Dreams and Reality

I remember the first time I saw the footage of Julie Moss crawling across the finish line at the Kona Ironman.  I cried. Or at least I got really choked up and came close to crying, because I'm sensitive yet very manly. (Gotta keep up my image.)  Watching that video helped me realize that there are two types of people in this world: those that see the triumph of the human spirit and get inspired, and those that see the same thing and think, "f*** that. I'll stay here on the couch, thank you very much."

And then there's me.

I saw Julie's dramatic triumph of the human spirit and immediately became inspired to race an Ironman. Once that decision was made, I spent the next three decades not doing it.  I kept my tush seated pretty securely in the cushions of my comfort zone.

Don't go thinking that I was one of those guys that said I wanted to do an Ironman than never mentioned it again.  For goodness sakes, no. I was all in.  I talked about it all the time.  I had Ironman branded socks, hats, visor, credit card, watch, stickers, posters, you name it.  But of course I couldn't use or wear any of them, because I hadn't earned the right.  It'd be like buying a finishers jersey from a marathon and wearing that before you ever have even run a marathon.  It would be a bold face lie. And my face isn't that bold.

The thing is, though I talked about it a lot, I didn't actually make much of an effort to do an Ironman. Sure I signed up for a couple of them. But inevitably I ended up backing out of each after not training at all. I entered the Kona lottery every year too. And every year I didn't get chosen. My friends saw a man very disappointed, as if I were a senior in high school who just found out that no college would accept me.  But behind that facade I was breathing a sigh of relief.  After all, if I were accepted into the Kona lottery, that would mean I'd have to do it.  And actually doing an Ironman was a pretty scary idea.  Talking about it was a heckuva lot easier.

For decades this lasted.  For decades I had Ironman paraphernalia sitting around my house gathering dust. Year after year I said "next year I'm doing an Ironman."  But did I actually get off my butt and train for one? Nope.  I just waited for it to magically fall into my lap.

There was always a reason why I couldn't do it.  There was always something in my way. Too much work, too expensive, no training partners, prior commitments.  Or maybe I just convinced myself that it's Kona or nothing.  And this went on for over twenty years.  Then one year I got a sideways glance in the mirror and suddenly saw what was standing in my way.... me.  

There is a quote I love from Brian Andreas that I think about quite often.  The basic idea is this (and I paraphrase):

Everything changed the day I figured out that there is exactly enough time in life to do the things that are most important to me.

This quote appeared in my life just about the same time that I realized I was the sole obstacle in realizing my dreams.  It was also about then when I came to terms with the fact that the really good dreams aren't the ones that magically appear.  They are the ones that you have to work for.  And the only thing standing in my way of living my Ironman dream was my fear. If I could be so courageous as to face my fears and push on through to the other side, well.... with that attitude any dream can be within my grasp.  I just had to reach out and grab it.

Simple, right?

I wish.

This is one of the more interesting things about dreams - they are often guarded by an army of fear.  To live a dream means to look in the mirror and deal with all the things you've spent a life trying to avoid. I suppose that's partially why they are called dreams.  Because dreams aren't reality and in order to make a dream a reality you have to bridge a very large, very scary gap.  

Ironman, besides being a physically and mentally grueling event, also happens to be the crossroads between everything you've always wanted and everything you've always feared.  Even the training alone requires you to come to terms with yourself and what is important to you.  It's not easy.  But it's not meant to be.  If realizing your dreams were so easy, everybody would do it.

Whether the dream is running a 5k, doing an Ironman, starting a company or vacationing in Bali, we all have our goals and we all have our inner closet of darkness that stops us from getting there.  When you're used to a life on the couch, getting up and training for your first 5k is scary.  When you're used to the comfort of working for a large company, quitting your job and starting something on your own is terrifying. Very very terrifying. Because it takes work and commitment.  And it takes dramatically changing your daily rituals.  It takes blindly jumping off a cliff without knowing what's down below and simply trusting that somewhere in the dark abyss that you're heading towards, there will be a net to catch you if you fall.

