Why?

Someone asked me recently why I race. If one was to query the triathlete population, the reasons would be infinite, ranging from the profound to the ridiculous (although if you spoke to the athlete with the "ridiculous" reason, there is a good chance it wouldn't be so ludicrous to them :).

A long time ago, I found a quote from Teddy Roosevelt that I've adopted as my Personal Motto. Roosevelt was famous for overcoming enormous odds to succeed in nearly any endeavor. In his book "The 21 Irrefutable Laws of of Leadership," John Maxwell describes Roosevelt's life:



Of all the leaders this nation has ever had, Roosevelt was one of the toughest -- both physically and mentally. But he didn't start that way. America's cowboy president was born in Manhattan to a prominent wealthy family. As a child he was puny and very sickly. He had debilitating asthma, possessed very poor eyesight, and was painfully thin. His parents weren't sure he would survive.



When he was twelve, young Roosevelt's father told him, "You have the mind, but you have not the body, and without the help of the body the mind cannot go as far as it should. You must make the body." And make it he did.



Roosevelt began spending time every day building his body as well as his mind, and he did that for the rest of his life. He worked out with weights, hiked, ice-skated, hunted, rowed, rode horseback, and boxed. In later years, Roosevelt assessed his progress, admitting that as a child he was "nervous and timid. Yet," he said, "from reading of the people I admired...and from knowing my father, I had a great admiration for men who were fearless and who could hold their own in the world, and I had a great desire to be like them." By the time he graduated from Harvard, he was like them...



The following quote has helped me in times of triumph as well as through abject failure...inevitably I get back in the saddle to ride again. Next time someone puts you down for trying (and perhaps failing at) your latest endeavor, remember the following:

"It's not the critic who counts; Not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, Or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; Who errs and comes up short again and again; Because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; But who does actually strive to do the deed; Who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly; So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

Walking Among Giants

It was like we were walking through one of those stately European cathedrals. However, instead of the light coming in through stained glass windows, it was pouring in between a long line of massive trees on either side of us. It was also falling in from above, through a canopy of branches opened at the top. From an earthly perspective it seemed we had walked into the antechamber of God’s throne room itself, so magnificent and majestic were these trees. I was overcome with an urge to fall facedown out of reverence for the sheer beauty of His creation.

(That is me standing at the bottom of the picture :)).

This was not the first time we had experienced such a feeling. As often as we convince ourselves of our own importance and immortality, it runs counter to our nature to conceive of something so much bigger than ourselves. It's altogether startling. What human could not be moved by the majesty of the Redwoods, the untouched-by-human-hands mountains and glaciers of Alaska, the glorious ribbons of color inside the Grand Canyon – all put here for “our viewing pleasure” by the Creator Himself.

Joseph Strauss (not the composer) was the Chief Engineer on the Golden Gate Bridge for San Francisco. This engineering marvel stands as a testament to his brilliance, the second longest suspension bridge by span in the United States after the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge in New York City.

Strauss wrote a beautiful poem that strikes a chord with many who visit the famous California Redwoods. It speaks both of the character of man as well as of our Creator:

The Redwoods

"Here, sown by the Creator's hand,

In serried ranks, the Redwoods stand;

No other clime is honored so,

No other lands their glory know.

The greatest of Earth's living forms,

Tall conquerors, that laugh at storms;

Their challenge still unanswered rings,

Through fifty centuries of kings.

The nations that with them were young,

Rich empires, with their forts far flung,

Lie buried now - their splendor gone;

But these proud monarchs still live on.

So shall they live, when ends our days,

When our crude citadels decay;

For brief the years allotted man,

But infinite perennials' span.

This is their temple, vaulted high,

And here we pause with reverent eye,

With silent tongue and awestruck soul;

For here we sense life's proper goal:

To be like these - straight, true and fine,

To make our world like theirs, a shrine;

Sink down, O Traveler, to your knees;

God stands before you in these trees."

“What Could Possibly Hurt Worse…”

…than Ironman? Getting a tattoo!! Now you’re probably thinking “aw, c’mon…how bad could it be?”

Steve and I had decided 2 years ago that if I finished an iron-distance race that the Ironman symbol, the red “M-Dot”, would take its rightful place on my ankle. I’ve heard all the apprehensions about getting a tattoo “I know of no one who doesn’t regret it later” or “You’re getting a butterfly on your shoulder? Don’t you know it’ll be a CONDOR when you’re 80?!”

