Greatness eludes me. You see, I suffer from an insurmountable
handicap; I had a wonderful childhood. No, it wasn’t perfect. I suspect that few
childhoods are. There are always traumatic moments along the way, and I had my share. However,
mine was pretty darn good. In fact, looking back, I find it hard to recall any
really stinging traumas that have produced any enduring sense of loss, regret, injury,
etc. in my mind. What I do recall is lots of fun, great experiences, and, in
general, an overarching sense of security for most of my life.
My parents, for all their flaws, were devoted to each other
and to my sisters and me. My interests in hobbies, sports, careers, my
friendships, were all encouraged and supported. My parents passed on to me
their faith in a God who values each individual without regard to their
shortcomings. Expressions of love, support, respect, and outward expressions of
these were common in my family. In short, I had love, security, and self-worth passed on to
me in spades. It really messed me up in trying to achieve greatness.
The ancient Greeks had a saying, or so I have read
somewhere: “no great thing comes into the life of men without a curse”. Take,
for example, technology, e.g. personal computers. 
No one disputes how much they have brought
into our lives, however, they can really screw it up too. Online addiction to
gaming, gambling, and porn; cyber-relationships that wreck marriages 
; spam;
viruses; etc. They are even tied to the epidemic of obesity in kids who now
spend time in front of computer screens that they used to spend outdoors.
I
think there is another side to that coin: greatness often comes out of a “cursed”
situation.
Doesn’t it seem that so many great accomplishments come out
of lives that were miserable? Stories of people achieving greatness in sports,
entertainment, business, and science to compensate for awful childhoods and/or
to impress unloving, unsupportive parents are so common as to border on cliché.
Two examples from my recent readings*
come to mind. Alberto Salazar, the great marathoner 
, and Dave Scott, 6 time
Kona Ironman champion 
, both trying to impress fathers who withheld their love
and/or support during their childhoods.
Both men put forth superhuman effort and endured
unimaginable pain and discomfort to achieve their goals, at a cost that may never be
fully appreciated. I think about this sometimes when I am in the middle of a
hard workout. When I am really tired, uncomfortable, sore, or just plain
unmotivated, I try to summon up some compelling reason to keep putting myself
through this and I get……..well, not much. There is just not much of anything I am trying to
prove to anyone at this point in my life. Although I will never achieve
greatness in any area, I have enough accomplishments of which I am proud that I
have no real incentive to really push myself through those moments and it is
easy to say, “oh, the heck with it”, and back off.
Today, to assess my fitness level, I planned a personal half
ironman brick- 1.2 mi swim, 56 mi bike ride, and 13.1 mi run. I did OK with the
swim, although slower than I would have liked. The bike portion went fine with
an average speed over 16 mph, which is what I am shooting for. Then came the
run portion. By then it was hot and I was tired (I am sure I will be a lot more
tired after swimming and biking twice those distances in the full ironman). I
ran the first two miles, then just ran out of gas, pretty much walking after
that, and gave up after 7.1 miles. I was exhausted, could not catch my breath,
and my legs felt shredded. Even power walking was an effort and I imagined trying to
walk another 19.5 miles, and wondered if I could do that. I could not summon up
any incentive to keep at it- no emotionally distant father to impress, no personal hurts to avenge
or assuage, no deep seated need to add value to my life. Finally, I rationalized that I had
done enough for one day, it was only training after all, I had nothing to
prove, etc., etc. and I shrugged off the rest of the run and went home to a
cold shower, ice cold glass of Coke, and a 4 egg frittata. Now, Alberto and
Dave would probably have summoned some desire from deep down, gutted it out, run all the way, and spent themselves
completely, to the point of near death, if necessary, just to prove, well,
whatever they were trying to prove.
On reflection, I wonder if I have it in me to complete an
ironman, a question that comes up frequently these days, especially after such
a difficult session. Where can I summon up the will, drive, desire to leave it
all out on the course in order to finish? Certainly not from a rotten
childhood. As I said at the start, my parents ruined me for greatness. On the
other hand, I think I have done OK with my life and the question becomes, would
I exchange my life for that of a Salazar or Scott? Not in a million years.
Hopefully, 6 more weeks of hard training and some adjustment in my thinking will get me through.
*Duel in the Sun, Alberto Salazar, Dick Beardsley and America's Greatest Marathon by John Brant
Iron War, Dave Scott, Mark Allen & The Greatest Race Ever Run by Matt Fitzgerald
No comments:
Post a Comment