There are a lot of things that I dislike about the holidays (you can call me a Scrooge). I think the main thing that bothers me is that we use the holidays as an excuse to be our worst selves instead of our best selves (myself often included). We turn these holidays (Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Hanukkah), days that are supposed to be joyful celebrations of finding just enough when we thought we wouldn't have anything (finding some friends who will share their food, having light when it seemed there would be none, finding a manger when there was no where to sleep) into a free-for-all for inexpensive towels on Black Friday and a month and a half long sugar-blast. Every year around the holidays, Americans go into debt and eat ourselves fatter and sicker than we were the last year in celebration of holidays that are meant to remember finding just enough to get by on.
As I was on my way home from 14 degree run this morning (which was penance for too many cookies and bit too much punch yesterday), I was thinking that perhaps the holidays need a little more discomfort so we appreciate the comfort. One of my favorite things is having a well-earned breakfast and curling up into a warm bed after a nice cold twenty miler. The contrast between the cold and the struggle (and working up a genuine hunger) makes appreciation of the comfort of bed and the treat of warm food so much better than it could ever be otherwise. Practicing restraint and engaging in some mindful discomfort leads to so much more enjoyment on the rare occasions that we do indulge than when we shove things in our mouths with abandon and buy anything and everything just because it is on sale. When we have too much of everything, it gets really hard to appreciate any of it.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Struggling
We talked today in our English department meeting about how important it is for students to realize that there is value in struggle. Oftentimes, the greatest learning happens when children are allowed to struggle through a dense text, a complex math problem, or a difficult new skill . We don't learn by doing things that are easy, we learn by testing our limits. The key is learning that struggle is an integral part of this process; to recognize it, embrace it even.
The conversation about struggle was timely for me, because it is something that I have been thinking about since last weekend. I've been struggling in myriad ways in the past couple weeks with Ironman and this last weekend's workout only increased my frustration.
On one hand, I am at the point in training, and school (heck, and life), that it is a daily struggle to get everything done (yes, I should be pre-cooking dinner right now or folding laundry or putting away dishes or running, and instead I am writing a blog post. Sue me.). I have made and backed out of plans, eaten more frozen things than I would like to admit, realized that I had nothing to wear to work at the last minute, and driven an extra 3 hours in a morning so I could attend a wedding the night before a ride. It just seems like there is not enough time in the day to get everything that needs to get done done. Someone asked me if I had seen a new TV show today and I laughed in his face. Who has time to watch TV?
That struggle is compounded with the struggle that actually IS the process of training. I looked down at my watch at the beginning of my ride this weekend while pedaling and realized that I was going 12 miles an hour. That headwind continued for 3 hours. It gets frustrating realizing that your body isn't doing what you want it to do, that things hurt (always different things- why?!), that you aren't making the gains that you thought you would as fast as you would.
But if Ironman were easy, then it wouldn't be an accomplishment. If we didn't struggle through workouts, our bodies wouldn't get stronger (sometimes slowly, at their own pace). I know from experience that the struggle does make you physically stronger, and that all the mental struggle and the sacrifices are worth it come race day when you come cruising across the finish line and hear your own name, followed by "you are an Ironman". And...and...despite everything that is difficult (because of everything that is difficult), when I go to work on Monday, wiped out and tired and windburned and tan and I ask others how their weekends were and they say that they "watched the game" or "watched some TV", I know that I rather would struggle and ride my bike 12 miles an hour into a 30 mile an hour headwind than sit on the couch anyday.
“Struggling and suffering are the essence of a life worth living. If you're not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you're not demanding more from yourself - expanding and learning as you go - you're choosing a numb existence. You're denying yourself an extraordinary trip.”
-Dean Karnazes
The conversation about struggle was timely for me, because it is something that I have been thinking about since last weekend. I've been struggling in myriad ways in the past couple weeks with Ironman and this last weekend's workout only increased my frustration.
On one hand, I am at the point in training, and school (heck, and life), that it is a daily struggle to get everything done (yes, I should be pre-cooking dinner right now or folding laundry or putting away dishes or running, and instead I am writing a blog post. Sue me.). I have made and backed out of plans, eaten more frozen things than I would like to admit, realized that I had nothing to wear to work at the last minute, and driven an extra 3 hours in a morning so I could attend a wedding the night before a ride. It just seems like there is not enough time in the day to get everything that needs to get done done. Someone asked me if I had seen a new TV show today and I laughed in his face. Who has time to watch TV?
