An Eminem kinda mood.

In the eternal search for inspiration and mental peace, lol...

I saw an Ironman video set to an Eminem song a few months ago, and it really stuck:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnqpYKx8Fvk

It's set to the song "Till I collapse" by Eminem. (warning, he is foul mouthed but, imo, quite talented).

'Cause sometimes you feel tired,
feel weak, and when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up.
But you gotta search within you, you gotta find that inner strength
and just pull that shit out of you and get that motivation to not give up
and not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face and collapse.


and


Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out - am I high? Perhaps
I'ma rip this shit till my bone collapse.
Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out and my high burn out
I'ma rip this shit till my bone collapse.

The wa ai ting is the hardest part....

Wednesday morning we loaded up and headed out for the long drive to Louisville.  We hit the road a good 90 minutes later than planned due to unforeseen circumstances and a generally slow moving approach to the day, lol.

We'd decided to head up via a route that took us through Asheville, NC, aka our happy place.  Although it supposedly would be slightly longer, we thought it would be worth it for the enjoyment of the beauty of the ride.  And, it was.  We stopped for the night just north of Knoxville (and took the Gator magnet off the truck to be safe, lol), found a good local restaurant, and crashed.  The drive through Asheville and on to Knoxville was filled with stunning scenery and very relaxing.  I did most of the driving since Matthew's torn meniscus does not like driving very much these days, and between that and his broken wrist he is a little, well, broken.  Thanks to my new Zoot Compression pants I felt pretty good.

When we stopped in Columbia SC for gas we ran into a local athlete named Mark who was heading up Friday with some friends for the race, and enjoyed a chat with him about the conditions and course.  Small world, random encounter. 

Thursday we slept until almost 8:45 (!) which is like three full nights' sleep for me, grabbed some breakfast, slowly loaded up and meandered off for the final 3.5 hours of driving.  The drive from TN to KY was absolutely beautiful, but we could definitely tell when we entered KY.  I'm not sure what it is, but everything seems more... run down.  The roads are not as well kept, the per capita immediately appeared lower, and the number of teeth in each smile flashed definitely dropped too.  We stopped for gas and a smoothie and Matthew could not stop giggling at the guys in the car at the gas station -- a beat up, broken down old chevy with two shirtless guys dressed in baggy jean shorts, both of whom looked like they'd swallowed a fully inflated beach ball. 

We finished up the drive and, as we exited the interstate to our hotel, I looked down and saw the transition area, all set up and waiting for the bikes and every hair on my arm stood straight up and screamed.

Our room in the hotel is on the 16th floor.  Actually, our first AND second rooms have been on the 16th floor, as at 6 this morning I wandered down to the desk and wheedled my way into a different room.  Apparently there was a Veterans association gathering here last weekend, and membership requires a blazing smoking habit, which some of them chose to feed by smoking in their (smoke free) rooms.  I woke up with puffy eyes, stuffed up nose, and a tight chest and decided I did not want to try and race breathing that crap for four days.  So, after the desk clerk helpfully took me up to perform a sniff test on the second room (not kidding) I got the keys and, after I worked out, we loaded our stuff and moved down the hall.

I don't know how other athletes like to spend their days leading up to this sort of race, but I prefer to NOT be around other athletes.  It's one big muscular meat market in terms of everyone checking everyone else (and their bikes) out.  It's bad enough we all have to weigh in on a scale (sigh. 125lbs, aka 5lbs less than IMFL) that supposedly can determine your hydration level (53%, right in the middle of the range for women) and your body fat percentage (22?!  Seriously?!) but then you walk around feeling like EVERYONE else is fitter, leaner, and probably faster than you are, even the fat balding guy helping with the luggage.

I also don't like to have to watch the zillion people heading out on their bikes or for a run, or listen to the chattering about the course etc.  It's the same reason I did not do lamaze class before the girls were born -- the dang baby is coming out one way or another, and I really don't want to hear horror stories or do mental gymnastics planning for things I cannot predict or control.  Just surprise me, and I'll deal with it when it happens.

So, I grabbed an early elliptical "run" and Matthew and I went to the local Y and swam, then stopped at University of Louisville bookstore to see if they had any Louisville swimming shirts (denied). 

After we got back I immediately called the front desk and had a conversation that went something like this:
Me:  What is that GAWD AWFUL noise?
Desk: Weyahl Maam, that noise is the (some stupid name of some stupid ship docked right next to the hotel).
Me: Will the awful noise end soon?
Desk: yes maaaaam, it will end at noon.
Me: AND, does the awful noise start again?
Desk:  yes maaaaam, the same time tomorrow (11a)

For the record, the awful noise was some sort of horn ensemble, or bell, or cacophony of out of tune, tone death music blaring at a decibel level I can only describe as painful.

Later, Matthew met our friend Heather (her bike, Minnow, rode up with the 'bee and she needed to retrieve him) while I went to an Ironman focus group thingee.  Twelve female racers answering questions about performance enhancing services (VO2 testing, lactate threshold testing etc).  Not my thing, exactly, but I wanted the $50 gift certificate to the Ironman store, lol.

The focus group was interesting in that it revealed that 3/4 of the attendees have triathlon coaches, and most of THEM have nutrition plans and training plans and plans of plans etc.  I and another fairly vocal (and younger) gal eschew the coaching thing completely, and I am somewhere between proud and embarrassed to admit that, not only have I never been VO2 tested, I don't even know what a lactate threshold is and I use neither a heart rate monitor OR a power meter.  Sacrilege!

We shared some good laughs in the focus group -- primarily at the testosterone driven preening going on amongst most of the males.  When walking around this hotel you would SWEAR by the demeanor, posturing, impatience, and general overall attitude of the men that at LEAST 95% of them are plausibly gunning for a Kona spot.  The women, on the other hand, generally seem to carry themselves a bit differently (no comparing of body fat percentage going on in OUR focus group, lol, although a consensus agreeing that the numbers were WRONG) and you really can't tell who is a Kona-slot possibility and who isn't (strangely enough, body type is no predictor for women).  The men are all running around in their bike shorts and race shirts with "get outta my f***ing way I'm important and you are not" looks on their faces.  These are many of the same guys who will come SPRINTING out of the transition area after the swim and leap onto their bikes and barrel along for the first twenty miles, only to blow up their legs and flounder on the run.  But, I digress.

