Wednesday, January 19, 2022

Journey Back to Kona Day 127: Feeling Overwhelmed and Reminiscing about St. George 2012

We're having trouble with the ventilation in our house, or so we think.  It's also allergy season, with pollen levels higher than usual.  We recently added insulation to our attic as well as a radiant barrier, and we're quickly trying to become atmospheric scientists, trying to learn about airflow. Oh yes, we're now 22 1/2 months into a pandemic that has us living in a somewhat dystopian world. Does this add up to stress? I'd say that it does.  How do I handle this stress? It really depends on the day, but I'll admit that I didn't handle it yesterday, it handled me. In times like this I tend to find my way back to Ironman St. George in 2012.

I remember how fast I was swimming initially.  Instead of the lead group of swimmers rapidly pulling away from me, it seemed like I was keeping them within my reach, until the first left turn. I remember the chop starting at that point, but for some reason it didn't really connect. Until I got to the next turn, which brought us back directly in the face of what had been a strong tailwind on the way out. I remember it like it was yesterday.

I couldn't see any other athletes. I was alone. The waves, acting more like a washing machine going up and down, were all around me. I swallowed some water, never a good feeling. I switched briefly to treading water, and my left calf cramped up. I will always remember that moment. For the briefest of moments, I was worried about my own safety. I'd previously had issues with anxiety attacks in the water, that I had ultimately correlated to having gotten kicked in the face during a triathlon. I'd fought through this and hadn't had any problems. This was not the time for this to resurface. In fact, it wasn't the time to worry about myself. And so, I worried about others.

It's ironic to think, as I look back on that day, that the focus of my thoughts for the remainder of the swim was on the safety of others.  With every stroke, I thought to myself, "I hope that no one dies today." In fact, my focus was on taking one stroke at a time.  I recalled my coach's guidance that doing an ironman was all about being in the moment.  At that point, I took that concept to heart.  For months afterward, despite a variety of life stresses that included moving and getting involved in a stressful new business that I literally had no clue about, I took that guidance to heart in my life.  But, after awhile, life filtered back in and I lost that sense of equanimity. And so, here I am today, feeling overwhelmed.  

When I feel this way, I try to recall that day in the water at St. George. I try to focus myself on that feeling in the water and the concept of just putting one arm in front of the other. In many ways, the past two years hasn't been totally different.  My focus has been on worrying about others, and on trying to do whatever I can to help.  Obviously, that day in St. George, the only person I could actually help was myself. Maybe that's part of the message today.  I need to take care of myself.

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