Mental Health and Physics: A Personal Response

As I was browsing social media yesterday, I came across the following article for which I have included the link. The piece is about the mental health struggles of a particular student during her graduate studies.

My purpose in writing this blog post is to tell my own story and to further the dialogue in generating a better environment in which we train future scientist. Mental health issues among graduate students is a phenomenon that is well known, but I have encountered any sustainable solutions. This observation is purely anecdotal and not based on a survey of different programs. I know I am not alone in my struggles, but I do not want to compromise the privacy of anyone who has shared with me their own personal fight against depression and anxiety, so here is just my experience with some questions about what we can do to better train our future scientists.

I began my graduate studies in 2012 at Royal Holloway University of London. I was thrilled to be studying at my first choice program. I like the student, in the original article, have a history of depression and other mental health issues, mostly situational. My joy at starting my program gradually ebbed away and was replaced by suffocating anxiety.

So how did this manifest itself? On bad days, I felt a deep sadness and discouragement in depths of my personhood. I woke up each morning with a sense of dread and panic. My shoulders and jaw ached after a night of living through tension I could never escape. I test as an extrovert on any personality test, I have ever taken, yet I developed social anxiety and avoided people. This had a doubling sabotaging effect as extrovert, I need the social relationships.

On the worst days, I dreaded getting out of bed in the morning. I wanted to escape life itself. Yet I know I had to move forward. Everything depended on me. So I went to work anyways. I tried to brush away the voices that constantly told me I was a failure and unworthy of the position. (Imposter syndrome is also rampant amount graduate students and I am no exception.)

I did seek counseling for a short while, which only moderately helped. I told a superior once of my struggles who accused me of laziness and said that they were not interested in my personal problems. I never mentioned it again. I learned in this field, your results are what matter, not personhood. So I internalized the pains. I was able to manage much of this through exercise until a difficult pregnancy made this impossible. So I further repressed.

When I entered the final year, I had no time to deal with mental health issues. I was working full time, researching full time, and attempting to be a mother. So ignored everything and fought the anxiety related distraction. I did cross the finish line, but it was a messy completion, in which I feel more shame than accomplishment.

Now I live with the consequences. My anxiety on some days in disabling. I struggle to drive a car for fear of a crash. Some days I am driven to such a deep distraction that some days I accomplish very little. This is followed by feelings of failure. I am seeking help and I have taken some time to heal from my mental issues before beginning my next research endeavor. I have started to exercise again, which I hope will help. Even as I write this, I am terrified that sharing this information could be detrimental. I do not wish to be judged as a physicist by what I have struggled through to get where I am.

We do need to talk about the mental struggles of graduate students. First, we need to de-stigmatize these issues. I love the idea of having mental health forums as a part of graduate programs. These do not even need to be science specific, as these problems are not unique to the field. In my orientation, there was little mention of mental health services available. I would argue that this should be a bigger part since it is so prevalent among graduate students.

Lastly, I am hesitant to suggest this as I am not sure it is their role. In my case, my superiors were unsupportive and disinterested in my mental health. I know it would have helped me if I would have felt supported and safe. I want to fair to them, as I do not know what they were struggling with and some of the individuals I worked with provided excellent support in training me to be a proficient scientist. However, I cannot expect personal interest from superiors and at the end of the day, their job is only to ensure that I can do physics, not that I am healthy. Thus, I would argue for better mentorship programs focused on aiding students in progressing with their work even through personal issues to close this gap.

It is my hope that by writing this piece that I have put forward one more story to comfort anyone who feels that they are alone in their struggles. We need a good dialogue and we need good ideas on how to have better mental health during this grueling process.

Do You Know What Fit Looks Like? A short follow up.

About a year ago I wrote a little piece inspired by the events that happened at last year Wimbledon. The female champion had been heavily criticized for having larger physique. It is entailed "Do you know what fit looks like?" and it is the most popular post I have ever published. I feel it is very important that society has a healthy view of exercise and fitness as well as realistic expectations of the results. Fitness is about lifestyle, not the number on the scale or the number on the clothing size.

