Look forward to the journey, not the finish line

I was an athlete, sometimes a decent one. Cycling has been my latest love affair in a long string of sports I’ve competed and participated in. Long rides of four hours or more with as much climbing as possible are especially dear to me. I love riding with a good friend or my cycling group but I have no problem sticking it out alone either. To people, who have been wondering about my sanity, I’ve told that riding alone is like meditation, a chance to be alone, sort out my feelings and emotions, and push my limits. For someone who’s not an athlete it might be hard to comprehend why anyone would choose to do something so exhausting voluntarily and without getting paid. But endorphin high is a real thing, and very addictive.

Unfortunately, I recognized very quickly that Sydney’s Northern suburbs didn’t live up to my high hopes of great riding down under. The biggest difference is the narrowness of the roads. You’d be lucky to find some space beyond the solid white line, and if there was any it was usually littered with branches and all kinds of debris making it more of a hazard than a safe place to ride. And unless I created a sudden urge to be at the morgue, riding on the lane amongst the cars did’t appeal much either. I knew Sydney was a mega-city but for the life of me I couldn’t seem to find a suburb that didn’t feel like I was forced to be part of Formula 1 Grand Prix on any given day! It was hard for me to understand why things were this way. How come otherwise amicable Aussies once behind the wheel of a car turned into murderous predators? There is a reason why most cyclist start their rides at five in the morning, and it has nothing to do with avoiding the heat. For me getting up at the crack of the dawn wasn’t an option. I simply didn’t see the point of going from endangering my life by riding with the cars to riding while sleep-deprived. I would just end up in the ditch anyway.

It was time to find another love affair in the realm of exercise. Or maybe just accept the fact that being a competitive athlete wasn’t in my cards right now. It has been frustratingly difficult to let go of the idea of what I used to be. Without my training, I felt I was persona non grata. I felt I had no purpose. But when the circumstances change, you have to be able to re-caliber your goals. Sometimes life is a struggle enough on itself that just getting a decent workout on a daily basis is a huge accomplishment. So what if I’m not racing or training 2-3 hours a day? The way my body was reacting, it was telling me it needed a break. I a very middle-aged woman, and had been going pretty much full bore for the better part of my adult life. I realized I had an unprecedented opportunity to let myself take a breather and smell the roses. Not easy for someone like me, but maybe I could learn?

I didn’t miss the racing so much as being part of the community of athletes, and most profoundly, the amazing feeling when you’re in top shape, the feeling of being indestructible. I had always been a competitive athlete and a high achiever. It is who I am. I’m also very good at setting goals, sports related or others. I’ve always believed that if you work hard enough you can achieve anything. It’s all about the attitude. Talent is overrated, and without well-defined goals you never develop into your full potential. You’re just a sheep following others whether you like the destination or not. It’s hard to be contented when you don’t know why you’re doing what you’re doing, or why you’re a waking up in the morning. Being aimless is pernicious. As humans we need a purpose.

My purpose became to accept that I don’t have to achieve at the highest level all the time. After some brutal soul-searching, I realized that some of my motivation, especially in sports, had come not from within me but from outside. Athletes are inherently competitive by nature. We hate losing, we strive to excel. Pressure to perform becomes part of our lives, and usually it is a good thing. Tennis legend Billie Jean Kings said “Pressure is a privilege”. It means you’re good enough to be a contender. People expect you to make a mark. But pressure should always come from inside, not outside, because you will never be able to fulfill all the extrinsic expectations, and your identity is very quickly defined by the one role you are playing. It is a slippery slope. What happens when you fail? When one day you realize you’re not as good as you used to be? Don’t get me wrong, even I am not a machine enough to keep pushing myself for the better part of my life just to please my friends or collect trophies. That would be too joyless. For me sports is first and foremost a vehicle to express myself and test my limits. And as in all aspects of my life, I’m all about going for it. When I take an interest in something, I will give it everything I’ve got because I’m old enough to have learned that “there is no passion to be found playing small” (Nelson Mandela), and that you have to want it like there’s no tomorrow, because there might not be. But at the same time you have to remember that what ever happens, whether you win or lose, life goes on and at the end of the day nobody gives a damn.