Out on the town

Tonight we were invited to an exclusive event hosted by master blogger Wade Wallace of Cycling Tips. The event was held at ACMI in Federation Square where a series of short films were presented by Rapha, a deluxe brand of cycling apparel.

The films were great, but it was Wade that shone in my eyes.

Wade is such an inspiration to an aspiring bloggess like your's truly. After starting Cycling Tips around two years ago, he is now highly sought after and his blog is his full time job.

Wade's site has the support of great sponsors and is the epicenter of a worldwide cycling community with over a million hits a month. Yet he is humble, humorous and an absolute joy to be around.

As we walked to our respective cars after a post-event dinner, I couldn't help but marvel at Wade's success. In short, he is my hero and my inspiration. So much so, that I am sitting here nigh on midnight tapping away with one finger on my iPhone to bring you a post that was supposed to be about my night on the town, and has turned into a tribute to the great man.

I suppose this photo of me taken just minutes before I climbed into the car is completely out of context now... other than the fact that Wade said I looked nice (thanks Wade).

Until tomorrow, let conversations take you where you hadn't planned and enjoy the detour. Much like a good road trip.

Grace xx

PS. Just got home and thought you might like to see this post Wade did about the time we hung out in Switzerland (as you do). He and Pat went for this crazy bike ride along a cliff face (as they do). Check it out by clicking this link. Oh, and make sure you watch the video at the bottom. Crazy!

Emotional First Aid

Do you remember the post I did in April titled When 99% Equals Fail? Well it all came back to me today as I sat a theory test for my St. John's First Aid course.

I was a little nervous when the exam booklet was placed in front of me. The initial uneasiness grew to a nagging anxious feeling that bothered me.

Perhaps haunted or harassed are more apt descriptors.

Would I get 99% AGAIN?

I wondered whether I could ever shake it off. The fear of failing by 1%. I started thinking of how today's story would end. Would it be a tale of triumph or woes of disappointment.

As I progressed through the questions, I began to feel more and more confident that I was indeed doing well. But the more confident I felt, the more doubtful I became. It was an emotional paradox. I was edging close to attaining a perfect score (I could feel it in my waters) and yet one simple or silly mistake could shatter my joy.

Then a miracle happened.

I remembered that I'm in the midst of a metamorphosis. My transformation yet to be complete, but near enough to know that my new attitude is about focusing on the 1%ers as gains as opposed to 99% equals fail. The moment I had this realisation, my shoulders relaxed, my breathing calmed and I continued to the end without further anxiety.

I was the second person to hand in their paper. I proceeded to the lavatory and upon returning, was called over to the examiner's desk. Unsure what to expect, I approached to find out that my paper had been marked during my brief exit. He was all too eager to announce that I had scored 100%.

I was thrilled.

The perfect result was more to do with me conducting emotional first aid on myself than my score on the first aid exam. I recognised the signs and symptoms of an old pattern playing out and was able to stop the infection before it consumed and disabled me. This is progress. Major progress. Thankfully, 'tis also a tale of triumph.

Until tomorrow, administer first aid at the first sign of infection.

Grace xx

PS. Happy 40th Birthday to my cousin Michael... I'm not far behind you!

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A Rocky Moment

Do you ever have moments when you feel on top of the world?

Invincible, strong, powerful and quite frankly, like a bloody legend.

That's what I call, a Rocky Moment.

In such moments I envisage myself on top of stairs jumping up and down with fists in the air, complete with the Rocky theme playing in my mind (...getting strong now).

A Rocky Moment can strike me anywhere, anytime. It is unpredictable, so I never know when it's going to hit.

Well this morning - I had one.

I'd just finished running 6km (3.73mi) in less than 50 minutes whilst still remaining within my 'fat burning' heart rate zone. It was a PB (personal best) that had endorphins intoxicating my body. I let out a little whimper "yes", but I really wanted to shout from the roof top - a - la Rocky.

I'm finding that these Rocky Moments are energising. They have me wanting to go back in the rink time and time again. Perhaps that's what makes a world champion. Who knows?

Until tomorrow, have a fabulous weekend full of Rocky Moments.

Grace xx

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When 99% equals FAIL

You may be disturbed to learn that ever since I was eight years old, I deemed 99% as failure.

Long story short, I once scored 99% in a maths test (not a typo, we say 'maths' in Australia) and was falling over myself with eagerness to share the thrilling news with someone whose opinion I held in high esteem.

Instead of receiving the cheer and pat on the back I'd anticipated, I was met with a very blunt "Which one did you get wrong?" At that point, my happiness balloon burst (stabbed by a javelin en route to my heart). I began to deflate immediately.

As if being kicked in the guts when you least expect it isn't bad enough, I was brought further to my knees by something along the lines of "you have no grounds to celebrate till you get everything right" (excuse me if I can't quote verbatim as things seem to go in slow motion when one is stunned like a mullet - the fish not the 80's hairstyle, though the latter is equally stunning).

From that moment on, something was inscribed into my subconscious - 99% equals fail.

I've realised how much this belief has shaped my life. I've spent so much energy and focus aiming for that 100% and if I'm so much as 0.25% short of the mark, guess what? - FAIL!

Not wanting to remind myself of the failure I am at 99% capacity, I opt to walk away and start something anew hoping that maybe THIS time I'll achieve that illusive 100%. Consequently this has seen me jump from job to job, industry to industry and gym to gym.

Okay, this is where I fess up.

Since breaking my butt, my gym attendance has been less than perfect (subliminally translating to "I've failed"). Another balloon burst. The pattern that generally follows goes something like this:

Feeling despondent, I spiral downwards from mild embarrassment to utter shame. I reach a point where I can no longer face the staff, eventually ceasing all attempts to 'redeem myself'. Then a few years pass and I'll be on the look out for another gym where I will try once more to be 'Little Miss 100%'.

Isn't that insane?

This time I'm breaking the pattern. I am turning the equation on its head. Instead of 99% equalling fail, I'm equating each 1% a success. It is far more uplifting to build on increments of triumphs than it is to aim for the seductive 100% mirage and risk another balloon bursting.

I know what I'm attempting to do is not unlike retraining myself to write with my left hand. After being right handed for 39 years, I'll instinctively revert to old habits. But with constant self coaching (courtesy of Project Grace 2010) and frequent reminders that it's the 'one percenters' that count, I feel I'm on the path to recovery.

Until tomorrow, may you accumulate over a million one percenters in favour of a hundred.

Grace xx

PS. I never bounced back after that test. My maths results went from bad to worse, till eventually I chronically failed (academic fails, less than 50%). I dropped the subject as soon as I was allowed to and ultimately became renown in the family for being 'bad at maths'.