I am tired of seeing articles that discuss how running and spinning make you fat. I refuse to provide links to that trash, but they can be easily found. This perpetuates the notion that exercise is only about outward appearance. As I have said before fitness usually has some positive effects on appearance, but to truly master a discipline this really needs to be viewed as a pleasant side effect. In myself, I have found that the harder I train as a cyclist, that my legs get firmer, but also bigger. However, the number that count, the distance I can travel and the speed I can cycle continue to go up.

I have a confession. Training for this duathlon was the first time I really contemplated the notion of race weight. I seriously thought about working to lose 10 pounds to be a more "competitive weight".  (I am already a healthy weight for my height.) In the end, I abandoned the idea. Whatever weight I would or would not lose in training would be enough. After all, I do physics for a living, not racing. My speed in the race would only matter to me and my job gives me enough stress to worry about the scale too. So I ate healthy and trained hard.

In my last piece I gave my numbers and challenged other athletes to do the same. I will give you my current numbers. At the beginning of my training I weighed around 136-138 pounds. I was a US size 4 and somewhere between a UK 10 and a UK 8. I had taken a six month running hiatus due to injury and I cycled mostly for transportation. My training involved exercising 5-6 days a week with usually two long (2.5+ hour) workouts a week. And guess what? On the day of the Duathlon I weighed around 136 pounds, however my fitness had substantially increased and I looked much more muscular. Also, I had gone down a clothing size, but I had not really lost any weight. This is fine since the numbers that mattered were just perfect. On September 14, these numbers where 20/77/10 and 6:55:55. I weigh more now than when I ran the marathon in 2010 and my average running pace is around 1:30 faster on long runs and 2 minutes faster on short runs. Also my average cycling pace about 2 mph faster than it was two summers ago. These are the numbers that are far more important to me.

So what are your numbers? The ones that really matter. Let us be a part of revolutionizing the ideas of what being fit looks like.

The London Ultra Duathlon Race Recap: Something Truly Challenging

After 8 and a half months of training my race day had finally come. If you are mostly here to find out about my final results, I will spoil the ending now, since this piece is more about the experience that the end result. Also, if you want to read just the race recap and not the back story, you can find that here.

London Ultra Distance: 20km run (12.4 mi) / 77km cycle (47.8 mi) / 10km run (6.2 mi)

Total Time: 6:55:55

Overall Place (Female Finishers): 7th

Age Category Place (25-29): 1st

In order to really tell this story, I need to take you back in time to when I registered for the Ultra. I will warn you now, this story is incredibly personal. I am sharing it because I want others in my circumstances to know that they are not alone.

It was February of this year and life was very challenging. I was broke. My tiny student income is enough to cover one frugal person's life in the London area and I was been bending over backwards to figure out ways to make it stretch to cover two people. To do this I had taken on a large teaching load that was draining me and taking a heavy toll on my other responsibilities. My research was not going well, in part because I did not have the proper time to devote to it and I there is little mentorship to help develop into a balanced researcher and scientist. I was incredibly lonely. All the while, I was living with the knowledge that I was the one responsible for my circumstance. I wanted to obtain a PhD in physics at a good school. I chose to move here. The price I am paying for what I thought I wanted is higher than the present reward, and possibly the future reward. The past year and a half has sent me into an emotional decline. They has obliterated any passion I once had for my field and my involvement has become quite mechanical. At this point, it was too late to turn back. I have no money to go elsewhere and at least a PhD may give me a chance at a better living someday. Every day I tried to remind myself to be grateful for what I had, and sometimes it made things better. My self confidence that I worked so hard to build has all but gone away. I wanted to call my former colleagues, but I was afraid to admit that I had failed. That I was unhappy with my choice. Getting out of bed each morning had become a burden. I needed something where I could feel successful. Something that I could achieve that would be challenging. Then I saw an advertisement for the London Duathlon, a challenging event involving biking a running, two sports I have already done.

