Liminal State: What’s next?

Where will these feet take me next?
Where will these feet take me next?

As a young graduate student, I learned about the concept of liminality. In Anthropological theory, liminality is described as a state of transition during rites of passage, such as those associated with the transition from childhood to adulthood. Liminality is a betwixt and between state in which you are no longer who you once were, but you have not yet transitioned into who you may become.

The processes we go through to get to and live through a rite of passage changes us: who we are, how we relate to others, the choices we make. Through the performance of rites of passage, we mark our change from one social status into another: child to adult, single to married, amateur to professional, ignorant to educated.

In the weeks since Kona, I’ve thought about liminality quite a bit. I feel that I am in a new place, but I’m not exactly sure what that means. I’ve spent the last three years of my life focusing on preparations that would earn me the right to participate in and survive the race. My time, my decision-making, and my identity was intimately linked to these preparations and the singular focus to qualify and complete the race.

While it is a relief to no longer worry and make EVERY decision with qualifying in mind, I have to admit I’m feeling a little bit lost.  I’m left with a question: “What now?”

One way to answer that question is to look toward my 2015 goals: a double iron-distance triathlon at the Florida Double Anvil on March 6-7, and a 100 mile ultramarathon (most likely the Javelina Jundred in November).

But, that’s only part of the answer.Going longer is a different type of goal from going faster, and it requires a somewhat different mindset. So, I feel suspended in a liminal state, stuck in the betwixt and the between. I’m ready to feel the fear that comes with setting a new goal, but I’m still just a little bit (or a lot bit) stuck in the mentality of “trying to qualify.”

After Kona, I immediately started thinking about training for the Double. Standing at the finish line of Kona, I was only 21 weeks to the starting line for the Double Anvil. On the plane ride home, I began putting together my athlete training planner. It seemed certain that I would only be able to give myself – at most – 4 weeks of downtime. And, even then, I’d need to do at least some unstructured activity.

New goal: bang this anvil after 281.2 miles.
New goal: bang this anvil after 281.2 miles.

So, as we hit the 4 week mark, I began prep training. I went from not wearing my Garmin, to bringing the metrics back into focus. I felt frustrated as I noticed an elevated heart rate, at a very low effort (at least judging by either watts or pace). My mind began to question my decision to go after the double so soon: What have I done to myself? I need to start training NOW but my body is thrashed.

I went through a week like that. Slogging. Pushing. Berating. Worrying that I had forever killed my fitness. Because, you know, I’m given to hyperbole and panic.

The following week, I had a rational moment and realized, I can’t be a slave to the schedule. For those of you that know me, this was a huge-mongous realization. If it is in Training Peaks, it MUST BE COMPLETED.

But, my body was saying clearly: NO.

So, I listened (another rational moment). I took a series of full and complete rest days. Not active recovery. Not a little sneak off to the pool. I ate whatever I felt like and tried not to panic about getting fat.

It damn near killed me mentally. I’m pretty sure my crankiness was directly related to this rest period. But, my body soothed me: not yet.

After the rest, I began with a bike and a swim last Monday. It felt good. I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt since perhaps before Coeur d’Alene.

Tuesday came. A longer bike. Also good. None of the soreness or muscle fatigue I had felt just two weeks prior.

Wednesday came. A swim and a run. Swim times coming back into normal range without a high rating of perceived effort. Running through trails, enjoying the crunch of the frozen leaves under my feet. Very nice indeed.

You get where this is going: I was back in the game. No, my power and my pace isn’t where it needs to be to qualify for Kona. But, that rite of passage is over. It’s time for a new experience, a new set of goals. It’s time for a new mindset and approach to training and racing.

Pain Cave. Come join us. Please!
Pain Cave. Come join us. Please!

The past 3 years have changed me, but I am continuing to negotiate the full impact of that change and what it means for my life as an athlete – as a person. There are times when I think about continuing to race Ironman, to meet more goals still yet to be had at that distance. (I’m not going to lie: an age group win would be really swanky.) But, for me, it’s become too familiar, and I need to push myself outside of my comfort zone again.

The thought of going 281.2 miles in 36 hours or less does the trick. As I transition to a new distance, I will learn new ways of approaching training, of developing the mindset that will carry me through this test of endurance and perseverance.

I’m adapting. Slowly. And, I have to admit: it’s kinda nice that I don’t have to beat my brains out every time I get on the bike. I’ve been focusing on efficiency drills, marathon-watching The Newsroom, and enjoying our newly updated Pain Cave. And, if I feel like, I add in some big gear work (MY FAVORITE!!) for strength.

It’s a different approach to training, but it’s a change that I welcome. In some ways, I feel like I did before I did my first ironman: excited, uncertain, scared. I enjoy this space: it’s a space of learning, of growing, of challenging. So, here I sit: betwixt and between, ready to heed the lessons that await me.

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