After the focus group we spent the gift certificate, found a restaurant to get some dinner (grilled chicken, green beans, and a few red potatoes), and are back at the hotel relaxing for the night.

One more day of waiting (bike check in, maybe a mani-pedi to get my bumblebee colors on, and nothing much else) and it's. finally. almost. over.

And I can start training for Clearwater, lol.

Making a choice...

Since I can't write specifically about some of the situations that are on my mind, I'm going to write in generalities, so this post may or may not mean much to anyone else, lol.

Writing about my friends Kelly/Kellie and thinking about the situations of friends and family, and how they've chosen to handle them, brought me to the question of "why are some people survivors/thrivers and other people victims"?

There are the people who COULD get away with feeling sorry for themselves - life has handed them a plate load plus seconds to handle - yet, while open and honest about the obstacles in their lives, they come across as in control (sometimes teeteringly, lol, but in control) and grounded.  And, even when reeling and overwhelmed, as they have every right to be, they never come across a a victim - just as a dusty, worn out survivor.

Then there are the victims.  I mean, really, if you think about it, we all know a person, or people, who spend life feeling sorry for themselves and expecting everyone else to as well.   The people who almost seem to look for reasons to feel sorry for themselves. The ones who take everyday events and occurences and personalize them.   The ones who pick arguments just to show how mean someone is being to them.  The ones who take a trauma or tragedy from someone else's life and make it their own.  The ones you hesitate to share things with because they will assuredly find some way to turn it around and make it all about them, and their pain.   They are the ones you can (and will) have the same exact conversation with, over and over and over again, as they talk about how terrible things are at any given moment, seek advice, resolve to take steps to change things, and then go right back to the way things are, either unwilling or unable to make an effort to change their attitude or behavior.  And two weeks or two months later you find yourself following the same script of "woe is me" all over again.  And again.  And again.

The culture of victimhood is a particular "nails on the chalkboard" issue for me.  I've been burned a fair number of times by "victims" and had my battery drained nearly dry by them as well.  I've found that victims will turn their wrath upon you faster than a rattler strikes if you cross them -- and by cross I mean "fail to pay appropriate attention or homage to their many problems, needs, and issues."  (I can name several people who, if they happened to read this blog would assume immediately I am writing specifically about THEM, which I'm not, and take great offense, thus immediately proving my point, lol).  So, in dealing with people like this I've spent time trying to determine how to ensure my children don't end UP like people like that.

The LM had an interesting encounter with a bonafide "victim" last week in her first week of school.  The girl, "E" apparently wouldn't leave her mother the first day, so missed that day, and then was sporadically at, and away from, school for the next few days.  The 3rd day at lunch, LM saw E standing off to the side, alone, as the kids got their lunches, and LM asked her if she was ok.  E responded that she had no friends and didn't want to be there (note that E had made no effort to make friends and had, in fact, effectively ostracized herself by willfully missing school).  LM invited E over to sit with her and her friends at their lunch table, and after some persuading, E joined them.  LM reported that E eventually loosened up at lunch, but then disappeared shortly after the kids all went outside to run around for the last few minutes of the period.

When LM and her friends got back to class after lunch, the teacher called LM aside and asked who had sat with E at lunch, and LM got the distinct impression they'd been accused of being mean to the girl somehow.  Later that afternoon, E came back and proceeded to be passive-aggressive towards LM and another girl during a class exercise, and did it in a way that really irked LM -- to the point she referred to E as a "bitch" during the tale telling.

E didn't show for class Thursday or Friday, and by Sunday was out of the school online directory.  Reading between the lines, this girl clearly viewed herself, and encouraged her mother to view her, as a hapless victim.  Reality, though, suggests that the girl sought out failure, and created her own drama and issues - and without even really knowing her, we are relieved she is gone given the brief interactions she had with LM last week.

How does an E happen?  From personal experience, I can say it takes a concerted effort, over time, to allow and eventually encourage (even unwittingly) a negative, yet extremely self-centered viewpoint of the world.  A victim must learn to view everything as a personal affront or attack or criticism -- to see the world as the enemy, and to look through a paradigm of oppression and opposition, even where none exists.  A victim learns to take the most innocuous action or word and turn it into an issue, and to use that issue to seek sympathy, or assistance, or whatever form of negative attention possible.  Ultimately, a victim uses a paradigm that guarantees perpetuation of his victimhood, and nothing anyone else can say will change that status OR that paradigm.

As I've written before, so much in life boils down to how we think about things, and how mentally resilient we are in our day to day lives.  I suppose the part of psychology that made the most sense to me back in college was the study of the relationship between cognitions (thoughts) and behaviors.  I believe that certain thoughts trigger certain emotions (chemicals, really) which then trigger certain behaviors -- so the key to changing an unwanted or unproductive behavior lies in understanding the origins -- the thoughts.  And, the key to understanding the thoughts is to understand the framework of experiences those thoughts travel through.

So, to change a behavior, you have to reformulate the thoughts that preceed it.  In E's case, rather than feeling sorry for herself because she had no friends or because LM and her table of buddies knew each other a bit better than E did, E (with her mother's help) could have been taught to look at the positive of other kids including her, and to look at the fact that being absent for a few days meant she didn't know everyone as well - YET.  She could have seized on the reaching out of the kids and used that to build a different experience upon.  But, she didn't.

Unfortunately, it takes a whole lot longer to unravel the path to victim hood than it does to travel down it, which is why we see so many kids turn into teens turn into adults waving the victim banner.  And as adults, coming to terms with our own weaknesses, changing cognitions, and riding herd on emotions we are used to giving into and wallowing in requires far more effort and energy and resolve than most people possess.  Being a victim rather than a survivor is easy, and alluring in a way.  Why take personal responsibility for our actions or words when we can blame someone else?  Why look at our own weaknesses or personal shortcomings (because we ALL have them) when we can blame someone else for the problems we cause ourselves?  Why give up all that negative attention and run the risk that no one will notice us if we aren't victims?

As a parent I can attest that it can be difficult not to reward the negative attention seeking behavior -- not to give in to a child feeling sorry for herself.  It's tough to point out cold reality to an upset daughter or help a child look at what role she played in the situation.  It's even harder to do that in a way that allows the child to feel empathized with but not in a way that excuses her own role -- in a way that gives the child ownership and control without blame and belittlement.  And, given the rising tide of helicopter-parent-itis, where parents do not want their children to have to deal with ANY negative experiences and so swoop in to fight their fights, defend them, or demand different treatment (regardless of the cause), it is even MORE difficult because your kids see permissive, hovering, mindlessly comforting parents all around them and, on first glance, you can look pretty hard ass in comparison.