I knew that I would not be able to pay for a race entry, but I saw that there options to raise money for charity. Scope was offering individuals a £1 entry in exchange for committing to raise £200. (I have previously written about the other reasons I chose Scope here.) I had never fundraised for an entry in a race before, and after some thought, I decided to go for it. Then there the issue of the length. The London Duathlon ran 4 different lengths (run km/ cycle km / run km):
Super Sprint - 5k/11k/5k
Spring - 10k/22k/5k
Classic - 10k/44k/5k
Ultra - 20k/77k/10k
I knew I wanted a challenge. I remember thinking at the time that the bike length for the Ultra was the only bike ride that seemed a reasonable. (I prefer long rides.) For some reason all the extra running was  not exactly registering at the time I was signing up. So I enrolled. I also convince my friend Thyla to join me in this endeavor so we could train together. She decided to do the more reasonable Super Sprint distance.


Here I must digress on a tangent. I am frequently asked what makes me do endurance events. I give the same answer. Endurance athletes are a special kind of crazy. We want to be challenged. We want things to be hard. We want to see what we are made of. It is not that we are necessarily in better shape that individuals who do short events, (in my case many short distance athletes are in far form), we enjoy the mental game of pushing ourselves further when everything in our body tell us to quit. I ran my first race at 24. It was a 5k and I had to walk part of it. I ran my first marathon 11 months later. This is the kind of crazy I am talking about. If this type of things seem normal to you than join the club. We are a great bunch.

It may seem unusual to add on more activities to already strained schedule, but for me it gave me a reason to not only get out of bed, but to rise early. I needed to fit in that long ride. It gave me a reason to fight the discouragement of my research because I knew I could reward myself with a run if I had managed to move forward. I watched myself getting stronger and being able run faster. Nothing in my actual circumstances had changed, but gradually I was able to change my attitude. I found the strength to accept where I was in life. To stop being so angry. I reevaluated. I made new friends and started expecting my research to feel more like a job instead of expecting it to be the driving passion in my life.  I also became very serious about my own athleticism. Something in my switched. I did just want be semi committed hobby athlete. I wanted actually become competitive and push myself harder than I had before. I like this new found feeling.

So I have told you the story leading up the race, now I will give my actual race recap. The race was pretty incredible. My event started at 8:45 in the morning and I needed to be at Richmond Park at 7:30am. I looked up the train times and I knew there was no way that I could get there on time using public transportation and I was not going to cycle 14 miles will all my gear the morning of such a long event. Thankfully I have a wonderful co-worker, Jochem, who lives near the park who offered to have myself and Piper stay at his place the night before.

Waiting for the race to begin and rocking my Eyeskull socks. (I always try to carry a little Nebraska with me when I race.)

After a breakfast of granola with almond milk, a banana and some Coke, I cycled over to the park Sunday morning with my husband and Jochem. As usual before any big sporting event, I was nervous. I had been quite ill the past weekend and I spent all week resting and drinking water in hopes of being ready for the race. I really hoped my training had been sufficient. I hoped that I would be able to finish before the cut off time. The race event village had few racers wandering around. These were mostly Ultra participants with a few Sprinters. (The race order is as following, 8:45am - Ultra, 9:00am - Sprint, 10:30-11:30 - Classic, and 1:30pm - Super Sprint). I put on my race numbers and then made way to the transition zone. I had never done a multi-sport race before so I was not entirely sure of how to set up transition. I racked my bike, put my helmet on the seat, and laid out some gels, Snikers, sports drink, and a camelpak filled with elite spiked water. I had already installed a water bottle on my bike filled with water and 3 Sis gels. I left the zone and began my usual pre race ritual. This involves deep breathing, nervous conversation, and visiting the port-a-potties multiple times. I was really glad to have Piper and another friend there for support. I watched on the big board as the time counted down to the Ultra.