After completing the Great Illini Iron Challenge 4 weeks ago on September 15, we decided – apprehensions aside – it was time.

So I thought who better to ask than my friend and coworker Ian. Ian has this on his left leg…

Yowza! I exclaimed when he sent the photo to me. This guy’s an expert, I thought, so naturally he was my first choice to get the 411 on all things “tat”. Ian explained that the first step was to print the image if it’s custom “artwork” you want, eg, not found in the tattoo shop’s portfolio of existing images. No problem there, plenty of images to be found on the Internet. In fact he had no trouble locating one for me.

His next question was Where do you want it? When I mentioned my ankle he said “Oh…when I have any work done near my ankle it always feels like razor blades…” I thought precisely what you were thinking 2 minutes ago: How bad could it be? I’ve had razor blades near my ankle when shaving, no worries.

He found a reputable shop in Portsmouth (I happened to be at our corporate office in New Hampshire that week), and because the image was uncomplicated, I was considered a walk-in. No appointment necessary. Cool :).

We waited for about 30 minutes and while doing so, Ian explained to me that not all shops are created equal. Naturally things like using sterile products, surgical gloves worn by the artists, a clean workspace, etc, were the marks of a decent tattoo shop. The one we were at met all these requirements.

I brought the printout with me, and My-New-Friend-and-Tattoo-Artist Todd created a stencil that he then imprinted onto my ankle. It was to be used as a rough outline for the permanent image that would become the tattoo. I thought this is great.

Then he unfolded what looked like a massage table, so I could sit with my legs tucked under me, right ankle facing him and at table level. He could comfortably work and I could comfortably sit and watch him work.

I watched him unpack the needles, ink, gauze, (gauze???) and prep his tattoo gun. He put on a new pair of gloves every time he handled something not packaged or sterilized – a great sign; this guy was top shelf.

He put the needle into the gun, dipped the tip into the black inkwell, and proceeded to…….oh man…… RIP THE SKIN OFF MY ANKLE…!!!!

Not actually, but the moment the needle touched and moved along the thin skin above my ankle, all sorts of images flashed through my mind…things like the opening scene of nuclear bomb testing in Godzilla…lava flowing out of the active volcanoes in Kona…the alien mothership exploding in Independence Day…Steve McQueen in Bullet…(ok that was just a hot dude in a cool movie and doesn’t belong in this narrative)…The Second Coming of Christ (it must be – I’m dying here!)…mostly it was searing white-hot pain flashing right behind my eyeballs.

My head whipped around to face Ian; I heard myself say “MOMMY!!” through all 28 of my clenched teeth. Ian smiled cordially and proving his emotional maturity in a pinch said “Hurt a bit?” Though he may have been thinking them, the words “I told you so” never left his lips. What a friend – seriously :).

The pain was momentarily withdrawn and I looked down to see My-New-Friend-and-Tattoo-Artist Todd had lifted the tattoo gun and was wiping off (was that blood????) the excess ink from the thus-far completed image on my leg. I thought he must be finished with the outline of the M-Dot; surely I’ve suffered enough to be that far along.

Not so Bobby Joe – he had drawn a quarter-inch line that was the top of the squared-off M in the M-Dot. For a moment I stared and actually thought about bailing, but then I remembered how I had put over 140 miles on my body and persevered to the end of a glorious race just a few days ago. A voice inside my head (not unlike the one screaming at me a minute ago) said “What?! You’re not thinking of bailing are you? There’s no such thing as an Iron-Sissy!”

Turns out the pain was directly related to how close to my ankle Todd was – once he moved farther up my leg it was bearable – mind you, I still have trouble understanding how people sit for hours under the tattoo gun; I was having trouble withstanding a few seconds ­– but the moment he hovered back toward the ankle bone, my teeth would clench and the homicidal thoughts would return, each comeback more intense than the one previous – I was beginning to imagine how I was going to kill My-New-Friend-and-Tattoo-Artist Todd. :)

Not realy :). After 30 minutes (it seemed, though I’m certain I passed out somewhere along the way…:)), Todd said “All done!” I looked down and she was truly a beautiful thing to behold – the red M-Dot, a permanent reminder of a goal I had planned and labored several years to achieve.

And to think I actually “paid for pain.” :)