But, I have to think the effort will be worth it, if we succeed in steering the kids even a few degrees away from the direction of pure victimology.   I laugh at the phrase "teachable moments" but... we really do need to seize those opportunities when they present themselves, and plant the seeds that will, hopefully, be cultivated into a strong core of personal responsibility and resiliency down the road.

Parenthood really does feel like one gigantic experiment with no control group sometimes... but I've realized that, when "they" say "be consistent", it doesn't just mean on a short term basis - it means long term.  If you don't lay the groundwork consistently and repeatedly from pretty much the time they hatch, you can't build upon that groundwork as they grow up and the issues become more complicated.  It's a lot easier to do it from the start than to suddenly try and do it when they are cruising into teenagerhood.  Raising kids is kind of like teaching math --  if you haven't taught them the basics of addition and subtraction, good luck getting them through algebra and calculus.

End of Ramble.

Things I think I think...

I think that only someone tapering for an Ironman really knows what its like to feel fat and out of shape after "only" doing a two hour ride.

I think that it was with wildly mixed emotions I watched the LM walk off to her 1st day of 6th grade at EHS.

I think I only need to think of the obstacles faced by my friends Justine (severely autistic son and parents with dementia),  Julie (quad husband after a skiing accident), and Heather/Kevin (cancer, parents with dementia) to be reminded of how blessed I truly am in my life.

I think I could learn a lot from Justine, Julie and Heather/Kevin on how to handle adversity and unexpected demands with grace, selflessness, and humor.

I think Mia, the guard Shepherd, looks really silly with her droopy ear.

I think that I can never repay Heather and the Gerdemans for their friendship and support in making the trek to Louisville for the race next weekend.

I think the ability to be brutally, honestly introspective is the key to personal development and happiness.

I think it really takes very little effort to do or say something nice to someone.

I think that people who spend their lives wishing that things were different or resenting how they got to where they are instead of figuring out where to go from here make me sad, and sometimes angry.

I think my husband is the best thing that has happened to my children and me, and that LM choosing "meeting Matthew" as the event that changed her life (for a school assignment) says it all.

I think that the pre-race stress I feel before an IM is mostly self-inflicted, and that the hardest part of the weeks before the race is keeping life in perspective.

I think I wish I could sleep in like my husband and children.

I think we spent way too much time at Mayo last week, but that we are blessed with great health insurance.

I think I wish the BiM didn't need physical therapy, but that her seeing Libby is one of the best things that could happen thanks to Libby's great attitude and shared experiences.

I think that one of the biggest challenges as a parent is standing your ground when one child resorts to "she NEVER gets in trouble" or "you ALWAYS take her side".

I think that Matthew continuing to play ultimate frisbee on a torn miniscus and with a broken wrist shows just how tough, and stubborn, he really is.

I think that it is sad that my exhusband spends all his time blaming me instead of fixing the problems he has with the minis.

I think that false pride causes a lot of the problems in the world.

I think that the opportunities the minis have now are mind boggling, and that I smile every time I drive onto the EHS campus.

I think that this will be my last Ironman until the uncertainty with the minis' relationship with the biofather is worked out.

I think I strained a muscle in my back last Sunday racking bikes at the kids' triathlon and now it hurts to breath, which at least is taking my mind off of my knees.

I think that Sabre, the big black Shepherd, has the right attitude about life - even when his sister beats him up, he has forgotten about it :30 later and is back to chasing squirrels and squeaking his (terminally annoying) squeaky ball, all with a big grin on his face.

I think that some relationships, even with blood relatives, offer far too many negatives to warrant being pursued.

I think the little mini cracked me up the other day when, after seeing two lizards attempting to make baby lizards, she quipped "you'd think they'd at least go find a romantic tree or something instead of the sidewalk."

I think life is way too short to get sucked into drama all the time, and the people who thrive off of drama drain too much energy.

I think I didn't know what to say when they BiM decided the past tense of "wink" must be "wunk" because of things like "sink/sunk" and "think/thunk."

I think, as a parent, sometimes we have to take a deep breath and step back to get perspective, and that what's important is that we teach our kids to handle adversity with grace and an eye towards the long term goals.

I think that my family has a curse on left wrists.

I think that the crazy crows in the backyard get a little mouthy when we are too slow filling up the squirrel feeder with peanuts.

I think i find the greatest peace watching creatures in nature (including my children) go about their stuff unaware of being observed. Birds in a bird bath and minis walking with their friends at school being two prime examples.

I think adults who are afraid to discipline kids firmly but unwaveringly are not doing anyone any favors.

I think facebook creates waaaaaay to many opportunities for added drama for teens.

I think that the person on IAmTri who posted that she keeps the IM race in perspective by thinking about how lucky she is to have the time, equipment, health and support in her life to allow her to try such an adventure is a needed voice of equilibrium.

I think that people who post or blog negative things about their spouse should step back and consider how s/he would feel if the situation were reversed.

I think anyone who jokes about divorce when they have kids is a moron.

I think that a hug from my girls or Matthew makes everything good again.

I think that's it for now.

A new chapter begins...

What was the old saying.... "Stop the world I want to get off"?  

Little Mini goes to high school in one week.  Yes, she will be in 6th grade, but she will be at Episcopal HIGH SCHOOL.  She will wear the EHS uniform and can choose from a number of sports to try out for each season.  (Editor's note:  in Florida, when your child attends a private school, once that child reaches the "Upper School" s/he is eligible to compete at the HS level.  In LMs case, as she is entering Upper School in 6th grade, she will have a whopping SEVEN years of eligibility to compete at the HS level.  I know some football players who would appreciate having seven years for 9-12, lol...).  She is currently planning on going out for swimming (fall), soccer (winter) and track (spring). 

This is a very disconcerting thing to me.  LM is 11.  She is not, how shall I say it, vertically gifted -- unlike her amazon-like sister... yes, these two are 19 months apart--

and she will be going to school with 18 year olds.  Somehow, this does not seem possible, to me.  To LM it is the neatest thing since, well,  she got braces.