30 minutes before the race

At a little less than 10 minutes before we were called over to the starting carrels. We would be starting in packs of about 20. I was in second carrel next to another woman who was also doing the Ultra. We chatted about the lack of women in the event compared to the number of men. (There were around 100 individuals doing the Ultra and less than 10 were women.) I told her that this meant we were guaranteed to place in our age category. All we had to do was finish. The feeling in the start zone was electric. Everyone was excited and in a good mood. I was around so many incredible athletes. There was more than one person around me who bore the emblem of being an Ironman. It was surreal to think I would be running a race with people like that. They counted down the first carrel and we watched them take off. Next, those of us in the second start group made our way over. We listed to the count down and then we were off.

I was in a really good mood at the beginning of the race. (Little did I know what the day would hold.)

Like all endurance events, the start is never really that fast. I remember that I could not stop smiling. I was so happy that my day to run was finally here. The 20k run consisted of doing two 10k loops. I am not a particularly fast runner, especially compared to people that normally take on this type of distance. I am happy if I can run between 10:30 and 10:50 mile on long runs. I was well on pace during this race, however it not long before I was trailing at the rear of the Ultra pack. This did not bother me much. I am happy to run my own pace and I was pleased with how well it was going. The only issue I was having was little stomach pain, which is not unusual for me when running. The first loop seemed to fly by. I did see one sad event. The woman I had started next to had collapsed about 8km into the race and had gone into shock. It is always a little heartbreaking to see someone have to pull out so soon into a race.

Getting Ready to high five Jochem (I was really in a good mood on this first lap)

I was still in a good mood when I started the second lap. I was surrounded by a crowd of Sprinters as I reached event village. I watched as they ran towards transition and I kept running and fueled with a Gu. I was running alone for most of this lap. I passed another guy running the Ultra and we ran together for a short while before I pulled ahead. About 7km into the second lap, my bad knees started to act up. I was in pretty fair amount of pain, but I was determined not quit. I feel tears coming to my eyes. I frequently use my long morning runs as quiet time, since it is the one time my mind is still. This prayerful meditation during training is often useful in the race, because it serves as a reminder that I have a wonderful Creator who gives me strength. I kept repeating Phillipians 4:13 and the song "My God is so Big". I sipped a little water and little sports drink and kept on running.

Entering Transition

I enter the transition zone about 2 hours and 13 minutes into there race, (the fastest I have ever run a 20k in an event.) I was relieved to be done with running for a little while. My bike was one of the few remaining in the Ultra section so it was very easy to find. My transition is an example of everything not to do. I made a frantic grab for my helmet and gloves. I fussed with my camel pack and sunglasses. I pulled off my running shoes, (I love those elastic tri laces), and jammed my feet into my cycling shoes. I took another Gu and thought about eating something else, but my stomach revolted at the idea. I took my bike off the rack, and somehow made it out of there in 2 min 30 sec. I walked my bike to mount line and climbed on top.

My knees practically sang with the relief of being stretched out with pedaling motion. I growled as I took off. I am more of cyclist than a runner. The bike route is 7 laps around the Richmond park, an 11km circuit. This terrain is mostly undulating and there is one climb, a 1km hill with 40 meters of climb and a 12% gradient at the steepest point. (That's right, I am going to do that 7 times.) I reached the hill about 3km into the first loop. In my training, I practiced doing standing climbs to give my legs a break. I took the hill standing up. I felt so thirsty and light headed and worse, my stomach was in full revolt and I felt like I was going to be sick. I pulled over at the top of the hill to settle my tummy. I knew I would have difficulty recovering psychologically if I vomited during the race. I got back on my bike and did another couple of kilometers, the more issues. My calfs began to cramp. I could barely pedal. I pulled over at the Ultra water station and tried to stretch them out. One of the volunteers came over and had me lay down so I could be stretched out. I told it was only my first lap and I had never cramped like that in training. It turns out my electrolytes were low and I had not properly hydrated during the run to be prepared for the bike ride. I started off again furiously sipping the electrolyte water in my camelpak.

