I have to admit, it’s a work in progress. It all began as I sat sobbing like a ‘bloody’ baby in a small hotel room in Taupo, New Zealand.
It was a trip that profoundly changed my life. I had been in “Kiwi Land” all of four days, anxiously awaiting the countdown until I would be competing in my first Ironman (a triathlon with a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike and a 26.2 mile run). It was March 3, 2009.
For the previous 11 months, I was steadfastly focused on my goal. And now the time had finally come and I was counting days instead of months. Besides the support of my coach, Michael Harlow, it was a pretty solitary adventure. I felt like I was alone on my quest, which was reinforced daily by my grueling workouts. Because of Michael, I was pushing my 51 year-old body to the breaking point, or at least the whimpering point, on a daily basis or so it seemed. And because I was training through the winter months, none of my usual cohorts in crime were joining in on my fun.
I recall a 22-mile run in January that captured it best. I was about 8 miles from my house when an icy drizzle quickly turned into a bone chilling-deluge as the skies opened up. It was about 34 degrees, so there was no winter wonderland appearing before me. Rather, it was the worst combination for a long run…cold, windy and wet. And I mean wet like a drowned rat wet. As I ran across the Mayo Bridge heading out of downtown Richmond to the south side of the river, a city bus passed me at the most inopportune time. It was beside a low dip in the road, and the bus tires sprayed a wave of water all over me, adding insult to injury.
I finally finished hours later. My hands and feet were numb. I was in agony as I thawed myself. As I recounted my tale of woe to my best friend, the response was “Well, no one is making you do this.” So much for support. Yes, I was in this one on my own…the good, the bad and the ugly.
The fact is that I was willing to suffer through all of this for two reasons. The first, and more noble of the two, was that I wanted to prove that I could push myself to new limits. At 51, despite knee surgery the prior year, I was out to show that I still had what it takes to overcome adversity and conquer audacious challenges.
The second reason was to satisfy a healthy ego, although I didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time. Let’s face it, I was fighting my own mid-life crisis of sorts and I was out to prove to myself and everyone else that I still had it. Was it a deep-rooted insecurity of being athletically-challenged as a kid growing up? Was it a need to prove that as a middle-aged man, I could still compete with the young guys? Whatever it was, I had something to prove, or at least my ego did.
Yes, my journey had seemed pretty solitary with little fanfare. I strengthened my resolve with each daily challenge and wore my wounds like a badge of courage. Each one just more proof that what I lacked in common sense, I more than made up for in my ability to tough it out and out-suffer those who thought I was a little whacked. But on March 3, 2009, everything shifted. And it took me by surprise.
As I sat in the hotel room in Taupo, I scrolled down my computer screen. I had dozens of messages from friends, family, clients and acquaintances. They were flooding my blog and email with words of praise, encouragement and well-wishes as my big race loomed just days ahead. A tsunami of emotions washed over me. My solitary journey didn’t seem so solitary any more. The outpouring of love and support made me realize in an instant that I was blessed beyond words.
In that moment, it was no longer about me and my ego, it was about all the people who were cheering me on from across the globe. My daughter’s words were the most sob-inducing (I’m such a sentimental softee, particularly when it comes to my daughter):
I ran across this quote and it reminded me of you…
“Risk more than others think is safe. Care more than others think is wise.
Dream more than others think is practical. Expect more than others think is possible.”
You are too strong to let doubt slow you down…I am very proud of you!!
I love you Dad
By race day, my whole expectation had flipped upside down. Instead of this being my moment to prove myself (and give my ego a gi-normous stroke), it was a time for me to be grateful. Grateful for the people back home supporting me. Grateful for the spectators cheering me on. And especially grateful for the nearly 2,000 volunteers who sacrificed their precious time to give me the opportunity to do what I had trained so hard for.
As I biked and ran past the volunteers on the course on race day, I was the one shouting, “Thank you! Thank you so much for being out here.” To say I was I had been humbled was an understatement. It was liberating to let go of my ego and turn this day into a day of appreciation instead a day of achievement.
In the weeks and months that followed the race, I traveled in New Zealand and Australia. One experience after another brought deeper peace and meaning. Sometimes it was purposeful on my part and sometimes it was completely unexpected. The result was the same. I learned a few things about my ego:
- I could diminish my ego by focusing on others. That’s why my race day was so amazing. I took the focus off of me and placed it on others.
- I could also diminish it through embracing my spirituality. Whether it’s a focus on a higher power or a practice of meditation, the result is the same. By surrendering to a greater power, I naturally put my own self (and ego) in check.
- By having an appreciation and wonder about the world around me, I could also hold my ego in perspective. In the big scheme of things, we are merely a tiny blip on the radar, so there is no need to act high and mighty.
- And finally, humbleness and humility are the opposite of egotistical and oh so much more appealing.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m still a work in progress. My ego still suits up everyday and expects some time in the game. My goal is to recognize that sometimes a little ego is ok, and even beneficial, but it shouldn’t be the star quarterback. In fact, sitting my ego on the bench is just fine.
It’s interesting…I went to New Zealand to feed my ego and I left wanting only to nurture my soul.
Peace.
