Between a rock and a hard face

I am wealthy man. Yes, as a physician, I am financially comfortable, however, I mean much more than that. I am wealthy in creature comforts, in relationships, in experiences, in life in general. While I try not to take this for granted, I know that at times I do. When your life is one of plenty, it is easy to assume that it should be thus, and will always be thus.

While some corner of my mind is aware that life carries no guarantees, I still make plans for the future as though this is assured. I am embarking on a project with a timeline of over 12 months. The culmination of this is a goal toward which these next 12 months will be dedicated, a goal to achieve a personal dream. Much can happen in that time. Luke 12: 13-21 tells the parable of the rich fool, who plans and plans for his future only to be informed by God that his life will end that very night.

This was brought home to me in a rather dramatic fashion this week. I set my alarm on Thursday morning for 05:45 in order to get in a good run before work. This gives me time to run 45 minutes to an hour, shower, have breakfast, and get to work on time. It was still dark and with no moon, black "as midnight in a coal mine". I ran my usual route around Silver Lake having done it so many times in the dark that I can almost do it with my eyes closed. About 2 miles into my 5 ½ mile loop I saw approaching headlights. Despite wearing a bright yellow top, I did not have on my reflective vest so I decided it best to step off the road onto the grassy shoulder. I should have stopped running but did not and, in an instant, found myself airborne, sailing headfirst in the air, having tripped over a bowling ball-sized coral rock. There was apparently a row of these lining the yard of this particular home on the lake. I had undoubtedly seen these on past runs but never imprinted them in my memory since they never seemed noteworthy. In the darkness, I couldn't see a thing as I flew through the air and, almost instantaneously my face smashed into the next rock in line. The whole incident probably took less than 2 seconds. 

In a near miraculous turn, my hands hit the ground just before my face made contact with the rock so that I was able to use my arms to decelerate and cushion the blow a bit. Even so, I hit it face first, pretty hard. I was momentarily stunned then felt the warm, burning sting that indicated I had not escaped unscathed. As it was too dark too see anything, I took a mental and tactile inventory: no broken or loose teeth, no pain in the jaw to indicate a fracture or dislocation, no vision problems, glasses intact, nothing warm or wet dripping off of the face. My upper lip felt swollen. I resumed running planning to abort the rest of the run and head straight home to take better stock of the damage but after a few steps, I felt pretty good and decided to finish the full run. It seemed I got off pretty light. 

On reaching home, the mirror confirmed what I already suspected, I had a number of scrapes and cuts on my face and a pretty good gash inside the lip. All things considered, not too bad. When I think of what might have been, I have to say a silent prayer of thanks- no broken neck, broken jaw, or broken face; no major gashes; no eye injury; no permanent disability or disfigurement.

It was as though I was being reminded that I should not take any day in the next 12 months for granted. Whatever happens, and whether or not I make it to the start of the 2013 Florida Ironman, I resolve to be thankful just for the opportunity each day presents and for being able, at 60, to run at all.

This week's training summary- It was a blustery week with high winds and some rain from Hurricane Sandy
Swam- 2825 yards in 1:16:48 I felt faster and more efficient in the water.
Ran- 5.48 miles at 8:38min/mi average
Bike- Approx. 15 miles ( no computer or Garmin to provide data) Perceived effort- moderate

Next Saturday, November 3 is the 2012 Florida Ironman. Registration for 2013 opens early the following morning. I will have to be on the computer and ready to go. The 2012 triathlon filled in 16 minutes!

Stuckness

Over 30 years ago I read Robert Persig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, a ‘non-fiction novel’ about a cross country motorcycle ride of a father with his young son. I cannot recall much about the book except for one concept, which has stayed with me ever since, the concept of “stuckness”. Persig can describe this better than I can.

"...stuckness, a mental stuckness that accompanies the physical stuckness of whatever it is that you are working on. A screw sticks, for example, on the side cover assembly (of a motorcycle). You check the owner's manual to see if there might be any special cause for this screw to come off so hard, but all it says is 'Remove side cover plate' in that wonderful, terse technical style that never tells you what you want to know. There's no earlier procedure left undone that might cause the cover screws to stick.

If you're experienced you'd probably apply a penetrating liquid and an impact driver at this point. If you're inexperienced and you attach a self-locking plier wrench to the shank of your screw driver and really twist it hard, a procedure you've had success with in the past, but which this time succeeds only in tearing the slot of the screw.

Your mind was already was already thinking ahead to what you would do when the cover plate was off, and so it takes a little time to realize that this irritating minor annoyance of a torn screw slot isn't just irritating and minor. You're stuck. Stopped. Terminated. It's absolutely stopped you from fixing the motorcycle."

In the example above, even though you are already thinking ahead to what you want to accomplish, the little, minor thing- a stuck screw- is now a major thing, preventing you from doing what you want to do, what you know you need to do. I believe we all get “stuck” at times in life. Some people live in a perpetual state of “stuckness”, knowing what they need to do, even wanting to do it, but unable because of some small thing that assumes major significance.

