Coach For Life

Are You Right?

2011-12-05T06:07:00.000-08:00

What’s all this talk about world peace?

I mean, of course I believe that everyone learning to co-exist could only bring amazing things to this world…but WORLD peace? Really? Do we understand how large of a task that is? Do we really understand how many closed-minded opinions we would have to alter in order to get everyone thinking the same peaceful thoughts?

I am not trying to be pessimistic or remotely suggest that creating peace across the world is not possible. I am a firm believer that anything is quite possible, if done with intention and persistence. Just think, we could probably eliminate hunger and homelessness too, since we would then have a world filled with human beings helping other human beings. Sure, we may not be able to eliminate people dying of horrible diseases around the world, but if we could guarantee that all human beings were operating from a heartfelt place, wanting to love and feel loved, think of all the other unbelievable changes that could also occur.

What keeps us from world peace is that most of the anger, fighting and killing comes from a place of feeling right. A feeling that the way we think is the way it really is. As if our thoughts and beliefs are factual. It’s not that I don’t understand how it feels to want to stand strongly in your beliefs. I do. I come from a long line of debaters, a family of confident people that are willing to go to bat for themselves. But even with that upbringing, I was able to comprehend that it was my opinion. Did I talk relentlessly at times, too loudly, too persistently, coming across as though there were only one side to the story…yes! But in the end, what good can come of that? You can’t actually convince someone to think like you do. You can’t force someone to do things like you do. Well, you can actually, but that isn’t what you want. What you really want is for others to not only see your side, but also value it and then take it on as theirs as well. Yet that doesn’t usually happen.

Instead, you should only hope to offer a new perspective to those that see it differently. But you can only offer. It is still their choice to do with it what they will.

Even with that knowledge, though, if we all stayed within the boundaries of the laws, making decisions based on what was for the better good of society and the human race, then couldn’t we eliminate much of what now shows up as hate and create a peaceful world?

Maybe, but only if we could work on the true problem at hand. The problem is not that the world is too large…in my opinion. The problem is that the very same people that are fighting for world peace do not have peace within themselves. Peace will not come by changing others. Peace will not come from blaming others. Peace will not come by getting revenge on those that have not done it our way. Peace has to come from within ourselves. In order to be peaceful from our core, we will need to learn to be with the silence at times, as well as the noise; we will need to learn to be still. We will need to accept that our feelings are just that: ours. They don’t make you feel any particular way. Actually, you feel how you feel, because that is how you feel! So stop the blame game. Give up on your desire to change others, and focus on the act of sharing. Be mindful with everyone you interact with that we all want the same thing: to love and be loved. And that even though you are certain that you know…you don’t always know.

We have a long way to go before we can even touch the surface on a world that is peaceful always, and until we can each find peace within ourselves, no matter what our past has given us…world peace will remain out of our reach.

Do what you have to in order to find peace. It will change your life, which in turn, will change all the lives of others around you.

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2011-11-16T05:24:00.001-08:00

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Say What You Mean

2011-11-01T06:12:00.000-07:00

I hear what you are saying, but even just listening is exhausting. Unlike others in your life who ask how you are and don't wait for the response, I actually hear what you are saying and am waiting for your response. Not only that, but once you tell me, I am secretly trying to take it to the next level and trying to help.

As I observe your actions though, I can only wonder if that is really what you want. You tell a passionate story. Your eyes gaze into the air above as if you can almost feel yourself having it all: passion, happiness, success, freedom...you are so passionate in fact, that I can almost feel it. Yet once your story-telling is over, your eyes seem to lower, creating somewhat of a defeated look. You appear to be resigned to having the life you have right now, exactly as it is.

"Impossible!" you say, "I do want more!"

Really?

The two largest complaints I hear are about wanting to move forward in life and wanting more financial success. While you may hear these topics as larger than life, I am clear that as long as you have actions that follow your words, connected with a real plan and an ability to truly imagine what they look like, you can achieve either...or both.

So you say you want to move forward? You want to stop having your past dictate your future? Of course you do! Who wouldn't want that? Maybe the answer is you. Moving forward is not hard to do. It can be painful, with its daily or weekly challenges, but it is about commitment. It is about honoring your word to stop looking back. It is about not treating people in your life today, based on what your life brought to your doorstep yesterday.

"Today's hysteria is history."

That's right. Whatever upsetting or stopping you in this very moment, has so many legs from your past attached to it that you can't even see what is present in this moment. And if you can't see what is present in this moment, then you are choosing to live in the past and will not be moving forward. Not today anyway.

Tomorrow, however...there is a chance to start over by asking yourself a simple question:

If there were no limitations or fears what would I be willing to do to achieve my goals?

Got it? Great!

Understand that limitations are merely obstacles to climb over and fears, well, are just fears. You can thank them for showing up over and over, but then continue on your journey in spite of them.

Now we can go back to the original topic of what you really want and how long are you willing to let yourself get in your own way? Carve out what you want by being completely present in this moment. Put aside what your past has said you are capable of and create the path to get you there.

Say what you mean, then back it up with actions that truly show you mean it!

Investments that Matter

2011-09-19T07:11:00.000-07:00

You work hard and are successful.

But what if the success you are truly capable of has barely been touched?

Do you have a support team? Do you have someone that expands on your thoughts, supports your ideas and holds you accountable for your action plans?