LM cannot stop talking, excitedly, about starting at her new school.  She's grilled BiM numerous times about everything from locker etiquette to lunch room food.  She's dreamed the usual dreams of not being able to find a classroom and not remembering locker combos.  She's planned her first day of school outfit (thank GOD for uniforms with that one, who stresses over whether her earrings match her pants and would surely be immobilized in indecisive terror if she had to pick out an outfit every day of her life).  In short, this kid is pumped.


I, on the other hand, am feeling the passing of time, acutely.  When your kids are in their first years of school, you don't think of the dwindling numbers of Christmases at home, or summer vacation time.  You take for granted that there will be time to do things as a family.  Even though I am much more cognizant of the limited time we have with our kids as parents thanks to being a divorced parent for essentially ALL of my kids' lives, I hadn't felt the shadow of limited time nearly as much as I feel it these days.  BiM enters 8th grade this year.  That means 4 more summers together before she graduates High School.  5 Christmas breaks before she goes off to college -- divided in half, of course, as the girls split their time between two houses.  LM tacks two more of everything onto the list, but our time as a family unit, with fairly predictable schedules, is rapidly counting down.

Married families don't have as big a blank canvas in their future when it comes to family time.  For those of us who share our children, the question of "how will it work" after the kids turn 18, and can make decisions for themselves without someone howling about "Agreements" and "Custody Schedules" (as if the kids are possessions with no opinions or preferences of their own, and no rights whatsoever), looms large.  Where will they spend their free time and holidays?  Only time will tell.  (ME ME , Pick ME...)

Whereas most parents have a hazy idea of how life might go once their kids turn 18, I have the blinking question mark instead.  Let me tell you how comforting THAT is to know.

So sending the LM off to EHS will be a very interesting experience.  I can't wait to see what sports she plays, and activities she gets involved with, and friends she makes.  But, I dread it too, in a way, because every step they take towards adulthood is one *I* take towards senility.

  I, like (I assume) a lot of parents, hold my breath sometimes, struggling to reign in the excitement and anticipation for what I see as a glowing future full of academic and athletic opportunities.  I'm almost impatient for time to pass to see if the girls' realize their potential in so many areas.  The girls seem just as impatient, and I try to remind us all that, each year older THEY get , so do *I*... and while it will be all good and fun for them to be 20, that means I will be 50+, which is considerably less good and fun.

So many people have told me that, once your kid reaches middle school, your job is essentially finished and your influence over your child wanes rapidly.  So far, I have not found that to be the case.  In fact, quite the opposite -- the girls seem to talk more openly, and intelligently, about more and more issues as they get older.   And the issues keep getting more complex and adult-like.  I treasure that relationship, and fervently hope to maintain it... but the clock ticks, even there.

One drawback to always seeming to be in "countdown mode" for a big race is, time seems to go by even faster.  I know I am something like 90 some days away from IM70.3 Worlds... well, by the time that gets here, we fly into Thanksgiving, Christmas, and 2011 (and another tri season, with new countdowns).   It's like living life as a rubber band -- start out stretched out, and then gather speed as you rapidly move towards the goal point, only to fly by it and repeat the whole deal.  I suppose eventually all the stretchiness will be gone from each of our rubber bands and life will be, well, over.  Or the rubber band will break and life will end before we expect it.  Or someone will alter our aim and we'll slingshot into a wall, lol.  Enough of that silly analogy, you get the point ;-)

Anyway, this time next week I will be trying to settle two pumped up, nervous, growing-up-too-fast young ladies... and none of us will get a lot of sleep that night, for profoundly different reasons.

A tale of two Kellies...

Earlier this week I was slogging through a long (for me) run and struggling with the new Florida requirement that runners be able to extract oxygen from liquid while slow roasting over the coals.  (It's so damn humid that it's like breathing water while running through waves of brutal heat eminating from the ground... get it?!)

At the same time, pretty much an entire continent or so away, my friend Kellie was entering the final 10 miles of her Ultraman run.  For the uninitiated, Ultraman Canada consisted of a 6.2 mile swim and 90 mile bike (Day 1), a 170 mile bike (Day 2), and a 52.4 mile run (Day 3).   Yes, it's insane.  No, I would never even consider doing it, or anything like it.  Yes, I consider Kellie to be superwoman.  I knew she was entering those final ten miles or so thanks to the wonderful updates provided on her facebook page by her sisters.

I entertained myself, and inspired myself, by thinking about Kellie, and doing my best to send her mental support and the sense of my running along with her from thousands of miles away.

And I smiled.

At the same time, I thought of another Kelly -- my best friend in high school, who I had kept in touch with until sometime after college before falling out of touch in the past decade or so.   I'd often wondered, through the years, how Kelly was doing.  Our friendship in high school was based on a number of things, not the least of which was our abject unhappiness.  Kelly lived with her single, grossly overweight mother, and had zero contact with her biofather.  Kelly, like me, suffered greatly from a sense of alienation from our families and peers, and a sense of never quite fitting in... or wanting to, really.  Kelly played softball, and field hockey, and her beloved volleyball -- and would continue to coach and play those sports into adulthood.   We were inseparable -- joined together by everything ranging from our quasi-depression to our acne to our athletics.

Somewhere along the way, Kelly embraced her inner victim.  I don't say that to be demeaning, or hurtful -- I say it because I think it represents a distinct fork in the road that many many people come to at one or more points in life.   In addition to having a very rough upbringing, Kelly struggled with health issues, and with aspects of her personal life and preferences that, ultimately, she chose to use as a wedge between us.

When I heard that Kelly had died recently at the age of 43, I had a sinking feeling.  I spent some time looking up her obituary, and reading other things a google search uncovered -- she'd been a revered and loved HS teacher and coach, for example.  The unsaid AND "said in passing" things I read added up to a strong suspicion about her cause of death -- so I emailed the contact posted in the paper, who was organizing the "Celebration of Life" for Kelly at her high school, shared with her my history with Kelly, and asked if she would share with me the cause of death.

Several days later, shortly before my "run in spirit" with Kellie at the end of her Ultraman, I received the email that confirmed my suspicions -- my best friend from long ago had taken her own life.   She finished the process that had begun over 25 years ago and embraced the shadow that had hung over her life for the entire time I had known her.

And I cried.

