Are You Living It?

Things went much much better this week out at good old Mason Lake. Thankfully the weather gods shined on us again and other than a slight mist at the start, we were dry the entire race. My plan, sit in. That worked much better than last weeks attempt of being aggressive in the first two laps and then getting dropped like a rock. This time I made it all 60 miles - but botched the sprint. I suppose in my head I had only rehearsed the completion of the race with the pack - I hadn’t anticipated the sprint finish. Um… hello, Jen? You in there? Time to come out of hibernation and do what you love - SPRINT! The thing is, when I attempted to go my legs screamed in protest and next thing I know the ladies are galloping up the road and I roll in dead last. But not as dead as last week - which is a HUGE improvement.

After 39 hours of wheeling luggage and heavy ski bags through two planes, one city bus, one train and three countries, we finally arrived in Schruns Austria.  Under a cloud of rain in the valley we hoped for new snow up high.  The city of Schruns is like any mountain town in the world, small and filled with warm people. Within our first hour in the town an Austrian man named Clouse saw us lumbering up a hill with all of our gear, and offered us a ride to our guest house for the week. Something I though would never happen back in the states, a stranger offering a ride.  But this is Austria. 

Jay and I blasted out of town headed for the trails of Sand Canyon. With just a quick stop at one of our favorite bike shops, Kokopelli Bike and Board, for some trail intel, high tech gooey nutrition and to ogle over their enormous bike inventory, we were on our way. We arrived at the trail head and quickly plotted out a series of twist, turns and loops that would give us about a 12 mile run, which was about 8 miles too many given our current fitness levels.

I’ve put off writing this post for more than a week now on the theory that sometimes meaningful moments just don’t relay very well as stories.  There’s some social trigger in us that makes us want to blab about everything, but we have to stop ourselves and realize some things are best cherished in private.  Otherwise the risk is receiving the “I guess you had to be there” look from your audience, or worse, the averted glance and fake throat-clearing cough that means the person not only doesn’t know why you just told them what you did, but really, really wishes you hadn’t. 

It’s hard to accept defeat. Especially in something you feel passionate about. Our Western views place extreme emphasis on outcome and results - rather than celebrating the journey. As an athlete, this difference can rear its ugly head when ever an outcome doesn’t go your way, a time isn’t achieved or a race isn’t won. It’s important not dwell on it - but accept it, learn from it and move on. The fluctuations of performance are a reminder that life is a journey and we are all part of a process that ebbs, flows and cycles through.

     I traveled 18 hours virtually nonstop, across three states and one time zone, and as quickly as it started, it was over.  It was another moment spent on the big, expansive mountain that I was calling ‘the office’ for the day.  My number was called and it was my time to shine.  I dropped in off the top and everything was happening according to plan, my skiing was good.