Where did you go, Mojo?

So, in the past year, Facebook has launched this “On this day” notification with posts of things that happened on that day 1 year ago, or two years ago…pretty much to the year you first opened a Facebook account.  It’s kind of cool. Some fun memories and pictures pop up and make me smile. It’s funny to see what Facebook posts first looked like. In 2008 on June 25th, I posted, “is wondering where to run today.” Hmmmm, ok, that’s nice, I guess.

The past month, the memories have not been so great.

I mean, not anything depressing…quite the opposite. Yesterday this picture popped in my memories:

dr.jpg

It was from the Death Ride Training Camp I did in 2012–it was a preview of the Death Ride course that I would be doing the following month.I arrived Friday night at the campground in  Markleeville and was stoked to see Dennis there. He had a sabbatical from work and used his time for a solo motorcycle trip to Alaska and back. He was gone three weeks–which was brutal for me, but probably for the best as I was in full on Death Ride Training Panic Mode. The timing worked out well that he was able to meet at the campground on his ride home.

The next morning Dennis headed home, and the adventures began. The camp was good—but man was the riding difficult. In two days we covered a little over 100 miles and 12k feet of climbing. I remember riding up Monitor Pass on the second day and feeling like my brain broke as I made my way down the other side of the pass. Monitor pass is 8,300 feet above sea level and going down you just see everything. It didn’t seem right to be so high up on a bicycle. So much to take in. I had to stop a couple times because my nerves were frazzled from the downhill. And then once you hit the bottom, it’s not over. You have to go back UP the mountain. It was one of the most challenging –mentally and physically–things I have ever done. I probably cried three times that weekend. (ok, an exaggeration, but at one point there were tears

But I did it. Mainly because I was ready for it. My friends Nancy and LaRee and I put our everything into training for Death Ride. Every Wednesday morning we would head out for a bike ride at 5:30 am (yeah, we were idiots)  to climb Montebello road. We road Mt. Hamilton and Mt. Diablo. My friend Lisa and I did the Sequoia 100 miler and climbed Tunitas Creek for the first time. We ate hills for breakfast. We were climbing fools.

We were kind of awesome.

And today? Me? Yeah, not so much.

In truth, I haven’t really done anything since the Vegas half marathon last November. I have participated in 2 races this year (Hot Chocolate 9 miler and a 5k in Santa Cruz) and walked both of those. I stopped going to my workout group. I have ridden on my bike trainer, but not outside. I have swam in our pool a bunch, but haven’t swam more than 1,700 yards. I am eating like I am training for a half ironman, though not burning the calories that would go with that training. I haven’t posted on this blog in over 5 months.

Let’s face it.

mojo

My mojo is gone. I am officially not a runner. Not a cyclist. Not a swimmer. Today, at least.

Where did my mojo go?

The past few months have been super frustrating as I try to grapple with where my motivation went. I used to love to obsess over races and training plans. But every time I try to go on a run, it feels like a struggle. Of course, my fitness went away like THAT so every run feels like an elephant is sitting on my lungs and kicking me in the shins. So, the past 5 months have been a big mopey pity party, where I lament on where I am now. And now I have stupid Facebook flooding my feed with all the awesome things I used to do when I was in training beast mode.

And of course, the ironic part is  back when I was in training beast mode I always felt inadequate and like a fraud. There were way stronger triathletes out there attacking races and I would never measure up.

Ugh…sometimes things would be so much easier if we didn’t invite our brains to the party.

So, rather than continuing this downward spiral of beating myself up about not being in shape and looking to outside factors to blame for the demise of my triathloning life (which, let’s face it, is more than a tad self-indulgent given the crazy state of the world today), it’s time to snap out of it.

Which starts with writing this post. When my head is in the game, I have looked to my blog as a way to reflect on all the things that happened. And those posts were more frequent than once every 5 months.

On July 31st I am doing Oakland triathlon. It’s a sprint distance—a distance I have raced 12 times. And yet, here I am, scratching my head trying to figure out how to get to that finish line. But, I do have 5 weeks to figure this thing out.

Let’s go.

 

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