I cried tears of sadness... and strange tears of loss -- loss of half the owner of many many memories from back in HS days, loss of the chance to rekindle that friendship, and Kelly's loss of hope.  And I cried tears of anger -- anger at Kelly for taking what I consider to be the cowards way out, anger at myself for not being a better friend, anger at the unfairness of so much getting handed to one person to handle in a life -- but especially anger at Kelly, for selling out the many students who looked to her to tell them that being different was "ok" and that life could be good no matter how many obstacles you faced.

So I ran.  And I thought about the juxtaposition of Kellie and Kelly.  I thought of how many obstacles Kellie overcame to even reach the starting line at Ultraman... and I am sure there are MANY more that I know nothing about -- obstacles faced down and beaten through the years by an indomitable will and iron resolve possessed by a petite gal with energy to spare and enthusiasm to envy.  Then I thought of how Kelly's obstacles had worn her down -- eroded her confidence, and her energy, and her will to move forward, until she simply chose to cease to exist.

I wish I could say I had some sudden epiphany on my run -- some gleaming insight into what it is that makes a person chose one of the two paths when they come to those forks in the road.  Is it chemical?  Cognitive?  Genetic?  Some strength or weakness of character?  Some personality trait?  Some combination of all of them?  I truly do not know, and probably won't ever really know.

BUT, what I do know is, Kelly scares me in some undefined way -- perhaps because I don't really understand the process or circumstances or combination of factors that leads to someone voluntarily ending their own existence.

AND, I also know that Kellie gives me great hope, and inspires me to believe -- to have a secular kind of "faith" -- in people's resilience and strength.  Kellie proves to me, again, that so much of our lives are mental -- we have the capacity within ourselves to make ourselves grimly miserable or wildly positive, depending on how we frame our views.

As I pondered the Tale of Two Kellies and worked through my run, my mile splits descended, my heart rate leveled out slightly below "coronary-alert,"  and I found myself running resolutely with Kellie, as far away from Kelly as I could possibly get.

North Carolina...

Yes, it's been awhile since I had a chance to write.   We took the whole famdamily to Leicester, NC, for a family vacation - my truck loaded with kids, books, and "stuff" (and of course my bike and trainer) and a rental car loaded with,well, stinky dogs. And M.  If you've never traveled with 300lbs of brainless, spastic, situationally deaf dogs, I can assure you it is a sight to behold.  Picture a midsize car with the windows down, and a block-headed chocolate lab with ears and gums flapping sticking out the front passenger window,

a gigantic black shepherd with ears pointing in opposite directions in the wind and an oversized tongue flapping slobber sticking out one back window,

and a very intense looking classic shepherd with ears firmly planted in aero position glaring intimidatingly at passing vehicles sticking out the other.

Then imagine trying to stop for gas and bathroom breaks... The second the female human pack members in vehicle two are spotted, the canine pack members go cuckoo, throwing themselves around the car in a panic trying to reach the errant females.  After a brief wrestling match, the dogs' leashes are on and the doors opened, and the three tumble out of the car in a tangle of legs, tails, and leashes.  Then the next ten minutes are spent fruitlessly trying to get the shepherds to stop sniffing other dogs' poop and pee. Trust me, it's a blast.

So, the moving zoo ultimately reached our happy place in NC,complete with private pond and loads of acres to run.   And no neighbors to bark at or try and eat, which is a key ingredient in vacation success.  And, for the first time since last year when we went to the cabin, relaxation was achieved.  More or less, lol, as there is only a certain degree of relaxation any human can achieve with three dogs and two kids.

A return trip to the Biltmore, surprisingly loved by the minis too, a zip line adventure, horseback riding, an afternoon wandering around Asheville, and lots of time throwing frisbees and footballs for the dogs and minis filled our week.  And, of course, s'mores and evenings by the fire pit, and loads of reading time for everyone - no tv time, at all!   Baby deer wandered through the yard, I spent some quality time watching the sunrise on my trainer on the huge porch looking out at the pond and mountains, and the girls caught fish off the dock by hand and squealed in happiness when the huge catfish brushed their legs in the water.

It was great family time, as we have no cell or Internet at the cabin.  While I came back no more rested physically than had been, it did give me some mental respite of sorts, and I finally remembered why I'm doing IMKY - to enjoy the experience.  While my race at IMFL established some degree of expectations, at least in my mind and maybe in others' as well, I came back determined to cling to the goal I set when I signed up - to experience the journey and get as much out of it as possible, and not to sweat the times and small details.  Here I am 22 days out and still clinging precariously to that intention, lol.

As usual we came back vowing to return AND to buy property at the first opportunity, as the party line holds that we are outta Jacksonville the second the door hits the little mini on her way to college, or as soon as practicable afterwards, lol. 

And back to reality we came.

Running on empty...

We leave for the North Carlina mountains tomorrow morning, and not a moment too soon.  This will be the second year we've stayed at a cabin in Leicester, to the west of Asheville.  The cabin sits on some large number of acres, and has a private pond and hiking/biking trails up the mountain.  The kids and dogs can run amuck without seeing anyone or anything besides woodland creatures.  If I am so motivated, I can run mountain roads or mountain bike some seriously elevated trails.  Last year it was the perfect training spot for me to really build up for IMFL.

This year, though, I am seriously considering taking several days off, or even MOST of the days off that we are there.  I'm taking my trainer, and can water jog or swim in the pond... but I'm suffering a serious dearth of energy, which is sapping my motivation dry.  I was struggling somewhat even before the triple whammy of sick girls, crazy overbooked schedule, and unexpected blow up with the exH, but those three things occurring in quick succession pretty much cooked me physically.  Unfortunately, although I hate to admit it, my body doesn't function like other people's, and it's only through extreme
stubbornness that I train the way I do.

About six years or so ago I landed in the hospital with a suspected case of pericarditis (inflammation of the heart).  I'd been having really bizarre chest pains at random times, and they'd been getting more and more debilitating.  When I finally went to my physician, he performed an ECG (EKG?  whichever is right, lol) and immediately sent me to the hospital.  After a few days in the hospital they decided I was having all the symptoms of pericarditis, but without any sign of the actual infection.  They eventually sent me home with some muscle relaxers (?) and over time the chest pains waned and I moved forward without any clear understanding of why they'd occurred.

Two or so years later, while down at Bike Week in Daytona, I found myself experiencing a crushing headache and nausea.  I thought it might be a migraine, which I've never had before... but it continued.  After a few days, mind numbing fatigue appeared and the headache was so bad at times that I literally cried in pain.  All I wanted to do was lie in the dark with my eyes closed.  After a week of this I went to mayo and started a process of weeks of testing to determine what the hell was going on.