Going around the park (I really was not that tired when this was taken)

I took the rest of the first lap to find my groove again. I told myself I had too far to go to let a little hiccup pull me down. My spirits started to lift and by the time I rounded the corner, of the first lap, I was really having fun. The next 5 laps were an awesome blur. I rode my bike with nearly every participate in the race. I saw Ultras and Sprinters in the beginning and then the Classics arrived. I think every biking ability was represented. There is nothing quite like cycling next to someone on bike that costs more than what you pay in a year for rent. I was pretty happy with pacing, especially considering the slow start. Also, it worked really well for me to fuel from a water bottle.

Climbing that stupid hill (This was climb number 6)

That hill, got worse every time I climbed. I hate that bloody hill. By the time I was approaching the 6th time to climb, I was starting to feel tired. Then I made the mistake of thinking about the 10k run. The last lap was difficult. The last climb was brutal. I also wanted charge the person cheering at the top of the hill who kept telling me the worst was over. (I never want to hear that in a race, especially when I have literally miles to go.) The fleet of cyclists was pretty thin of my last lap. The overall mood had also changed as people had started to get tired. I did see Thyla who was finishing her first running loop on the Super Sprint. I finished my bike with a few Super Sprinters on my tail.

The last run really hurt

I approached the dismount line and I practical threw myself off the bike. My legs were aching and I had to walk the full distance of the transition field to get to the Ultra station. I racked my bike and looked around at the Ultras who had already finished and were packing up. Maybe one day that could be me, but certainly not today. I put on my running shoes and took another Gu. This tradition took me over 4 minutes. It was worse than the first. I stumbled out of the zone and willed my legs to work. I started on a slow jog, but my old friend, knee pain, had returned with a vengeance. I began something akin to a run/walk/limp. I was running on pure determination. I was going to do this last 10k if it killed me. I waved to Thyla as she passed me on the bike. At about 2km in, I was able to run more than walk. My pace was slow and painful, but determined. All I could think about was finishing. I was alone on the track. I needed another walk break between the the 5k and 6k mark. After I passed the 6k mark, I decided I was going to run the rest, no matter what. As the remain km passed I entered mind set of pure crazy. I do not think there is another way to describe it. Everything in my body told me to quit, but I kept putting one foot in front of another. I passed a Classic runner who was walking and encouraged her to run with me and finish faster. She ran 1 km with me before she had to drop back to running. I reached the 9km mark and then there was only 1000 meters before I would be an Ultra Duathlete. About 500 meters from the finish line, I could hear footsteps behind me. There were two Ultra runners behind me. I had been ahead of them the entire last lap, (who knew?), and I was not going to let these guys beat me now. Somewhere out of the depths of my soul I pulled out what felt like a sprint and ran the last bit as fast as I could. I could hear my name being called as I passed the finish line. I promptly broke into tears.

Finishing was very emotional. This is not a pain expression.

Finishing was very emotional for me. I had put months into training. I had taken myself further than I had ever imagined. I once saw a video of people finishing their first Ironman. I could relate to the expressions I saw on that video in that moment. I would say that this was my Ironman, but I hope to do an actual Ironman someday. I have completed my first ultra sporting event. I am no longer an ordinary athlete and I love it. Piper was there at the finish line to tell me how proud he was of me. It was an unforgettable moment.

Thyla and I - Medals in hand

The Ultra Duathlon is by far my favorite race I have done. I feel like I have finally found an event that is perfect for me. It is so sufficiently challenging. I am planning on doing it next year and I am hoping to take 20-30 minutes off my time. I have already planned my training schedule and have included a few other events to compete in over the next year to help me prepare, including a sprint triathlon. I will be able to save a lot of time, but not needing to pull over from a cramp and I know my running is only going to get better. I need to thank everyone who encouraged me along the way.

Post Race Beer Never Tasted so Good

All pictures in this post are by the one and only Piper Williams.

28 things I did or experienced at 28

I started this ritual the day before my 26th birthday after a particularly challenging year to help me focus on the good. My previous posts were on Facebook, but I think it is time to move it to the blog. I find myself in the same position once again, 28 has been hard, but there has been much to be thankful for. So here goes.

