Journal: Soft Target
Drenched in sweat from the twenty-three hundred feet of climbing, the sun casts her warmth down onto my skin after a few days of rain throughout the entire west coast. At the top of the summit, the view is clear as can be with sights in all directions, the mountain tops to the north are covered with snow, and to the west, the ocean reflects the clouds and sky canopy from above. My lungs expand and contract at a steady hundred and forty beats per minute catching myself sprinting down the mountain with style, and every step lands with intent, moving me over the mountain nest terrain.
Barreling down the final descent to grab more water to rehydrate before heading back up for my final repeat of the day. After two ascents, an hour and twenty-two minutes passed and the goal was three ascents under the two-hour mark. Each repeat had twelve hundred feet of vertical gain in a mile and a half taking me about twenty-six minutes each so far. With the same descent and mileage back down, that took me about thirteen minutes or so. My mind is in the zone, working hard, fully invested in this training session, and putting everything into for the day.
The first thing that my eyes fixate on is the driver-side tire where a liter of water hung out waiting for me to drink, but what my eyes missed is the pile of broken glass from my driver’s side passenger window. Right away my mind and eyes realize what has happened, my car has been broken into and my personal belongings are gone. Before continuing, my things were covered with a couple of jackets, and with tinted windows, it is hard to see inside my car. A thought ran through my head and that was to run back up the mountain for that last and finally repeat, but my heart was no longer in the session.
At the end of the day, my things being taken didn’t hit me as hard as they did a few hours later. Things can be replaced, but not memories and objects, that hold value, and money can’t buy are what hurt the most. Being violated burned my heart a bit, never in my head did it occur to me that my things would be broken into and stolen. It made me realize that my guard was down, and a soft target for the robbers. That my things being stolen came down to my lack of attention and awareness of my surroundings, lacking the skill of being a hard target at all times. A skillset that runs through my veins to survive environments of potential risk and danger, life and death.
Anyways, the training session ended with six miles, two-three hundred feet of climbing, and left me confident, refreshed, healthy, and with an opportunity to grow more. The break-in and stealing of my things offered me a lesson to never let my guard down and to cherish those small moments with objects that can be easily stolen or taken from you without knowing, much like death. This was a murder of my personal belongs, the grieving moment is coming to end, and the things can all be replaced, but will always hold a special place in helping me become the person that writes these words today.
This was my positive self-talk during my training session yesterday and it had to do with life and not just racing or chasing big goals. Most people train to compete, but lately, my heart is driving me in a different direction.
Compete to train, to love, and to endure.
