The Post-Race High

Aloha, my loves! I’m writing you today from the lovely kitchen in the lovely home where I was the last time I wrote to you, here in the magical Makawao, Hawaii, on the island of Maui. This land belongs to the Hawaiian indigenous peoples.

It has been almost a month since I completed the North Shore triathlon. I managed to tell the story, up until I crossed the finish line and flung myself into the ocean, before I left for a 10-day silent meditation retreat. Day one of the retreat, and day one of my vow of silence, as my mind was wandering into thoughts, I was struck by the realization that I completely forgot to tell you the most important and wonderful part of the triathlon. The revelation that changed my life.

I thought, “Oh, no… Now I have to wait ten full days before I can correct the story.”

It seemed urgent, and like that was a long time to wait. Now, it’s been about seventeen days, and I’m unhurriedly finding the moment to share. Funny, how when we cut ourselves off from communicating, what seemed important at first becomes very minor after a good length of time. I think this is why indigenous peoples tend to speak slowly, say less, and leave long silences between listening and responding. Imagine the world if we could all practice this. It would look different, don’t you think?

Well, anyhow, here’s what happened:

I was standing in the water of the ocean, tears and sweat and blood all being washed from me, along with a lifetime of blame, guilt, and angst, and a bee flew right in front of my face. It was like time stopped, and for just a moment, which seemed to be a very long moment indeed, I was with this little creature, as though it came bringing some important message.

This is why: because that finish line and the transformation of the whole process in this culminating moment, it marked a clear line between who I was before and who I will be moving forward. It marked a very clear ending of one chapter of my life (a chapter about being abused and then healing from that abuse), and the beginning of a brand new one. I brought that whole story to a close, and was in the very first seconds of my new blank slate of a life, when along came a bee.

It was the first creature to greet the new me. The first being to happen along and say hello to me in this new paradigm. It was, simply, a holy moment. It meant something. I didn’t know exactly what, but I knew it was powerful.

And then, somewhere in the aftermath of all that, as I relaxed and bathed in the sea, I had a profound revelation:

I am made of all the kind things others have done for me.

I’m not sure exactly what triggered it. Was it a memory of a particular moment in the race, when someone helped me? Whatever was the catalyst thought, after it came a montage of snapshots and moving memories:

My friend Dave picking up my bicycle in his truck for me and driving me to the airport. Gene going to the bike shop in Arizona with me back in December to rent the road bike and insisting on buying me a good water bottle and sunglasses for the race. The gym employees giving me fresh towels and answering my questions with a smile day in and day out.

The man riding next to me in the cycling portion who called over to me and instructed me to shift gears and make it more efficient for an upcoming incline, after he noticed me huffing and pedaling slowly in too high a gear.

The women who helped me pin my race number sheet to my shorts. My couchsurfing host, Andres, insisting on helping me reassemble the bicycle the moment I arrived in his home, and offering me dinner and a warm bed. The man who helped me verify that my seat was set to the proper height when I nervously asked for help shortly before the race started. All the smiling faces along the way and people encouraging: “You’re amazing!” “You’ve got this!” “Don’t give up!”

I didn’t realize just how powerful and deeply helpful those kind of words are. It makes me want to offer them to those around me more.

Even the put-downs and abuse of my ex. Alongside all the kindness and generosity he showed me, the ways he harmed me. This, too, helped me: to see my capacity to transcend, to forgive, to heal myself and light a flame for others to follow toward the light of their own inner teacher, to the victory of peace, and of love.

There was a real sense of selflessness in me, in that moment. The realization that I would not have completed this journey without the kindness of others. Then, the deeper knowing: that I would be dead without it. The visions continued:

My mother wishing me a good workout every day for months this past fall and winter, when I left for the gym. My mother feeding me my every meal for decades as I grew. My mother cleaning houses day in and day out, to pay for the roof over my head. My mother signing me up for piano, dance, choir, paying from her hard-earned money for all this and driving me everywhere for years and years. My mother being kind and loving me, every day. Telling me I’m beautiful, smart, talented. My mother singing to me. My mother giving birth to me- the ultimate gift, my life.¹

And so, I knew this in my mind, there in the ocean, and also somehow on a cellular level. And the waves rolled in, calm and sweet, those of my mind beginning to agree with those of the ocean. And as I said in my last entry, I wandered over and played with some children, and greeted fellow racers again in the water.

Then, I made my way out and up the hill, retrieved my shoes and phone, and socialized while the results were being announced. I met the man who’d helped me gauge the bike seat position before the race. His name is Bruce and he’s in his seventies. He’s done many, many triathlons, and if he’s willing, I will interview him one day and share his story with you. His energy was very kind, and after we chatted some time, I asked him to remove his reflective-lens sunglasses so I could see his eyes. He had eyes just like my brother, Randy. It was a beautiful moment we shared there. He told me to get clip-in bike shoes and pedals, first thing, and keep doing races. He gave me his contact info and we parted ways.

The announcer was calling off the first, second, and third place winners in each category. I went to the transition area to clean up my things. I paused and looked up at the sky. Completely empty now, I stood in joy and awe of the sky above me. It was a perfect moment.

I packed all my things into my backpack and walked my bike back to the tents. I stood listening as the awards were given, and snacked on fresh grapefruit and bananas offered there for the racers. After the announcing ended, I stayed nearly an hour, chatting with the announcer and various volunteers and workers who wandered by me. The woman announcing, WaiWai, shared a bit about how the triathlon community has helped her heal her life. I sensed that she has an incredible story to tell, and asked for her contact info, so I can interview her and share her with you, as well.