1. I returned to Spain, the land of my childhood after 13 years of being away from the country.

2. I reconnected with one of my former youth group leaders and have found a new friend and prayer partner.

3. I started reading C.S. Lewis's non fiction and have grown to love his writing.

4. My husband, Piper, and I celebrated our one year anniversary.

5. I did my first every physics theory project - stay tuned for a paper (hopefully) this year.

6. I won the London division of the 3 minute wonder competition.

7. Which brings me to this point, to win that competition, I wrote an original physics rap.

8. I worked with a team of women to start a column on blog all about bike commuting. (Check out Taking the Lane here: http://sheclismo.blogspot.co.uk/)

9. I moved into a tiny and beautiful cabin.

10. I won the summer edition of the RHUL physics bike challenge by several hundred miles.

11. I found a new training parter who has pushed me to run faster than I thought I could

12. Piper and I volunteered to aid in flood relief this spring.

13. I presented in the Faraday Lecture theater at the Royal Institute

14. I walked along the white cliffs of Dover and they are even more beautiful than I had imagined

15. I explored my favorite Medieval Castle again

16. I was called "Aunt Emily" by my nephew for the first time.

17. I participated and rocked the London Ultra Duathlon

18. Which led to my first ever top ranking position in my age category (now I'll have to defend it next year)

19.  I started exploring the Thames Path with Piper which will hopefully lead to an adventure next year

20. I actually made myself to hill training this year, both on the bike and on foot, and reaped the physical rewards

21. I have learned more about being grateful

22. Even though things have been challenging, we have always had enough and that enough has come in some surprising ways

24. I made my first Thanksgiving dinner

25. I had my first full year of bike commuting (I have been car free for a while, but I have occasionally lived close enough to work to walk, but not this year.)

26. My poster of my theory project came in first place at the Institute of Physics High Energy conference

27. I wore an Easter hat for the first time this past Resurrection Sunday and I think it is a tradition that should be brought back

28. Piper and I started traditions of making even small trips adventures and I am looking forward to many more adventures with him at my side

The White Cliffs of Dover

Piper and me in front of our cabin, ready for adventure!

Tour Inspirations

Photo by Piper Williams

I entered a contest recently where the objective was to send in a picture of how Le Tour de France has inspired you. The winners would receive London Duathlon tech shirts. I gave the contest and the Tour some thought and came up with these two pictures with the help my husband. I entered the lower picture into the contest, but the great thing about a blog is that I do not have to choose between two pictures, so I can show you both considerations. I will spoil the ending now, I was not selected, (all three winners were male), however this contest did get me thinking:

"How can I be inspired by an event that is only open to male athletes?"

Women have come a long way in the field of athletics and women's cycling is a growing field. Women are showing themselves to be true competitors, in all areas of cycling. In this year's Odin's Revenge, an intense 180 mile gravel race, the over all winner was a woman. Yet, at present there is no women's cycling race that holds the same prestige as the Tour. Yes, it is true that this year, on the last day of the Tour there was a one day women's race, but this is not good enough. To make matters worse, professional female cyclists often do not get the same amount of prize money as their male counterparts. This occurs despite the fact that female cyclists race with the same intensity as male cyclists. It is time for things to change. There are several incredible professional women cyclist fighting for this change, but there are small ways that amateur female racers can add to the fight.

The first woman to run to the Boston marathon happen in 1967 and some officials tried to remove her from the race. Now, less than 50 years later, the Boston marathon participation is split nearly evenly between the two genders (45/55). These changes have come about by professional female racers who have challenged the standards of racing and fought to enter bigger races. However, I would argue that this is only part of the story. Over the course of past fifty years, women's track at the high school and college level has grown and is now a thriving part of school athletics. Fun runs, 5k's, 10k's, etc, have become a regular part of community activities and women of all ages and skill levels are entering. Seeing women running and competing is normal sight and has been a normal sight for decades. The participation in running at the amateur levels has certainly aided in paving the way for women to compete in the same type of races as men.

