Getting Lost...and being okay with it

Lately, this is a common theme in my life: getting off course. Or taking what feels like a wrong turn to me.

I try to backtrack...see where I took a left instead of a right. It only leads me to an Alice in Worlderland-esque universe in which I would have to travel so far back through all the verticals of mistakes to the point where they met.

And I fear I'd never make it there.

I'd get lost trying to find the starting point; stuck in this maze that is my messy mind. I replay events, I beat myself up. I relive all of my mishaps. I get lost in my mind.

I don’t own a bike computer (which is really just a fancy GPS). And I don’t rely on maps, anymore. I had so many routes and plans for how my life was supposed to turn out and look how that went.

Outside looking in, I've got a fantastic life. I do, really. Phenomenal friends, supportive family, really fun, stimulating job, a beautiful home, and the most fulfilling sport and community to go with it.

I post about happy things on social media. Smiles and stars and narwhals. You see the 5% of my life that I want you to see. My highlight reel. Everything is fine, right?

But the pain, the feeling of being lost? These are the quiet things that no one knows. Silent suffering. You'd have to be inside of me to feel it.

As a triathlete, I suffer through a lot: a really intense track workout where my heart rate is working overtime. A really big hill I have to climb on my bike, over and over. 100 degree weather. 40 degree weather. Rain, snow, wind. 15 mile run on already tired legs.

It's not a relaxing hobby, and I often encounter more hurdles than I know what to do with. But as triathletes...we love the sport so much, and we actively want to improve, so we buck up and GET OVER IT. It only makes us stronger in the end. Married to the pain. It's an obsession.

Somehow, physical suffering is so much easier to deal with than getting over the ghosts that take up residence in my synapses. They hang out in there, blocking my neurons from firing properly. They hold me back me from a normal mental state.

I wish I could out climb these demons. I wish I could run from them. But they live there, constantly. I can't seem to find the correct side of the pedal to clip into and be on my way. I seem to constantly find the underside, and no matter how many times I try turning it over, I can't seem to get it.

I can't get over it.

And there's not much in life that I haven't been through, haven't seen, haven't felt. But this? This is different. This is going to take longer. And I'm going to have to be okay living lost for a while.

So while I can't physically escape my past, my pain, I do know that triathlon has equipped me with such a strong base and perhaps if I work on mental fortitude the same way I work on my physical strength, maybe I CAN get over this.

I will get over this.

I envision finding the right side up, clipping in, and never looking back...bicycles don't have rearview mirrors after all.