The workers and volunteers broke down the tents and all the pieces of the event around us as we looked into one another’s eyes and shared from the heart, about journeying, about walking through darkness and out into light, about healing. She told me how, as a young person, hearing her voice recorded was mortifying to her, and how funny it is that now she’s a professional announcer. I realized what a gift it was, her giving her good energy and the beauty of her voice to us all for hours on end. It was the first thing that greeted me upon arrival, as it wafted across the dark field while I walked to the entry at 5am that morning, and the last thing, as well, as listened to her sharing so authentically and sweetly about her journey. It was full of positivity, strength, and hope.

I hugged her goodbye and thanked her for her gift. I really, really like this woman. I can’t wait to introduce you to her one day.

And then I left. And I continued soaring through profound swells: waves of glee, gratitude, joy, euphoria; waves of happy-sad tears, sorrow mingled with great love and gratitude, sobs suffused with peace, as more moved through and was released from me. I sat in my car, in the parking lot, and recorded this video to send to Gene. I’ll share it with you now, so you can feel the moment with me.

And then, I drove to my host’s home on the ocean. He was away working on his new nonprofit, The Hanai Collective.² I drew a warm bath and put in Epsom salts. I soaked my body and played with the water like a child. I went to the kitchen to reheat some of the soup he’d offered me the night before (I’d already eaten, then, and was looking forward to trying it). It was made from a fish his friend caught in the ocean there a few days prior, a fishhead soup with a rich, nutrient-dense broth, flavored with lemongrass, ginger, and coriander seed. I went to the garden, as I’d seen him do the night before, and trimmed fresh greens to chop up and add in as it simmered on the stove. I took a cup of tea and set a place for myself on the patio, overlooking the ocean. As I crossed through the kitchen to set my place, I saw a picture of a bee and these words on the calendar hanging on the wall:

“Planting flowers for the bees is how I give them love!”

I remembered the bee who’d greeted me at the waters’ edge, and thought, “Aha. So this is what you’re weaving in me. I can plant flowers for you, yes.” ³

I sat and ate the soup, savoring every bite. I felt the nourishment, both physical and spiritual, of the food and the place.

Did I mention that my host, Andres, is a professional chef who spent years cooking in top restaurants and as a private chef for the rich and famous of Oahu? 

Sometimes in this life, all I can do is look up to the sky, say, thank you, and enjoy what’s in front of me.⁴

And then, with a belly full of soup, I fell into the comfy bed upstairs and watched the ocean from the bedroom window. I sent messages to friends awhile, sharing how it went and about my revelation. One friend has done many marathons, and she told me to enjoy the “post-race high.”

I thought, “Ah, that’s what this is! Wow- I had no idea what people were experiencing ‘til now!”

At times, I felt downright drunk. Silly, like a child! Full of emotion, like a new mother. Completely free, unashamed and uninhibited to express all the ways I felt, like a baby. It was a very, very nice high. I slowly came down into a pleasant fatigue that pulled my whole body down and in, to deep sleep.

I napped on and off. I let go of any desire to go anywhere or do anything beyond enjoying my body in the bed and rest. The sun set over the ocean. I barely moved for hours, and it was glorious.

In the evening, when Andres returned, I greeted him and went downstairs to meet his friend and son. We chatted awhile, and then I went to bed. I spent more time with Andres and his son, Julian, the next morning. We talked and Julian drew and showed me his art: comic strip stories which are masterfully illustrated. It was a peaceful morning, and sweet.

As I packed and loaded my things into the rental car, Andres tended the garden, gently weeding and watering the many plants with a tender care that touched my heart. The yard there is so full of green, it gives a feeling of abundance and health. It is very wonderful.

We agreed I’d return soon to help with the new farm, and said goodbye. He gave me a small snipping of rosemary and basil to bring with me, for the journey home.⁵

And so, now I have truly completed the story of the triathlon. The hours after the race felt somehow very important for me to write and share with you, perhaps if only to allow the story to move through me.⁶

I wish you well! Soon, I’ll tell you the story of my journey back to Oahu for the Vipassana retreat.

Blessings,

Bree

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¹Thank you, Mama. I understand and appreciate you more every day of my life. I would be dead without you. And if not dead, not alive like I am today. I’m made of your kindness.

²This org’s mission is wonderful and pure.

³Whether or not you operate like me, perceiving that life is sending you guideposts and signs from the universe to guide your path, I hope that at least you can enjoy the story of how I move through the world and how my life unfolds therein. I know I sure enjoy living it.

⁴There are moments when I truly can’t believe my good luck! I’m learning to respond to such moments with an emphatic, “Yes! Thank you! I am worthy! Bring it on! Keep it coming! Drown me in it! More, please!” I balance this with the knowing that all things pass, and a non-attached surrendering into the bliss, fearless of it leaving, happy it’s here, good with it all.

⁵Smelling basil and rosemary clarifies, calms, energizes, and uplifts the mind. One study concluded it can improves long-term memory. Find it here, and research more, if you’re interested! Better yet, find some fresh-picked herbs and sniff them. See how you feel it within yourself. If you like it, you can easily grow them at home, no matter where you live, and enjoy it every day! Essential oils work, too, but there’s nothing like the real thing!

⁶Writing to you is therapeutic, and it helps me. So, whoever you are, thank you for reading and sharing in my journey. I appreciate you.