Why not?

The mind is a dark and dangerous place…don’t go there alone!

Clearly you have the drive it takes to achieve success, but what if you’ve barely touched upon what is possible? With the support of a Coach, you will experience success more efficiently and effectively. You will find yourself in constant motion, with fresh ideas and new perspectives. You will have two minds, working as one!

In order to be successful as a Business Owner, you will constantly need to assess whether something is an investment or an expense. Investments are critical to a successful future. Expenses can often wait. That’s what you need to decide: Is a successful business something you want to own and control? Or are you willing to take a gamble and see where it lands?

“Having a Coach is the difference between knowing what to do…and doing it.”

Cheryl Patnick, President of Capella Consultants

A Business Coach is perfect for:

· Helping successful business people exceed their expectations.

· Refining and building upon existing skills and talents.

· Increasing profitability, projecting confidence and organizing time better.

· Creating a successful system that fosters business now, while planting the necessary seeds for the future.

The value of having a Business Coach speaks for itself even in the very first session.

The time is now. It is later than you think.

The Road to Nowhere

2011-09-09T08:28:00.000-07:00

Are you sure?

I am often asked how I am remain so positive no matter what seems to be going on around me. I am asked if I have some super human powers, or if I am simply a dreamer and it happens to work in my favor. My answer to that question doesn’t come as instinctively as my ability to think positively.

This morning the answer came to me clearly though, as I sat at my mac, and decided to change my screen saver. After scrolling through a few pictures, I found the perfect one. The photo actually made me stop and stare in almost a trance. It made me wonder, think and question. It silenced my ever-running mind that always thinks it has the answers. It stopped me in a place of question, yet in a place of comfort as well.

It was a black and white photo with a wooden pier that I guessed to be about 20-30 feet long. Surrounding it was a calm body of water that forced my eyes to stare into the distance and see nothing else but more and more water. The only land to be seen was a small area of sand near the beginning of the pier. An area so small, that my eyes had difficulty staying there.

I immediately could hear voices of worry from clients and friends looking at this same photo. I imagined them expressing feelings of concern about being alone or abandoned. I could hear their voices saying there was no reason to keep looking, since it was a road to nowhere. Yet as I continued to look, I could not see the picture of emptiness that most might see. I was not met with fears as I gazed down the pier. I was not engrossed with worry about what lurked in the open space. Instead, what I saw was very similar to how I see life.

It was not a road to nowhere, but rather, a road to anywhere. It was not a body of water that had nothing to offer, but rather a body of water that held opportunities that could not yet be seen. I was clear from this viewpoint, that all could not be seen, but that there was definitely more. I was confident that what lie in the unknown, had the potential to be great and felt comfort in the possibility of being able to create it any way that I wanted.

Check your road again. Is it really the road to nowhere? Or are the possibilities so endless, you are afraid to look?

Unemployment is a Full Time Job

2011-08-25T05:33:00.000-07:00

The only way to turn around being unemployed is to work!

If only it were that easy, right? Wrong. While it may not be easy to find a job as quickly as you would like, the quickest way to turn it around, is to immediately treat the ‘search’…as your job!

There are many stages one enters (or sometimes settles into) after being laid off, and this process is often what keeps once successful working people on the unemployment line. Stages of depression and low self-esteem (I should have worked harder) often combined with an entitlement (I am sick of working so hard and not being appreciated anyway!) usually lead to a defeat of doing nothing or an acceptance of ‘time off’. Either way, you have already begin the job search a few steps behind.

This is not the time to wallow in your self-pity, nor start vacationing. Instead, this is the time to get motivated and/or get even and begin your search. You can’t change the current situation, but you can create a different perspective, which will ultimately design a new future. Assume that your job search is now your full time job, and your severance pay is what you are going to live on minimally, until you find the next place to land. While in this situation there will be no time to wallow, celebration and time off will be just around the corner, if you follow a few ground rules.

Just like when you were working, you will need to set up a daily and weekly schedule. You will need an especially strong system in place now, since there won’t be anyone to hold you accountable to your tasks and goals.

To start your system:

1 – Get your planner ready and write in daily and weekly tasks. Be specific. If you simply write: call recruiter, most likely it won’t get done. Write their name and number, as well as the day and time you will call.

2 – Choose specific times for scanning the web to find the right recruiter for you, or job postings through the classified sections on the web and then stick to that plan.

3 – Include in your schedule when you will update your resume, make calls to friends that may have leads and even when you will check emails. (A simple task of checking emails can consume your whole day if you let it.)

4 – If you are overzealous about tasks and find some aren’t getting done, simply move them to the next day. Do not assume it will get done. If it isn’t done on Monday, rewrite it on Tuesday. Your brain will need the reminder and you will feel good about accomplishing it.

5 – Find other places to work besides your house. Sometimes the process of getting yourself up and out of the house is just what you need to get motivated. Most places that sell coffee also have free Wi-Fi so take advantage of it!

6 – Add breaks to your schedule, to keep yourself feeling fresh. Actually add to your calendar when you will meet with friends, take walks or hit the gym. If you see it written you will feel less guilty about doing it.

Perspective will make all the difference in your search. Treat the search like an opportunity to find what is truly next for you. Who knows, it may be better than you ever could have anticipated. Don’t give up. No matter how shut down you feel, remind yourself that there is no time for tired now, but there will be later. Do what you have to in order to land a new job. Then once you do, celebrate and even take some time off by telling your new employer when ‘you’ are able to begin.

