News Flash - 2020 Sucked!

I have always contended that I keep a blog mostly for myself. I let those who are willing take a peek if they so desire but I guess what this thing, this blog represents is a diary of my athletic approaches, and this diary is open to the public.

Wow! What a stinker! Flatten the curve. Social distance. Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Stay away from friends and family. In my case, don't see your parents. Cancer. Cancer care. A postponed wedding. You work in retail, whoops. And so on. And so on. And so on...

The afore mention list is a very rough outline of what my 2020 looked like. But there were additional things missing as well, one of them being racing and the motivation to train when there is no finish line. The finish line for me being the toeing of a start line.

This morning as I sit here, a local blend coffee in hand, Kai at my feet, it's cloudy, damp, 37 degrees and as with a fair amount of January mornings, there is a light fog around the area of the Spokane River and across Riverside State Park. Not exactly a morning calling me to hit the trails on the old mountain bike or to get Kai out on those very same trails for a light jog as she chases down the local squirrels and chipmunks, me with a constant eye out for one of the many deer who have taken up residence in the safety of the park. For it is these deer that can give Kai "a run for her money" as I'm not in any kind of shape for an early season interval workout and sprint across the park while screaming and cursing at the dog. With apologies to any parents with small children within ear shot of course. But anyway...

I should get out today. There is so much to be thankful for. No snow so a light ride through the park will do me all kinds of good. There is no such thing as bad weather just bad clothing. Hey, look on the bright side. It's all about perspective.There are many out there who would love to be in my situation, who would love to just be able to go for a light spin. Feel the wind in their face and soak in the beauty of a park that is literally a stones throw from my front door. A stones throw on a good day that is. My shoulder is old and a bit tired.

So 2021 is here. Happy New Year! But for me at least, the new year is not some strange Line of Demarcation, some sort of finish line if you will, it's just that, a new year. And for me it is a time to reflect, a time to celebrate wins, and a time to learn.

As mentioned, I keep this blog thingy as a diary for use in reflection. This morning I came across part of an entry from 2016 that reminded me not only of some of what I had lost in the calendar year of 2020 but it reminded me of the good that is out there as well. It is, it's still there, the good in people, the passion we hold, the desire to be better even if the measuring stick is some silly little race we like to call Ironman. 

The outtake from that July, 2016 post is as follow:

After all these years and all these races, why do I continue to sign up?

For this, I drift back to Ironman CDA 2003 and 2004 while standing on Sherman Avenue in Coeur d' Alene Idaho. I expected to see ripped, superhuman athletes pushing themselves further than any average person could ever conceive of doing, which I did.

But I also saw so much more.

I saw average people; Butchers, Bakers and Candlestick Makers, young and old, thick and thin, all accomplishing something they might have never before dreamed of. I saw athletes cheering on athletes. Bystanders cheering on total strangers, sometimes running along with an athlete they didn’t even know because he or she looked like they needed some extra support. I saw a racer, her husband walking with her, children in tow. She was bawling her eyes out because as she stated "I just can't do it and I'm letting us all down." I watched as her husband walked with her, encouraged her and gave her a gentle push only because he knew something in that moment she could no longer see. I took note of her race number so I could later check the results. She did finish - for all of them. I saw all that is good in people playing out on that one day in that one race.

Standing alone in a sea of people that had gathered on Sherman Avenue, I watch, I got chills and I cried.

Maybe it was the bigness of the Ironman, the almost-insurmountability of doing it while trying to maintain a job, or a family, or any semblance of a life. Maybe it was the dedication, not only of the athletes, but of their friends and families. The dedication evident in the signs they hold and the pride in their eyes as they recount endless stories about getting their athlete and their entire team to the start line. Proud of the fact that they were out there on the day too, as part of a team who picked up the groceries or cleaned the house or did any one of a thousand things throughout the year so their athlete could get a six hour ride or two hour run or both. Maybe it was all of this combined that had gotten them to this exact moment.

Whatever it was, it stayed with me and the next year I found myself again standing on Sherman avenue at 11:55 PM. The last hour of any Ironman always moves me. Again, I got goosebumps. Again, I cried.

Well fingers crossed, vaccine in tow, I hope we can gather again this year. I pray I am once again standing alone on Sherman Avenue in a sea of people. A crowd of people who have come to watch as dreams come true. I also look forward to getting back to a start line, back to what for me will be an old friend but with a newness. New goals, a new excitement and new PRs as I feel as though I have retired the old. 

Photo By Kelli Dahmen

So here's to old passion anew, gathering in what I would call some sort of normality and of course a trip down the aisle with my beautiful bride. That is if she will still have me, some days can be a bit touch and go. And yes, I plan to cry, not because she won't have me but because she will.

Cathedrals?

What makes a patch of land - sacred?

What makes simple spaces - hallowed?

Photo by Bootsy

Plots of earth on their own hold no meaning.

We assign their value and designate their worth, through memory and history.

Photo by Renee Guerrero

It's why we call them shrines.

It’s because there is something spiritual in the air and ground.

Something divine that stirs the soul.

It's in Penticton - 

It’s in Madison - 

Photo by Tristan Brown

In Arizona - 

Photo by Bootsy

On Sherman Avenue in Coeur d'Alene Idaho -

Photo by Kelli Dahmen

And on Alihi Drive - 

But in a sport that is different, so solitary

There is common ground to be found here in the cathedrals of this sport.

Photo By James Richman

On courses that breath with history and reverent, spirit and soul.

In a way they host our awe, hold our memories and allows us to be moved by the memory of what we might see, over what we may expect. 

Only church is church. But these events, these arenas, these cathedrals, Lord, these places can feel like home.

"Don't Dream It's Over."

"I might become a passive stone that escapes in thinking instead of taking action." — Cynthia Kittler

I continue in the hope of getting back to an active lifestyle. To break free from a lifestyle I may not have completely chosen. This all while feeling underwhelmed by the idea of being still. Left to ponder the thought that things beyond my control may leave me on the outside looking in. When with all my heart I try to engage in the overwhelming preface: It’s not over.

I stood with others gathered at the a recent start line, a race I had long ago signed up for and choose to walk the shorter 5K instead of a half marathon DNS (Did Not Start). Here I watched as so many were living an active lifestyle. As I watched the overlying question became - What am I afraid of?

As much discomfort as my current situation and what it could mean, as much weight as I continue to put on the importance of a return to an active lifestyle and a start line of choice, as much fear as I may have of disappointing myself, I cannot continue in the belief that it is over.

Most are afraid of disappointment. I have fallen into the trap where I have told myself I’m not good at much other then what I do. I too can be terrified by change. As of late I have spent far to many hours convincing myself - it's over.

The only way I could ever be truly disappointed in myself is to not move forward, whatever it may look like. To not try. I must never fall into the belief that deep in the darkness my heart still sees everything I will never be. It's only over when I quit in the pursuit of what my heart holds.

We are all given our own path, like it or not. When that path leads to unchosen and/or uncharted waters it can allow for exploration of one's self. A period of time where everything is scrutinized. I have learned the sound of each rock and stone on this path. One of the lessons learned has been to embrace what others fear. It's very uncomfortable by the way, to examine something where in time each of us will be asked to do so. To be placed on a path of resistance or a path with far to few stones.

So the best thing I can do is to get back to a start line, whatever that may be. Even if my start line has been redefined. For in lies the truth. It may never be over as long as I choose to continue in the pursuit of what my heart desires.