The first round of blood work revealed insanely out of whack liver functions, and they immediately suspected one of the hepatitis strains.  Although they must have tested three time for each strain, all tests came back negative.  Meanwhile, the headaches, fatigue, nausea, fevers, drenching night sweats etc all continued... and my liver functions steadily grew worse.   My doctor began to talk about potentially putting me on the transplant list if the functions deteriorated much further.  Both my doctor and I researched every possible cause -- parasites, random infectious diseases, various viruses... I saw the infectious disease specialist and the liver specialist at Mayo, and the medical bills mounted along with the frustration.

Throughout this process, I continued to feel like I'd been hit by a truck and/or beaten in the head repeatedly.  It was scary, but I was too sick to really be scared at the time.  Thankfully, I had a wonderful doctor who worked very diligently and closely with me to figure out what was attacking my liver and beating my body up so badly.  We ultimately reached the same conclusion at virtually the same time... the probably cause of the problems was a virus called CMV.  Sure enough, one simple blood test later (after literally several dozens of vials of blood drawn over the preceding weeks) and the diagnosis was confirmed.

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/cmv/DS00938 -- a good overview of CMV.

CMV usually affects people with HIV (uh, not so much...), who've had an organ transplant (yeah, ditto), or who have lowered immune systems (hmmm)...  So, to our best guess is, my immune system is somehow compromised (which we've kind of known, dating back to a miscarriage before the minis were successfully hatched) which allows the CMV to abuse me periodically.

So, what does one do for this virus that randomly attacks parts of the body, that has no cure or overly effective treatment, and that no one really knows how to prevent from flaring up again?  Absolutely nothing.  You let it run it's course and hope you are still standing when it does.

My liver eventually won the war, the fevers stopped, the headaches waned, and over the course of the next year I regained probably 80-90% of my energy level, on average.  BUT... ever since, under the right circumstances, I hit the wall and feel as if the very marrow has been sucked from my bones and I am nothing but jello.  Summonsing the energy to do the basics -- housework, laundry, grocery shop -- nevermind training, becomes a chore.  I feel like I have a perpetual case of mono.  I don't think I've had a full blown attack occur on any particular body part since the liver episode, but I also feel that, on a good day, I am operating at about 80% capacity,

When life throws unexpected curves -- extended lack of sleep, sudden emotional stress, prolonged physical or emotional drains -- an exhausted fog settles in around me.   The worst days see me just put a pillow over my head and sleep all day.  Average days see me complain about being wiped out, or tired... something I imagine my friends and husband and kids get sick of hearing.  It's the kind of tired that I can only equate to being pregnant in the first trimester... and the latter is not as bad or as tenacious as the former (and with the latter you know it is for a good cause and you'll only get more tired once you give birth to the virus, er, fetus, lol).  This is the kind of tired no caffeine, no sugar, no dogged determination can wade through.

Having a virus like CMV makes Ironman training a bit challenging sometimes.  The discernible difference between my pre-liver-battle energy level and my reality now bothers me greatly.  Some days of training feel truly like a death march.  And in the weeks before a race I find myself desperately trying to get enough sleep to stomp down the leaden feeling that dogs me more often than not.  This past week was a good example -- things went downhill until Wednesday, when I simply could not make myself get in the pool and swim the 4500 yards I had planned, or anything else for that matter and I thought my week was pretty much toast.  Thursday I woke up and forced myself onto the bike trainer and sucked it up long enough to finish, with some oooomph, a 5.5hr trainer video.  Virus 1, Sara 1 for the week.

So, off to NC we go.  When I return there will be 4 weeks or so left before IML.  I plan to do whatever training feels right next week after desperately holding on to the edge of the cliff to complete what is supposed to be a heavy week of training THIS week.   While it goes against the IM training creed, I may take the majority of the week off.  Yes, this close to the race.  I don't see much choice right now, as the battery is barely emitting enough juice to flicker the lights, and I feel like I am walking around with a huge DUH expression on my face, not unlike Sabre generally has on his, but minus the long tongue and big pointy ears.  Hopefully a week of concentrating on the family, walking and hiking in the woods, making s'mores over the fire pit, and generally trying to rest and forget about training much at all for a few days will beat back my viral buddy enough to pick it up for the last few weeks before I travel to Louisville for the privilege of dying in the 95' heat on the run course.  :-)

More inspiration....

This weekend I raced in the 3rd race of the BFAS triathlon series races at Mickler's. Big Mini did the swim on a relay team consisting of a friend's husband and another friend's son. Both of those friends raced as well, as did one's brother AND sister in law and the other's sister in law, making this race a fun family affair.   Alas, Matthew and LM were on camera duty due to a torn meniscus and not being 12 yet, respectively.

Although I did not especially enjoy the ACT of racing (what the heck was UP with that pathetic run?), I thoroughly enjoyed the EVENT, precisely because of the special people in it.

I could pick any of several people who've inspired me lately, but I'm going to focus on one of the families I mentioned, above, in particular.  I've gotten to know this extended group through kids' AND adult triathlon and road races... H, who just started triathlon in the past few years, has abs we all envy, and now places in her her age group in a lot of events, and her husband K, whose story I will tell shortly... And then through them I've met K's brother and sister in law, G and V. 

H always makes me laugh. Her outlook on life, in spite of what many people would consider a full-to-overflowing plate o'stress (the kind of stress that isn't of your choosing and is completely out of your control with no end to it in sight, IE the worst kind), is unerringly positive and tinged with the kind of humor required to gracefully handle life's not so little trials and tribulations. Her dedication to training and her family puts us all to shame, and I'm probably more excited about her doing IMFL this year than she is, lol. Because she juggles more obligations and draining issues than anyone I know, I think of her when I feel whiny or sorry for myself, and how her positive outlook never seems to waiver.

