Journey to Kona, A path to true potential

By Karen Brown

Many of us give up on our dreams because the perceived safety of our comfort zone lulls us into inertia.

Karen Brown’s story serves as an allegory for realizing dreams of any kind. She fulfilled her True – her Divine – Potential by competing in the most difficult triathlon in the world: the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii. Reading Karen's story will show you how to deal realistically with the physical, emotional, and mental preparation all types of goals demand.

To get started on fulfilling your dream, you first need to wake up! This book is your wake-up call.

Karen's path to her Divine Potential was her Journey to Kona. What's your Kona?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Brown
• Release date: Oct 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9780990840138

Karen Brown

Karen Brown is currently an ESRC Research Fellow at the Wellcome Unit for the History of Medicine, University of Oxford. She has published a number of papers that deal with environmental and veterinary history in South Africa.

Book preview

Journey to Kona

A path to true Potential

Karen Brown

Copyright 2014 Karen Brown

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Divine Potential, LLC

3845 W. Powers Place

Littleton, CO 80123

www.mydivinepotential.com

ISBN-10: 0990840131

ISBN-13: 978-0-9908401-3-8

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Foreword

Introduction: The Edge of the Comfort Zone

Chapter 1: A Personal Journey

Chapter 2: Utah Triathlon Festival

Chapter 3: My first official Ironman event

Chapter 4: Second attempt at earning Kona qualifying spot

Chapter 5: Kicking up my swimming abilities

Chapter 6: The fascination of Ironman

Chapter 7: First inklings of Kona

Chapter 8: The decision

Chapter 9: Can I compete?

Chapter 10: Dietary answers

Chapter 11: Training 101

Chapter 12: My formative years

Chapter 13: Focus on Kona

Chapter 14: Accelerating my biking abilities

Chapter 15: The lottery

Chapter 16: Kona Qualifier

Chapter 17: Half Ironman

Chapter 18: Olympic race

Chapter 19: A new coach, A new outlook

Chapter 20: Kona

Chapter 21: Life after Kona

Chapter 22: Being in the zone

Epilogue

About the Author

Dedication

To all of the strong female role models who were a shining example of what could be achieved—starting with my mother, great aunt, and Julie Moss—and to all of the folks out there wondering what they can achieve.

Acknowledgments

Each one of these people played a part in my journey. Each one of you knows in your own heart what you did to help me. I have enormous gratitude for your help, and that is the most precious gift in this world: to help someone realize a dream that leads them to live out their purpose, their divine potential.

Ruby Purdy, Crystal Seeley, Alicia Kratt, Marge Kammerer, Cammie Oliver, Bob Cranny, John Prescott, Brandon del Campo, Julie Moss, T.S., agents at the KWRS office in Littleton and affiliates, Jenn Morgan, Brian Smith, team leaders in the KW Colorado Region, Gary Keller, Suzanne Yoder, Keith Alba, Joe Rothchild, Dr. Marci, Dr. Rob, Heather Kokx, Beth Davis, Fred Nehring, Chris Martel, Alpha Bicycles, Kompetitive Edge, TriBella, Todd Nelson, Jesse Sund, the volunteers at IM World Championship 2012, the countless friends and family members who always believed in and supported me, Rich Roll, Chrissie Wellington, Lynette Chase, Karen and Randy Morrow, Jay Papasan, the Journey to Kona book team.

Foreword

When I first met Karen Brown, it was 5 weeks before the Ironman World Championships in Kona, HI, September 2012. Upon meeting her, I immediately saw her enormous vision, excitement, and determination to realize her 30-year dream of competing in Kona. Even though this was all-consuming for her and she was coming to see me because of a painful right hamstring that could have stopped her in the race, she would not let fearful or negative thoughts derail her. I knew right then and there she would be successful because of her attitude and thoughts.

I have some experience with the Ironman World Championships, having competed there 2 times as a former age group elite Ironman triathlete. With this personal experience, as well as treating many professional and top level athletes, I have seen that mindset and attitude are everything. The body will follow what the mind tells it to do, right or wrong, good or bad. In her journey to Kona, Karen had discovered that 90% of ability to perform came from mindset and 10% from physical ability and application.

As we progressed through our weekly sessions, Karen relayed her incredible story of having not much more than a big dream and a determined will.   She learned many valuable lessons along the way such as the importance of thinking and doing things differently.  If you want to get to a place you have never been before, expand your comfort zone and be in touch with your body and mind.  Know that in every fiber of your body you have what it takes to accomplish your dream and visualize that dream every day.

