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Sometimes Reality Is Overrated...

Monday, 04 July 2011 03:00

By Bonnie Psychodelic

The air was muggy and hot, just as expected. From up on the podium, my eyes scanned over the energized crowd. Cameras flashed and sounds of cheering rose like helium filled balloons. I took a deep breath, drawing in the scent of the Hawaiian lei that was draped around my neck, sweat dripping off me as I listened to the announcer proclaim that I had broken the Ironman course record for my age group. Not just broke it, flat out destroyed it. Life was good. Until the bumble bee. The little torpedo came flying at me out of nowhere. Smack! Right in the eye. I swerved sharply on my bike, trying not to go down and eventually was able to gingerly touch my stinging face to assess the damage. Only thirty seven more miles to go until I finished the bike course.

My husband couldn't visualize a chocolate chip cookie if it was right in front of him. I don't know how he survives our long training sessions. I asked him what he thought about and he said, "I think about sitting on the couch and watching Sponge Bob." "Seriously?!" I asked. "Yep." That explains the 'I'm ready! I'm ready!' I hear him utter from under his breath as we clip in on our bikes. Mostly, he zones...

out, he confessed. I nodded my head. He didn't even have to ask me what I think about. He knows I am an avid visualizer. I can picture everything from the dissipating cloud edges drifting across the sky, down to the individual swaying grass blades next to the road at my next race. The smell of dust swirls up into my nose and I almost feel the wind pressing past me.

Last year I had the privilege of talking with Craig (Crowie) Alexander (photo R) and I asked him what he thought about during his races. He said he mainly thinks about his family- how much he loves them and what they have sacrificed in order to support his training and racing. He thinks about his sponsors and what they have done for him. He focuses on the things that mean the most to him, and lets those thoughts propel him towards the finish line.

I called Moe. After placing me on hold through a good portion of Mozart's Requiem in D minor, he finally picked up. "What's up, Bon?" he smiled into the phone. "Question." I stated back, confident in his ability to give a heartfelt answer on zero notice. He listened and paused, only the sound of what seemed to be a pen tapping on paper emitting from the phone.

"You know, it depends. It depends upon where I am in the race. I start out thinking about what I need to do- essentially going through my mental check list. I need to take a gel in five minutes, or I need to consume 'x' amount of water right now. Once I have myself in check on that aspect, I think a lot about cadence, full circles and breathing. I cruise along for quite some time, whether that be on the bike or on the run, just keeping my head clear. Near the end I picture passing into transition and feeling good. What I don't do is think too far in advance. Try to stay in the now. Stay focused. Oh, and I think about an ice bath and how good that will be for my muscles." An ice bath?! He's insane.

When I first started doing triathlon, I could only picture being rescued. I had images of life guards pulling me up from the depths of the lakes, or not even noticing my sinking body; the horrified looks on the EMT's faces as they poured my grotesque remains onto the gurney and stuffed me into the back of the ambulance after a morbid bike crash; or passing out on the run, my skin searing from the hot asphalt. I quickly learned that those types of visualizations were not at all helpful. My heart rate would soar and I would dehydrate from nervous sweating. I started training my mind to keep my head in the game- to think of what I needed to be doing, to think of the corn dog I was going to eat as I ran through the finish chute and straight to the hot dog stand. My brother and I lived in S. Korea for a year and every other evening we would go for a run along the Han River. Rob often ran in front of me as we maneuvered through the crowds and along a narrow paths. Picturing my brother running in front of me as I simply watched his foot falls put me into a consistent, calm state of mind.

Over time I have been able to mold even more vivid mental images, and strengthen my mental fortitude. I have gone from being in a state of pure terror at the start of a small sprint swim portion to literally feeling the fear leave my body with each successive step I take into the lake for a mass swim start at Ironman. I have come to love the sound and feel of the water and I focus on that- from the smooth feeling of the water rushing between my fingers with each stroke to the simultaneous view half above water and half below with each breath. Simply amazing. I have learned to clear my mind for long durations and just enjoy the process, affording me peace and focus instead of a mental frenzy. Once I crossed this bridge, training and racing became so much more than just wildly trying to get to the finish line; it became an journey of a lifetime with deeper and longer lasting rewards. - Bon