Stay present in this moment and know that it will never again occur in just this way.

Be Productive Now.

2011-08-10T06:38:00.000-07:00

It is later than you think.
Ever wonder why your energy level has so many peaks and valleys? Do you wish you could keep your level at the highest peak, or even somewhere in the middle, so you could be more productive all the time?

Typically as human beings, our weeks are filled with highs and lows of energy because we allow our emotions to dictate our productivity. If only we had no heart, right? Wrong. Actually, the fact that we do have great emotions can be very healthy and can help us be more productive on a daily basis, but only if we learn to regain the controls.

The key is to focus on what you feel when in the middle of an energy high. What occurred that gave you that energy in the first place? If it was something as simple as a well balanced meal and 8 hours of well needed sleep, then great! That will be simple to replicate and will be in your control. But usually it's not that simple.

Typically we get physically charged when we are emotionally charged, which often stems from a specific event. For example, the start of a new job, a new client signing on, or a promotion may provide just the energy you need to stay focused and excited all day long, allowing you to make those cold calls you have been putting off, or finally completing a days long list of tasks. The problem is that if outside stimulation is needed to create action, when it doesn't exist, you may feel unable to be productive. The solution lies in acknowledging your lack of control and the desire for change.

Before I give you back the well deserved controls, though, think about what goes through your mind when you are at your peak performance? Do you feel unstoppable and wish you could bottle the feeling? Perfect! Because you can...

In that moment, become aware of every sensation in your body. Be conscious of the smells, the sounds you hear, your thoughts and the adrenalin rush. Be acutely aware that these feelings continue, even though nothing around you is occuring. What began as a result of great news on the horizen, has now formed into sensations actually separate from that event. In fact, the burst of energy is an event all by itself and can be recreated again and again, without an outside event even happening.

Let's return to the idea that this excitement all began because you learned you were going to be signing on a new client. Perhaps nothing else has occurred beyond that point. Yet even without papers being signed, or money in hand, you feel energized based on what 'will' occur. Get it? That energy you were feeding off of was really just from the desire of great things to come!

Now you can own the controls! The next time you are feeling in a slump and can't get motivated, visualize exactly what you really want to happen. If you're in sales, imagine that today is the day you are finally going to get that large order. Create the visual in such detail that you can actually see it, taste it and feel it. Don't roll your eyes at the thought of it and say, 'yeah, I have seen this day before...it's not going to happen.' Everything lives in your speaking, so once you change the conversation in your head, you can change the way you act as well.

Be productive now. It is later than you think!

Race Day

2011-04-17T16:54:00.000-07:00

Race day is an interesting day. Interesting, at least for me, because I am a late blooming athletes that believes the only way to complete a race with success, is to follow the training guide like your life depends on it. I mean, if there are training guides listed on the internet, surely they have been tested and approved, so why reinvent the wheel...or pretend that I know what to do to successfully complete a duathlon?

And so, while my boyfriend and 17 year old son, both supposedly training for the race, are hardly even glancing at the training schedule, I had printed it out, posted multiple copies and checked it several times a day. In addition, I checked each workout off as I went, to make sure I didn't miss anything. All the while, I didn't say much because I knew that what they lacked in "rule-following", they would make up for in race-day gusto. Or was that male-ego?

I wasn't wired with race-day gusto, or ego. No matter how hard I trained, nor how hard I wanted to reach a specific finishing time, the race would ultimately decide my fate. I wouldn't.

We wake up before the sun on race day to recheck our gear and equipment and fill our bellies with warm oatmeal and a banana. My stomach is in knots, making the oatmeal difficult to swallow, but I keep breathing and begin my positive self-talk: You're ready for this. You have trained. It is cold and windy, but it is just weather. Just...weather. I then say a silent prayer that the two days on my road bike was enough to keep me fast and upright on the hills, and try not to cave into my fears that 'taper week' had successfully sucked all the strength from me.

I lose myself in preparing to leave and pretend that this is just about packing, not really racing. My mind seems to be sold on that until we actually arrive at the race, which is when I am certain that I don't even know how to run. That fear, though, gets completely lost in the next worry, as we head to transitions to set up our stuff and I begin to tremble. Not from fear at all, but from cold. The winds had picked up and while the temps were at a mere 40 degrees, it felt about 30.

I worried about frozen toes and being able to run on feet that I might not be able to feel.

I then asked myself again why I chose to race, when really what I prefered was the training. It was structured, gave my workouts a purpose and made me feel strong. I wondered why that wasn't enough. I wondered why I tortured myself through all the worry of racing, when the training really seemed to serve its purpose. I mean, wasn't this all about being strong and fit? What was the race going to prove that the training hadn't already?

When it was finally time to listen to last minute race directions, I thanked the weather gods for holding off on the rain, which might have been snow by now and stayed grateful that this was a duathlon and not a triathlon. That was all I could muster up in the way of being grateful, but hoped that would be enough to make my race an easy one.

That last wish was probably part of the problem, since my desire for race-ease, always takes over my desire to win once the gun goes off. It's not that I don't play full out. I do! It's just that when I start to feel winded, and am only five minutes into a 90 minute race, it seems appropriate to back off a little. It's at that moment when my goal becomes a strong finish, not so much a strong race.