In my business, I come face to face with people every day who make decisions. Decisions that enable them to do things they want, or decisions that stop them from those things. Karen’s story is a shining example of what all of us can do to align ourselves with what we want to accomplish, how to be the best version of ourselves and find out what we are truly capable of achieving.

Now that I have had the opportunity to know Karen better over the last 2 years, I have seen that she has the heart of an everyday champion. She took her achievement in Kona and built on it, sharing it with others so that they may find their true potential and take their path. It is this kind of person that changes the world, one person at a time.

Bob Cranny, Physical Therapist

Owner -Altitude Physical Therapy and Sports Medicine

10-time Ironman finisher

Two-time Hawaiian Ironman finisher

Introduction

The Edge of the Comfort Zone

I used to go through life with an indistinct, hazy approach of being easy and laid back, thinking that somehow or other, everything would be taken care of.

Until I realized that way would not get me where I wanted to go. It would get me where others wanted to go. That revelation came at age 23, after I had been working my way, rather blindly, toward becoming a military wife—something I realized I did not want to become. I was in a long-distance, committed relationship with John, an Air Force member who was very ambitious. I always thought we would marry. Marriage was something I had always wanted, even though I had big career ambitions to be the store manager of a high-end women’s retail boutique. When I was promoted to that position, I realized that if I married John, I would spend my life moving from station to station, following his aspirations and letting mine become secondary. All at once, I realized I didn’t want that life.

The experience served as an eye-opener. It led to me seeing what I wanted and going after it. Pretty simple concept—simple, but not easy. Much of life reflects that idea, I suppose.

Then came the feeling I had something far bigger inside me that I could contribute or accomplish—but I didn’t know what it was. That elusive uncertainty, in turn, brought about the somewhat sick feeling of knowing I was living within my safe and easy boundaries. Doing what I had always done and being comfortable with it. Comfortable to the point of stagnant, I mean. And when we’re not learning and growing, we’re stagnating.

Now, don’t get me wrong. During this time I was moving up at work and very physically active… competing in races of various kinds, trying new sports and new sports techniques. Problem was, none of them stretched me beyond my limits. All kept me in my safe comfy zone.

Until I thought about the Ironman World Championship.

***

I love the idea of your comfort zone being a rubber band—one with endless stretchability. I learned this concept in Susan Jeffer’s now-classic book, Feel the Fear… and Do It Anyway. Before reading this book, I thought of my comfort zone as a cliff. If I challenged myself too much on the edge, I would fall off.

When I looked at the edge of my comfort zone as a cliff, I would choose to do what scared me only to a certain degree. I wouldn’t go beyond that point. I’d temporarily alleviate my feelings of insecurity or inadequacy. I’d feel better about myself for a little while. But those feelings would still nag at me.

To quiet these relentless self-doubts, I would add plenty of other tasks and shiny objects to occupy my mind. Self-doubt is so commonplace and inconspicuous, we overlook it; we don’t even register its presence. I would focus on the wrong things and get myself off track, to avoid that unsettling feeling of inadequacy from staying motionless at my comfort zone’s edge.

This also encompassed thinking that if I did choose to do something that was beyond the edge of my comfort zone, I should immediately be successful.

A terrifying aspect of being at your edge is the question: Can I do what I’m considering doing? That question emanates from deep inside, along with What will others think? Or to be more precise—it’s really what you think others will think of you. Being at your edge also begs the question: What will it mean to me going forward? In other words, if you can’t do what you’re setting out to do, maybe you’re not as great as you think you are.

And all of this happens in a split-second thought process. We merge with our limiting beliefs and accept them as fact. Until we stop to question ourselves, it’s how most of us live.

I learned something helpful when I ran the Pikes Peak Ascent (a half marathon up a 14,000-foot mountain on a narrow trail—which was within my comfort zone because I had hiked it many times and was a good runner). What I discovered was to allow myself to think about how people could do things I couldn’t wrap my head around: like the full marathon of the Pikes Peak Ascent. I’d seen the short list of athletes who did the full marathon; the names were of elite athletes—a higher level than me. I had practiced for the race by running down from the top. I’d be so sore I couldn’t walk down stairs for a week, and had to basically fall onto the toilet because of the pounding on my muscles. The pounding caused by going downhill for 13 miles. I couldn’t figure out how the marathoners in that race could do both the up and down. It seemed so far out of my realm of reality.

