The last few months I’ve been actively allowing myself to get lost in emotion. I wasn’t familiar with my various states. I was conditioned that my needs were irrelevant. My wants were irrelevant. Everything is for family and don’t I dare step out of line.
Each time that I even dreamed of speaking my peace, I was punished in various ways. Sometimes I wish the weapons were physical because then, only then, would I feel less crazy.
One of the best things about me, as a soul, is that I did not tend question things. I am constantly curious but I hardly challenged my intuition. I just knew that if something felt off then don’t do it. Simple. Of course, there were times that my ego got in the way and I challenged my intuition but those instances are far and few between.
The thing that I’m realising is that the feelings of fear and excitement are essentially the same. Slight modifications but essentially the same. Trusting that I’m on path is essential for forward movement.
I’m in Italy. I cannot help but be consumed with emotions from various times that I was in a new country. A new city. Language being a welcomed challenge. I couldn’t be clouded by empty words. I am forced to watch actions. Mannerisms. The way in which others conduct themselves and treat people, especially those that can offer them nothing. Integrity. Humanity.
It’s magical. I’m reminded that a majority of my life is trusting the journey. Trusting that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. Trusting that everything happens for a reason. Trusting that the Universe is conspiring to bring me so much joy that my heart wants to burst!
The memory that keeps coming to mind is a few years ago. I started telling people that I was going to do an Ironman triathlon. I was networking with people in the Communications space and during our coffee chats, Ironman just always seemed to come up. One of the meetings, a gentleman by the name of Ken offered to introduce me to his Ironman friend, Jacq. Jacq is Singaporean and typically graces the podium at races around the world. She’s a professional athlete. At least in my eyes, she’s a professional athlete. She’s pretty freaking awesome.
Ken introduced me to Jacq on Tuesday. On Wednesday, Jacq invited me for a 100-mile bike ride in Indonesia. I paid for the trip before the close of business and first thing Thursday, I started visiting bike shops around Singapore. I bought the bike on Friday, along with some basic biker equipment (helmet, lights, spare tube, bike shorts, bike shirt, and gloves). We headed to our group ride in Indonesia on Saturday morning. The ride was in honor of Rapha 100. Ladies only event. It was to encourage lady athletes. Amongst the group was some pretty serious athletes. A few people sporting Ironman bags from around the world, both 70.3 and 140.6. I didn’t realise but one only really references being an Ironman after crossing the finish line of a 140.6 race. The other races are half-ironman or shorter.
On the boat ride from Singapore to Indonesia, I upchucked all my food. It was not pretty. I started looking at the other girls. I started feeling as if I was in over my head. I was wearing sneakers, not cleats. I didn’t even know how to change a tire. I had all the equipment but I felt like a fraud. My heart knew I needed this ride, it was a stepping stone for MY Ironman race. It was practice. This ride was helping me build that muscle. The only objective was showing up and giving it my best effort.
And so I did.
I enjoyed the crap out of the day. It was tough but filled with laughter. There were 2 groups. I figured that I’d start with the faster group and hold on as long as possible. If anything it means that I could at least finish with the second group. I felt my chances were higher for success by going off with the fast girls. No guts, No glory.
I finished the ride. My legs hurt something awful the following day. I was stiff and it was a painful lesson on nutrition. Not food but fuel. Every.single.object that goes into my mouth needs to have a purpose. Prevent cramping, fill the energy tank, bring comfort in some way. Food is fuel. This lesson was tough but so important as it put me in a position to succeed in My Ironman race.
I’m not sure why this story is following me around but it’s a nice reminder of what I am capable of accomplishing. It’s also a wonderful reminder of controlling my emotions before they control me. Last but not least, it’s about proving to myself that I am not my emotions.
This upcoming race is the first in a series of 3 races. It’s to help me prove to myself that I’m still capable of accomplishing some pretty gnarly things. Especially when I’m doing it for me.
I realised that I had controlled my emotions to a point that I was being greeted by the same guys. They were all comparable versions of my biological father. So I needed to sit with my emotions and process the pain. I needed to confront my demons and biggest [emotional] fears. I needed to accept and let go of the idea that he will change and love me like a daughter. I needed to accept this truth so I stopped looking for it in the men I dated. I needed to stop sabotaging my happiness.
So after MONTHS of extracting all sorts of emotions that were buried in the depths of my heart and soul, I’m ready to rock and roll. I’m ready to prove to myself that I still have it. I’m ready to go out and just enjoy the day.
Everything is magical.
I’m 34 years young. I’m sitting on a balcony in the middle of Italy. Rocky is next to me leaned up against the wall. I’m purging yet another diamond that doesn’t completely make sense today but I know it will come full circle in the next few weeks. My purges always do.
I’m about to take a starting line for me. I’m about to race for me. I’m about to crush a goal for me. It’s my first goal for me, only me and not a single other soul. The feelings rushing through my body are familiar. It’s the desire to upchuck everything in my stomach.
It’s a feeling that surfaces just before the magic is about to happen.
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