For me, “stuckness” is mental and is induced by a combination of three things, my three “D’s” if you will: distractedness, disorganization, and lack of discipline. Each of these alone I could probably manage but the combination is downright near impossible to overcome. This is where the cold showers and the road to the ironman come in. The former serve to focus me and the latter will require organization and discipline in equal measure. I only hope and pray that I can carry this over to other areas of my life.

Stuckness can be anything in your life that prevents you from reaching your potential, or even just being someday better than you are now. Getting unstuck doesn’t necessarily require cold showers or doing an ironman. It does require taking a first step toward your dream or goal. That step leads to the next, which leads to the next, and so on. At least that’s the way I believe it works.

This week’s training summary (I was traveling and caught a cold, so I didn’t push it- there will be plenty of time for that):

Swam- none

Biked- 34 mi @ average 16.8 mph

Ran- 5.57 mi @ 9:40/mi pace

60, It's only a number

On Wednesday, October 10, I achieved a milestone, having now lived 6 decades and embarked on my 7^th. On one hand, it was a day like any other. I really can’t be given too much credit for having been born. Truth be told, if given a choice I probably would have hung around in the womb for a little while longer. After all, although I have no memories of the place, from what I have learned, it was probably very safe and comfortable in there, and not much was expected of me. As to reaching 60, I just kept inhaling and exhaling, and putting one foot in front of the other. Even so, society seems to think it is a big deal, given the congratulations from family and friends, even some from those of the latter group that I haven’t heard from in years.

On the other hand, I do have to admit that as a milestone, this one seems slightly surreal, especially since I don’t feel anywhere near mature enough to be this old.

Having reached this exalted state, several things apply. For one, I cannot claim the designation of “middle-aged” anymore. I am far past the middle of my life. To be there, I would have to live to be 120 years old, an unlikely (and probably undesirable) proposition. For another, I guess I am supposed to have attained some degree of wisdom and perspective on life in general, and my life in particular. Not too sure about the former, but I think I have a bit more of a handle on perspective.

Perspective is an interesting thing. Webster’s aside, I think perspective means having a realistic assessment of life, based on one’s experiences and world view. For one thing, I will never be a giant in my field as my plastic surgery mentor and residency director, Dr. Millard, was. All I can hope to do is to represent my training and my professor to the best of my ability in my little sphere in Lake County, FL. It is doubtful I will ever be a major celebrity, history making researcher, politician, or athlete. Rather than find this disappointing, I am totally OK with my relative anonymity. It has been my observation that most, if not all, people who attain uniquely lofty achievements pay for these in some other area of their lives. This is perfectly described by the chorus in Sophocles’ play Antigone which declares, “Nothing vast enters the life of mortals without a curse”. I think Sophocles nailed it.

I could have spent MY “special” day in many ways. I could have done some grueling endurance event, jumped from an airplane for the first time, visited some heretofor unknown exotic land, or done any of a number of landmark things. Instead I spent that day as one of several babysitting my granddaughter, Emerson, with my wife, while my daughter and son-in-law headed off to a 3 day conference. It was perfection.

(I had to add this part after completing this blog earlier- Sal suggested we plan a nice, belated birthday dinner on  when our daughter, Lindsey, and David had returned from their conference. In the late afternoon, David left to meet someone for a talk. Later, he texted that he was back with some groceries in the car, so Lindsey sent me out to help bring them in. I hit the garage door button and as I approached the rising door, I noted 3 pairs of legs coming into view outside. As the door opened, I was looking at my son, Travis; girlfriend, Heather; and daughter, Olivia, who had flown up to be here for my birthday. This was Sally’s surprise gift to me. To say I was in shock would be a gross understatement. I began laughing uncontrollably. Did I say that Wednesday was perfection? No, this was perfection and the surprise of my life. Having all my family with me for the celebration, now THAT was perfection!)

I truly believe that 60 is only a number. I can't say how old I feel but it certainly isn’t 60. If 60 feels like this it certainly isn't what I envisioned. 40, perhaps, or maybe even 30. In my own mind, I am still a somewhat insecure 17 year old with a broad range of interests and a fascination about life and this world in which we find ourselves. Like I said earlier, surreal. 

Meanwhile, the slow march toward FI-2013 proceeds inexorably. Without planning, discipline, and proper training I know that it is unlikely I will see this to a successful conclusion. Besides, I want this to be fun. Being uncomfortable is one thing. Agony and possible injury are another altogether. The next month will be spent strategizing and planning, while trying to build a base from which to jump off when the training begins in earnest. Of course, I still have to get registered on November 3.

This week’s summary of my road to FI2013- 385 days to go:

Swam- 2350 yards

Ran- 21.57 miles

Bike- None this week as I was out of town. 