Until this point in my life, what I did was get to a point of being uncomfortable thinking about something like this and then just write it off. As if it were basically un-doable for the common person. That only those super-human beings like Matt Carpenter—who had a 60 percent bigger lung capacity than normal—could do it. This provided me a reason to dismiss thinking further about how it could be done. And ultimately, how I could do it.

After watching the Pikes Peak Ascent full marathon, this time I gave myself permission to continue thinking of how they did it. This time I went a bit further, too. I began to ask myself, How could I do that? What if I tried? What if I could do it? What if that’s inside me? What if I’m not pushing myself as far as I can? This was a huge shift in my thinking, because I was able to consider it without attaching emotions or judgments. I was able to simply sit with the ideas and contemplate them. What I didn’t realize is that this shift was a habit change, plain and simple. Changing from my previous habit to a new one.

Perhaps the catalyst for this shift in thinking was feeling bored doing the same kinds of physical activities that didn’t challenge me fully. I wanted more in other areas of my life, as well. Job position, money, travel, marriage, etc. … but I didn’t understand any connection between the shift in thinking about those areas and physical challenge. Instead, in my typical fashion, I waited for circumstances to change rather than be proactive about going beyond the edge of my comfort zone.

These same thoughts occurred to me when I read Born to Run (Christopher McDougall), about the Tarahumara people (American Indians of the Sierra Madre region of the state of Chihuahua, Mexico) and other top runners described in the book. I came face to face with this running ability at the Leadville 100 event. Even having paced a runner who I took across the finish line, I still wondered how they did it. The difference, this time, was that I wanted to know for myself. That led me to ponder… If they could do the Leadville 100, maybe I could do the Ironman.

I am an accomplisher and was accustomed to completing anything I set my mind to—and quickly! This translated into expectations that I should be able to do the same with anything new. Reality slap: I learned in yoga I wouldn’t be immediately good at something new to me. A friend invited me to go with her to the first class. I felt awful and awkward, like a fish out of water. I had no idea what to do and couldn’t do any of the moves or poses. Because she and I weren’t very close friends, I had to act polite and say Okay when she asked me how I liked the class. Inside, I was mad! We left, and I vowed never to go back. Then, something kept nagging at me. It was my inner voice, saying, Why is yoga so good for people? How can they do it, and why can’t I? It was the same thing I had learned in the Pikes Peak Ascent: I gave myself permission to continue thinking of how others did it, and then ask myself, How could I do that?

Thank goodness my friend asked me to go back to yoga three more times. Because of sheer competitiveness with her and within myself, I went. Yoga remained very difficult for me, but I saw people who could do things I couldn’t. People who seemed happy and healthy and well-balanced from their yoga practice. I wanted the same for me, and then I could see a possible path to get better. A possible path to figuring it out for myself. The key was to think of the first step in what I could do to figure it out—instead of being overwhelmed trying to understand all of it. Because feeling overwhelmed would have stopped me from doing anything. And after I took the first step, I took another. And then another, and so on. Ultimately, I completed a yogi training intensive program, which was the pinnacle for my yoga.

This experience showed me it was a blessing that I wasn’t good at yoga in the first class—or the second or third class. Having success (or calling it quits at good enough) wasn’t taking me further in making the strides that would bring me the change I wanted—in yoga or in other areas of my life. Ah-ha!

I learned, too, that regularly spending my free time with complacent people did not serve me well. People who don’t want to expand their comfort zone tend to encourage you to stay in the same place. It’s more helpful to me to be around people who think way bigger than I do—even if it scares me.

Why do we, as a society, fear the discomfort that comes from being at the edge of our comfort zone? Is it culture, is it programming? Let’s learn to embrace knowing we are about to break through our edge. It should be joyful to know that all we have to deal with is a little short-term, short-lived pain. Too often, we run and hide and keep our potential locked away.

Let’s celebrate the human journey and honor our privilege to reach our true potential.

Chapter 1

A Personal Journey

In February 2012, I moved out of the home my husband, Allan, and I shared. One result of my training for Kona was that I went from being focused to being ultra-focused. Part of that clarity of focus involved a painful realization that my husband and I did not share compatible dreams and goals for life. In fact, he had attempted to dissuade me from pursuing my dream for Kona. Personal journeys can be difficult to navigate.

Dealing with storms of emails and emotion from my husband during our separation, I was peppered with questions from him. It felt like I was being blamed for everything. He wanted to know how to make our marriage work. He wanted to know whether we should divorce. He wanted answers about our future.

