Look Up. See More. Your Energy Will Follow.

Looking from the outside in with no emotional attachment to the outcome or performance, many situations are crystal clear to the spectator. Someone's path may appear ridden with pebbles and roots since their trees were too tall and forest to populated. Some people may be just one step away from a stumble that had they asked you, you would have had all the clarity, wisdom and perspective in the world (and very willing to share it may I add).

When on the inside following your own yellow brick road in hopes of finding Emerald City, it is sometimes impossible to see the man-eating plants and fierce beasts before it is too late. If we are enlightened enough to capture the lessons along the way your chosen path becomes all the more worth it and makes you oh-so much smarter.

Perspective is seeing the bigger picture, is it not? Perspective is when doors open to new possibility and the little things are minimized and belittled. When we look, listen and learn, perspective becomes our fuel and forward momentum is uninhibited. Consider life, minute by minute, with perspective. With perspective, we can manage the details but keep our eye on the distant lofty and tantalizing goal. One little hiccup is meaningless in the grand scheme of things. One windfall doesn't mean we can stop our journey now. Perspective and journey go hand in hand, don't they?

This journal starts with a philosophical slant simply because the past month has been ridden with people, experiences and observations popping up on my yellow brick road offering me signs and signals to see things with a little clarity.
As it is July and the heart of triathlon race season, I find myself unabashedly following the race circuits closely. My motive is part fun and part education. How do professionals get to the podium and how did the race flow. Did they lead from the swim? Did they have a strong run? Who was behind them? How has their season been rolling? What was their strongest leg of the race? How did they get there in the first place? What was their previous race? What's next? What can I take away from this and integrate? If anything.

When I am not in a race, perspective prevails. Would you agree? Bet you could win Hawaii Ironman from your Lazyboy arm chair. Had you been racing you would have attacked on the bike, waited until the second half of the run or practiced faster transitions. The race was lost in transition, right? Yes, we are so smart from the side lines. And yet, there is tremendous learning and observing that takes place from the side lines and if paying attention you might find yourself integrating the lessons to improve your own meager performance the next chance you get. To do so, I would hasard to suggest we must therefore pay attention to the things that matter verses the clutter that stagnates.
Being emotionally unattached and completely unaffected by the outcome are very powerful ways to have perspective. When I started my racing career, this "beginner's mind" depicted was my state. I didn't know what a split was. I didn't know I was racing in an "age category". I didn't know anyone cared or would care about a result. I didn't even know what the Hawaii Ironman was. I recall running my first sub-40 minute 10km in Montreal. Without formal training, a watch, any knowledge of pacing, fueling or course recon and certainly no idea what a "sub-40" meant, I was elated for the purity of the experience. A somewhat more competitive man approached me at the end and said, "wow, you ran sub-40." My "So What?" expression caught him by surprise. The ignorance to times, outcomes and results was bliss. The journey was bliss. Perspective, to be frank, was irrelevant since it was so innate. Until it wasn't anymore and the details started to matter.