That struggle is compounded with the struggle that actually IS the process of training. I looked down at my watch at the beginning of my ride this weekend while pedaling and realized that I was going 12 miles an hour. That headwind continued for 3 hours. It gets frustrating realizing that your body isn't doing what you want it to do, that things hurt (always different things- why?!), that you aren't making the gains that you thought you would as fast as you would.
But if Ironman were easy, then it wouldn't be an accomplishment. If we didn't struggle through workouts, our bodies wouldn't get stronger (sometimes slowly, at their own pace). I know from experience that the struggle does make you physically stronger, and that all the mental struggle and the sacrifices are worth it come race day when you come cruising across the finish line and hear your own name, followed by "you are an Ironman". And...and...despite everything that is difficult (because of everything that is difficult), when I go to work on Monday, wiped out and tired and windburned and tan and I ask others how their weekends were and they say that they "watched the game" or "watched some TV", I know that I rather would struggle and ride my bike 12 miles an hour into a 30 mile an hour headwind than sit on the couch anyday.
“Struggling and suffering are the essence of a life worth living. If you're not pushing yourself beyond the comfort zone, if you're not demanding more from yourself - expanding and learning as you go - you're choosing a numb existence. You're denying yourself an extraordinary trip.”
-Dean Karnazes
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Boston
Running is where I find solace. It is my form of meditation, prayer, or what have you. It is, even when shared with friends, a deeply personal experience. It is a stripped down sport, with only your body, your limits, and your own perception of pain and time to manage. People who are runners innately understand this; people who are not runners ask "don't you get bored?". Running is somewhere that I turn when I am lost or confused or scared. I always feel better when I have run alone, but I have also forged many friendships (and a marriage) through running. Again, there is something about the sport that strips everything down, that allows you to just "be" in another's company.
The marathon is where this thing that is very private becomes public. There are only a few in any given race that are there to win, the rest of us are merely there to prove something to ourselves or to be recognized for those early mornings or late evenings spent in pursuit of what we love. If you've ever watched a marathon, you can witness pain, struggle, and great joy all in the course of one short afternoon. People wear these emotions on their sleeves in ways that you rarely witness in public. People often cross the finish line and cry.
The Boston Marathon is the most public of all. Almost everyone, even those who don't know that a marathon is 26.2 miles, have heard of the famous Boston Marathon. They know that it is a BIG DEAL. It is a place where otherwise normal people can feel like Olympians for a day. It is where many of us who toil day in and day out to run and run well (but who will never win a race) will recognize our greatest athletic achievement. It is a club that you join (much like Ironman) that can never be taken away once you are in. It is a race that the whole city (as well as all the surrounding communities) rallies behind and helps make a day so special, such a celebration, for everyone involved.
I mourn above all for the loss of life and the tragedy that befell everyone who had a connection with what happened yesterday. I also feel, as a runner and as part of a community of runners (and someone in the Boston "club"), a connection to what happened yesterday despite being thousands of miles away. Lives were lost and something that was special and sacred to many of us, a public celebration of that private joy that we derive from running, was turned into a terrible tragedy. Despite running often being a solitary sport, we know that we runners form a strong community. So, together we will mourn. Together, we will help each other heal.
Together, we will run.
The marathon is where this thing that is very private becomes public. There are only a few in any given race that are there to win, the rest of us are merely there to prove something to ourselves or to be recognized for those early mornings or late evenings spent in pursuit of what we love. If you've ever watched a marathon, you can witness pain, struggle, and great joy all in the course of one short afternoon. People wear these emotions on their sleeves in ways that you rarely witness in public. People often cross the finish line and cry.
The Boston Marathon is the most public of all. Almost everyone, even those who don't know that a marathon is 26.2 miles, have heard of the famous Boston Marathon. They know that it is a BIG DEAL. It is a place where otherwise normal people can feel like Olympians for a day. It is where many of us who toil day in and day out to run and run well (but who will never win a race) will recognize our greatest athletic achievement. It is a club that you join (much like Ironman) that can never be taken away once you are in. It is a race that the whole city (as well as all the surrounding communities) rallies behind and helps make a day so special, such a celebration, for everyone involved.
