Category: Triathlon

On a daily basis I’m running a race.

A race in my mind between what’s real and what’s not.

Each day is a struggle to surface from the bottom of the proverbial pool.

The finish line is elusive and often I feel I’m just running in place, but this spring I finally felt that I’d reached my goal.

My finish line wasn’t at the end of a racecourse it was on a stage.

In May, I opted to produce This is My Brave, a theatre production that compiles stories from locals who have been touched by mental illness.

My race with mental illness has lasted a lifetime beginning with myself, family members, my dad and most-likely my eldest son.

The endurance it takes to compete in triathlons is nothing compared to the determination it takes to wake up every morning and forge forward while inside you are suffering.

Triathlete and movie star Robin Williams knew that struggle. It’s the one-year anniversary of his death, and while many remember him as Patch Adams or Mrs. Doubtfire.

I also remember him as a triathlete – encouraging others and supporting the CAF.

Little did we know he was running a race in his head too.

When I made the decision not to race this year, and instead do the show. I never thought it would give me the same rush of accomplishment that running,, swimming and biking could.

This is My Brave quickly became my “triathlon”. Bricks were replaced by long rehearsals, and advocacy became my new PR.

 

 

My training partners were my “people”. They were mothers, fathers, daughters, sons and friends – each one running alongside me trying to beat the beast of mental illness.

The bravery it took to walk on that stage and share their stories with complete strangers rivaled any I’ve experienced during race day.

I wanted {and still want} the world to hear our stories. They are important to everyone – economically, socially and spiritually. There is not one person who hasn’t be affected by mental illness as observed when at the end of the show I asked the audience to stand if they or someone they knew were affected by mental illness.

The whole theatre stood.

It was amazing and heart wrenching all at the same time.

 

 

If so many people were affected and running this race, why were we not running it together? Why do people with mental illness feel ashamed and alone?

We need to change the way people think about mental illness, erase the stigma for good and run this race together.

**

Our show was recorded and can be viewed here. Make sure to grab some Kleenex first.

If you or a family member are struggling with mental illness, please feel free contact me – you do not have to run this race alone.

I never liked running.

 

Sure I compete in triathlons, but running was not my thing. Until I hired my coach. Then I finally found a new love of hitting the pavement. Now I crave it like a preschooler craves candy; I just can’t get enough.

 

The feeling of my heart thumping in my chest, sweat dripping from my brow, and my feet pounding the pavement…it’s a symphony to the senses. On the treadmill I was safe and cozy, but running outside was a different story.

 

When you run outside there are so many things to consider and one of them is safety, especially as a woman. I hate the fact that because I am a woman I have to worry about running in the dark, running after dark, running on a secluded trail, and all sorts of other stuff.

 

However, I’m not going to let this worry keep me from running. It just means I’m going to run smarter.

 

Here are a few of my tips on making the most of your run and still staying safe.

 

Read more here

Once upon a time my dad had a sailboat named GRACE. From the moment he started looking at boats, he knew that would be her name. It was almost as if he had to find the right boat to fit the name.

 

Ironically, none of our other modes of transportation had a name. Not our car, motorcycle or even bicycle, but the boat did {as boats commonly do}.

 

I began to wonder WHY we name our modes of transport.

 

From the moment I started following the gazillion triathlon groups on Facebook, I realized that naming your bike was a thing. When I asked why, someone suggested because we {triathlon people} are just crazy. Which is partially true, because who in their right mind would pay to be tortured by swimming, biking and running all at one time.

 

However, I soon realized there’s more to it than that.

 

This year on a whim I stopped by my local bike shop over my lunch hour and bought my first road bike. She stood proud and tall, the light shimmered on her turquoise frame. Highlights of dark purple and white highlighted her sleek frame.

 

 

I was nervous.

 

Her tires were skinny and her seat seemed even more so.

 

I worried about falling.

 

I worried about shifting.

 

I worried about everything.

 

I had only two weeks to get to know her – to discover her idiosyncrasies, to see what made her tick, and to find our rhythm.

 

Our first few rides were full of gear crunches and tire spins, but eventually we worked together.

 

On race day she glided up the hills and sped through the curves. Safely carrying me 15 miles across the finish line.

 

It was at that moment I knew we were meant to be, and she needed a name.

 

I of course polled Facebook and asked friends and family for suggestions. The triathletes eagerly offered suggestions while the non-triathletes questioned the need for a name.

 

Then I realized the WHY.

 

When you go into battle {aka triathlon} on your trusty steed {aka your bike} you feel a kinship with this hunk of metal. A relationship in trust is built through hours of training and racing and hauling your kids to the Farmer’s Market. She becomes part of the family, carrying you over roads, through valleys and helps you climb mountains you never thought you could possibly climb.

 

When she does well you compliment her and when she pisses you off you want her to know it, and yelling “well done bike.” or “you suck bike” really doesn’t have the same ring to it.

 

So she MUST be named.

 

Someone offered up this solution.

 

 

Which would make her name “King Speedy Genius”

 

Ummm…nope.

 

I thought about Lexi since her style name is Lexa, but all I could think of was Sexy Lexi and I don’t want my bike to be a stripper.

 

Then it came to me … the perfect name.

 

TORQUE
{a measure of how much a force acting on an object causes that object to rotate.}

 

Like a bike pedal or tire, rotating in speed during a race. BOOM!

 

Plus she’s turquoise.

 

So, there you have it, the story of Torque.

 

Now let’s ride.

 

Does your bike have a name?