My journey to a more competitive lifestyle is not unique. Many others have followed a similar path from the casual weekend warrior to owning a PHD in triathlon gear and becoming a walking encyclopedia for splits and results (of others). While I have played little attention to results (mine or others), I have been side tracked by the art and science of executing a sound, graceful, unchallenged and ideal performance. From my arm chair, an optimum performance takes perspective, and tons of it.
For some unfounded reason, I feel my beginner's mind journey is making a come back thanks to a few simple occasions that have shown up on my jaunt down the YBR. People (friends, coaches, family, therapists), insightful books, racing, travel and most imperatively, observing others with compassion and curiosity has gently nudged me back to see a bigger brighter picture. The details live on but there is no one entity that is the be-all-end-all. Another way of looking at it is to say our circle grows and so does our view.
Since many people read this blog from a triathlon/racing perspective, I will share these two small sporting examples. After Kona 70.3, I did not seem to recover well, physically or emotionally. I had tremendous discomfort in my right hip, was experiencing overwhelming fatigue and felt somewhat depressed. Adrenal suppression perhaps, post-race blues perhaps or a lovely concoction of both coupled with race effort, heat exhaustion and travel. All of which called for rest to rejuvenate. I begrudging did just that - rest - since training was not an option. Hoping to back up Kona with a stellar performance at the Victoria Half Ironman on June 19th was therefore a tall order and from this Lazyboy arm chair, not a realistic request of myself. Pushing all my inner voices aside and bottling up some lingering fatigue, I toed the line in my new Blue Seventy Helix Wetsuit (which contributed to fabulous swim and best leg of the event). Once onto the bike, my mind was unfocused. When I finally caught Sara Gross, I really just wanted to tuck in and chit chat. Where was my edge? Where was my fire? I had to go hunting for it.
Thankfully, I have enough race experience to always stay in the game and race with heart but on this day, it wasn't the effortless flow we athletes all envision to descend upon us. Out on to the run in first, I was searching for my stride. My hips were locked up and my loping gait was stunted. When I came through the first 10km lap, Jasper was encouraging me to relax and turn my legs over a bit faster. Wasn't I looking relaxed? Wasn't my turnover breaking world records? Couldn't he see how damn hard I was working? Apparently his perspective and my experience were worlds apart. Finally as I rounded up the race in 3rd place, thrilled to be finished at all, I stumbled over to Jasper. While proud yet consoling, he knew it was a sub par performance for me. His observation, "good job fletcher. you just looked flat on the run. you looked stiff." I was. And I realized that Jasper (in this instance) was my mirror. We went on to discuss the nuances of my form, training and what might help or what was hindering my run potential. Jasper's educated and skilled observation widened my circle and helped me look at things through a different lens. I needed to address the limitations in my hips, relax my run (and maybe in life?), switch up the order of some workouts and focus on form. Needless to say, I have since been tapping into what is holding me back and diligently unlocking my hips (and my potential?) with dynamic movement, massage, myofascial release and visualization.  Could there is some psychology wrapped into this example? Regardless, I will gracefully spare you my hypothesis. Just consider how locked hips means running nowhere fast (in a race and in life).
The second example of perspective is when I watched Vancouver Half Ironman on July 3rd. A race I was scheduled to do but opted out of since having learned my lesson from the aforementioned experience. Therefore my experience was reversed yet equally powerful to reinforcing more perspective.

Arriving upon a race in progress is like watching battery-powered energy bunnies moving purposely in every direction. It is organized chaos that draws you in. What is motivating everyone to move around so much? Let me in! While interested to know who was racing, I was mostly focused on observing body language, postures, facial expressions, leg cadence, shuffling strides or loping gaits, sources of propulsion, attitudes and subtle changes as the race progressed and fatigue set in.

From my trusty mountain bike, post-shower and nourished, I was the smarter of the bunch. Yup, all spectators were. For the few athletes and friends I zoned in on, it was compelling to observe them. A poised posture, quick cadence and good rotation coupled with a high glance says Speed, Power, Fuel, Strength. Conversely, a plodding gait, stiff shoulders and downward line of vision screamed "get me to the finish line, I'm done."

I found myself thinking, "if only they would look up" (your energy goes where your eyes go), "if only they increased their cadence", "if only they stood up instead of collapsing at the hips." And yet, experience is all relative. Maybe those racers felt a Gazelle-like resemblance moving swiftly at personal best speed's. Maybe their leg cadence was twice as fast as it was last year. Maybe this was their very best effort and if so, perspective becomes irrelevant and encouragement becomes essential. By the looks of how many racers finished with arms in the air and big smiles, the experience opened up a whole new world to them. Either way, observing helped me see a new perspective and if by shouting words of tangible encouragement helped just one racer, we all benefit.
I have been told that we must always look up. Where your eyes go, your energy goes. Consider this option the next time you walk into a stop sign while typing on your blackberry.

Next up, Desert Half Ironman, July 10th, 2011

Christine
@chrisy_fletcher