There comes a moment for me in intense training where everything falls utterly silent except the rhythmic sound of my own breath and that of the rower or bike if I'm on one. It's not a fading out, but a fading in. It always comes after a series of emotional responses that go usually go like this - whining & bitching, anger, feelings of defeat & exhaustion, and finally what I would consider surrender. In words it sounds something like this - "I don't want too", "fuck this & fuck you", "I can't," and, finally, "I'm okay."
I have been asked over the years, more than once, why I train and what exactly I was training for. My response has always been that I was training for life. I train for the everyday ups and downs, hard days and boring days. I was training my mind and emotions that drove this body to walk through this life. I wanted to be stronger, balanced, and free. I still do, and that is why I still train. AND to help the UPS guy, that literally just knocked on my door, to deliver a box that weighed 150lbs in our garage.
Yesterday, I drove to work feeling exhausted and defeated. On a scale of 0-10, 0 being no energy, I was at a 0.5, and I had been there for at-least 3 days. I wanted to cry all morning, and talked myself out of calling-in at-least a dozen times. My body hurt, I was emotional, and I had just told my trainer to wish my luck in not cussing anyone out today. I didn't want to be there - in that mental space. It wasn't helpful; it never is. I thought of the station. I thought of cross-fit and all those moments in the gym where I had felt these exact feelings and manage to pull it off. I managed to survive without crumbling like a small child and create a mess that created feelings of guilt and shame. I remembered that feeling of surrender and completion, where the exhaustion turned into relief and ecstasy. I saw the path I had used so many times before to dig deep. What would have been a torturous day, turned out to be a normal day in the semi-controlled chaos that is the emergency department. I was tired, no doubt, but I pulled it together and pulled through. And I didn't cuss anybody out.
Training is spiritual - if it's done right. It changes you, forever. I have not trained regularly at the station since probably 2012, but the change that transpired there, and other places since, continues to travel with me. It feels like yesterday I laid on those black mat floors in sweat and tears, working in silence while someone watched without sympathy or assistance. The work is different now. Those black mat floors are in my own basement, the white board on the wall is mine, and there is no one standing over me. It feels a bit strange but necessary - a time and opportunity for integrity when the last decade has been full of necessary aides.
The lifting workout prescribed and written has been sitting on my phone for 11 days now. Seven should be the max. I have lengthened the safety string, but not cut it. Let me get down there and get this done.
With Grace & Gratitude...
