Lessons of track workouts (hint: they have nothing to do with running).

I had a very good track workout last Friday.  I knew from the second or third track workout that those workouts would be life-changing and that I would be able to look inside myself and find something there, because track strips you bare.  You run around a track but have hard efforts and easy efforts.  At first my hard efforts were an eight of a mile, then a quarter, then half, and now a full mile, twice.  Next track workout is just four mile "repeats" with jogging, as opposed to walking recovery, in-between.

Those hard efforts make you give part of yourself you don't usually give.  Because it takes physical effort, it takes you out of your mind.  And when you get out of your mind, you are able to access that feral, if you will, or just pure animal part of you.  Strips you down completely.  I realized that pretty quickly and knew a lot would happen on that track.

This past Friday I did my first hard interval of the session then my first recovery.  During the recoveries is when I do most of my thinking during track workouts.  During the first recovery I started wondering what kept me from running faster.  I think about that a lot.  But this time an answer came to me.  I was scared.  Scared of what?  So I knew I was scared of running faster, but I didn't know why.  Then I ran another interval and kept thinking during the next recovery, and it hit me:  I was afraid to be good.  And just like a sign, I saw a "Good"year sign on a building that is viewable from the track.  That Good was perfectly framed between two trees.  So I spent that whole recovery wondering why I was scared to be good.  Another interval.  Another recovery.  Was it that if I start running seven minute miles, then I can "fail" a particular workout if I'm slower?  If I keep at a comfortable level, does that mean no failing?  Am I scared of the pain that going to my full potential will bring?  (and trust me, going at your full potential in anything physical hurts, and a lot).

Interval.  Recovery.

Then I realized something.  I lost 115 lbs, 230 lbs to 115 lbs, half my weight.  You can't do that without being strong.  You just can't.  My dad died and I was shattered into pieces and I was forced to rebuild, and I don't know what or who dropped me into a 24 Hour Fitness and this is what came out.  I was forced into changing, I really had no choice, forced by Life.

So you go through something like this, you discover an inner fortitude about you, strength, determination, courage.  Both find what was already there and develop even more.  There's just no being weak and going through this journey.

But I realized where I went wrong.  Instead of taking "Weak Debbie" and building her up, I split her off and built a separate "Strong Debbie," which is the one that shows up when the going gets tough.  Strong Debbie is the Anything, Anywhere, Anytime, Harder, Longer, Faster, Veni, Vidi, Velcro, I Came, I Saw, I Stuck Around (my three favorite sayings).  Strong Debbie did this.  It's the reason why I did a marathon in nine hours and fifteen minutes, because I was going to die or finish, hopefully finish.

Then I realized what I had to do.  How I was going to get faster.  How I was going to finally get it all together.  How I was going to combat that fear.  I had to integrate Weak and Strong Debbie together.  Of course I will always fear things, that's just human.  But I have to take that part of me that got to 230 lbs and make that one and the same with the part that shows up and gets it done.

There are some overweight people who use their personality to have a bunch of friends throughout their whole life and be the life of the party.  I was not one of those.  I was the one picked on, called names, hair pulled, hit and kicked, spit on, etc.  I was the bullied.  And I can talk about this now and being detached from the situation and definitely not being that same person anymore.

Why share stuff like this?  Because it gives the journey a reason.  I think having had the priviledge to go through this journey, I can give back by sharing it and letting people know what it was like, and maybe people can take something from the journey.  It's not the right way, it's not the wrong way, it's just the way it happened for/to me.

You know, I really never understood bullying until I started strength training.  When you physically lift weights and physically become stronger, your whole being feel stronger.  But there's something else.  You feel powerful.  And I had never experienced Power before until I started weightlifting.  It was very eye-opening.  I understand bullying now.  That power is intoxicating and you want more.  But some people get it by bullying.  I don't agree with bullying, but I understand it completely now, and I understand what the kids got out of it back then, and how that thirst for power can take over your being if you let it.  And having been on the receiving end the first thing I promised myself is that *I* would never use it against anyone else.