I did begin the race wanting to place in my age category, but when I heard that there were only 150 participants, battled the winds and cold and unbelievably steep hills on the bike and by foot, and then saw my boyfriend right behind me and walking...I had a new goal.

"You don't have to slow down for me," he said.

"I'm not," I added, "but what's the hurry?" I said putting my arm in his while we took a walk break and then thought, I already got my trophy.

And at that, we proceeded to bring in the last leg of the race together, posing for each photographer, laughing as we went and pushing each other to the finish.

"Kick it in girl," he said to me when the finish line was in sight. "I'm right behind you..."

As I rolled up on the balls of my feet, and my legs pushed me across the finish, the meaning of race day became again all too clear. It wasn't about the training, my 17 year old eating up that race with no practice at all, nor my boyfriend finishing with me because he missed a turn. Race day was about showing up, facing some of life's greatest fears and then kicking in it to the finish...merely because I said I would.

Family Tradition

2009-08-11T08:59:00.000-07:00

Twas the night before my son's triathlon and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, just my worried little voice. I thought it was unnerving to prepare for my own triathlon but had no idea how unnerving it was going to be to prepare for my son's. The mere thought of being held responsible for forgetting some important item for his race was more burden than any mother should have to bear. I crawled into bed that night early praying that nothing was left behind and that I would still hold the title of 'very prepared mom'.

I had purposely not watched the weather report, knowing that a chance of extreme heat and thunderstorms were always a possiblility in the summer. It would be what it would be and we would make the best of it. But I was quick to offer the bright side of the rain that was already falling by 6am, knowing that light rain was a better option than extreme heat. Unfortunately, once I helped him set up in Transitions, the light rain turned to a terrential downpour. My son, Shane, was quiet but said he wasn't nervous. I, on the other hand, was very nervous. It was pouring and all I knew for sure that while he was prepared for the race, he had never trained in the rain, and neither had I. I had no experience that was going to help him in this rainy race, except to say, "avoid the white lines on the road while riding and be careful around the turns."

At 8am exactly, they began to herd all of the racers into the water. The rain would not let up and I began to feel sick as I watched my baby, now standing at 5'10", waiting for his wave to be called. I began to recount all the things about him that made his life so precious to me. I began listing them one at a time. My eyes welled with tears at the thought of putting one of my most precious life items in possible harm's way. What had I done?

His girlfriend and I waited on a deck above the lake, praying to see him in the mass of swimmers and were relieved when we spotted his white shirt heading for shore. He ran from the muddy lake, and headed for his bike just as a crack of thunder rumbled above us. It was then that the worry of him spilling out on his rented road bike took second to my fear of the lightening. Fortunately it was the only crack of thunder we heard and I checked my watch to keep an eye on how soon we would see him gearing up for the run. As we continued standing in the down pour under a tree offering nearly any shelter, I wondered if I really had to support him on his run. Did he want me to run with him? Or did I just want to run with him? I didn't have the answer to either question, but knew I was already soaked to the bone even with my two jackets and was not looking forward to stripping down and running at all. Training in the rain was definitely not my idea of fun.

About 30 minutes later we saw him round the corner on his bike and my mother instincts took over. Of course I was going to go out there with him! I pulled off my jackets, handed my cell and umbrella to his girlfriend and took off around the corner. My dad jumped onto the course just then too. The 'Home Team' was back!

Shane looked full of energy, even though it was the last leg of the race. He was talking and laughing like we were out for a jog, while I was clear that this was the 'get your legs back' part of the run and that at any moment, his pace was going to be too much for me. After a 1/4 of a mile, the race volunteers were leading us to some remote path that appeared to be in the woods. Did I mention I don't do trail running either?

Suddenly this race became about me as I tried to make sense of this path we were running on. At one time, I was sure it was a trail, but at this time, after 4 hours of heavy rain, it was nothing more than mud puddles. Mud puddles that I wouldn't even consider walking through, no less be forced to run through. How could that be safe? Luckily for me, I noticed quickly that I wasn't able to keep Shane's pace.

'Okay, I am now slowing you down, so you keep running and I will stay here and catch you on the way back!'

He seemed okay with that and I couldn't have been happier. Even standing in the rain at that point seemed enjoyable compared to running through the mud. I spent the next several minutes cheering everyone else on until he was back...without my dad.

Where's Poppy? I asked.

He's back there somewhere, Shane said, not rattled at all by any of his surroundings and still seemingly full of energy.

The support was now back to me and we headed through the muddy puddles as I prayed we would get to land quickly and safely. My prayers came true, though once we got on the pavement, Shane began to pick up his pace, as I barely held on.

You go baby! I don't want to hold you back! Run it to the finish...

And he took off, leaving me to find my dad and us sprinting in the best we could, way behind our teammate.

It was a great story to tell about the Home Team being there more in spirit than anything else, but mostly about how in that moment of him crossing the finish, a tradition had carried on. With my parents crossing many marathon finish lines, and my own running races as well as triathlons, it was now being passed down to a new generation.

You have the bug, don't you? I asked Shane noticing the pride he had in his eyes.

Yea, he said smiling. Definitely.

