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Life's Transitions Cont'd
I am now a coach, race purely for the lone feel of the heart beating and adrenaline rush. It just feels good to be alive in my opinion, and racing is a short way of experiencing this feeling. Passing on information as a coach is something I truly enjoy, and I have come to grips with just finishing a race wherever I finish it. No more build ups to be at the top, just enough training to be in shape and not embarrass myself too much. Marriage is a great thing if you do it right, with the right person, it is also something that when done right, will be there forever. Racing will be over one day, when the body gives out, unless you are lucky enough to race long enough or pass while doing it like our fallen brother Jim Ward. Whereas family and especially marriage will always be there as long as you both live long lives, beyond our racing years. Being a coach here at D3 Multisport has taught me much about other athletes, and what drives them, and the circumstances they all deal with in day to day life. I learn from my athletes as well as the other coaches, how they cope with situations and continue to race with all that is going on. From coaching CEOs of companies, to college students, to working professionals, it is always enlightening to see them work through their own transitions. As a coach there is so much still to learn, as an athlete, there is probably equally as much to learn.
At this point in my life it makes me think of a single line in Ozzy Osbourne’s song Changes...” I’m going through changes...” Working on training schedules the other day, I had this song playing on my iPod, and realized that one line rang true to me. One of my athletes said that he wanted to race professional some day. It reminded me of myself when I was his age, and then I went out and did it. I could probably have done it better, had I fully committed to it and gave myself a fair shot at it, but no regrets. I did what I had to do to lead a balanced and happy life, while looking to the future some 20, 30 or 40 years down the road. Make more money, take a 100% commitment to triathlon, start a business, write that book, marriage, kids; they are but a few choices many of us think about along the dusty, bumpy road of life as aspiring young athletes. In hindsight, I think that as I have slowly hung up my super-serious competitive racing years (although I still want to do well in results), there seems to be something hauntingly familiar about where I am. Coming full circle after the many years of racing, and endless transitions in life, I can’t help but wonder if those before me or along side of me have come back to this place as well. It is a place of balance, where the end results are not nearly as important as just being. Being in the game and being outside, learning that what I already experienced in my career, rising from a novice/beginner to professional — were all part of the ride that continues and now, as a coach. Although it seems a blur spec of a time since the start of my racing years, almost as if just last year, at the same time seems so very long. Here I am, on the other side, transitioning back to the place where it all began—learning, and feeling the pure joy of just being outdoors. Little did I know that the exit door would lead back to the entrance door. Kevin Konczak is a USAT Certified coach with D3 Multisport and can be reached for questions or comments at: Kevin@d3multisport.com |
Born to Suffer Cont'd
Really, I wasn’t sure what my best strategy was going to be as I hopped/climbed/lumbered/fell off my bike and then handed it over to a volunteer, hopefully never to be seen again (the bike that is – the volunteer seemed like a pleasant enough chap). I figured I could think about my strategy while I walked (yes, walked – and very slowly at that!) to the closest possible chair inside the changing tent. Having finally reached that luxurious folding chair in a time that was probably greater than some athletes’ total transition time, I was still debating what my strategy should be. Now what you have to keep in mind is at that point in time, just thinking was requiring some serious effort. So while it appeared to the volunteer hovering over me, waiting for me to speak, that I was doing nothing but staring at a speck of dirt on the ceiling, I was actually engaged in some strenuous activity. “What can I get you?” the volunteer asked. I slowly lowered my eyes from the ceiling to the volunteer’s eyes. I didn’t feel like actually speaking so I mentally told him that I was just tired, not feeling great but hanging in there and that I needed a little extra time to collect my wits and regroup and then I would be OK. For some reason, he did not receive my mental message and continued to try to communicate with me via spoken word. “Are you OK? Should I get a doctor? How about something to drink?” he persisted. This was my 10th Ironman and I knew this guy was just following the instructions that had been reviewed at the transition volunteer pre-race meeting. Deep down, I was very appreciative of this guy’s enthusiasm and knew he was just trying to help me anyway he could. I also knew that if I continued to stare at him and say nothing, he would start yelling for a doctor which could put a serious damper on my need to finish that damn race. So I took a deep breath and managed to condense my message down to a few words. “I’m OK. Please come back in a few minutes.” I returned to staring at my ceiling dirt as I slouched in my chair, still completely decked out in cycling gear. He stared at me for a second and then seemed to accept and understand the dark hole I was desperately trying to climb out of. He said “OK, just yell if you need me.” After another couple minutes of examining my ceiling dirt, I took another deep breath and actually started to “transition”. First I got my bike helmet and sunglasses off. Then I really started to roll as I got my shoes and socks off. At this point, my volunteer guy noticed that I was once again among the living and cheerily bee-bopped on over to see how he could help. “How you doing man? You need some water or Gatorade now?” he asked. “Sure. Gatorade please.” I responded, hoping that bought me another minute of solitude. As I leaned back into my chair, still lacking any of the sock-shoe-hat-type gear typically recommended if you’re planning on going for a long run, or in this situation a long walk, I realized that just below my armpits was really raw and starting to sting. I must have really been starting to feel better because I was able to figure out that that piping on my singlet was essentially sawing into my flesh. As a general rule, triathletes can be a vain bunch, showing up on race day as fashionable and well-accessorized as a high-school prom queen. I was not in a prom queen kind of mood that day though and I started tugging at the piping, seeing if I could rip it off. I was making some progress on the piping when volunteer-boy returned with my Gatorade. And in the spirit of Christmas as this is being written on December 24th, the rest of the story goes something like this:
Erik Cagnina is a USAT Certified coach with D3 Multisport and can be reached for questions or comments at: Erik@D3multisport.com. |
