What have I got to prove?

Just when you thought the introspective, self-discovery posts were over . . .

CUE THE JAWS THEME MUSIC!

Doo-doo . . .

Doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo . . .

One thing I mentioned yesterday, and I've mentioned before, keeps playing over and over in my head. That is, of course, the famous question my close friends and family always like to ask me: "Do you race because you think you have something to prove?"

When I (used to) answer "hell no," I really (used to) believe it. See, I used to think I raced because it keeps me healthy, makes me feel "normal" as far as helping me ward off dizzy spells and chest pains and all, and gives me a sense of accomplishment. The truth is, there are so many more reasons. Social exposure - I'm too shy to meet people other ways (yes, I'm SHY). Testing my boundaries. Forcing myself to take time for myself, time where I have nothing to do but deal with my own thoughts - because God knows I avoid those some times - and to be okay with the times that I have no real thoughts, that it's ok to have "empty space in my head." Trying not to end up frail and feeble when I'm older.

And, yes, to prove something. But not to anyone else - to myself.

Not to be repetitive, but there will always be someone better, smarter, faster, stronger, prettier than me. But I'm not worried about someone else - I want to be better, smarter, faster, stronger, prettier than me. The problem is, I'm still figuring out how good, smart, fast, strong, pretty, etc. I am. So when I have a bad day at work, at triathlon, with my health, with Sherpa, I immediately think the worst: it's because I wasn't {insert adjective here} enough. Because I don't know what I am - not really. And I always seem to think I can do more, when I don't really even know the answer to the question "more than WHAT?"

Take last night, for example. There were dishes in the sink, a 45-60 min swim to do, 40-45 min of strength, and Sherpa and I shacked up a bit ago, which shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, so we share a car to cut down on costs and emissions, so I have to bicycle home from my swims at the Y. The puppy is still learning not to pee in his crate, so the smell is DEEEELISHEEUS, I have about 8 loads of laundry hanging around, and my washer is STILL not fixed. I needed a new lock for my bicycle, since the old one is at Wubzy's, so I also had to tackle that. Oh, and there's this little thing called eating, which one must do post-workout and which I have, I'll admit, simply skipped in the past because preparing, consuming and cleaning up the meal took too much damn time. (By the way, I have to be in bed before 10pm to make a 6:30 am wakeup call for puppy pooping and work - let alone a 5am wakeup call for working out, puppy pooping and work.) To top it all off, Kona peed on the bed at 2am.

That left me with about, oh, 20 minutes to do 8 loads of laundry by hand, wash 2 sinks full of dishes plus empty and fill the dishwasher, change the sheets and plan tomorrow's workout and clothing, and get in bed and wind down enough to go to sleep.

And you know how I felt? I felt ashamed of myself.

For what, you ask? For a)not swimming better b)not riding home faster c)not doing more than 1 set of the strength exercises, d)not eating a hot meal, e)not washing the dishes, f)not bathing the puppy, g)not doing any laundry, h)not being able to wake up for an A.M. workout, i)not getting the mail . . . . AND NOW I'm starting to add things that weren't even on the list to begin with!!!!!!!!! And it all sounds so INSANE when I write it out in black and white, but at the time it seemed perfectly logical.

Ya dig?

If I were to do my first Ironman right now, I wouldn't have the time to train for it properly, but even if I DID one, and I DID make the cutoff (that is to say, I finished in under 16hrs), I would still feel like why couldn't I do it in 14? Or 12? What the hell is wrong with my slow ass??!? Not HOLY CRAP I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINISHED or I'M SO LUCKY TO HAVE DONE THAT CONSIDERING I DIDN'T HAVE THE TIME TO TRAIN PROPERLY. And THAT is one of the big reasons I'm not doing an Ironman this year, maybe not next year, and maybe not ever. Because, until I get a handle on this constant need I have for MORE (and I can't even do that until I know what I already HAVE), even an Ironman won't be enough. Sure, I could do it, and then be bummed about the time, or be excited about the time, but I'll think something ridiculous like yeah, 15:09, that's a good enough time that next year I should try for Kona.

And God forbid I don't finish. I mean, for heaven's sake, it's only a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile ride and a marathon. Back to back. On the same day.


So, in the mean time, I have to keep simplifying further and further. The only way I'll ever know what's underneath is by removing all the "stuff" on top.

