On Motivation
Motivation in sport and life is generated from internal drive and external factors. Motivation is the reason(s) one has for acting or behaving in a particular way. In thinking about what motivates me, I tend to shift the focus outward. I’ve always been up for a challenge. A coach puts a workout on the board and I’ll get it done. Toss me in a pool with no coach and no lane mates, and I’m lucky to do a quarter of what I set out to do. An alarm is set knowing someone else is waiting at the ride meetup location. No plans? My bed sounds nice. Start and finish lines, set up by race directors, motivate me. External accountability is a key factor in my personal motivation. So what happens during a pandemic, in the midst of a move across the country, when your only quarantine partner leaves for deployment? Motivation wanes.
I had a friend recently tell me that she thought I was pretty darn good at challenging myself without the normal race / group pressure. And my instant reaction was, hell no. Me? I feel like I’ve been failing myself recently. I don’t have that drive or spark to get out and do the work. The races on the calendar are either dropping off or switching dates. The target is out of focus. You would look at my TrainingPeaks and say, hmm “you’re a bit inconsistent” but points for those peaks.
Yet it’s in those peaks where I see that maybe I do have a little bit of internal drive. The motivation to start may come from an external source, but what drives me to continue? To keep pedaling?
A few external motivators have popped up providing some peaks for the deep valleys in my training. Kyle deployed to an area where they had a mandatory 14 day quarantine – so I rode every day outside here since he couldn’t there. I knew it’d be a way to get me out of bed, even if it wasn’t until the afternoon. Ted King is promoting #DIYgravel which I’m all about and have submitted my “races” every challenge. A midwestern friend invited me to this hour of power hill climbing challenge. {Find a hill, less than a mile long, and do as many repeats, racking up as much elevation as you can, in 1 hour. I found two hills and did it twice.} And then Rebecca Rusch announced her #GiddyUpForGood elevation challenge. What’s with all this climbing?
In cycling, we tend to naturally classify ourselves. I often say “I’m not a climber.” I like carbs, candy, pasta and all the wheaty and sugary ingredients far too much to ever get to the watts per kilogram necessary to climb well. But for some reason, this is where my internal motivation kicks in. I don’t have to be fast, but I’ll get it done. There’s something about a hill that makes you dig deep – gravity, yes – but a calling to the top – come up here. Mountains are nature’s start and finish lines – the bottom and top. So f-that personal de-classification. If you climb a hill on a bike, you’re a climber. It’s not like I’m on a UCI team with actual professional roles {sprinter, climber, domestique.} I ride my bike. Sometimes up a hill. Say it with me, “I’m a climber.” There. That felt good.
So yesterday, I set out to climb my bike almost 16,000 ft, half the elevation of Everest, up and down one hill, for COVID relief through the Be Good Foundation. Relief comes in many forms, and for me this was a little bit of physical suffering (okay, alot) for some personal mental health relief. Turning one form of suffering into another.
And I got what I signed up for. There were so many highs and lows throughout the day. I think what I miss the most about big events, and I’m sure what we all miss, are those moments in between the suffering. Getting nervous before, or commiserating after, with our friends. The story telling of our individual journeys. The intimate moments between where some random stranger becomes your partner in suffering. Luckily ya’all got to see my pretty face yammering on in those moments of adversity and triumph. (See my Instagram “GiddyUP” highlight if ya missed the blow by blow.} And I guess I’m stronger than I thought.
My #giddyupforgood Journey aka “race” report
I’ve been using gravelmap.com trying to plan routes for some eventual DK gravel training. I noticed a few over on the Olympic Peninsula and after hearing about Rebecca Rusch’s elevation challenge (5k, 10k, 16k, or full Everesting 29k) I knew I wanted to tackle some sort of gravel climb. And after doing two sub 1 mile, hour long climbing challenges, I figured less is more in terms of numbers of climbs. “Only” four times up a climb sounds better than 60. So I found a 4000′ climb and the seed was planted. Bon Jon Pass/Mt. Townsend was the target.
{Also of note, I’ve never had an inkling to do an Everesting challenge. The whole “I’m not a climber” thing yes, and also, it would just take me way too long and I really don’t think my back could handle it. 16k sounded scary enough. I am solo here. I don’t have a crew to feed or pace me, drive me there or bring me home. It’s me, shoveling myself off the ground, so I also had to figure safety into the equation. I’m on a gravel road / gravel bike / gravel tires carrying all my own gear. This was not a speed competition for me, but one of willpower and endurance.}
A little planning went into this like taking a look at the ferry schedules, snacks & cooler packing, and changing tires on my bike. I knew time would be an issue, so there wouldn’t be a lot for recovery at the top or bottom of each climb. I estimated it would take approx. 2 hours to climb, and 30 min to descend and with stops, I was figuring it’d be an 11+ hour day. I’m not sure I quite understood the magnitude of what I was doing. Or rather, the altitude. I’ve done plenty of 10,000′ days on the bike, so I kept saying, what’s another 6k? Uh, another 1.5 times up this beast of a climb, that’s what.