K, her husband, is an absolutely amazing example of fortitude and determination.  Shortly after K and H signed up for IMFL 2010, they discovered that K had bilateral renal cancer, and earlier this year he underwent two separate surgeries to remove all of one kidney and 1/3 of the second.  The doctors were very negative about his future ability to exercise with any intensity, and K was facing the great unknown on a variety of fronts: would his remaining 2/3 kidney kick in and take on the duties normally performed by 2 functioning organs?  Would he suffer some sort of adrenal issue caused by the surgery and trauma to his body?  Would the cancer recur, or spread?  If his remaining kidney-lite did not take on the burden, he was facing up to 5 years of dialysis before he could be eligible for a kidney transplant (assuming he remained cancer free for those 5 years).  Add all of that to the apparent loss of a huge part of his identity -- triathlete, runner, active participant in life -- and you've got a recipe for most people for a stint in a seriously dark place.

At first K and H looked bleakly at the immediate future, as the doctors discouraged virtually all strenuous activity and preached fear of dehydration and overheating...and while K struggled with the emotions most of us can only imagine having to resolve, H struggled with how to help the man she loves come to terms with the probability of a greatly altered future.

BUT... K, like all good, obstinant athletes, didn't just accept the vague limitations placed on him.  He researched, and found other stories of cancer survivors (kidney and otherwise) who came back as athletes... and he started, slowly, swimming, and biking, and jogging.  Now, we all know the tentative, cautious, wary steps we take as we come back from a basic physical injury... each effort tinged with the worry that the pain will return, every twinge watched carefully, every increase in mileage and effort accompanied by a held breath and a prayer to the warrior workout gods... now imagine the mental toll of entering relatively uncharted territory, with no clearly mapped path of recovery, no clear idea of the ramifications of each decision, and no idea whether the kidney function OR the cancer would return.

Yeah, I'm not sure I could do it, either.  But do it K has... with determination and the power of an indestructible will in a wounded triathlete's body.  What probably seemed like a drearily slow progression to K has been astounding to the rest of us, as he is now riding and running mileage greater than I am with less than two months until my Ironman, lol.   To see a peer look down the barrel of the loaded gun that is cancer and face down all the fears of the unknown that accompany treatment, recovery, and survivorship... to watch him venture into completely unknown territory and manage the new-found limitations of his own body and regain training form... to get glimpses into the tap dance through a minefield that must be involved in learning the new capacities and needs of a body adapting to the loss of 1 and 1/3 of 2 very important organs... and to truly believe that this man, and his wife, will be ready to tackle the daunting task that is an Ironman triathlon -- this, to me, is at a minimum wildly inspiring, if not downright miraculous.

As if H and K's story is not already amazing enough, I have to admit that the icing on that family cake is the evolution of K's brother and sister in law, G and V.   V has been a runner, but G battled a weight problem.  At some point in the past year, G began to take steps to lose weight and get into shape.  When K was diagnosed with the cancer and was unable to run the Donna 26.2, G took his entry -- and, although he had never done that distance before and had not really been training for such a long distance, he finished the race.  This past weekend, he completed his first triathlon, crossing the finish line side by side with V (also doing her first tri).  G has used the shock of his brother's illness to slingshot him into an almost 100lb weight loss and has embraced the athlete's lifestyle along with his wife.  100lbs.  Think about that.

I can't tell you how much I enjoy seeing these four amazing people at various events.  To see a family, sucker punched by adversity, regroup and rally and thrive in the face of that adversity -- that is truly special... (I get chills and a little teary eyed just THINKING about seeing them cross that finish line in November...!)

THAT is another small part of my "why".

:-)

ANYONE can do an Ironman...

Anyone can do an Ironman!

Yes, Someone actually told that to me, a few months back, and then spent some minutes justifying and explaining the statement.  I.E. Anyone can do an ironman "if they train for it". 

At first I found that statement fairly offensive.  It seemed like an attempt to diminish or minimize the accomplishment of attempting and completing an Ironman.

As I thought more about it, I also tried to distance myself from the speaker of the statement and any "history" I have with him that might color my reaction, and to look dispassionately at it.  I didn't want my reaction tainted by that history; I wanted to really assess the accuracy of the statement and the fairness of my negative reaction to it.

And, after that, I still think the speaker was abjectly incorrect.  I think it is incredibly easy to sit back and declare, with little knowledge of the process followed or journey required, that "anyone" can do something.  In fact, I've heard this same person, and others too, discourse on how "I COULD do X, IF I wanted to..." or "that person does a terrible job. If I were in HIS job, I would do it like..." - declarations that cause me to grind my teeth in anger, because the speaker generally has zero concept of what it takes, personality-wise, career-wise, effort-wise, or other-wise to be in the position s/he is pontificating so knowingly about.

On the topic of Ironman, I've decided that I vehemently disagree that anyone can do it.  In fact, I've done one already and I am still not convinced that I can do one.   Heck, I'm still not sure I REALLY did the first one and didn't just dream the entire thing.

It's easy to say "I could do a triathlon/Ironman, IF..."  IF I wasn't:  afraid, injured, too busy, too tired, overweight.... IF I: wanted to, liked to run, liked swimming in the ocean, felt like putting in all that time to train, had a bike, had more time.... IF I: liked training in the heat, didn't travel as much for my job, had someplace to swim, didn't want to watch my favorite college football team etc.  etc.  etc.

In other words, in reality, very FEW people actually can do a triathlon, of any length, because very few people will take the steps necessary to move outside the comfort zone and rectify the "IF" factors.  I don't even think I agree with the concept that "anyone" can do a sprint triathlon, never mind an Ironman, for exactly that reason.

And if you do take those first few steps -buy a bike, join a pool, make the time to start training- you will soon find yourself hitting both mental and physical obstacles... And I believe athletes at all levels of ability and competitiveness go through various stages of personal challenges in these areas that must be addressed, bypassed, or overcome to continue the journey.

Physically, there is the constant challenge to stay healthy, to manage aches and pains and not allow them to become chronic injuries, to walk the line between pushing hard enough and harming our bodies.  We struggle to fine-tune nutrition, hydration, and recovery/rest time.   We may or may not have easily adjusted schedules that accommodate training, family, work... and often we encounter unexpected time drains (illness, work load, exhusband freaking out... you know what I mean?) that we suddenly have to assimilate into our plan.

And then... every step, every unexpected demand on our time, every adjustment we need to make to our plan, every ache that sticks around for a few days... each creates an element of doubt and fear -- and then we fight the fight on two fronts: physically AND mentally... and, as I've talked about, I believe mentally we greatly enhance, OR detract, from our physical preparation, so fighting the mental war becomes a major obstacle.

