Skip to main content

Lost.

Today, I went to a new dentist and my hygienist and I struck up a conversation when I noticed her Ironman and Bike MS medals in the office. She's a pretty cool woman: a smoker for over 30 years who turned to triathlon and now competes all over the country. When she said she's doing Marine Corps Marathon later this month, my eyes lit up while my mouth was full of whatever torturous instrument was in it.

I later told her how much I loved that race and that I went on to do this ride with Hank a couple of months ago. She was sweet, said kind words about the cool things I'm doing and asked, "What's next?".

Initially, after my ride with Hank, I had no desire for a "what's next". I wanted time to think and process. I say that every time (as you endurance athletes understand), but every other time I've said it, I've had an idea of what the following year will bring.

This year, I don't. And I feel so LOST.

Leaving the cycling industry and the non-profit work I was doing within a couple of months of each other in 2018 left a big hole in my heart. I had already begun to plan 2019's adventures, so I got through the majority of this year on that full-steam-ahead approach.

It's mid-October and there is nothing on the books. And for the first time in years, I don't feel I have the resources to figure out "what's next".

I feel like something bigger is out there. That this passion for being a part of the assisted athlete world and DOING in it will be something great. However, I don't know what that is yet and it's making me restless. Goals are much easier to work toward when you have an idea in your head: something to work towards.

I'm 2.5 months since my adventure with Hank and now that life has settled a bit, the post-event blues have set in. This lost feeling is looming over my head and I'm having a hard time figuring out what my next steps are.

I hope that this post-event funk I'm in will yield what it usually does: that icky feeling of a few days of weird emotions followed by a renewed sense of "what's next" and excitement for the future.

All I know is that I don't want this adventuring with people I love to be over.





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Patsy.

A friend sent this video to me and when I watched it, I was struck more by the feelings it brought up around the content than the story itself.  Christen Reighter's story is an interesting and frustrating insight into what it means to NOT want a child. I invite you to watch this. Her experience is not unique and needs to be talked about. Even if you have kids. Or want them. What struck me most was what she says during her TedTalk: "I have believed having children was an extension of womanhood, not the definition." Truth is, I've been struggling with this lately. Not the fact that I'm longing for children. I'd be fibbing if I said there is a very tiny part of me that wonders what this will feel like when I get to the end of life. HOWEVER. That feeling isn't strong enough for me to want to find out. I don't feel like having children should be thought of as a "keeping the fingers crossed" kind of situation. If you aren't sure you'l

Experimental.

I have a little secret. Today marks 30 days since my last drink**. I had attempted a 30-day alcohol-free period in January of 2018 which ended up being, arguably, one of the most challenging years of my life. I made it 26 days miserable days and it all ended because Brucey , my beloved rescue dog, died while I was traveling to Miami for an event. This is when I discovered that Walgreen's sells wine (what?!).  I look back at my first alcohol-free attempt and I realize that I wasn't really set up for success. Hindsight and all that... Not only did I try to detox on January 1st, but I was also newly ramping up training for my big bike adventures AND I decided to try my hand at 30-days of Yoga with Adriene . All of these things independently are (and were) really good things. Healthy. Mindful. Etc. Etc. However, I went into that period of time looking at not drinking as punishment. This dry spell was needed more than ever. With COVID hitting a year ago (that's another post in i

Goodbye.

 “I don’t know if I should congratulate you or console you.” - Craig “How about both?” - Me This was a conversation in our kitchen earlier this week. After a year and a half of weekly therapy, I had my last session with my therapist Tuesday. Not because I was over it or because it wasn’t working or because he retired. Nope. Because we got to a place where we could both say I’ve got the tools I need to move on. I have to say that there is no timeline for therapy and every situation is unique. I moved on from intensive therapy with my therapist because that it was worked for ME. I am certainly no expert and I have a feeling this isn’t the end of my therapy forever, but I do know that my experience with the right person allowed me to heal in ways I literally never thought possible. And it gave me the experience of a healthy “goodbye”. I was never prepared for that, so when we set an end date (not-so-coincidentally my Nanna’s birthday), it was hard to process. No one talks about