Let it go. Let it be. Just be.

I'm a competitive girl. I like to do well, at whatever it is I'm doing. I like to bake cakes well, I like to ride fast, I enjoy winning at Bananagrams, finding myself well-read is wonderful, I dislike a lack of control, I want to be my ideal weight.

I am a perfectionist. I'm an obsessive competitor.

I think I'm more self-competitive than interpersonally competitive, but I suppose that has its downside as much as any other sort of competition.

One of my most recent posts talked about how effing hard mountain biking has felt as I've been learning. I've let up on myself a little since. My friend Vollie gave me some good advice: Don't be so jocky you miss the forest for the workout.

In my efforts to always be faster and better than I was the time before, maybe I do miss out on fun sometimes. I think seeing improvement is fun. I sometimes think the sadomasochistic side of what I do, when I take myself to the outer limits of my ability, is also fun. I wouldn't do any of this if it wasn't fun, if it didn't feel like a stunningly good time. In a way, it is part of what keeps me coming back for more, the shifting, enigmatic nature of my goals.

But sometimes, I suppose it would do me good to slow down and smell the flowers and not be so hard on myself by incessantly grinding away at my exterior with expectations. It's okay to struggle, and to fail, and to not feel 100% sometimes. It's alright to take a day off when I should be training if I'm not feeling quite right, if I have a little niggle in my ankle. It's fine to go slow sometimes. It's fine not to expect the best every day. It's acceptable to take a step backwards.

Those admissions... they're tough to process. They apply to the rest of my life, too. An article I read earlier by Elizabeth Gilbert discussed how we postmodern women are so abrasively hard on ourselves, in our comparison- and perfection-based society. We expect perfection of our very imperfect selves.

Gilbert implores us to fail. To suck. To make poor choices. To do so gloriously.

Today, I'll heed that advice. I'll miss my training. I'll leave the floors dirty. I'll rest some. I'll write. And knit. I won't think about the fact that even at the ripe old age of 31, burgeoning 32, I still have absolutely no clue what I'm doing with my life, and have no roadmap. If I do, I'll do my best not to care and enjoy where I am anyway.

Tomorrow, next week... they're new days to find success, to suck, to screw around and do nothing productive, to accomplish every task on your to do list. I'm a person, a human, and so are you. Enjoy your moments. Don't always compete. Let yourself BE. I think I'll take some time to see the forest.