Well, not such an easy question to answer. People are incredibly complex and trying to sum up exactly who we are is never an easy task. I recently wrote an article for a coaching group that I train with which should give some insight on the reasons that I train. Here it is: ___________________
2-20-02. Anyone who has heard much about Lance Armstrong knows his obsession with a date. If we are honest, most of us have one or several. Those days or times in our lives that somehow, often times unbeknownst to us, actually shape our futures. These dates may be vivid, standing as towers in our minds, beckoning us to remember. Or they may be glimpses of a memory that we don’t hardly understand. For me, mine is of the previous quality and has had a distinct and lasting impression on the course of my life.
Five years ago I would have collapsed with laughter if you told me that someday soon I would love to do triathlons. At that time I didn’t own a bike, couldn’t swim, and hated running. Clearly I would win the non-athlete award among all my friends. During college I was the bookworm who preferred to read great literature and hold never-ending discussions on philosophical issues long into the night. My perfect GPA was marred only by the fact that I was required to take PE classes. Me, an athlete? NEVER!
And then my world turned upside down. On February 20, 2002 my 5-year-old son was diagnosed with leukemia. Everything I had ever thought true in my life was challenged during the following months. I read everything I could about cancer – treatment, survival rates, heartbreaking stories about children who didn’t make it, medical journals – you name it, I read it. During that time I read about some moms who were doing marathons in honor or memory of their children through a group called Team in Training (TNT). To be honest, my initial thought was that they were nuts. Didn’t they have enough to worry about with their child being sick? But over time I began to be intrigued by these stories. These women had a passion about them that I lacked. And they had turned the very ugly side of side of cancer into personal growth and change for themselves and their families.
So, very timidly, I signed up for a marathon with TNT. The very next day I laced up my shoes for my first ever run. I got halfway down the block and thought, “this really sucks” and walked home. I was on the phone with TNT within minutes ready to withdraw from the program. My coordinator suggested that rather than quitting I should try a triathlon. The running portion was shorter, she explained, and plus I could always walk it if I wanted to.
I guess she was very persuasive as somehow I ended up at a kick-off meeting for something called an Olympic distance triathlon. I still didn’t own a bike, I still hated running, and I really didn’t know how to swim. But I went to the training meetings. I learned to do enough breaststroke to some how make it 1.5 K. I bought a bike and pounded out a ton of anger on the county roads around my house. And I resigned myself to walk/run the 10K.
To my great surprise, a part of me that had been hidden since that horrible year in sixth grade when I didn’t make a basket the entire year of intramural basketball came out. I found the athlete inside of myself. I found that running could actually be pleasurable. And that swimming, when done correctly, is actually somewhat relaxing. And of course that the bike has powers that modern psychiatric medicine can only dream about for dealing with emotions.
And so I look back upon the last 5 years with a sense of awe and wonder, instead of anger and fear. We were lucky – my son is now a thriving 10-year-old who participated in his first triathlon last year.
2-20-02. Anyone who has heard much about Lance Armstrong knows his obsession with a date. If we are honest, most of us have one or several. Those days or times in our lives that somehow, often times unbeknownst to us, actually shape our futures. These dates may be vivid, standing as towers in our minds, beckoning us to remember. Or they may be glimpses of a memory that we don’t hardly understand. For me, mine is of the previous quality and has had a distinct and lasting impression on the course of my life.
Five years ago I would have collapsed with laughter if you told me that someday soon I would love to do triathlons. At that time I didn’t own a bike, couldn’t swim, and hated running. Clearly I would win the non-athlete award among all my friends. During college I was the bookworm who preferred to read great literature and hold never-ending discussions on philosophical issues long into the night. My perfect GPA was marred only by the fact that I was required to take PE classes. Me, an athlete? NEVER!
And then my world turned upside down. On February 20, 2002 my 5-year-old son was diagnosed with leukemia. Everything I had ever thought true in my life was challenged during the following months. I read everything I could about cancer – treatment, survival rates, heartbreaking stories about children who didn’t make it, medical journals – you name it, I read it. During that time I read about some moms who were doing marathons in honor or memory of their children through a group called Team in Training (TNT). To be honest, my initial thought was that they were nuts. Didn’t they have enough to worry about with their child being sick? But over time I began to be intrigued by these stories. These women had a passion about them that I lacked. And they had turned the very ugly side of side of cancer into personal growth and change for themselves and their families.
So, very timidly, I signed up for a marathon with TNT. The very next day I laced up my shoes for my first ever run. I got halfway down the block and thought, “this really sucks” and walked home. I was on the phone with TNT within minutes ready to withdraw from the program. My coordinator suggested that rather than quitting I should try a triathlon. The running portion was shorter, she explained, and plus I could always walk it if I wanted to.
I guess she was very persuasive as somehow I ended up at a kick-off meeting for something called an Olympic distance triathlon. I still didn’t own a bike, I still hated running, and I really didn’t know how to swim. But I went to the training meetings. I learned to do enough breaststroke to some how make it 1.5 K. I bought a bike and pounded out a ton of anger on the county roads around my house. And I resigned myself to walk/run the 10K.
To my great surprise, a part of me that had been hidden since that horrible year in sixth grade when I didn’t make a basket the entire year of intramural basketball came out. I found the athlete inside of myself. I found that running could actually be pleasurable. And that swimming, when done correctly, is actually somewhat relaxing. And of course that the bike has powers that modern psychiatric medicine can only dream about for dealing with emotions.
And so I look back upon the last 5 years with a sense of awe and wonder, instead of anger and fear. We were lucky – my son is now a thriving 10-year-old who participated in his first triathlon last year.
And I have to say that I was also fortunate that in the trials of life I was able to find a sport that would give me the power to do things in all areas of my life that I never dreamed possible.
Cancer still royally sucks, but I find that this year I can actually say thank you to 2-20-2002.
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