Just Call Me Murphy, Part 2. (2 posts in a day, I know . . .)

Side note: eating more has REALLY helped my medical issues. I'd been shorting myself around 500 calories a DAY - and not on purpose, because I've always leaned towards the binging side, not the starving side. I call this effect being "brainwashed by Weight Watchers." No, I'm not going for a lawsuit - it's just that so many conventional "diet" programs have women convinced that we only need 1200-1500 calories a day plus exercise if we want to lose weight, or 1500-1800 if we're REALLY ACTIVE. And I bought it. As smart as I can be, I BOUGHT IT!! The concept of injecting another 300-1000 calories a day to my diet made me absolutely stymied. As many times as I read Nancy Clark's book about eating for marathoners, I just couldn't understand how I could NEED more than 2000 calories a day and still get back to my "normal" size. But my body was clinging to everything I had because it was CONVINCED I was STARVING. Now I feel a lot more awake and alert and I've dropped 5 pounds. I still have a long way to go, but I'll take what I can get.

ANYWAY.

I have a lot going on behind the scenes laetely - I just haven't felt like writing about it. I can't come up with the energy and work is pretty restrictive for personal stuff. I've been lurking on a lot of people's blogs and not really posting. (TriTurl, Tea, IM Able, CPB, Todd, Duane and so many more . . . I'm waiting with baited breath to hear your wedding news, Ironman news, food news, girlfriend news - you all know what I mean.) I've been shuffling things mentally, physically and financially. My personal life is picking up in many ways: I was finally able to sever some stifling connections and mend some others, but that brought me some new challenges as well.
And I've figured out some big things that helped me seriously manage my lifestyle with my responsibilities. For example, I only have 6 classes left if I dump my two minors, 8 if I don't (but, either way, I made myself a promise to graduate next year and start grad school the following year). But, most of all, I've learned what IM Able calls "Murphy's Law of Blogging." That is, "if you blog about it, it will change."

Well, a lot of reallllllly huge things have changed in my life and training life, and I feel like making a mention of them. Maybe this is because I just saw a friend damage his career, partly because he falsified crucial information. It wasn't HUGE info, just enough to create a situation that made key players wonder which other information he might be falsifying. The truth is, without divulging what I'm not supposed to know about the sitch, I don't even think he knew it was falsifying. And there's the other scary thing about blogging (aside from being unable to control readers' reactions/opinions.) When we blog, we blog about the moment. How we're feeling and thinking that second. If we grow as human beings, in any way shape or form, things change. Some times these are huge things; some times they are small. So, you may blog about something one day/year, and the next second, it may be completely different.

Take Sherpa, for example. About a month ago, I was in complete denial about our relationship (which I only called a 'ship). I wouldn't even tell my friends about it for fear of what they'd say. A few conversations with my mom and some really good friends made me realize I was being a little on the shallow - and a lot on the wussy - side. I sacked up and decided to just let it be what it was. Nothing more, nothing less. A big lesson for me in my little all-or-nothing, black-and-white brain: that is, to be what I am - nothing more, nothing less - does not mean I cannot be or do not want to be more. It just means I know what I am and what I am not. (God, do I need yoga. I've had to cut my instructor-led classes to afford other triathlon expenses and it's a BUMMER.)

In any case, it made me think of some statements I've made over the last year and how much my opinion has changed. In no particular order, here they are:

• I'm not racing Athena any more because I'm going to be too light anyway - and I want to be fast because I'm fast, not because I'm fat.

When I got into nationals, I realized that, when you're as slow as I am, any win is a win.

• I'm not going coached again until I go Iron.

I am just not wise enough (yet) to completely do without coaching, and my coach *has* to be a local coach and/or I have to train with a group part-time. This is financial and emotional, but it is what it is.

• I'm going Iron by 2010 and getting my PhD by 2013.

These two are still up for debate. The truth is, when you have to start thinking more of yourself and of life's bare essentials (and triathlon and divorce BOTH make you do a LOT of that), you start to realize that some - not all, but SOME - big, lofty goals are a luxury. Doesn't make them impossible . . . just improbable. Both of those goals are still dear to my heart - but I don't consider them priorities or distinct possibilities right now.

