I discovered track racing late in life, at age 52. It scared me, but I felt that it was important to do things that took me out of my comfort zone, so I signed up for a try the track class with a friend. Fast forward one year, and she and I were both racing at Masters Nationals. This was my first actual race – I’ll talk more about that experience in another post. One month later I competed in the 2K Individual Pursuit at the Indiana State Championships at the Major Taylor Velodrome.  I was the only woman in my age category so I competed against myself, and won! I stepped up to the podium to receive my gold medal, and I had a very strong sense of both pride and aloneness.  It occurred to me that this was a metaphor for life.  Going to the track alone was fine. I had been there for classes on my own a few times, and because I decided at the last minute to race, and we hadn’t arranged for anyone to keep our dogs, it was hard for my husband to join me.  My friend that I normally race with was busy with a road ride, so I was on my own. The other woman who had registered in my age group was sick, and unable to make it to the race. I was ok with that – I did it for the satisfaction I felt from simply showing up. 

There is a saying on my track team that “showing up is gold” and in this case, it was.  But as I approached the podium, I realized that I had to climb up there by myself.  At Masters Nationals, I was on the podium for this same race with three friends.  I went up first, as I had come in third, so stepping onto the bronze step, which is the lowest, was easy.  My silver medalist friend stepped up, and when my gold medal friend approached, she reached out to us, we both grabbed her hands, and she climbed to the top step.  I discovered that climbing to that top step alone is hard, physically…the podium at States was not fixed to the ground, so it felt unstable as I stepped onto it.  Then when I turned around to come back down, it was even harder…too high for my 53 year old knees to try jumping down, or at least it seemed that way.  When I stepped onto the lower box, it wobbled.  I actually said out loud, “Getting down from here alone is harder than the race!”.

Driving home (alone) I realized that this was a lesson.  While it is powerful to be an independent woman (or man, or person) and do things on your own, most things are easier if you have support.  I wish this lesson had been shown so profoundly to me earlier in my life.  I have frequently settled for relationships that didn’t give me the support I needed.  I didn’t always realize that I can ask for the support I need or that it is okay to step away when my partner refused to give me that support. I didn’t know how to set boundaries to support myself.  

To be clear, I’m not suggesting one should end a relationship due to one simple act of the partner being unsupportive. Even in my marriage now, where I am very happy and fulfilled, there are times when one of us is unable to support the other. However it’s the exception rather than the rule. Also, support can come in many forms. Sometimes it’s being there physically. Sometimes, if one can’t be there physically, it’s showing that support emotionally. When I stood on that podium alone, after having carried all of my own gear, completed my warm ups while listening to music on my phone, and racing without anyone who knows me to cheer me on, I still knew that my husband was incredibly proud of my efforts at the track. That he was thinking of me while I was there, and wanted me to call as soon as my race was done so he could hear the outcome and celebrate the success with me. That evening, he made sure to have my favorite meal and favorite wine ready for me. He made me feel like a champion, even when he couldn’t be there in person.

That is the support we should all expect, dare I say demand, in a healthy relationship.