A Long Line of Iron

Training for and finishing an Ironman triathlon (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, 26.2 mile marathon) brings with it endless opportunities for personal reflection.

This post is the product of one of those opportunities.

Now 7 weeks after the race, the effect of having finished one of the most grueling multisport distances still hasn’t sunk in. I got a tattoo (read our earlier post for a funny account – all at my expense of course :)) just to remind myself continuously that I actually “did it.” As a celebration, we even took a 2-week cruise to Alaska less than a week after the race and that was spectacular – it was our 4th visit to the Eskimo state and the largely untouched landscape continues to astonish us. Majestic mountains rise up from fjords that are hundreds of feet deep and easily provide passage for some of the world’s largest cruise ships, such as the one we were on in early October. Some of the passages are so narrow, it seemed we could reach out and touch the mountainside on either side of the ship.

During our trip, I took a lot of walks and spent a lot of time on our cabin balcony. Reflecting back on the race and the 9 months of physical and mental preparation required, it occurred to me that I’m not the first “Ironwoman” in my family. I may be the first generation born here in the United States, and I may be the first to finish college, but I come from a very long line of “iron” where endurance and perseverance were the norm for everyday living.

My mother and father, in addition to my mother’s parents and extended family, were immigrants from Hungary, in fact, refugees from the Hungarian Revolution in 1956. Since World War II, Hungary had been under Communist control, with Soviet troops stationed all over the country. Student protests on October 22, 1956 led to larger demonstrations, and finally to outright revolt as the Hungarians disabled the Communist government and ousted the Soviet military on October 23rd.

For 10 days Hungary knew the kind of peace and democracy that has been ours in the United States for over 200 years.

Then on November 4, 1956, the troops returned, this time with tanks; thousands died or were imprisoned as the Soviets crushed the uprising. My family fled across the border to Austria and waited several months in a refugee camp to be allowed to immigrate to the United States.

Once here, life was no cakewalk. There were no handouts, but there were wage earning jobs to be had. 6 family members crowded into a small flat in the South Side of St. Louis – it was all they could afford. When the workday was done, there were night classes to learn English. My grandmother’s own education was poor (she didn’t learn to read and write until she was 17), so she was unable to keep up with the instructor and eventually dropped out. She continued to work as a seamstress and earned just enough to put food on the table and set a tiny bit aside for savings. It was a contribution they all made to make ends meet.

By today’s standards, it is amazing they endured as they did. We microwave our meals and expect everything else to work the same way – earning money, acquiring possessions, even health and fitness. I’m a triathlete who devotes her winter off-season training to bettering her swim stroke mechanics. Swimming is only 20% conditioning and 80% technique – improvement requires getting reacquainted with the lost arts of perseverance, consistency, and patience. A good friend and colleague of mine, also a triathlete, once said “Patience my A--; I want it now!” when encouraged to be patient in improving his swim times. My swim coach concurs, saying that in the class she teaches, very few people are interested in improving through patience and perseverance. We all want it NOW.

It appears we have moved from being masters in the art of delayed gratification to a society that idolizes “instant GETification.” Where has the “iron” gone? What dignity or lesson is there in having everything come easy or right away? We live in a fallen world – 5 minutes of watching CNN is enough to convince anyone of the depths to which human depravity can extend. Adversity and trials come to everyone, no matter how much we try to avoid them or control our circumstances. And when they come and we’ve had everything easy, living on the peaks of life as it were, how well are we prepared to handle the valleys? Do we blame others for our problems or do we dig in and realize that for valleys to exist there must be peaks at either end? Do we understand that in EVERY adversity there is a seed of EQUAL or GREATER benefit?

A seed, yes…not a ready-made, greenhouse-grown blooming flower. Seeds take time to mature, but within them rest not just one flower, but rolling meadows and mountain upon mountain of astonishing beauty – all on the other side of the valleys of adversity -- but just as easily missed if we roll over and wet ourselves in despair and self pity.

Take a look at your calendar and your checkbook. Where are you spending your two most valuable commodities – your time and your money? Are you avoiding trials at all costs? Or are you taking stock of where you are now and understanding that every trial you experience will ultimately prepare you for a magnificent and resilient future, able to withstand the fiercest storm and still remain standing.

Perseverance is born in the pit -- not on the podium -- of life.