Settling down isn't always settling. Doing less doesn't always mean you ARE less. Some people have been trying to tell me this for months (or years). But it's slowwwly starting to make its way through my thick skull.

One bite at a time, baby. One bite at a time.

I am an athlete. . . .

Stop thinkin' you don't belong here.

You are where you are 'cause you hardly move.

The music is not gonna stop, take your eyes off the chair

Cause there are others who are under the same impression as you

How many seats can the rock bottom accomodate?

One too many people who share nothing but views

Misery is willing to keep company with those who don't ever walk a mile in their own shoes

-Sage Francis, Stuck

If you can't relate to the lyrics of this song, let me break it down for you the way I do, in two parts: the first is about belonging. It ties nicely into the second part, but before we get there, think about this: in almost every race I enter, I feel like a fraud. Like an imposter. I don't belong here. I'm not fast or experienced and I'm probably likely to come in Dead Last if I'm not careful. But this is the case with many age group athletes. A lot of us feel we're not as worthy of racing as our faster, leaner colleagues - or as the elites and pros. Like we're not real athletes because we aren't out breaking records and cashing checks.

Which leads me to the second part, which is all about accountability. Self-accountability. This is not to be confused with self-pity, nor is it to say that part of being fast and lean isn't genetic or financial. I'm sure all of us could be speedier with better genetic structure and fancier equipment. But the truth is, we all belong where we put ourselves, especially when we're "hardly moving," or not capitalizing on the strengths we DO have. Accountability is not woe is me. Accountability is about being true to yourself, even when it hurts. (Go visit that link for a coach's take on keepin' it real - she elucidates those thoughts a lot better than I do.)

Remember my saying "there are no victims, only volunteers"? Well, that's what I hear when Sage Francis says 'misery is willing to keep company with those who don't ever walk a mile in their own shoes.' A constant self-assessment (standing back and examining ME as if I were NOT me) has always been a significant part of my attempt(s) to better myself. Basically, if you're not where you want to be, and you carefully examine how you got there, you'll uncover that you were at the helm of the ship the entire time, Captain. You may not have chosen the port, but you sure as hell laid the course that brought you there.

Over the past year, I've met a few other remarkable athletes who suffered from similar health problems to mine, and I can't tell you how refreshing and inspiring it was. One of them was at the Marine Corps Half last winter, which we ran in rain and mud the whole way. When he discovered I had health issues, he completely agreed with me that training keeps him feeling "normal," and he confessed that he was severely diabetic and ran to help lose weight and control it. He was a twig,so he must have lost plenty, and he was fast, so he smoked he around mile 6. Last weekend, it was Matt at Fort De Soto, who has the opposite problems I do: FAST heart beat, diabetes and HIGH blood pressure. He had also lost weight and gained perspective through his training.

The important part of this whole dissertation is cleverly hidden in the very first sentence: "a few other remarkable athletes." What's so special about that sentence? Well, for one, despite the odds against them, these people were, indeed - ARE, indeed - athletes. And by calling them "other" athletes, I'm admitting what The Dude and many others have been trying to get me to admit for the past two years.

I do belong here. I am an athlete.

My very first blog on the Hal Higdon forums was called "Against All Odds." My Story here on blogspot was also called "Against All Odds." And now I have to walk a mile in my own shoes. I have to keep it real. I have to put down the Martyr Flag. It doesn't make me any more or less courageous that I triumph over tragedy. It doesn't make me any more or less motivated, engaged, energetic or important. It just makes me human.

I am an athlete.

Strip away all the mental and emotional turmoil. Remove all the medicines and struggles. Take away the degrees, honors and awards. And what you have is exactly what you have: an age-group athlete trying to enjoy a few races. Not despite anything. Not against any odds. Just because it makes me feel good and I like to do it.

Maybe I'm not winning awards and money. Maybe I'm not able to do everything the other athletes do because of my physical limiters. But I'm still doing it, so thinking I don't belong is going to get me where it's always gotten me - not belonging. Walk a mile in your own shoes, Meggan Ann: you'll find out pretty fast that you're an athlete.

I forget who said it first, but what you think becomes what you say, what you say becomes what you do, and what you do becomes what you are.

I am an athlete.

And a pretty damn happy one, judging from these pictures.

The futile search for perfection continues.

Comedy of errors or disaster? You decide.