And I knew that meant he would be back for more. Just like the rest of us.

www.LesleyGeller.com

The Sprint Triathlon - "The Team"

2009-08-01T09:43:00.000-07:00

The first triathlon of the season is really just a warm up for the Olympic Triathlon coming up. It is to confirm I am doing what I'm supposed to, practice transitions, learn how to pace, yet go full out and to make sure my head is truly in the game.

I knew all of this last weekend when it was time for my the supposed 'practice' triathlon, yet the butterflies still flew, and the panic set in. I looked at my log book and was clear that I was more than ready for this sprint event, yet still was feeling overwhelmed. That is, until the Home Team stepped in.

I broke down first to my significant other and admitted that I really could use the support of him driving me to the race in the morning, even though it was an unreasonable hour. I admitted that I was having a silent panic attack.

"Truth is, I'm actually really nervous and if I could take you up on your offer to drive me, I would be forever indebted."

The astounding part was not that he was ready and willing at 4:30am with a smile on his face, but that just knowing someone else was taking over, relieved so much of the stress. It was the first time on record that I didn't feel sick for a race. I was thinking perhaps my brain knew that I was well-prepared.

We arrive at the very crowded parking lot at 6am and I am only fixated on how easy everything was going. The parking, getting the bags, getting the numbers written on my body and even setting up in transitions. Every time I looked up, there he was with the camera photographing the moment. I just kept smiling and worried slightly that at some point I might need to 'get' nervous in order to perform. Yet as the morning progressed, with runs to the porta potty, warm up swims in the lake and a bit of clearing my head, mostly what I was excited about was the support from my Home Team. The typical Home Team consists of my immediate family, but on this particular day, the Home Team consisted of: my girlfriend, significant other, parents and my oldest son.

Besides all of them just being great fans of mine, they all had their own cheering investment as well. My parents are currently training for the NYC marathon. It will be my dad's 13th time and my mothers 10th. They are both in their 70's, but that has not deterred my dad from setting the bar high this year as he has been training to complete it in less than 4 hours. Whether he does it or not is beside the fact, we are all just impressed that a 73 year old continues to hit the track each week and put himself through speed work. Yes, I said SPEED WORK! So, not new to races, and happy to be on the side lines, they are perfect candidates for being cheerleaders. My girlfriend is hoping to compete in her first triathlon next year, so she wants to see how the whole thing works, and my significant other comes from a family of marathoners and triathletes, so he's a regular out there as well. Then there is my son, who got himself out of bed at 6am to cheer me on, to support me and to see how it all works, since he has his own triathlon to compete in soon also. I was thrilled by their presence, but the excitement and enthusiasm they had for my race was amazing and kept my fears at bay the whole time.

By the time I finally got in the water, the nerve bug had reappeared, but I clung to the last words of my "Team": Have fun! Those words stuck with me for the whole race. Fun. Right, this was supposed to be fun. I didn't have a specific time to complete the race in and no one to impress. My team was just impressed I dared the challenge in the first place.

When I got out of the water, my Home Team was right there with cameras in hand and all the right things to say. On to transitions to hop on my bike with the have fun mantra humming in my head. I'm working, but am anxious to get off my bike and have my home team join me on the run. As I pop off my bike, and pull off my shoes (to make running easier into transitions) I hear my team yelling again in the distance. I can't see them, but I hear them! It makes me keep running, even though my head is telling me to use the walk through transitions as a break. I quickly rack the bike and throw on my sneakers. Where is my team? I think to myself as I round the corner.

"Will meet you on the path!" I hear my son yell.

And that's where the fun begins. While my legs are having a whole discussion about being tired and saving something for the end, my head grips on to the support of my dad on one side of me and my son on the other.

"You look great mom!" My son cheers into my ear.
"Let's go girl!" yells my dad.

The last three miles was long as anticipated, but I didn't need to stop like I had the previous year. The energy of them beside me gave me this false sense auto-pilot. I envisioned that they were really doing the running, and I was just staying with them. It didn't seem that there was another option.

As we hit the last corner, there was the rest of my Team screaming again for me. Now I was on a mission, even though I knew for sure that my running crew was about to leave me alone in the chute. Or maybe not.

"Come on girl!" My dad yelled at me. "We are taking number 1177 down."

And by that, I knew he meant I had better pick it up and pass this girl and I also knew that my crew was not leaving me at all. In fact they crossed the finish with me...blocking me only slightly as the camera tried to capture my finish line crossing.

It was the best experience ever, but was so much more than another triathlon being under my belt. It was about my Team showing up for me and celebrating in my accomplishments, and my overcoming so many fears. It was in the aftermath of the race as I lied happily on my couch, that I felt so lucky to have a Team that was that committed to my success. Actually it was in that moment that I realized how lucky I was to have a Home Team at all!

www.LesleyGeller.com

Race Week Taper

2009-07-23T11:42:00.000-07:00

They call it race week taper, because supposedly your body is all trained-up for the race at this point and now the goal is to focus on little workouts to stay limber, eating healthy and sleeping. The problem is that while your body is enjoying the ever relaxing week of the work-rest week, your head begins to take over. In my case, the 'Mean One' is so nasty from not getting her endorphin rush, that I wonder if we will make it to the race alive. When I dig deep into what is really happening, though, as opposed to the mean words that the one side of my brain actually uses, I sense that there is an ever present questioning if in fact we (I say we only because it seems that there are several people running frantic in my brain) are ready for this race and if tapering is actually for those that are more prepared perhaps, than us...or rather, me.