And so I started climbing. And climbing. I learned to hate the steep section at 1500 ft up. Meaning also at 5500′, 9500′, and that last one hitting at 13,500′. So steep. Dig deep. I learned to love the roll out from the car, the gentle beginners climb. The chunky top section past Bon Jon Pass was challenging going up or down. I looked forward to a rice crispy treat at the top of each climb before adding back all the layers to descend, and the slight heat built up in the car warming me while sipping Mexican coke at the bottom. I learned to love those PNW clouds swirling around us all day.
Us? Well you see, my new friend Emily had the same idea. Bon Jon was to be her proving grounds as well. We connected online a few days before, when realizing our paths would be crossing. She did 2000’x8 starting a bit further up and only going to the Pass, and had a head start coming from Seattle {more ferries}. She was already half way done by the time I got down with my first, and every time we passed as the other was going up or down, there was a friendly cheer. And her cheer squad of Ben + his daughter came out to snap some photos. “Rachel?” I hear as I pass these two standing in the road. Uh – yes, wait someone knows me?! Heidi Franz also rode out to cheer on Emily and do a lap with her. Between this cheer squad and the gun shooters, I didn’t feel so alone.
Gun shooters? Well what do you call them? They weren’t hunting. At first, the noise scared me. “Are they shooting this direction? Should I be wearing my yellow jacket on the way up too?” But eventually I saw them at the pull outs and I waved every time. They seemed friendly. At nearly every pull out on the climb up, there were a truck or two and people shooting targets or clay pigeons. Drinking beer. Hmm, beer. The missing ingredient in my plan. I feel like I’ve failed myself not including one in the cooler.
Stroke of genius on the 2nd climb. As I’m passing a big group of gun shooters, “Are you guys gonna be here all day? Would you mind leaving a beer on the side of the road for me so I can have a celebration at the end of my last climb?” Responded with, “Hell yes! Here it is, by this rock!” And that’s all I needed. The carrot on the end of the stick for the rest of the day. Except beer is better than a carrot. They had moved on by the time I was descending, but there it was. Climbed the third and it was still there. Descending the 3rd, a new group was shooting guns and I prayed that they didn’t see it and steal “my beer.” The 4th time up I caught Emily on her final climb, right as she was hitting 15,889′ so we got to celebrate her victory together. She turned back and I kept climbing, still needed 2k more. And there it was. Stopped this time for the Silver Bullet – aka Coor’s Light. I purposely only brought up one water bottle this final time, so I could carry this aluminum screw top beer bottle the remaining 1500′ to the top and celebrate. I chatted with the second crew and my favorite quote was, “My truck barely makes it up this climb, I can’t believe you’re riding your bike up it, and 4 times! Impressive.” I felt like I won them over. Spandex clad woman enjoys beer like us; cool.
And so I kept climbing. I celebrated {prematurely} at the top with half the bottle, knowing I still needed 600′ to finish the goal. And also knowing my drop dead must get back to the car to make the ferry date was quickly approaching. Turned around and headed back up for the remaining feet, celebrated for real, and raced back to the car with 7 minutes to spare. Dead, with not an ounce of pedaling energy left. That invisible finish line crossed.
And yes, I made the last ferry home.
In Closing
This was a challenge that was very hard for me to complete. {Kinda like making it this far into this post; sorry.} I knew it would take all I had and I was actually prepared for failure. We push ourselves through times where failure is an option, and that’s scary. I don’t like to lose, but the fear of loss is what motivates me to keep going. To pedal harder, faster, stronger, longer, smarter. Not just on the bike, but in life. This challenge also made me realize how much we rely on others just to compete. How “heavy” racing {and life} really are. How others help us lift some of that weight. The weight of preparation. Emotional weight. Logistical weight. What if, emergency, weight. Knowing I was fully responsible for myself yesterday was challenging in it of itself. Doing something I’d never done, on a road I’d never been on was daunting. I took it one pedal stroke at a time, and that’s all we can ask of ourselves. Yesterday I found an internal motivation that sometimes, I forget is there. I bore the weight of the task at hand.
So thank you, to those who’ve beard the weight of me and have lifted me off the ground. It was my parents, coaches, and teammates in those early swimming years. It’s transitioned to teammates, friends, volunteers, and race directors. Mostly, through this endurance phase of life, Kyle has been there to lift me up. Literally to bed every night. After Ironmans, running races, crits, crashes, Palomars, Kanzas, and deployments. Being so alone makes me realize I’m not. Giddy Up.
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