So, back to whether "anyone" can do an Ironman (or any distance triathlon).   To me, even IF everyone is suddenly capable of making/willing to make the choice to do a triathlon, is "everyone" really mentally and emotionally strong enough to survive the roller coaster that is Ironman preparation?

As I read the chats on IamTri in the Ironman Louisville forum, I see an awful lot of registered racers battling their own fears, anxiety, self-doubt, second guessing, mental blocks, etc.  Let's face it, when it comes to the actual physical training for an Ironman, it is definitely NOT a one-sized fits all sort of thing.  Some people can, and do, put in some impressively high mileage training.  Some fall in a more moderate range.  No two people really do the same training.  No two bodies can really HANDLE the exact same training and get the best result, imo.  90% of the competitors are NOT racing for Kona spots, so their personal goals might go something like: finish, finish standing up, finish under 14 hours etc etc.


The REAL training battle, and the one someone who says "ANYONE can do an Ironman" never sees or experiences, is the one in our own mind.  The battle against the voice that KNOWS what 10, 12, 14 or more hours of exertion will be like... the one that knows you can never be fully prepared for every contingency and that anything goes in a race of that nature -- you can train all year and get leveled by a broken crank, or a stomach that refuses to digest nutrients, or an uncontrollable cramping in your quads that no nutrition plan can account for, or a completely unknown pain in your ankle that you've never had before.  It could be raining.  Windy.  Excessively hot.  Freakishly cold.  You could just generally feel like sh*t and there's no one reason why.  And that is where all the mental training, all the mental battles you've fought, all that accumulated mental mileage, decides your day for you.

The one element we all fear is reaching the breaking point mentally.  The mental bonk.  And none of us really knows where that point is, or how to avoid it, exactly... because we don't know specifically what would cause it.  And THAT unknown is what we all deal with in the walk up to ANY length triathlon -- and the ability to handle that fear and to keep pushing our bodies and to juggle all the demands of training for a triathlon -- THAT is what sets us apart... and THAT is why I vehemently disagree that "ANYONE" can do an Ironman.  Or any triathlon.   What do you think?

Getting your mind out of your own way

I've reached the conclusion that a lot of the better triathletes I know are either running from demons, possessed by demons, or some combination of the two.  I believe this because I can find no other logical explanation for why we would voluntarily torture ourselves the way that we do, and because the only explanation I can find for my own participation is a desire to use physical pain and challenge to block out emotions I don't want to deal with particularly.  Call it a physical salve for emotional wounds, if you will.

I think if we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that training for, and competing in, triathlon is akin to walking a very narrow tightrope across a very wide and deep chasm.  Finding a balance in our lives is basically a series of trials, errors, juggling, and adjusting for unexpected ebb and flow.


It's easy to get sucked into the "more more more" philosophy of training, where it becomes almost a compulsion to do more - more miles, more speed, more challenge, more often.  If I feel myself starting to get sucked into that mindset, or comparing myself to people around me, I think back to my days in the Bar Review class  in the months before sitting for the Florida Bar Exam.  Now, if you want to talk neurosis, try hanging with 500 wanna-be attorneys in the months before the bar exam.  I staved off panic attacks on several occasions that summer after hearing jabbering from fellow students about all night study sessions, and the bar exam version of "more more more"... and it was then that I learned to tune out everyone around me and just go on my own instincts.  It worked, I passed, and it's a philosophy I try to insulate myself with in the world of tri training.

(As an aside, I think what hooks IM competitors on IM itself is not the race, but the training FOR the race.... because once you ramp up to a certain level, how do you ever go back and feel adequate or whole?  Now, I'm sure there are some, or many, who THINK they can seamlessly transition from IM level training to the more sane levels required for Olympic or sprint distance races, but, in reality, I don't think many of us can do so without a struggle.)

Training and racing is always a battle of pushing our bodies, and minds, farther and farther, while simultaneously monitoring both for signs of damage that a day of rest might not repair.  Because triathlon is, to me, as much about mental strength and challenge as it is about physical strength and challenge, I think we are extraordinarily susceptible to the phenomenon of what I think of as: the mind getting in the way of the body.

For example, because we value mental discipline, we believe that we should be able to push ourselves through aches, pains, and fatigue -- which is true, to an extent.  Where it becomes self-defeating is when we cannot see that taking a break, admitting we are risking injury, or listening to our body and backing off a bit is NOT a sign of mental weakness -- it is actually a sign of the most refined form of mental discipline and strength:  the ability to acknowledge our limits and to recognize a change -- whether as small as a day off or as large as deciding to water run for a month to stave off a stress fracture -- is required to stay on that tightrope and stay out of the abyss.

Sometimes it takes more strength and discipline to admit we need to step back and walk AROUND the wall rather than it does to continue to run full speed INTO the wall, hoping it will move.  Unfortunately, we as triathletes often consider such a choice as a sign of weakness, as lack of motivation, or as indication that, mentally, we are losing our edge.  It's the seed of self-doubt that is just one of the many paths into the abyss.

When I coached swimming at a local HS I liked to schedule double practices on the day we swam against one of our biggest competitors (I think they'd won the conference champs for some number of years in a row previously, and we hadn't beaten them in a dual meet much/if ever either).  Now, for the sane, er, nonswimmers among you, "doubles" means just that-- practicing twice in one day.  Morning practice, before school, at 5a... and afternoon practice for 90 mins or so before the other team arrived for warm ups for the meet.

The first year I did that, I had to talk several of the swimmers, and their parents, off the cliff.  What kind of a nut-case holds practices TWICE on the day of a "big" meet?!  I explained that this was my way of teaching them the art of "getting out of their own way" -- in other words, shutting their minds down, and letting their bodies take over and do what they are trained to do.  Invariably, we'd see MANY swimmers set season or career best times at that particular meet... and afterwards I would gather all of the parents and the swimmers together, and point out how successful the meet was (and, thank God, it always was) and thank the parents for their support of the kids' and our crazy, mandatory, 5a practices.  Then I would speak to the kids, and point out how strong a muscle their brain is, and that that muscle can have greatly positive effects, or it can submarine your entire effort with it's negativity.

Moral of the story -- sometimes, you have to let your instincts and training take over, and turn your brain off (get it out of your way!)  Whether that is to let yourself fully race to your potential, or to let your body tell you it needs to shut it down for a while...  because every now and then, that powerful brain will work against you and make you ignore your instincts or flood yourself with doubt... and THAT'S when it's time to hit the "off" button.