This was very clear as I stood beside the pool this week. The workout in front of me was going to be simple. I was going to swim 20 laps, equivalent to the 500 meters in the race and then I was going to ride my bike for 35 minutes, approximately the bike portion of the race. Seemed like an easy one and I was actually looking forward to it. Two sports, not too long and only 45 minutes all together. Perfect. I was feeling good about the fact that I may have more time to actually get some work done.

As I strip down to my bathing suit in the locker room and throw my swim bag over my shoulder, I think I caught myself silently humming. Fun, fun, fun.

Just then, out of no where, the 'mean one' chimes in.
Mean one: What's the bag for?
Rational One: We always bring the bag. It has our stuff in it.
Mean one: All we need are the goggles and bathing cap. Don't need the whole bag.
Rational One: But...it has the stuff in it.
Mean One: Right. But we don't need the stuff. This is a swim just like the one in the race and surely we won't be using the stuff in the race.
Rational One: I guess you're right. It's just 20 laps. Don't really need the buoy, paddles, or flippers. Just have to swim today. Right. Okay, that's fine.
Mean One: It better be fine, or we are in bigger trouble than I thought.

As I get to the pool and put on my goggles, I begin to feel sick. I had a routine. Take all the stuff out, line it all up, look at it, plan around it and then...jump in and swim. But this time, there was no stuff and suddenly I was pretty sure that I couldn't actually swim without it.

I hung up my towel, adjusted my goggles and looked at my watch.
Rational One: I will just focus on the time today. I will only concentrate on how long it will take me to actually swim the whole distance without stopping. I don't need stuff, just my watch.
I looked at the water again, and then back at the side of the pool, still empty.
Mean One: Hello? What's the hold up? Let's not make this 45 minute workout take all morning. We're at the pool, so how about we swim?!

At her very last loud remark, I jump in and began swimming, counting each lap as I go. In the end, I was Actually impressed with the ease of the 20 laps and was feeling giddy again. That is, until I looked at my brand new watch and saw that the water proof watch...was filled with water.
Rational One: Okay, so tomorrow we need a new watch. Good swim, but better write down that we need a new watch.
Mean One: Great...so we are ready for the swim, but maybe not the race, since we don't even know how to buy a watch that works in the water!

It was taper week for sure. Wind down the body, gear up the mind.

Triathlon Training - The Brick Workout

2009-07-17T07:26:00.000-07:00

Like all of my training, it is clearly mapped out. I do not make it up, pretending to know what I need to be prepared for this race, I look it up and find a training program that I believe I can handle and print it out. It sits neatly on my desk, so that I can study the workouts for the week and then check them off with a red marker, to show I have completed it. I am unclear who it is I am proving "completion", but it's a system and I stick to it.

So I was mentally preparing for the workout yesterday, since it's one of the hardest for me. The "brick" workout. First you go out and ride for an hour, then hit the pavement running. On this occasion, I only had to run 20 minutes. Since I was used to riding for 2 hours and running for over an hour, how hard could this be? That is, unless you're going to do them one after another. That is where the name "brick" comes in, since that is remotely what your legs feel like. No one knows that I am headed out at 8am for this workout, and I have only made the commitment to myself, so I can't explain why I am nervous, but am. The commitment was to not only finish, since that would be obvious, but it was to NOT walk. This would be a bike and a run...with no walking, under any circumstances.

I am smart enough as a Coach to know that only positive words will get me through this, so I breathe deeply. A beautiful day. A great start! As I lock one of my shoes into the clips, I hear a little you go girl from underneath and am feeling thankful for the delicious oatmeal with blueberries I had eaten an hour before. Both feet clipped in and I was ready to go!

I have always told my friends that they are lucky they don't have to hear what goes on inside my head. It can be a racket for sure as the mean one and rational one go at it and it sounds something like this:

Twenty minutes into the hour bike ride I already hear my quads yelling from below.
Rational one: We're tired already. Do we really need a full-out 20 minute run?
Mean one: Give me a break. It's only 20 minutes. Not going to kill you. Anyone can run for 20 minutes.

Thirty minutes into the ride, another voice steps in to save me:
Rational one: Realistically this is overkill and we should just do a 30 minute ride, in order to get in the run.
Mean one: Get a grip. We'll do this because I said so.

When I finish the hour ride, I try to move swiftly into running mode. I am picturing how light and fast I am going to be in my old sneakers that are nearly weightless. I am excited that I cleaned them and remembered how great they were. I envision my fastest run ever. But as I grabbed the sneakers, I realized I hadn't put my orthodics in them, nor my Ipod piece, which will tell me when I have run 20 minutes. Not a graceful start, but after 3 minutes in what I will call "transitions" I was ready to roll. Not too shabby considering. I begin to run on my brick like legs, wondering if I have forgotten how to run. And after about 2 minutes, I remember why I these are my 'old' sneakers...and are now hurting my feet.

Mean one: This is where the rubber meets the road girl..not supposed to be pretty.

And so I run for what I think is as hard as I can.
Rational One: Is my Ipod broken? Surely it has been five minutes already!

Ipod: Ten minutes left. Half way mark.
I start to feel a little better as I turn around, but am determined to stop.

