While Team Evotri prepares for their weekend in Chattanooga to kick off their 2012 season, several members have been declaring their own 2012 intentions:
Michelle reviews the incarnations of how her blog titles reflected her specific objective. In her latest post, she shines light on what will guide her through her training in 2012:
My A race this year is the Ironman World Championship in Kona. I've got some demons to stare down there this year! My first time around was in 2010. I was 8 weeks off Ironman Lake Placid. Admittedly and retrospectively, I was shell-shocked. That place, plain and simply, freaked me out. Self-doubt crept in. 'Did I really deserve to be there? Could I handle another Ironman in 8 weeks? Everyone looks stronger than me. I got a roll-down slot.' The list of things that were running through my head were endless. And the result of this self-doubt showed in my performance. I fell apart on the bike and tried to tell myself it was OK because it was my first time there. And, yes, that was partly true but, no, it was NOT OK! So, how do I remedy this? Go back to the scene of the crime and put a new twist on the story.
Chris also uses his past to guide his future, reminiscing on what the title of his blog, "The Goal is the Journey," means to him and what he has in store for 2012:
Focusing on the journey is one way to practice the Buddhist concept of mindfulness. In Buddhism mindfulness is part of the Noble Eightfold path that leads to enlightenment. The Roman poet, Horace, was also thinking along these same lines when he penned the Latin phrase: carpe diem. To swing the literary pendulum all the way to the other side, pulp western novelist Louis L'Amour once wrote: “The trail is the thing, not the end of the trail. Travel too fast, and you miss all you are traveling for.” 'Ols and Buddha, Horace and L'Amour- these guys are all on to something here.
Sara has been on a training tear, balancing the home-work-life demands and enjoying the early spring and fruits of consistent workouts:
Running down the street, dusk. Street lights on. Feet on the pavement, hand on the iPod, breath in and out. Colder; more realistically March, actually. 30 short minutes is all I get today, but it is 30 minutes I wouldn't trade for the world. Thirty minutes to run it out, to remind me who I am, to come home better. Better everything.
My shadows follow me with every street light. They start behind me, inch up in front of me, and then swishswishswish of the ponytail they pull ahead of me, reminding me of where I'm going. Where I'm heading.