This is not about giving up or giving in to age. Endurance athletes, by definition, do not give up, and personally, I’m pretty much in denial over this aging thing. I have, however, enthusiastically accepted a few reframed performance metrics that keep me inspired without abandoning my competitiveness and type-A drive.
Performance is, somewhat wistfully, no longer measured by marathon times, personal records, or Strava segment crowns. Success comes in new forms: durability, resolve, toughness, and versatility. I’m proud to be a better mountain biker than I was 15 years ago (at least, I don’t cry as much). I’ve navigated, with Paul’s continual and relentless support, unintentionally long, misrouted rides in summer heat (and in freezing rain), not knowing how far was left. We made it, and got up the next day to do it again. I’ve targeted peaks and found my way along unmarked ridgelines to find that unmapped summit, then shuffled home for a pint of celebration. I’ve even put significant effort into cross-country skiing the last 3 winters, something I have traditionally dismissed. Each morning that I’m stoked and ready to climb our backyard ski hills, striving to meet my annual vert goal, confirms that I am still performing, still challenging myself, still improving skills and strength.
I’ve been getting a lot in my feed lately about the importance of doing these hard things. It’s not something new to me; I’ve found myself inexplicably repelled by the usual creature comforts most normal humans steer toward. My abnormal psychology behind that inclination can wait for another time, but I’m confident that as we all age, our brains and bodies become increasingly comfortable with discomfort. In fact, as athletes, I think we might all find more and more solace in struggle and so-called suffering as the years go on. That pain, if you want to call it that, makes us feel alive and brings the familiar satisfaction of hard work. At the same time, years of experience with the ups and downs of endurance sport built crucial body intelligence, instilled innate self-regulation, and engraved valuable problem-solving patterns to lean on when things get weird. And just getting through it all has made us triumphant superstars.
And this is why we still do it. To feel all those feelings. To spend time with ourselves and sometimes share it with others. To know we’re self-reliant, autonomous beings, while also part of the whole. All these things have happened to us, and we are still moving forward. We are still stoked to get after it. We keep performing.