I mourn above all for the loss of life and the tragedy that befell everyone who had a connection with what happened yesterday. I also feel, as a runner and as part of a community of runners (and someone in the Boston "club"), a connection to what happened yesterday despite being thousands of miles away. Lives were lost and something that was special and sacred to many of us, a public celebration of that private joy that we derive from running, was turned into a terrible tragedy. Despite running often being a solitary sport, we know that we runners form a strong community. So, together we will mourn. Together, we will help each other heal.
Together, we will run.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Decisions, Decisions...
It's almost spring break at school, which means that the students are getting restless as spring approaches. Restlessness means failures. More of my students are failing right now than I would like to admit. I usually let them flounder around until about now and then lay it on thick. I will pull a failing student aside after class and say the following: "I was just wondering why it was that you've decided to fail my class this quarter." Usually, if done right, it gets a pretty strong response. My students are still at a stage where they believe that a teacher gives grades rather than a student earning them. Usually, they try to protest: "I don't know why YOU're failing me!". And then I point out all the decisions that a student made before they got to that "F": (Have you decided not to do classwork/homework? have you decided not to come see me during lunch for extra help? have you decided to sleep in class? have you decided to chat instead of taking notes?).
Even as adults, we like to think that we have less agency in our own lives rather than accepting the decisions that we've made. We like to say that we don't have time to do certain things (like read, exercise, or cook), but what we really mean is that we've decided that those things aren't as important to us as other things. We say that we can't get along with another person when what we mean is that we prefer not to try to see that person's point of view. We say that we can't lose weight when what we really mean is that we've decided that we don't want to make the permanent change that it takes to drop the pounds. We say that we are too tired to finish the workout, or to pedal hard, or to run fast, but what we really mean is that we have decided not to try. We say "can't" sometimes when we mean "won't".
I've realized this: there are so many things that we can't control that we need to control the things that we can. Many times we can choose to be happy when we are not. We can choose to devote the energy to changing things we don't like. We can choose to try our best at every workout or we can say that we are too tired, sore, or busy to do it correctly. In the end, we can make excuses all we want, but that finish line still looms whether you try your best or enjoy the workout along the way or not.
Even as adults, we like to think that we have less agency in our own lives rather than accepting the decisions that we've made. We like to say that we don't have time to do certain things (like read, exercise, or cook), but what we really mean is that we've decided that those things aren't as important to us as other things. We say that we can't get along with another person when what we mean is that we prefer not to try to see that person's point of view. We say that we can't lose weight when what we really mean is that we've decided that we don't want to make the permanent change that it takes to drop the pounds. We say that we are too tired to finish the workout, or to pedal hard, or to run fast, but what we really mean is that we have decided not to try. We say "can't" sometimes when we mean "won't".
I've realized this: there are so many things that we can't control that we need to control the things that we can. Many times we can choose to be happy when we are not. We can choose to devote the energy to changing things we don't like. We can choose to try our best at every workout or we can say that we are too tired, sore, or busy to do it correctly. In the end, we can make excuses all we want, but that finish line still looms whether you try your best or enjoy the workout along the way or not.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
If it's not food...then what is it?
We are coming to the end of the two month vegan challenge. I've spent the last two months thinking a lot about food. I've talked to a lot of people (informally) about veganism and its benefits both health and performance-wise (side note: I got my lipids tested a week ago for a health initiative for work and was told that they were "perfect"). I've talked to some people who have started on the paleo diet and are having great results on it. I've read several articles about the relationship between chronic disease and diet as well as several articles espousing the so-called "Mediterranean diet". Then today I read this article in the New York Times which was adapted from a book (which is about to be released) called "Fat Sugar Salt" by Michael Moss: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/24/magazine/the-extraordinary-science-of-junk-food.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0
And I realized something (or I guess, was reminded of something). We, as a nation, are forgetting what food really is. The common denominator between all the "diets" (and I'm touching upon veganism here as a choice motivated by health rather than one motivated by morality, so bear with me) that I mentioned above is that if done right, they pretty much eliminate all processed non-food. Maybe, just maybe, it's not the fact that a vegan can't eat salmon or someone on a paleo diet can't eat legumes that make these diets successful, but that neither of them can eat powdered cheese food or Campbell's soup or flamin' hots. So much of what we see on our grocery store shelves is engineered (read the NYT article) in a lab, rather than grown in the ground. In other words, so much of what we're eating really isn't food in the strictest sense of the word.