By all measures, last night should have been the perfect training night. I left work right at 5; traffic was great and I was home before 6. (My temporary commute of 20+ miles each way is killing me, but I'm making the most of it, flip-flopping between packing every night so I can hit the Y here and going straight home for my outdoor rides.) I had decided to ride in my neighorhood and lift weights at my complex's gym to keep my schedule streamlined and get to dinner and in bed before 10. There was still light out, but I had my clip-on flashing beacon for the later part of the ride. When I pulled into my driveway, I was pumped, ready to slap on my shorts and run, because everything inside my house was packed and ready to go.

Except my house keys.

After several panicked moments of digging through my purse, I realized that, after Tuesday night's workout, I had left them in my swim bag (my locker key is on the same key ring). I made a panicked call to my ex-husband (now roommate) to find out when he was going to be home to let me in. Not until much later, he told me. Like, 8 or 9 later. NOT GOOD. 9 or 10 is when Meggan needs to be in bed. Lack of sleep has seriously hindered my training in the past, and I really need to catch up on it, because I frequently find myself unable to sit up straight by Friday afternoon. What's my next option? I thought. Try to sneak in the garage?

Perfect!

Nope. My garage door opener was not working. Which meant I was dead in the water. That phone call and a quick run to CVS for a couple of Clif bars and some batteries set me back nearly an hour, destroying my chances of working out and eating before bedtime. (Bear in mind that we have an exterior-access keypad, but my ex-husband has the owner's manual and never bothered to look up how to re-set the code or find the manual for me so I could do it. Just like the fridge and freezer aren't working and he hasn't fixed them. Just like he didn't have the lock repaired on the front door. Just like the re-key didn't quite take on one of the doors and he hasn't had it fixed. Just like he hadn't fixed both garage door openers when all they needed was batteries.) Anyway. I basically puttered around until he came home, then sent a panicked e-mail to The Elf about my schedule.

I guess I'm so used to being self-educated, trained and coached that I keep overthinking everything. Maybe this goes along with the compulsive tendencies that manifest themselves in my disordered eating, but I worry about everything, and training is no exception. In fact, training is an even greater concern some times. Perhaps the heightened sensitivity is in direct proportion to the relevance I've placed on this goal (the completion of my first 70.3, something I've never even dreamed possible, but finally see within my grasp, thanks to my coach and the IronDawn and the last few years of training and the support of you guys). There are really two parts to my biggest training-related fears: the things I can control, and the things I can't. I know it is irrational to fear things I can't control, but I do. My GREATEST fear, every day, is what happens if I can't make my workout(s) today?!!! This inevitably leads to Oh my God! I will have to miss FL HIM!!!

This is illogical. First of all, 2008 FL HIM is not the last 70.3 I will ever enter. I missed my first marathon (Mercedes, Birmingham, mountains, February) and ended up training better and being more prepared for Philly later in the year (flatter, cooler, November, more things to do.) And, it seems like common sense that, when my schedule is tight, doing anything on my training schedule is better than doing nothing, but I didn't realize that completely until The Elf reminded me at the beginning of the season. Then I felt like . . . DUH . . . Meggan . . . you've always felt that way about working out. For example, every day I park in the farthest parking spot and take the stairs to/from my 2nd story office (no exceptions!) Second, I have lots of health problems, right now I have some drama, and I'm in between two sides of town commuting 50 miles a day or more. So there is a LOT I can't control. Worrying about it does nothing but stress me. And stress does nothing but destroy the quality of my training. (AND my life, but training is my favorite part of my life right now.)

As far as the things I can control? One thing I'm doing, starting today, is putting my gym locker key and my house key on different key rings, so if I ever leave my gym locker key in one of my workout bags my house keys are not stuck somewhere inside with it! I'm also carrying a "laundry" bag with me, so no matter where I am, I don't have to take my pre-packed swim and gym bags inside - I just take the dirty stuff to/from the house. Then the only thing I will have to "take" from home is my bike and fresh shorts/tops/pants, whatever.

The moral of the story? The search for perfection is futile. Continually striving for it will only set me up for dissapointment and/or failure. I can only reach for the best I can do. I can only give as much as I can give. Whatever isn't in my control - and even I'm not in my own control some times - is also beyond my knowledge. All I can do is deal with it as it comes and steer around it the best I can.

I am, after all, at the helm of this ship.