Finding Something in Nothing
Written by Georgina
"Just where you are - that's the place to start." Pema Chodron
Five am and the rooster crows. My alarm clock. Usually I love it, prone to making me chuckle whilst climbing out of bed. This morning I hate it. The usual up and go is not there. I lie still. F*** this. Full of anguish. My heart caving in. Can I even launch myself out of bed? I am exhausted, bordering on broken.
A training morning. I need to get my kit on and go. The world seems like a black and white slow-motion movie, with no sound. I do not know how but I get dressed. I pedal twenty-five minutes to the velodrome.
I am ten minutes late. I am never usually late.
The bunch are warming up. They call out G when they see me. I can barely respond. I can hardly pedal either for that matter. What was I thinking? Training with a mind and body that is completely numb.
I push myself in the efforts. My form is basically crap. One of my good mates, the cheeky trackie, is passing me, she knows what’s happening. I yell to her, somewhat puzzled, that I’ve got nothing in me. She says, “yeah not surprising mate.”
Oh yeah, she’s right.
The coach is aware of my personal situation. He chatted to me about how important it is to just roll some days, if I can, for the mental release. Pretty much why I turned up, because of that encouragement. I knew I could be like this and it would be okay.
Truthfully, I’m just looking for the connection, to hang with people other than myself. I do not want to be in my own spiralling thoughts.
There are drills and sprints, I give it my best. I even have to drop back at one point. I cannot keep on. Still, around and around the velodrome until the coach calls us in.
Breathless, absolutely cooked, we’re leaning on our bikes on the edge of the track. The coach is talking technique in his unassuming way. He uses anecdotes of everyday life wisely interwoven back into cycling to get his message across. This day, I don’t really hear much thanks to the numbness.
He wants us to do one more lap. To go all out.
One of the bunch protests, “but we’ve got nothing left.” I wait for him to say okay, go to the coffee shop, but he never does.
He pauses, you know it is going to be gold, “then I want you to find something in that nothing.”
The whole bunch moans, except me. I want to sob. I mean the next lap is going to suck, we’re all hurting in our own physical way.
For me though, my hope level picks up for the first time in weeks. I have been grappling and grasping for a way out of the nothing, the inhospitable destination of complete surrender. Sitting with no words, no answers, not knowing.
This is my solution.
I know this place. I have been here before, how can you not when you are living life on life’s terms? I feel the ever so subtle upward shift from despair to a little faith. This is enough to start.
We all do another lap. All out, just as the coach asks. And yep, most of us want to vomit.
I love how life works, if you are willing to turn up. Here I am thinking this is an extremely poor training session on my behalf, but really it is about hearing the coaches words.
Sometimes you need someone to make you dig that little bit deeper, that person on the sidelines who believes you have it in you long before you do yourself. However, it is a team effort, for sitting along side this is my own sense of trust. If I can lean inwards, there will always be something in that nothing.
And I had to ride quite a few laps for that !