My brief study of the history of running is what lead me to my conclusion on how I could be inspired by Le Tour de France. I could be inspired to train harder and to race more, no matter where I place or how fast I ride. In my own small ways, I can increase female participation in competitive cycling. I will likely never qualify to compete in the Tour, when it is open to female participants, but I can be a part of the movement to make that happen. By participating in competitive cycling events, I can increase the visibility of female racers on the amateur level. I can train harder and become a fiercer competitor. I do race as often as my pocketbook allows.

So here is my encouragement to other female cyclists, consider racing. This could be an effective and incredibly fun way to make a difference. Female participation is amateur racing events is still rather low. Last year, when I competed in the London Summer Cross series, each race had an average of 3 women on the field and about 50 men. Some races fair better. Thanks to the outreach of Sheclismo, the Star City CX races in Nebraska had large women's fields.  Participating in competitive events in cycling will not only challenge you to improve your own cycling fitness, but it will show that women have an interest in competitive cycling. This could help lead to the changes that the sport needs to see at the professional level. The world of women's cycling will be moving in positive directions and those of with bikes can all be part of changing this sport.

So let us all train harder for the day that women cyclists get the same recognition as men. On that note, I encourage all of you to post your own pictures of your training with your own motivation.

Photo by Piper Williams

June: The Month of 1000 Miles

I have had a goal since summer 2012 that I wanted to cycle 1000 miles in a month. I have tried many times to achieve this, but life normally got in the way. The issue with doing a great distance is that it takes a great deal of time. I am not the best of planners, so allocating this type of time can be difficult.

Then June started and I determined that my schedule was such that I could finally check this achievement off my list of personal goals. To give you a break down, to do 1000 miles in a month, you need to average 33.33 miles a day and 233.33 miles a week. So if you want to try an hit this goal, these are the numbers to aim for. Also, it should be noted, that I am not a particularly fast cyclist, especially when riding in traffic, so this is a lot of time to spend riding. I worked out new, longer commutes that would give me 94 miles a week. The remaining miles would need to be obtained during 3 weekly training rides. A short training ride on Wednesday, and two longer rides on Saturday and Sundays.

My June got off to a pretty good start. I was right on pace for the first half. Then my schedule got hectic. I had to take a day off during the week to train into London. Both of the people I ride with sustained injuries, shorting our rides. (Friends always come before miles.) I over did it on a weekend ride, got heatstroke, and had to take a few days off, or my body was going to revolt. I entered into the last week of riding with about 300 miles to go to hit my goal. I did not think I was going to make it. Then I made a choice. I knew I need to achieve this goal. I needed because this year has been a tale of a lack of achievement for me. I have tried to hit marks in my research, etc, only to miss them. I needed a win where I could prove to myself that I could still pull up from being behind. Even if it was only a personal goal. So I kept riding. I snuck in miles anywhere I could throughout the week. I skipped some of my running workouts to do bike rides. I ran 10 miles Sunday morning and rode 63 miles Sunday afternoon. On Monday, June 30, I was only 24 miles shy of 1000. So I cheated on my rest day and met my goal. It felt wonderful. I will be taking it easy for a few days this week, but it was worth it.

Endomondo Screen Shot of my Miles Cycled in June

I am one step closer (or is it miles cycled?) to my fitness goals, but I still behind on my fundraising for Scope charities. Scope offers services to individuals with different types of disabilities, including helping educate families and the general public. This is so important because it gives different people the opportunities to set and achieve their own goals. I am looking to raise £250 for Scope by the end of July. If you are willing to support this charity, click on the banner below to go to my fundraising page.

Thanks for reading now go out and achieve one of your personal goals. I will be cheering you on.

Finding a Place to Call Home

One question that I dread in small talk is "Where are you from?" I know my usual answer, "I am from the United States" will likely not be accepted and I will need to get more specific. This is difficult. However, this problem is not new to me. I am a third culture kid all grown up. Finding a home identity has been an ever changing quest further complicated by a nomadic stay in the United States. And for those of you who want the list of places I have lived, here it is. (This does not include all the houses and apartments I have lived in.)

