pain. Step after step I hurt just a slight bit more and my mind somehow won. I felt like a champion.

Louisville was more like a haunted house where I never knew what lurked around the next corner. Sometimes it was a creepy old lady tantalizing my nerves in her rocking chair, others it was Jason in his hockey mask. My heart and emotions were all over the board and by the time I ran down 4th Street and crossed the line, all of my fears had washed away.

For some reason, those emotions are fleeting. In that moment I had no questions about who I was or why I would do such a thing. But the lights fade and the medal tarnishes. In the big picture that finish line is no different than those thousands of 3-yard-moments I experienced along the way.

And I guess that’s the point. I will never be able to recreate those feelings and I’m probably best to leave them be while I embrace new ones.

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