Comfort is overrated

What makes an ironman so daunting to contemplate? Yes it is a long way to swim, bike,and ride, all in one day. I think what it is though, is the knowledge that to complete an ironman, you will have to get used to the idea of being uncomfortable. The images of participants along the course projected during televised ironmen competitions are those of pain, even agony. Even those who seem to cruise to the finish have had to deal with discomfort along the way. Contrast this with the elation and jubilation of finishers as they cross the finish line. I submit that the source of this pinnacle of emotion, which many describe as life-changing, is the realization that all the discomfort that preceded it was worth it, and then some.

It all started, as these things often do, with a simple comment. My son-in-law, David, told me that he had heard many triathletes take cold showers regularly. There are several reasons to do something so “uncomfortable”. It toughens them to the rigors of training; it instills a mindset that makes being uncomfortable seem not so, well, uncomfortable; and it serves as a reminder of what they are ultimately striving for. I decided to give it a try.

That first morning, July 1, 2012, I woke up in my comfortable bed in my comfortable climate controlled room in my comfortable home. I felt COMFORTABLE. Stepping naked into a cold shower stall I had to contemplate for a moment what I was about to do. I steeled myself and turned the shower on full cold. The water spray couldn’t have felt colder if it came from a glacial waterfall. I sucked in my breath and my body went rigid for a moment. I wanted to hoot and holler but didn’t want to wake up my wife. Let’s say I didn’t dawdle in taking that shower. That was 97 days ago and I haven’t taken a hot shower since. In that time, my life has undergone a dramatic change, truly a paradigm shift that has been, no kidding, physical, mental, and spiritual.

We take our comfort for granted never pausing to think that perhaps we are an aberration. Comfort is not the default mode of human beings. The vast majority of people in this world will never know the level of comfort that is our norm. Even the poorest Americans live a life of comfort beyond the imaginings of someone in, say, Somalia, Sudan, India, or any of dozens of countries. Many people in the world will never know a comfortable day in their entire lives. I’m not trying to make anyone feel guilty here; this is just a fact of life. There is nothing wrong with feeling comfortable. I think where we go astray is in seeking out comfort at all costs and ignoring the important role that feeling uncomfortable can play in our lives.

If our primary goal is to be comfortable, we will never seek a challenge, we will never push ourselves in any area of our lives if this creates even temporary discomfort, we will not deny ourselves that second helping of food we really enjoy, we will look away from things that might be disturbing in the world around us. In short, life will revolve around avoiding any discomfort, whether it is physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual.

It was the cold showers that made me think, “I can do this”. “I can train for, and do a full ironman”, something I have contemplated and dreamed of for years, ever since I first heard of this crazy event. They helped me deal with the fear of being uncomfortable. I have come to conclude that being comfortable is highly overrated. For the foreseeable future, the cold showers stay.

This week’s summary of my road to FI-2013 with 392 days to go:

Swam- 4100 yards

Ran- 5.48 miles @ 8:40 avg/mile pace

Bike- 1 hr 37 min (no data as my Garmin 910XT shut off several times during the ride. Technology!)

Florida Ironman 2013 Here I Come

This morning I swam 60 laps in the 25 yard pool at the Golden Triangle YMCA. That’s 1500 yards for you non-math whizzes. It marks my first “official” day of training leading up to the Florida Ironman triathlon which will take place on Saturday, November 2, 2013. Why so early when the 2012 Ironman hasn’t even taken place yet? It is because I have ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder for those who don’t know the acronym) and if I don’t start planning now, I will find myself sometime in September or October of next year realizing that I got distracted and forgot to do something essential, like sign up for the event. This way, I can start planning and training to include registering for the event on the weekend of the 2012 race.

This year I have been floundering personally with no set goals toward which to direct any training. I tend to be goal oriented and without one, I wander aimlessly. A full ironman has been on the “bucket list” for a number of years. Completing a half ironman in 2011 just got me thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could do this. The thought is both frightening and exhilarating at the same time. Isn’t that how it is any time one steps out of one’s comfort zone to pursue a daunting challenge?

Why should anyone care? Well, perhaps because we all have goals, some of which seem like pipe dreams that will remain forever that, dreams. Using a tripod as an example of stability, I am building my foundation for this effort on three things: having a goal, determination to see it through, and accountability. That’s where this blog comes in. I hope to post my progress weekly so that there will be some accountability in that, whether it is real or not, I will imagine myself to be under scrutiny. I am trying to keep from breaking the 11^th commandment. You know the one. It says, “Thou shalt not kid thyself”.

My plan, and this blog, will undoubtedly evolve as the weeks and months pass. I have no idea where I will be November 2, 2012. Perhaps standing on a beach with thousands of other crazy people about to charge into the water. We make our plans, but truly God holds the future. It should be interesting.

Won’t you join me? If you have a goal that you have wanted to achieve but never quite found the incentive that would get you up and moving toward it, perhaps we can travel this road together, me toward my goals, you toward yours. It doesn’t have to be a triathlon. Because that floats my boat doesn’t mean it has to float yours.

And to think it all began with a cold shower. More on that later. Until next week’s post…...