Old and new, lost and found
By Alison Colavecchia
4.22.02 (www.slowtwitch.com)

A few months ago I was asked a compelling question (thanks Kirk)—one that has been with me on many a long run since it was posed. "Could the old me have done this?" Could the old me have set out to do an Ironman? My immediate answer was "No", that along my life’s path there have been too many big lessons learned that only now give me the tools necessary to pursue an Ironman.

The "old" me was impetuous, rebellious and stubborn. The old me detested following the rules, any rules and was willing to take whatever punishment came my way in order to protect my right to self-determination. I was grounded a lot. I asked too many questions and liked to argue back. I was taught that my opinions mattered and rarely missed an opportunity to express them. I liked pushing myself to the edge and developed some bad habits commensurate with this. The old me could stay up really late and go straight to work at 5am to clean the pool before it opened. The old me could play a mean game of caps, liked to ride my bike in heavy traffic and run at noon in the midday sun.

The old me might have just blurted out one day, "I am gonna do an Ironman" and actually have done it on crappy shoes, an old bike and too little training. I would have given little thought to the myriad of things that could have gone wrong or to the reasons why it simply didn’t make sense.

At the outset, I believed that a part of my journey was to collect pieces of myself that I thought I had lost along my life’s way. I saw recapturing the old me as a necessary and welcome step toward starting and finishing my first Ironman. So I went in search of my old self, my old ways. In so doing I bumped into myself and discovered that these old ways were not necessarily compatible with my goal (see early lessons). I had to be honest with myself, the old me would have been fickle, would have turned on my heel at the first injury, on first learning that I wasn’t likely to ever "win". The old me would have switched gears at the first sign of boredom.

It was then that I began realizing I would have to call upon some new life lessons in order to "do my dues".

Perhaps it has been the lessons learned in a long-term relationship, those learned through motherhood or maybe it is simply having lived near forty years that have rounded out some of my rougher edges. I have been blessed, not always painlessly, with lessons in humility, patience, industry and how to dance with fatigue. Are these not the very lessons and skills required for pursuit and accomplishment of an Ironman? Heart, patience, humility and persistence, sometimes in the face of adversity?

Now I take no delight in dodging cars on my bike and have a thing about wearing a hat when it’s cold and sunscreen when it’s hot. I appreciate forethought in most activities and understand that certain kinds of privileges and freedoms are earned simply by following the rules. When I get frustrated or injured, I slow down. I don’t quit. I am learning to accept that feeling like a winner has little to do with actually winning and more to do with pursuing my own personal best, whatever that may be. These "new" lessons have given me the ability to be patient through the dry spells and a belief in rewards that will come only in the distant future.

So, the well thought-out answer?

I could not have proceeded as I have with a 5-year plan to get to an Ironman race date with my old ways. The impulsivity and recklessness of my youth would have noticed mountain biking years ago and moved on. That said, the part of me that has always been too curious, always felt a need to push, always lived by the mottos "just do it" and "why not?" is the part that had the chutzpah to put my name on the list to toe the line on July 28th. Without the old me, there would be no hunger to find out if I can, and no stubborn sense of "why not?"

Over the last few years out there alone on the road, I have felt overwhelmingly that the "new" me had yet to arrive. I believed that when she came she’d be further ahead in the pack; be able to push longer, harder; be better able to juggle more and feel it all less. The "old" me was waiting for the "new" me and she was going to be able to do an Ironman. I did not understand that being there was in and of itself a sign that the "new" me had arrived. I did not have to wait to finish an Ironman to find the "new" me. As Scott had promised, I was there already.

Could the old me have done this? Not alone. What will it take? All of me: the old and new; the lost and found.

Still Tri’n