We stay in our comfort zones because it's easy, because there is little stress, there is little unknown.  But growth doesn't happen in the comfort zones.  Success doesn't happen in the comfort zones.  Change doesn't happen in the comfort zones.

I ended up facing my fears for the first time in 2006.  After nine months of focused training, my wife and I raced Ironman Lake Placid.  It was an amazing experience.  Two years later I raced Ironman Arizona.  And though I haven't done a long distance event since then (long story which I will tell you another time), I still have more fears to conquer.  And if I work it right, that may take another three or four more Ironmans to overcome.

The Memory Of Racing

My Dearest Daughter,

In the few short weeks that you've been in this world you have created more love than I could have ever thought possible. I never realized how something so little could fill such a big place in my heart.  My greatest joy is knowing that I am your father.

Of course, with fatherhood comes responsibility.   Yes, I recognize that I may not have been the most responsible person throughout my life. Perhaps I did a couple of runs in Zone 3 when they were supposed to be Zone 1 recovery days.  And sure, I agree, I probably shouldn't have tried that flying mount without proper instruction.  

But despite all that, my sweet innocent child, I know it is my responsibility to help you grow into a wonderful woman. With that jn mind, there are many important things I've learned that I want to impart on you. Now you may think I am weird - in fact it's almost guaranteed that at some point, probably around your teen years, you'll think me weird - but you will eventually come to realize that there are a lot of life lessons you can learn from triathlon. That is why, from your first day in our hands, I started training your legs for cycling and running. It is why I already bought you your first swimsuit.  These activities, like teaching you life's lessons, are part of my responsibility as a father.  So listen closely, my loving child, maybe try to stop flailing your arms and legs for a couple of seconds, and perhaps you can refrain from soiling your diaper for a minute or two.  Trust me, these are important things to remember.

First, don't ever compare your insides with somebody's outsides.  Just because somebody else may have more expensive equipment, it doesn't mean they are faster, better or happier than you.  Be proud of who you are and what you do.  Your self-worth is not contingent on the perception of others.

Secondly, always feel your feet on the floor - or on the pedals, or in the water.  My point being, be here now.  Life isn't a race that is happening somewhere else.  Life, like triathlon, is a journey.  It's not about the people in front of you or behind.  It's not about what you could've or should've done to be faster or stronger. Life is about being in the moment and enjoying the journey - right here, right now.

Thirdly, don't be afraid to get out of your comfort zone. When it hurts, embrace the pain and know that you will be able to learn from that pain.  I know you're not going to believe me right away, but trust me that the pain will make you stronger.  The pain will fade away but your pride and strength will carry you a lifetime. 

Fourthly, remember that there is no finish line.   You may think there is because you see a banner and a big time clock and people are telling you to stop running, but in the grander picture, there isn't. Just keep moving forward.  Keep working to be better at what you do and improving who you are and no digital clock will ever define you.

Fifth, always remember that you can do it, whatever "it" may be.  I believe in you as much as I hope you believe in yourself.  Never underestimate the power of your body and your mind.  Go longer, faster, harder.  Be the best person you can be.

Sixth, remember that we are fortunate to participate - in this sport and in this life.  It is a gift - and one that can be taken from us at any moment.  Respect and honor that gift by respecting and honoring yourself and other people.

Finally, my dear, it will all get a lot easier when you realize it's not supposed to be easy. Without surviving through the tough times, without a little blood, sweat and tears, you wouldn't have as much appreciation for the rest of the experience.  

And speaking of tough times, it seems you're screaming bloody murder again for reasons that are unbeknownst to me.  So with that in mind, those are all the lessons I want to tell you today, my little munchkin.  Oh wait, I see your eyes are now suddenly closed as if you have narcolepsy. You are a tough one to keep track of, my wee bitty petunia.  I'm not quite sure if you're mulling these thoughts over or if I put you to sleep. But no worries, darling, I will remind you of these life lessons as you get older, even if I have to exemplify them myself.  That is how much I love you. To the moon and back.

Love,

Daddy

Reprinted with permission from USA Triathlon Magazine.