1. Kentucky (born - 9 months)
2. Madrid, Spain (9 months - 5 years old)
3. Kentucky (5 - 7 years old)
4. Madrid, Spain (7 - 12 years old)
5. Kentucky (12 - 15 years old)
6. New Jersey (15 - 17 years old)
7. Indiana (17 - 26 years old)
8. Nebraska (26 - 26 years old)
9. Oregon (1 month stay)
10. New Jersey (permanent address, for now)
11. London area, Great Britain (27 - present)

This list may seem short to some and long to others. It really is all a matter perspective. There have been times in my life when I felt like I had a place I was from. Most notably, when I was living in Indiana, I felt as though I was from New Jersey since I had graduated from high school there and my immediate family lived there. However, most of life can be classified as being confused. When I was growing up in Spain I did not know the country of my birth all that well and I was not from the country I was living in. Both felt a little like home and both felt foreign and I did not sense that I belonged to either. I did not develop a sense of cultural identity until my mid twenties, when I finally accepted my American background. (Besides being from the land of pioneers who survived the worst of conditions is pretty cool. I like that about my heritage and I am proud of it.)

However, America is a big country, what state, or city am I from? Where can I call home? What do I define as home? These questions pressed more heavily when I relocated to Great Britain. When I asked where I was from, I would either avoid the question or make an attempt at humor to disguise that I did not have any sense where to call home. It was painful. I found individuals to be predominately unsympathetic and was sometimes told where I should call home based on their definition. Naturally, others who have spent their life in transition can understand this dilemma, and do not expect understanding from those who do not know a nomadic lifestyle. I realized that I needed to define what "home" and being "from somewhere" meant to me.

For me, it needed to be more that just a place I had lived. It needed to be a place I could return to and still feel safe. It needed to be place where people still remembered me and would be excited to see me if I returned. Home is place full of people that make you feel like you belong. It is the smells that you miss once you leave, the streets you could walk with your eyes closed, the foods you crave, the place that makes you smile when you talk about it. The place where you are the most you. This for me is home. This is where I am from. The location has changed a few times over the course of my life, but I know where I am from right now. In my heart, I am from Lincoln, Nebraska.

From the first time I landed in Lincoln to go to a physics conference, I felt comfortable. When I left three days later, I wanted to go back. I spent the following summer there in the wonderful heat. I fell in love with the prairie and it's wild, untamed beauty. I became myself again. I left at the end of that summer only to return four months later to live there full time.

Moving so far away on my own was terrifying and I was afraid I had made a mistake. I had a small apparent, one block away from the towering state capitol building. However, within a month, I started making friends. I found a friend to go on long bike rides with. I found people who invited me to their homes and helped me learn how to be car free. I found someone to drink cheap wine with and talk about life. I found a team of amazing women to ride bikes with. And then there were the gravel roads. The stunning paths of rocks and dirt that could carry you for hundreds of miles through wilderness, planes, tiny towns, and breathtaking beauties. There were so many long bike rides and each one ending at the state capitol.

My bike in front of the Nebraska State Capitol at the end of a Century Ride

I crave the ice cream from Ivana Cone, the food truck tacos, the pizza from Yia Yia's, and the treats from countless local restaurants. I miss the heavy heat of the summers. I miss Tuesday night bike rides with stops to drink cheap beer. The art shows, the jazz, the amiable openness of the residence, and the feeling of belonging. It is clear, that though my time was short, Lincoln left its mark on me. I have kept my ties there through wearing my cycling team's colors, sporting the goods of Lincoln artists, through emails, letters, and cards, and sharing my found memories with anyone who wants to know me better. I know that should I return, I would be welcome.

For now, the place I am from is Nebraska, because it is the place I miss the most. Home will likely remain fluid for me and I may move to another place later that will also capture my heart. That is okay, but for now I can finally answer the question I used to dread.