Decisions, decisions...

Hi, it's me...back from the hole I closed over myself after I crawled under my rock. It's been a time, let's try to keep things positive and mostly drama-free and leave it at that.

Oh, who am I kidding?!? The concept of drama-free does not belong in any sentence where my name comes up. I strive for a mostly rational existence with the occasional wild ride that defies logic and explanation. Since most of these wild rides also involve a choice on my part there is probably a serious lack of common sense at play too.

You might remember that my last post was written before I was to tackle a Spartan Sprint. Well, tackling took place, sadly I was the one being tackled. A wise mentor assured me that we all have events like that and moving on and trusting my heart was the best option. I'd love so much to tell you I took his advice. I'd really love to, but that would make me a liar.

Before the race started I had clues this was not going to be a stellar performance for me. I was nauseated by the idea of what I was about to do, my back was sore from a long car ride and most importantly in my heart of hearts I didn't feel prepared. Not that I didn't have the training, I had the training, what was lacking was the self-confidence. No surprise there, I lack confidence in myself in many situations. I do my best, I give my all and I worry it is nowhere close to enough.

So I went over the start wall and the back spasms started. Not drop me to my knees debilitating, but painful. I took deep breaths, tried to quell the nausea and focused on the emcee. He was motivating, but there wasn't a lot of me to motivate. I was scared, outclassed and hurting. The race started and so did I with the best team I could have ever hoped for. Carole, Cheryl and Gretchen checked in on me, stopped to wait for me and told me I could do it.

By the time we were a quarter of the way up the mountain I knew I couldn't do it, the pain wouldn't quit, I was feeling panicky and because of that I was having a hard time getting a full breath. Why the panic? I was going to fail and I don't like to fail...it rattles the cage of the perfectionist taking up space in my head.

It was not a stellar performance, in fact, to be blunt and rude: it stunk. I wound up lost on the Beast course, sobbing like a two-year old at a water station and getting a medal I didn't earn and can't stand to see.

It's taken me until now to have any desire to write this post. I took the experience harder than I should have and I know that. I went as far as emailing Spartan HQ asking for an address so I could mail back the medal. The response was not what I hoped for. The customer service rep who responded did not give me the address I wanted. Here's an excerpt from the email:

"We encourage you to use the medal as motivation to compete in another race, so that when you race again and finish, this medal will symbolize your drive and determination to earn a medal on your terms."

My first reaction when I read that was "Is she NUTS? Another Spartan?! I'm not a Spartan: I'm a Mudder: No more Spartan races, EVER." Now I've had time to think, process and act like an adult and I know there is a good chance I will be competing in another Spartan race. The next one will be on my terms for myself. Quite selfish I know, but I can't ask other people to do it with me when I'm not sure I will do any better the next time.

You see, I came to another decision after the Spartan. Things need to change. I am pushing my body hard, not paying attention to signs that could signal a need to slow down, because I don't want to screw this up and be the person I was before. I have talked to my fitness professional and he assures me we can build my mobility and strengthen my core. He also assured me my strength won't suffer for this work and improving my mobility can only help. I say: bring it on! So dead lifts, tire flips, rope climbs, box jumps and the prowler might be missing from my personal training for the time being. I will get back to them though and I will miss them.

I'd like to tell you I learned my lesson from the Spartan, I know how to fix it and I've moved on. I've moved past the point where I look at the medal and want to throw it into the trash, but unlike the Mudder headbands it hangs near it doesn't make me smile. It makes me a little sad honestly: I didn't accomplish what I thought I would. Not that I did nothing, I did huge things: I trusted two people I didn't know to help me straight down the mountain. I trusted the Spartan staff member who told me how I was going to finish the race. I did not punch the volunteer who followed me from the finish line and kept telling me to take my finisher medal, she wasn't going to take no for an answer so I finally took it and stuffed it in my bag. I cheered for other people as they finished and cheered for the amazing team I started off with and the other friends who finished. I felt like a loser, but I put on my best mask, smiled as much as I could, pulled up my big girl panties and did my best to make other people feel good.

Now I'm going to take some time to make myself feel good. I've made a lot of decisions over the course of the last seven months: believing promises that might not make sense on the surface. Having faith to trust that things will turn out just as they are supposed to in my journey. Having the faith to keep moving forward when it would be easier to give up and give in. Believing there is a plan and a purpose when it's dark and I have lost the map.

I'm not superwoman, I never was. I'm all too human and if I look strong on the surface, it's because I'm stubborn. Physically I am strong, it's time to work on the emotional/mental side of the equation.

As always, thanks for reading!