There's something else that happens as you train for a triathlon that I haven't really experienced before.  You become more self-assured, more self-confident.  More Assertive.  That more than anything. And maybe it was the bullying throughout my formative years or maybe it was just the way I was born, but I've always just gone through life stepping aside for other people because it's less work than standing up and because I feared confrontation.  I noticed a change since the beginning of the year when I started the triathlon training.  I don't do that anymore.

Things would be so much different if I was a kid now, though.  Someone hits me they'd get hit back (different at seven years old than at thirty four).  Maybe after a couple of times they won't hit anymore.  I wouldn't stand down.  If I got suspended, so be it, extra vacation.

You can't be weak and do triathlons.  You just can't.  Because, and it WILL happen, it's not a question of if but of when during the triathlon, just like in track you will be stripped bare.  And the only way you can finish is by being strong.  And this happens first during the training.  If you are stripped bare and all that's in there is weakness, you quit.  There's just no two ways about it.  You either become strong through the process or you quit (not to say anyone who quits triathlon is weak, they just may have time constraints, just not enjoy it, etc.) but anyone who is unable to find strength within themselves, in my opinion, will quit.

So back to my first two mile repeats of my life.  I started to introduce Strong Debbie and Weak Debbie.  I started telling myself, you ARE good, you DO deserve this, you deserve to be good, you deserve to be fast, you are worth this.  And I ran the first repeat in about 8:30.  My fastest mile ever was 8:24 or so, and I usually range between 9:30 and 13:00 in training and triathlons, although usually it's closer to 11-12.

During the second repeat, Strong Debbie started talking to Weak Debbie.  I know you're scared.  But I've been here before.  I know this.  I know this pain.  And I can get us through it.  Take my hand.  I got this.  This is what I do, this is my specialty, showing up and getting it done, so come with me through this journey and let's get through this together.  I'm here for you.  I got you.  You can trust me.  I got your back.  I'm here to stand up for you.

Because you know, you can wait your whole life for should haves.  For adults who should stand up for bullied kids.  But that's all you'd be doing then, waiting.  Or you can say whatever, it is what it is, so what am I going to do about it.  And then do it.  So are you going to bemoan your whole life about people who should have stood up for you or are you going to grab that little scared part of yourself from inside of you and stand up for it yourself?

I've found Sport to be very life-changing.  Even if you don't change other parts of your life immediately, sports builds you up and when you're ready you find you can apply what you've learned and how you've changed to other parts of your life - finances, job, relationships, future goals, whatever you want, really.  Sport can change you, if you want it to, physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally.  It's not just a one-dimensional change.

And I've also discovered that now I have a physical side of me.  When I get stressed out now I like to "get out of my head" and into a hard workout.  I feel so lucky that I now have this whole other dimension to me that I can get lost into, and it's very stress-relieving.

I did a bike ride this past Sunday, two days after track, and I did more hill climbing than ever before, by a lot, and for almost six hours.  There was one big hill at the end, steeper than any I'd climbed before, and it went off for about a mile and a third.  I finally found a hill that could have broken my spirit.  And I had already ridden 58 miles when I got to that hill, and had 7 to go, and the most I'd ridden before were 61, and those 58 miles had been pretty hilly themselves, much more hills than I usually do even by themselves.

And it was part of the Half Ironman course I'm doing in October, so if I didn't do it then, how could I do it in October?  So there really was no choice, I had to dig down and do it, get it done.  And looking back, I think I've started to integrate Strong and Weak Debbie already.  I think one of the most powerful things that I've learned through this journey is to constantly question, ask why, look inside yourself, be open to that questioning, probing, and change.  Because the first step is to realize there's something going on, then what's going on, then why's going on, then develop a plan of attack to change it.  But each step is crucial.  So I was gonna hurt for a mile and a third more than I've ever hurt before and that was going to be it.  And so it was.

Oh, yeah, that second mile repeat?  8:15, my fastest ever.