Rational One: Please. This is so ridiculous. You are clearly in pain here. Who will know if you walk for a minute or two? No one even cares. Have you noticed that you are the only one out here?
Mean one: I promised myself I would not walk. Period.
I keep my feet moving, but the last 10 minutes is a battle between the rational and the mean one and it's anyone's guess who will win.
Rational One: These old sneakers are pretty, but are killing. Pleeeeeease. Just for a minute.
Mean one: We can slow our pace, if we have to, but no stopping.

The voice reminds me of my wicked step mother. Very rigid in her ways.

Ipod: (finally!) Two minutes left.
Rational one: Come on...let's call it a day. I am about to throw up. Seriously, this is absurd. We're pretty much done. Good for us.
Mean one: (She seems really loud this time and I wonder how she has the energy). Two minutes! It's 2 minutes! You have felt pain for almost 4 years now and can surely make it through 2 more minutes.

She always brought the whole alone-divorce thing up. It was my weakness and I could feel my eyes well up. She knew how to keep my moving.
Mean One: Jesus, even if both your legs were fractured, you could run for 2 minutes. Run! Finish this!

And it is painful, but I finish, praying that my Ipod will announce that I ran a 7 minute/mile pace to justify all that pain for a mere 20 minutes.
Ipod: pace - 8:30 minute/mile.

Fine. I was proud of myself for hanging in there and not walking.
Mean one: Great job. All that belly-aching for nothing. I told you we would be fine and that we didn't have to walk.
Rational One: I know. You were right. It just seems a bit...I don't know...crazy. All that torture. For what? Is that even normal?
Mean one: If you want to get better, you have to keep pushing. Never stop pushing.
Rational One: I think we are good even when we are lying down relaxing, but whatever.

As I get into the kitchen to make my sleeping children my famous french toast, the voice comes back.
Rational One: Oh how I wish we could sit down. Maybe the boys could have some cereal for breakfast today.
Mean One: I promised them.
Rational One: (in this syrupy sweet voice) Fine, be mom of the day, but you know, I was thinking...maybe we should forget about that Olympic triathlon and just focus on the sprint one this year...it's too much, don't you think?
Mean One: (I think she may have slammed something before she spoke) You are always trying to get out of discomfort. Forget about it girl...

Training for anything is not easy. Nor is getting out of our comfort zone to get to some higher place. But what I have learned in my efforts to push forward, is that my little voices, although crazy sounding at times, really do help me get through. And I have especially learned that my voice of reason has always created comfort for me in the past, but not necessarily growth. I am happy to have found that louder, stern voice. The one that is teaching me to push through and appreciate the sights, once I get to the top of the mountain I have climbed.
http://www.lesleygeller.com/

Life's Pot Holes

2009-07-16T07:02:00.000-07:00

After 5 weeks of training through the pain of what felt like broken ribs, I finally went to the doctor. It seemed like a mute point 5 weeks later, but there was an unexplainable pain that was traveling around to my rib cage in my back, which was unbearable. Not unbearable like I was going to stop training, but bad enough that I was back to putting heat on it every day and whimpering out loud. As suspected, though, I got x-rays, only to find that no, I had not broken a thing, but was just dealing with bruised ribs and some swelling around the tendons.

The treatment? Advil. Although I had been already been taking it regularly, I was relieved to hear that they were recommending taking it even before I began my training workouts. This was the best news yet! The doctor also mentioned that within another 5 weeks of time, I should be completely healed and not feeling a thing. Five more weeks? Fine, I had made it this far, only missing out on 3 days of training, what was another five more weeks?

I was in triathlete form and was not about to stop now...with or without the Advil.

www.LesleyGeller.com

Life's Pot Holes: Day Two

2009-05-29T13:14:00.001-07:00

I awoke on Monday, Memorial Day, flat on my back. I felt remotely like I had been hit by a large Mac Truck and wondered how I was able to get myself safely home from the beach, the night before. I was a little relieved to have even made it through the night, since the thought occured to me that I could have had a concussion and not known it. You know, too tough to actually go to the ER or anything like that. In pain, yes, but in need of emergency care...not so much. And I did admit, at least to myself, that my head still felt a bit woozy, even as I carefully placed my aching body under the covers that night. So when the sun came up and I was still alive, I figured that meant I was safe from dying from an aneurysm or something of that nature. The possibility of dying from pain was still a viable option.

As I tried to get up, I cried in pain. My ribs, which I was positive were broken at this point, seemed to be splitting in half as I pulled myself up. Did I need to see a doctor? Or was I tough enough to handle the pain? I had done my own investigative research on the Internet the night before and read all about the symptoms of fractured and bruised ribs. They were the same. Sharp pains in your ribs, some swelling. Okay, I had that. The treatment for both were the same as well. None. So was there a reason to go see anyone? No one could do anything about it, so icing and resting seemed to be the way to go.

The pain was bad. Right up there with my worst labor pains I recalled having right before the nurse said, "start pushing". A pain that someone would experience as a nail was being jabbed into your chest. Sharp and searing. A pain that would actually bring tears to my eyes. But I was a triathlete. I was in training. And being on the injured list was not on my agenda right now, so I was not caving in. Yet. Instead, I would head out to take the dog for a long power walk. Carefully. That would be my version of resting. No running, biking or swimming today.