Quick Story: When I taught writing two years ago, we read the young reader's edition of "The Omnivore's Dilemma". The other teacher that I planned with came up with a brilliant idea: we let the kids bring in their favorite treats and eat them in class as long as they did the activity that we planned first. Every student brought something in (sometimes when I assigned homework, only 10% of kids would actually do it, but every kid brought in a "treat" that day). The first thing that we did was to ask the students (without looking at the ingredient list) was what their "treat" was made of. The kids were perplexed. So we guided them a little bit. We asked them what part of the food pyramid it would fall into. They were perplexed. No one knew what was in a flamin' hot cheeto, and no one could come close to linking it to anything that actually constituted food without looking at the ingredient list. Even after looking at the ingredients, they were still confused..."well, what is all this stuff?".I didn't know what most of the things on the list were any more than they did (Michael Pollan did- it's corn!). We asked them how often they ate the items they brought in. Most of them responded that they ate things like this multiple times a day.
The NYT article on the Mediterranean Diet pointed out something that should be obvious to us: that real food should be a treat and not a punishment (think about your best meals ever: did they involve processed cheese or breaded chicken nuggets? probably not). We, as a culture, like to convince ourselves that we are being deprived if we choose a salad over a Quarter Pounder with cheese. (There's even whole lines of "I'm depriving myself with non-food" food in the way of Lean Cuisines, Snackwells, those 100 calorie packs of things that resemble cookies, etc.). Marketers have led us to believe that the way to happiness is through our stomachs and that we "deserve" to eat desert with every meal (or supersize our meal, or that we are bad parents for not buying our kids food that is shaped like animals). I would like to make some sort of comment about how I believe in personal responsibility here, but I'm not sure that we, as Americans, have any sense of that anymore (certainly when it comes to food, debatably in other areas as well). Perhaps Michael Bloomberg is right to want to regulate what people eat. When my students ask me why I make certain rules, sometimes I am brutally honest: "Because I don't trust you yet to be in control of yourselves." If we don't learn to control what we eat, the government might be telling us that very thing more and more (and they might not be wrong).
And I realized something (or I guess, was reminded of something). We, as a nation, are forgetting what food really is. The common denominator between all the "diets" (and I'm touching upon veganism here as a choice motivated by health rather than one motivated by morality, so bear with me) that I mentioned above is that if done right, they pretty much eliminate all processed non-food. Maybe, just maybe, it's not the fact that a vegan can't eat salmon or someone on a paleo diet can't eat legumes that make these diets successful, but that neither of them can eat powdered cheese food or Campbell's soup or flamin' hots. So much of what we see on our grocery store shelves is engineered (read the NYT article) in a lab, rather than grown in the ground. In other words, so much of what we're eating really isn't food in the strictest sense of the word.
Quick Story: When I taught writing two years ago, we read the young reader's edition of "The Omnivore's Dilemma". The other teacher that I planned with came up with a brilliant idea: we let the kids bring in their favorite treats and eat them in class as long as they did the activity that we planned first. Every student brought something in (sometimes when I assigned homework, only 10% of kids would actually do it, but every kid brought in a "treat" that day). The first thing that we did was to ask the students (without looking at the ingredient list) was what their "treat" was made of. The kids were perplexed. So we guided them a little bit. We asked them what part of the food pyramid it would fall into. They were perplexed. No one knew what was in a flamin' hot cheeto, and no one could come close to linking it to anything that actually constituted food without looking at the ingredient list. Even after looking at the ingredients, they were still confused..."well, what is all this stuff?".I didn't know what most of the things on the list were any more than they did (Michael Pollan did- it's corn!). We asked them how often they ate the items they brought in. Most of them responded that they ate things like this multiple times a day.
The NYT article on the Mediterranean Diet pointed out something that should be obvious to us: that real food should be a treat and not a punishment (think about your best meals ever: did they involve processed cheese or breaded chicken nuggets? probably not). We, as a culture, like to convince ourselves that we are being deprived if we choose a salad over a Quarter Pounder with cheese. (There's even whole lines of "I'm depriving myself with non-food" food in the way of Lean Cuisines, Snackwells, those 100 calorie packs of things that resemble cookies, etc.). Marketers have led us to believe that the way to happiness is through our stomachs and that we "deserve" to eat desert with every meal (or supersize our meal, or that we are bad parents for not buying our kids food that is shaped like animals). I would like to make some sort of comment about how I believe in personal responsibility here, but I'm not sure that we, as Americans, have any sense of that anymore (certainly when it comes to food, debatably in other areas as well). Perhaps Michael Bloomberg is right to want to regulate what people eat. When my students ask me why I make certain rules, sometimes I am brutally honest: "Because I don't trust you yet to be in control of yourselves." If we don't learn to control what we eat, the government might be telling us that very thing more and more (and they might not be wrong).
