Upon my departure to Hawaii, a friend said “Have a perfect vacation. You might even think about relaxing a bit!”. Perhaps because so much of my life is wrapped up in the “balance” of things, I was a little insulted (briefly, and I do mean just a little). That switched quickly to the OF COURSE I’M GOING TO RELAX, IT”S FREAKIN’ HAWAII!!!! voice in my head.
The truth is, I believe this trip is an example of the perfect balance of life. I’ve finished the Chinese Drywall Project that was the focus of living for the better part of a year. My body is on the mend and I’m ready to step out of the comfort zone that was ruled by discomfort. I’m here with friends who are also clients and employers; I have work and I have play. This trip was planned at about the same time I was planning my spirit-filled visit to Sedona…the same muddy boots will traverse the lava fields and climb the volcanoes…all in an effort to please the Gods. And as a triathlete, It’s Hawaii!
Driving out of the Kailua-Kona Airport I quickly see a sign for Ali’i Drive. All I want to do is run! The likes of me will NEVER see my way to the mack-daddy of all triathlons, but I’m overwhelmed with the need to stop the car, pull out my running shoes, and pretend. If I were to make it to the Ironman World Championships…would I make it to Ali’i Drive? Yes, I would. I would be in pain, but it would disappear as the crowd cheered me on. It may be close to midnight, but I would do it. Crawling would turn to walking, walking to running, and running to floating. I would channel the wings of friends who have gone before me and hamstrings that have seen better days. Tears of blistering feet become tears of joy. Memories of the long hours training with friends…the counting of the calories…mounds of laundry…it’s all good. I MUST RUN!
But I don’t. I’m not driving the car, and I just don’t think my non-triathlete friend would get it. I’m completely zoned for the 30 minute drive to the hotel.
Sunday was a day of rest and recovery for us. No workouts. My legs are sporting a lovely set of cankles from the journey, and they ache. I convince the pool boys (note: they are not, as I had hoped, hunky natives in skimpy wraps that have bee put there for my viewing pleasure) that I will not be in their way as they vacuum and scrub. The cold pool is just what I needed. We decide to walk to Starbucks. I enjoy the well manicured grounds, but I want to bust out a run. Later, sitting by water’s edge, I squirm in my chaise lounge…I really want to run. Gotta’ train. Just want to run!
Really? Can I not relax?
But I do. As I get a few pages into a Pat Conroy novel I get lost in his words and wordiness. I’m calmed and soothed, just like the drawl was intended. In the peace it all makes sense; the natural balance is obtained.
Sunday. Rest. Relaxation. Recovery. Rejuvenation. Monday is a new day, a new week, a new training session. I will float and fly and be great. And I can’t wait!