Twenty Seven Years Ago: A Moment in My Fourth Decade

I remember it like it was yesterday.  I awoke to shaking.  I could see pieces of acoustic ceiling floating down from the vaulted ceiling of our master bedroom.  It felt like our house was going to fall down.  I had two immediate thoughts. Our daughters. That's what I thought of right away. I jumped out of bed, not even thinking about what one is supposed to do during an earthquake.  A huge shake threw me against the wall of our bedroom, but I managed to stay upright and rush to our hallway. We had a two story house, and the bedrooms were on the second floor.  As I entered the foyer just outside our master bedroom, another jolt threw me against the wrought iron railing that overlooked our spiral staircase.  I could just as well have been thrown over the railing, but fortunately I wasn't.  

In fact, it wasn't until a couple of days later that I would notice the nearly half an inch indentation of the wrought iron that my knee had caused when it struck the railing.  I still managed to stay upright as I rushed to my daughter's rooms.  My oldest daughter, Raishel, was standing at her doorway, looking dazed and confused.  She was ok. My first thought at that moment was to protect my youngest daughter, Justine, who was soon to turn three.  I ran into her room, picked her up out of bed and turned around, another jolt throwing me against the wall, where I slammed my arm that was holding her.  What I did next only demonstrated the fear I felt from this magnificent earthquake. 

I carried her out of the room and ran down the stairwell, two steps at a time. Somehow, I managed to get to the bottom of the stairs and could see our double dead bolted front door wide open from the force of the shaking.  I ran out the door to the front lawn and put Justine on the grass.  It was 4:31 am and it was still dark out.  My instinct at that moment was to turn around and go back into the house for Raishel.  But Justine started crying.  She didn't want to be left alone.

I remember feeling an immediate quandary.  What do I do? I really didn't have a choice.  I couldn't leave my nearly three year old daughter alone in the dark in front of our house. Besides, the shaking had stopped and I could hear my wife telling me to stay outside.  She was with my older daughter, and they were doing the correct thing by staying inside under a doorway until the shaking had subsided.  They then made their way downstairs and outside to our front yard, where we all were now together.  I stood up, felt a pain in my knee, and passed out.  I have always had a propensity to get vasovagal, and the huge adrenaline surge, plus the pain in my knee, had certainly contributed to that happening to me.

When I came to, there we were, waiting to see what would happen next.  There are many stories that I can relate to the 1994 Earthquake.  Some were related to work, others were related to training for my first marathon.  Yet another ended up leading to changing jobs and moving halfway across the country.  That's for tomorrow's blog.

What's Next

It's 2021, and the last 10 1/2 months of my life has been one long, stressful blur.  I've had more purpose during that time than I've had in a lifetime, but it's time to take stock and think about the future.  Purpose is good, but does it have to be all day, everyday?  And, aren't there different types of purpose.  Just 15 months ago, I thought that I'd done something very purposeful, when I completed the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii.  The entire week that I spent in Kona leading up to the race had an impact on me.  I had spent the greater part of twenty years preparing for that one day and that one opportunity.  

I did realize that one day and one moment wasn't what mattered. It was every day leading up to that day and moment that really makes a difference.  It's about being in the moment, something I've written about many times, and something that I seem to forget about when the stress level gets too high.  Ironman St. George in 2012 was a great example of that.  Coming so close to being in a deadly situation put me in a contemplative mode for months to come, but gradually, that feeling went away.  It's a meditative feeling that I've also written about many times.  Getting back that meditative feeling is something else that I am well aware of needing to have.  It's definitely part of what's next.

Our futures are not really in our hands. They never have been and they never will be.  Circumstances are constantly changing, and we can neither predict nor account for them.  Earthquakes, pandemics, other life events, are often not under our control.  Life is definitely an Ironman.  I wanted to feel great on the day of the Ironman World Championship, but that wasn't to be.  Nevertheless, I sucked it up and mentally put myself where I needed to be in order to complete a grueling, purposeful and meaningful day. I guess that's what matters the most when it comes to looking at what's next.

Thinking about myself has been difficult for the past 10 1/2 months.  It's not who I am in my heart. I am always drawn to thinking about others. But, I have others who I love and care for very much who are close to me.  Those are the people that I can focus on.  That's where I can place my heart and my soul in the coming days, weeks and months.  And, there's me.  It's ok to think about myself.  Ten and a half months ago, I was contemplating my next Ironman. I had gotten the itch to do another Ironman.  That was a good feeling, that was clearly something for me.  

A couple of months ago, I'd begun writing about each decade of my life.  I believe that I only covered the first three.  Maybe it's time to cover the rest in the coming days?

Hitting the Wall

I hit the wall this week.  It shouldn't be too surprising.  10 1/2 months of literally going at 100mph will do that to you.  My first sign that I'd hit the wall came on Monday, when, during a short run, I tripped and fell face first.  Scraped, bloody and bruised, I finished my run, cleaned myself up, and went about my day.  This wasn't the first fall of my life during a run.  Over the last two decades, I've had multiple running related falls, often coinciding with times in my life when I've allowed the driven inner me completely loose.  That should come as no surprise.  Our bodies have a way of communicating with our brains when the brain isn't listening.  This was one of those times.  By the time I got to the end of the week, I had so many bells going off it was hard to keep up with them.  

This is my life long struggle.  Trying to make a difference, balanced with the tendency of an obsessive compulsive workaholic.  One thing is perfectly clear.  When I put my mind towards something, I can accomplish a lot.  That's definitely the Ironman in me.  Never give up, never retreat. It's no wonder I love military analogies.  Many times over the past 10 1/2 months I've told myself that I never wanted to look back and ask myself if I'd done "enough."  I'm confident that will never happen.  My resume from the past year might be a lifetime of work for some, and definitely several years for many.  But that type of herculean effort comes with a price.  I hit the wall this week.

One of my mentors counseled me early on during the pandemic to be careful not to get over the tips of my skis. It's a great analogy, but also one that is spot on.  If your are to be a highly successful skier you will inevitably be at a precarious balance over the tips of your skis.  As have I been this past year.  With that type of balance, one will crash every so often.  Too many crashes and you will not succeed.  I've thankfully been relatively crash free.  When you do crash, hopefully you can pick yourself up, dust yourself off and continue on.  That's how it's been for the greater part of a year, until this week.  I did manage to get up from my fall and find the energy to do a 200m segment at 5:30/mile pace.  Unfortunately, the fall wasn't my only crash this week.  The other one related to my other efforts and ultimately hit me a lot harder than I'd thought it would.  I definitely hit the wall.

Over the years, when I hit a wall I really try to look at it as an opportunity to reassess and recalibrate.  The timing couldn't be better.  Four years of incompetent and dangerous federal leadership will be over this coming week.  I have careened from policy issue to policy issue over the past year, trying my best to focus on the most important topic at hand at any given time.  And here I am, having hit the wall.  I remember my bicycle crash in 2009 and the acknowledgement of the need to go slowly and appreciate the world around me. I think that it's time for that again.  I must wonder if and when that will define the rest of my life?  Perhaps after 61 years of pushing myself, it may not be too much to ask of myself at this point.  One plants seeds, and then watches them grow.  I've planted many seeds during my life, I can continue to water them, but do I really need to plant any more?