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Do you want the good news first...or the bad news?
Starting training this week with a good percentage of people who had never done Ironman before, I couldn't help but feel a little wizened. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still can't swim and at times my bike handling leaves plenty to be desired, but I know enough to laugh at the guy on the trainer next to me (nicely, of course) when he says that he already has a bike and so he doesn't plan to spend that much money on Ironman. So, here is a compilation of stuff I know. Some of it is good, some bad, some of it...well, some of it just is. In no particular order.
1. You will spend a zilliondy dollars before you cross the finish line. You may be the type of person who needs every new gadget out there or you may be a strict minimalist (or fall somewhere in between). You WILL spend a zilliondy dollars. You will spend more money on gas, sports drink, race entries, tire tubes, tune-ups, groceries, hotel rooms, and new shoes than you think you will. Yeah, that number in your head...double it. Triple it if you're that guy that was on the trainer next to me.
2. You will have a meltdown. At least one. I don't care if you're a dude. You will get off your bike and threaten to throw it. You will sit down in the middle of a run and refuse to get up. You will bang your head against the steering wheel in your car after a ride when your legs would barely move or you got 3 flats or it was 100 degrees outside or a combination of all three. You might even cry. Even if you are a dude. It will be epic, but it will be okay.
3. You will feel great when you start getting into shape and then your legs will feel terrible pretty much until you taper.
4. No matter how much of an athlete you feel like today, you will feel like a major badass by June.
5. By June, you are also going to have nothing to talk about other than your training and will have spent enough time in the sun to think that it's actually interesting to people who aren't training with you. It's not. Stop talking about it. Trust me.
6. You are going to meet some badass MFers. You may even think right now that you fall into the badass MFer category. You don't. Trust me. No matter how badass you think you are, you are going to meet some guy or some girl who is so badass that they make you feel like you are riding a pink huffy. ("oh, you're training for your first Ironman? I've done twenty" "Ah. Ironman, I did those before I got into ultraman." "Yeah, I got sick of riding my bike, so I'm training for Leadville"). Be wary of these people. If you listen to them too much, they start sounding less crazy and you might even start thinking that some of their ideas seem like good ones. And then all of a sudden you are flying to Antarctica to run a marathon wearing a snow suit.
7. When you tell people that you are doing Madison, they will mention the swim start. They will show you this picture or one that looks just like it. They will use adjectives like "washing machine". It will scare you. For good reason. But it will be okay.
8. By May you will want to eat everything. You will. With Abandon. I remember e-mailing coach something close (seriously) to the following: "I just ate a whole cake. I mean a WHOLE cake. I'm still hungry. What's wrong with me?". She told me to eat more avocado and nuts. To her credit, I didn't eat a whole cake again.
9. If you are a man, you will do #8 while losing tons of weight. If you are a woman, you will stay the same weight while your waist whittles down and your butt and thighs get bigger. Invest in a pair of comfy yoga pants that stretch now. Sorry, but it's the truth.
10. By August, you will most likely be questioning your own sanity as you miss birthday parties, baptisms, and weddings to go ride your bike. Sometimes alone, sometimes in heat. You will pee in cornfields and talk to cows on the side of the road instead of doing normal-people things. You will feel abnormal because, well, you are abnormal.
11. That sexy hint of color you got from marathon training? With Ironman training, It will be a full-on suit of too-tan and white even if you wear SPF 100 every time you leave the house.
12. If you follow the training plan, you will be ready. Seriously. No matter how crappy you feel through training, you will be ready. The race is just preparation + heart + a hope that your digestive system holds up.
13. It will be worth it when you cross the finish line.
1. You will spend a zilliondy dollars before you cross the finish line. You may be the type of person who needs every new gadget out there or you may be a strict minimalist (or fall somewhere in between). You WILL spend a zilliondy dollars. You will spend more money on gas, sports drink, race entries, tire tubes, tune-ups, groceries, hotel rooms, and new shoes than you think you will. Yeah, that number in your head...double it. Triple it if you're that guy that was on the trainer next to me.