Next on the agenda was to go visit my boyfriend in the hospital. He too, that very same Sunday, flew over his handle bars, landed on his head and shoulder and was now recovering in the hospital with a fractured scapula. How does that happen to two people connected in spirit but in two different places? I didn't have that answer, and knew that him being more hurt, was the only other thing keeping me from caving into my own pain. I would not let it take over me.

Driving was horrific. No matter how I sat in my seat, I couldn't stop the pain of the nail that seemed wedged under my rib cage, but kept doing my deep breathing as if in labor. My focus was him...not me. He was in the hospital and needed someone to take care of him. It was my worst fear. The thought of being in the hospital with no significant other to come to my rescue. It was so overwhelming to me at times it kept me awake and I was not going to let that happen to him.

Once in his room, I forgot all about my pains and was amazed at how great he looked. Besides the very uncomfortable-looking neck brace, he didn't look hurt at all. I mean, still had his khaki shorts on, nice blue riding shirt and looked...well, great. It was crazy. I reached for his hand and thought: Why? Why were we both flown off our bikes that day, left with wounds, but lives still in tact? Why were we saved? I stared into his eyes and wondered what the message was that surrounded this whole event. I wondered if it were a sign of some sort. Something telling us to read all the signs. Proceed with caution. And for the first time that day, I had intention of doing just that.

Life's Pot Holes: Day One.

2009-05-29T12:16:00.000-07:00

I had set out for a long ride on my road bike. Long, because that was what the triathlon training schedule reported was the workout. I do not think for myself while in training, I live by the small print on my schedule. Gospel. I don't bail out when tired, I don't do half, and I don't alter the workout. It was the training, and I just did it. Sometimes I was tired and sometimes I felt great, but either way, I did it. It was Sunday and it wasn't day one of training, but day one of what I would experience in the way of Pot Holes.

Since it was Memorial Day Weekend, and the skies were casting a beautiful and sunny weekend, it was the perfect time to get the long ride in. I had just the right oatmeal in me, outfit ready, sunglasses in tact and even a little suntan lotion. All that was missing was my son. I had promised he could ride with me, and was still sleeping peacefully with the other teenage cousins who were severely sleep-deprived. By 10am I was beginning to worry about the amount of traffic on the boulevard, though, so I woke him and by 10:30am we were on the road. As I gave him strict rules about being acutely aware of his surroundings, I realized I had more to think about than just my own safety, which I was very aware of always on the streets.

I played it safe while he was with me for the 45 minutes, not riding too quickly, staying off the main streets as much as possible and being extra cautious around all the side streets. Once I dropped him off, a sigh of relief came over me that he made it safely and I began my own ride, with another 45 minutes to go. The weather could not have been better. The overcast skies, 65 degree weather and the confidence that I had made the right choice about leaving my jacket behind...which was my son's idea. Or so I thought.

My cadence quickly picked up as I enjoyed the flat road of Long Beach Island and was anxious to get off the busy mainland and head towards the Lighthouse. 19, 20, 21, 22 miles per hour...perfect. The traffic was picking up, though and with each metal grate in the road, the more aware of the traffic I became. At the first grate I checked over my shoulder. Enough space to go left and into the lane, skirting around the grate. A few more blocks and I hit the second grate. I again peered over my shoulder, but seeing there with no way to sneak in, I prayed I could go to the right. I had about 7 inches of clearance and hoped I could quickly maneuver through it. I might have even closed my eyes. No, not the smartest of decisions, but made it through. The third grate came upon me and again, I glance to the left. This time there is a flood of traffic. I quickly look off to the right and my heart begins to race, panic in my chest. To the right of the grate is not the smooth patch of pavement I had previously rode through. No, in fact, there was a small pot hole to the right of it. Being new to my rode bike, I had no idea of how well my bike, nor my riding would fare, but was very clear that there were no other options.

I gripped my handle bars, wishing death on them and not me and braced myself. I remember hitting it and being lifted in the air. I remember thinking, can I recover from this? I did not know if me feet were clipped or not, I just knew the bike was not on the ground and I was no longer in control. The next thing I remember is the front end of my helmet slamming to the ground and me being crouched on the shoulder saying, oh f---k. I didn't know where my bike was, nor did I care. I didn't feel pain, but I was sure my world was somehow spinning.

An elderly couple came quickly to my rescue and while I didn't look up, I did hear them ask if they should call an ambulance and I thought, dear god, no...not going to the emergency room. It's a holiday. Am I okay? Am I? Body check. Am I hurt or just confused from being flipped upside down?

They offered to take me and my bike back to my house, and while I couldn't make much sense of what had happened or what state I was in, I knew that going home was a good idea. I even knew which direction to go in, so I figured I wasn't that bad off. Though as I stood up, something was definitely wrong.

Ow, ow...I yelped, holding my ribs. Pain was searing into my rib cage, yet all the rescue woman was talking about was a tiny scrape on my elbow. Was I internally bleeding? Or could I ride home by myself? i should have worn my jacket. I wouldn't be bleeding. I sat still in the mini-van as if there were no pain, as if I had not just come close to death, as if it didn't bother me that I wasn't going to get in my 45 more minutes of riding. Could I go out later and do it? Once I had recovered? But once in the door of my house, in the safe arms of my dad, I knew there would be no more riding for the day. I also knew how lucky I felt to be alive.