What Next?

I write this nearly 3 weeks after having completed the most difficult physical and mental challenge of my life - the Virginia Double Iron Triathlon - 4.8 swim, 224 bike, and 52.4 run. I began to write to retell the story of the event and of my thoughts surrounding that moment. But instead I find myself at a loss of words to express my emotions. I am exhausted, triumphant, sad, joyful, stoic, and nostalgic. I put so much of myself into a single goal. A single moment in time. Now that time has passed and I almost find myself again seeking to find myself. To find my identity. I imagine many people that become consumed with a passion find themselves in a similar situation. The emperor has been revealed. The curtain is raised. The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is not so wonderful anymore. The most common question I am asked after completing the Double is "what next?" A benign question, but for me - it is everything. What next? To find the answer to where I go next, I must look at where I have been.

The past year of my life has been consumed with the Double Ironman. Every day. Every meal. Every event. But the truth is the journey began much earlier than that. I believe the journey began not in a moment of clairvoyance and strength, but rather in a moment of opaqueness and weakness. I vividly remember this moment. It is neither one I am proud of nor one I wish to relive in my words here. I hate this moment; it is the only moment I regret. However, at the same time respect that moment for what it has brought to my life. A second chance. A righting of a ship. Redemption.

I believe we are all broken. Me included. It is the reason I hold so desperately to faith. Without faith, hope cannot exist, and without hope the brokenness can only remain. Eight years ago I was without faith. Today that is not the case. It ebbs and flows, rises and falls, but does not fully abandon myself. I continue to be broken, but I see light at the end of the tunnel where once it was only darkness. This light makes all the difference. It is not so much the situation we find ourselves in that determine our lives, but rather the perspective by which we choose to view these situations. And so eight years ago I decided to change that perspective.

To me the Double Ironman was not about proving to anyone my endurance or physical prowess. It was not about bragging rights or "one upping" others. It was not about being all I could be or any of that Rocky, win one for the good guys bullshit that we read on the covers of so many self-help books. To me the Double Iron represented a culmination, a distinct moment in time, where I could look at and say, "There. See that moment. See that. That is where I changed my perspective." Sounds silly, right? Sounds like a painful way to right a demon of a past. Perhaps it is. Knowing my heart, I doubt I will ever really right that demon. But I accept the brokenness we all are - what I do not accept is that there is not hope to fix that brokenness.

So it is with that necessity for hope that I embarked on this journey. It took me through countless laps in the pool and swims in the open water, endless miles atop my bike, and painful miles pounded out on the pavement and trails. I found a great coach - one with passion and heart. One who understood this was not a race in the classical sense for me. She understood this race was not measured by time, but rather in the journey. I was blessed to have family and friends on the journey. Their love and support giving me strength and courage to persevere, to press on. My brother was there. His presence alone was a true gift. My parents - I love my parents very, very much. There unconditional love toward me is something I wish more could experience in this world. Jess, my best friend was there. My biggest fan (who was not happy with me that I kept her up so late). James, my little brother was there with Carin, his mom. I hope to one day be able to teach James as much as he has taught me. Mike (and Fuma) where there to offer encouragement and the occasional massage. CBH and her family and John and Julie (co-workers and good friends) where there - reminding me that my life will not be measured by the amount of money I make, but rather by those relationships I nurture along the way. The Texas triple threat was there - Julia, Krista, and Meagan. Without them I might not have made it past three in the morning when I was unable to talk or walk. Benny, Dinh, and Aubrie - the newest of my friends brought a renewed energy with their cheers. I was so grateful they were there. Paula was there. I love seeing her smile. Jillian was there. A friend that might just actually understand this craziness of ultra distance sports. And last, but not least, my Grandfather and Grandma where there. Perhaps not physically, but in my heart. Where they will always be. Others where there cheering me on and many others were with me in spirit. It is hard to express genuine appreciation in society anymore. We so casually say thank you. With all I am, thank you. I am so grateful and blessed to know so many wonderful people.

God was also there. I thought about Him often. I prayed often during the race. At times I was scared. I know I am not supposed to admit this, but I was scared. Not so much of the physical pain, but more of failure. In these moments, I prayed. I always felt stronger afterwards.

The timesheet said my race took me 31 hours and 34 minutes. The timesheet was wrong. The journey started eight years ago and the journey still continues. What next? Perhaps it is not so much as important to answer the "what" but more important to answer the "why". After having completed the Double Iron my life is not as different as I thought it would be. I am still broken and I am still clinging to faith. I have learned one very valuable lesson though in this journey. I learned that without hope - without this single element in life - the journey ends.

P.S. Triple Iron...?