2. You will have a meltdown. At least one. I don't care if you're a dude. You will get off your bike and threaten to throw it. You will sit down in the middle of a run and refuse to get up. You will bang your head against the steering wheel in your car after a ride when your legs would barely move or you got 3 flats or it was 100 degrees outside or a combination of all three. You might even cry. Even if you are a dude. It will be epic, but it will be okay.
3. You will feel great when you start getting into shape and then your legs will feel terrible pretty much until you taper.
4. No matter how much of an athlete you feel like today, you will feel like a major badass by June.
5. By June, you are also going to have nothing to talk about other than your training and will have spent enough time in the sun to think that it's actually interesting to people who aren't training with you. It's not. Stop talking about it. Trust me.
6. You are going to meet some badass MFers. You may even think right now that you fall into the badass MFer category. You don't. Trust me. No matter how badass you think you are, you are going to meet some guy or some girl who is so badass that they make you feel like you are riding a pink huffy. ("oh, you're training for your first Ironman? I've done twenty" "Ah. Ironman, I did those before I got into ultraman." "Yeah, I got sick of riding my bike, so I'm training for Leadville"). Be wary of these people. If you listen to them too much, they start sounding less crazy and you might even start thinking that some of their ideas seem like good ones. And then all of a sudden you are flying to Antarctica to run a marathon wearing a snow suit.
7. When you tell people that you are doing Madison, they will mention the swim start. They will show you this picture or one that looks just like it. They will use adjectives like "washing machine". It will scare you. For good reason. But it will be okay.
9. If you are a man, you will do #8 while losing tons of weight. If you are a woman, you will stay the same weight while your waist whittles down and your butt and thighs get bigger. Invest in a pair of comfy yoga pants that stretch now. Sorry, but it's the truth.
10. By August, you will most likely be questioning your own sanity as you miss birthday parties, baptisms, and weddings to go ride your bike. Sometimes alone, sometimes in heat. You will pee in cornfields and talk to cows on the side of the road instead of doing normal-people things. You will feel abnormal because, well, you are abnormal.
11. That sexy hint of color you got from marathon training? With Ironman training, It will be a full-on suit of too-tan and white even if you wear SPF 100 every time you leave the house.
12. If you follow the training plan, you will be ready. Seriously. No matter how crappy you feel through training, you will be ready. The race is just preparation + heart + a hope that your digestive system holds up.
13. It will be worth it when you cross the finish line.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
An epic journey...
Welcome back to "I am a Masochist", the Ironman blog (redux). We'll see if I can come up with some new jokes the second time around.
Today is the first day of official Ironman training. I went to the gym today and did the prescribed workout. While I did the strength workout, I stared in the mirror, and looked at my soft, pale arms, and thought, "this does not look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles." Well, and that's the truth...it doesn't look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles because it is not.
My freshman English class just finished reading the Odyssey. One of the things that we talked about a great deal in the study of the Odyssey was the power of journeys. Our hero (no, I'm not saying I'm a hero for doing masochistic things, but stick with me for the rest of the analogy please) starts out unwilling, unworthy, or unable. Somehow, however, through the power of some sort of journey, the hero is transformed. He ends the journey as someone different and is able and worthy to do things that he was unable to do at the beginning of the story. The hero couldn't, I tell my students, have faced the challenge that he faces at the end of the story at the beginning of the story- it wouldn't make any sense- he wasn't fully realized. It is the journey that makes him into a hero, not the other way around.
Here's to the beginning of the journey (again).
Today is the first day of official Ironman training. I went to the gym today and did the prescribed workout. While I did the strength workout, I stared in the mirror, and looked at my soft, pale arms, and thought, "this does not look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles." Well, and that's the truth...it doesn't look like a body that can cover 140.6 miles because it is not.
My freshman English class just finished reading the Odyssey. One of the things that we talked about a great deal in the study of the Odyssey was the power of journeys. Our hero (no, I'm not saying I'm a hero for doing masochistic things, but stick with me for the rest of the analogy please) starts out unwilling, unworthy, or unable. Somehow, however, through the power of some sort of journey, the hero is transformed. He ends the journey as someone different and is able and worthy to do things that he was unable to do at the beginning of the story. The hero couldn't, I tell my students, have faced the challenge that he faces at the end of the story at the beginning of the story- it wouldn't make any sense- he wasn't fully realized. It is the journey that makes him into a hero, not the other way around.
Here's to the beginning of the journey (again).
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