Rigor

 As time passes after crossing the finish line at Chicago, I find myself reflecting on the experience as a whole.  This felt much different from other races I have participated in, and I also feel like there are a number of lessons for me to learn and carry forward as I prepare for spring marathon training this winter.

For some reason, this time around I lined up at the start of Chicago feeling ready.  Not feeling afraid of the race or the challenge ahead of me.  Don't get me wrong, I have deep respect for the marathon and do not discount the distance nor the fortitude required to cross that finish line.  The difference for me this time around was that I knew I could do it.  Despite not knowing for sure what "doing it" might look or feel like, I knew that I had what it would take to get myself through the entirety of the race.  This is very new for me.  I have lined up for four marathons now, and have run a handful of half-marathons as well and this is absolutely the first time that I said out loud, on more than one occasion "the race is the least of my worries".  This statement was in regards to the fact that I was traveling alone for the first time in my life and would also need to navigate a new city in order to find my way to my starting corral.  In comparison to that, I felt the marathon was very doable.

So why was my mindset so positive about my outcome?  What had I done different this time around that resulted in this shift of perspective?  I followed the very same training plan that I had done for a spring marathon in May of this year, and definitely did not arrive at the start of that race feeling as hopeful or confident.  I was feeling puzzled until I listened to a podcast that brought forward the idea of rigor and how it affects pursuits in our lives.  Rigor is a word that I have heard used many times before, but is not one that I could easily define for you, if you asked, so I looked it up.  In a nutshell, rigor is the process of getting work done, and the consistency in the manner of doing it. Intersting.  So back to that idea of the process and the journey being more important than the outcome itself.  

I started to think about how this played into my preparation for this race and for many of the other goals I have set for myself.  Perhaps it was the act of getting up and getting out for my runs and that commitment to training that made the difference.  Maybe it was making training just another part of my days, as opposed to a new habit that I needed to accommodate over and over again.  I did notice that after the race I felt at loose ends knowing that I needed to not run for a few days to allow my body time to repair and recover properly.  That was new for me.  Usually after a race I am more than happy to set my runners aside and focus on other things in my life, feeling like I had gained freedom after a long period of lockdown.  I also came to these training runs with the mindset that they were all drops in the bucket.  I didn't necessarily expect to feel or notice any big changes, and instead came to each with the mindset of just one more step in the journey.  By taking away expectations and not placing outcomes on these sessions, I created space to enjoy the process and to feel like each time I crossed the line at my front door I had accomplished something.  It also allowed me to internalize the work and to slowly but surely come to the realization that I was doing this because I am a runner, and that this was part of who I am and what I do.  I felt like this was crucial for me and for my growth, as it provided purpose behind the workouts and allowed me to push through times when it felt like a grind or when the training required me to conquer a mental block (like on speed-related training days).

Thinking about rigor and other aspects of my life, I have also noticed how not having rigor around an undertaking makes it harder to show up.  Although I enjoy playing bass, and am a member of a band, I find myself feeling hard pressed sometimes to practice.  I have yet to find a way to make this just another part of my days despite the fact that I also know that without practice I will not improve and will also feel like I am not living up to the commitment I made when I joined the band.  The podcast I listened to gave me some clues as to why this might be.  Unlike running, playing bass is still relatively new to me, as I only started to take lessons at the end of 2021.  So I am still very much a beginner and in a learning phase, which I expect to last for most of the time that I play my instrument.  That is not where the issue lies.  Where I believe the road block exists is in the story I have told myself around the act of practicing.  With running I have fully accepted that I will be a solid mid-pack runner and am just grateful that my body allows me to pursue the races and events that I continue to sign up for.  With playing bass I feel like I expect more of myself.  Maybe it is the difference between playing an instrument and performing a physical act.  In a road race I am doing it alone - I don't run with a run club or group and therefore no one is depending on me, but me.  As a member of a band, I have a responsibility to the others to keep time and provide the foundation for the songs we play.  When it comes to practice I am fully aware of where my shortcomings are and can feel overwhelmed by the idea of not being able to improve.  This puts pressure on the practice to be more than just drops in the bucket.  This adds an expectation that with each practice session I will come away with noticeable improvements, which is simply not something that seems realistic.  Sure, after a few hours working on a piece of music or a section of a song I will likely be able to play a part better than when I first started, but I may not even begin to notice that until I have picked up my instrument and muddled through many practice sessions along the way.  How many times in our lives do we set ourselves up for this type of set back simply by adding extra pressure to the outcomes of our work?

What this lesson in rigor has begun to show me is the importance of taking pressure out of the process entirely.  Learning to put focus on showing up versus the outcome, and celebrating that as the real win in this whole equation.  Embracing the knowledge that by continuing to be consistent and making these endeavours just another part of our days, we can find time to pursue our dreams without making it feel like we need to make huge changes in our lives to do so.  Instead of scrolling Instagram (I am looking in the mirror at myself right now), I can pick up my bass and work on a song for 20 minutes.  Or I can work on strength exercises that will help my body feel good while I train for my next race.  Or I can sit down and write my next blog or poem, or anything that feels like it is connecting me to activities in my life that have purpose and meaning.  The moral of the story is that hard work, consistency, and process are the keys to success.  Perhaps that is good news, and perhaps it feels like bad news.  It is not sexy nor is it new information, it is simply as simple as that.  What IS maybe a new message is the fact that we do not need to up-end our lives or make huge changes in order to find the time and energy to pursue our dreams.  We just need to put ourselves first, remind ourselves of our why, and then go and start putting drops in the bucket.