Ultimately, we agreed to go therapy, yet I suspected that he wouldn’t actually be open to changing himself; that he would simply want me to change. Turns out I was right; he wanted the therapist to agree with him and tell me to change. This process felt as if I was peeling off my skin, exposing emotional and spiritual nerve endings. We never got anywhere; we just re-hashed all of the same issues that got us there. I would sit there and cry while he blamed me for the marriage failure. It gradually dawned on me: I had been angry over the previous year that I had a husband who was unwilling to stretch his comfort zone or support me while I stretched mine. Once this realization came to awareness, a process of healing began. The anger dissipated until I didn’t have any left in me.

At the end of couples therapy, we were told we were stuck at a bypass and that unless we changed, life would stay the same. The thing was, I had already changed, by moving out the previous month and pursuing my goals for Kona. My husband had made it clear: He did not want to be a part of the changes I was making in my life. I knew we would not come to any resolution, unfortunately. As in many marriages, this was not a clear-cut matter of right or wrong; it was simply two people arriving at the painful conclusion that they each held different ideas about journeys and paths. I knew I needed to move on.

Allan and I had met through on online dating website that matches single men and women with one another for long-term relationships. We had felt ideally suited. We shared much in common: We both loved working out and made it a priority in our lives, we were each very athletic, loved Moab and Fruita—we even rode the same mountain bike trails and went to the same gym for two years. We lived a mere five minutes from each other and even worked near one another in the same part of town. We each had been married once before. Ours had been a whirlwind courtship and we had both felt ready to get married again.

Despite the many interests and beliefs we held in common, our marriage could not sustain our differences. As too often happens in a marriage, one partner becomes comfortable with keeping life going on an even keel while the other partner becomes comfortable embracing change. This was our experience.

***

While I was undergoing the disruption in my marriage I was dealing with a transition into a new job. My new position was CEO of a real estate office that was struggling, to bring it back to success, with lots of pressure to perform quickly. The office had a staff of four, and 70 real estate agents—all whom I had to get to know in the first 30 days while recruiting new ones, teaching classes, assessing the staff, and establishing a vision. It was a challenge, managing my career while pursuing Kona. Preparation, of course, went beyond the training schedule. It meant seeing a massage therapist, appointments with chiropractors, getting equipment, and keeping up with nutrition. It was a big learning curve on doing this biggest thing in my life, to date.

Business problems compounded the busy-ness of my Kona preparation. There were people who were sucking the energy out of me—including a secretary who continued to receive pay increases but didn’t fulfill the basic duties her position required. It seemed no one wanted to be proactive toward this problem. I made the decision to let her go. Unfortunately, my action led to an employment complaint being filed. The subsequent legal fees and hours of entangled legalities intensified the stress I was under.

In addition, I had purchased ownership in a second Keller Williams real estate franchise office, where I had been a top agent and which was why I was a candidate for leadership. When I stepped into the leadership role at my new office, I was forced to sell. Forced by people who had once felt like my family—who had once been loving co-owners. It was confusing and devastating and I wasn’t sure how to proceed. A good friend advised me to sell rather than fight, telling me it wasn’t worth the energy and pain. So I followed his advice. But then I ran into another problem: I had purchased the shares from a remaining retirement account. During our marriage my husband and I had co-mingled our funds (as married couples often do) and were paying off our bills together. I found out that the taxes hadn’t been filed properly and we needed to pay penalties in the amount of $20,000. My husband decided it was my bill and tried to get the IRS to go after me alone for the payment. The amount of stress I was under was crushing, enormous.

***

I was dealing with all of these personal struggles, while training for a few hours a day and going to races. Some days, it felt like the odds were against me. That I was being pushed down. I was continually sleep-deprived. Deep inside my soul, I knew the obstacles cropping up were because of my decision to pursue my goals. They comprised a part of my challenge, a necessary component on my path to achieving what I wanted.

It seemed there were a million things I needed to accomplish each day. Reminders to call people back were always surrounding me, and by the last six months of training, my list of what to prepare was getting longer. Sleep, rest, work, and socializing were all getting short shrift. Another conversation was nearly always taking place somewhere in the back of my head; I could never fully concentrate on what was happening. I knew that if I were to get off track, I would feel like I was buried. The weekends were never a saving grace. I would do an especially long bike ride, 50-90 miles, and run 1.5-4 hours, plus weight training after each.