Movie Background: Alex Honnold is a climber, and his dream/goal is to climb "El Capitan" (a 3000 ft vertical face @ Yosemite) WITHOUT any ropes. Meaning, one finger, toe, mental slip and he dies. Absolutely nuts.
You would be hard-pressed to find a negative review; most people loved it for the insane athletic achievement, the risk seeking/taking, and beauty & awe of the scenery. I liked it, I guess, for a different reason. He chases this goal with blinders on. He has other things in his life: speaking engagements, a foundation, a serious girlfriend; but if you really pay attention, those things are like bees buzzing in the background. His every thought, stream of consciousness, decision, action is with "El Capitan" at the center. If you understand, you can see it in his eyes. A glossed over view of everything else, a pretending to be there, but in reality his mind, his body is 100% attached to the climb. I don't love this, I resonate with it. Don't get me wrong, I am not comparing myself to Alex. I don't have his comparable talent/skill in running, I haven't achieved my "El Capitan", in fact I am nowhere close, I am not paid to chase my dream. Yet, I am certain if you MRI'd my brain, wherever the 'drive/determination/perseverance' part is... it would be overdeveloped, over-indexed, off the charts. Yes, I have other things in my life, that I love, that fulfill me...but there is no mistaking there is one thing that is front and center, that takes over every waking and sleeping moment, that determines my mood, that has guided decisions in every facet of my life...my dream. I guess, I thought it was passion, and I saw it in other people, passion about their career, sports teams, children, etc. And I loved that. But, after seeing Alex's story, I realize it's not. I have a mind/drive that people think they understand, or perhaps misunderstand for something else. I have a goal and a drive to achieve, that I believe no one understands/or honestly misunderstands. Not my coach, not Justin, not my family, not friends. But this guy, Alex, would. I saw myself in him. And not in a good way. And not in a bad way. Just in a way that is.
I feel like a few times I have gotten really really fit and closer and injury or illness made me take the chute back to the beginning to start over.
The day before Christmas I was running at 16 miles into an 18 miler, I was flying, I literally said in my head, why does this feel so easy? I am in the middle of a 90 mile week, the end of training cycle before the taper, and a hard week at work. I knew. This was it. I am fit. 1 mile later out of nowhere a sharp pain stabbed me in my foot and in the same fashion, I knew. I was done.
Stress fracture 2nd metatarsal.
I didn't cry, in fact, Justin and I went out to breakfast as normal. After the past 2 years, this was peanuts. Bone injuries are predictable 4-6 weeks and you are good as new. It's the timing. One week before the taper, I was there.I looked back over my log and there was literally no hints or warning signals of anything coming. After talking to my PT we think it's probably a combination of footwear (I wore Skechers for 4 years and then unsuccessfully was wearing different shoes constantly trying to find a match, I should never have tinkered during a training cycle) and maybe getting a little greedy (my push/ask) post my last 1/2 marathon 2 weeks ago. But being Monday Morning QB is always easy.
This morning Mrs. Cyr passed away. Anyone who has followed this journey knows that she is just as much part of this, than anyone/thing. She taught me how to fight. She showed me what true toughness is. She gave me perseverance. She lost a tough, courageous battle with cancer. She was probably the only person who broke through the blinders, as she was my "why". So there is no Houston for myself or Mrs. Cyr.
😐
A few months ago now I was at Adam's and he wasn't home so I was talking to Kara about her plans gone 'unplanned'. And in a rare moment of sharing deep thoughts with someone besides my own head, I remember telling her that perhaps my greatest gift/skill in life, is my ability to pick up the pieces and put them back together. I have had to do this so many/too many times that I when I reflect on it, I do see, that I have an uncanny ability to pick them all up, put them in a bag, run to an open space and put them back together - yes in a different way then the original puzzle intended - but often better.
But, for the first time in my life, I don't want to pick up the pieces and put them back together. I want to pick up the pieces and I want to throw them as hard as I can.
I didn't cry, in fact, Justin and I went out to breakfast as normal. After the past 2 years, this was peanuts. Bone injuries are predictable 4-6 weeks and you are good as new. It's the timing. One week before the taper, I was there.I looked back over my log and there was literally no hints or warning signals of anything coming. After talking to my PT we think it's probably a combination of footwear (I wore Skechers for 4 years and then unsuccessfully was wearing different shoes constantly trying to find a match, I should never have tinkered during a training cycle) and maybe getting a little greedy (my push/ask) post my last 1/2 marathon 2 weeks ago. But being Monday Morning QB is always easy.
This morning Mrs. Cyr passed away. Anyone who has followed this journey knows that she is just as much part of this, than anyone/thing. She taught me how to fight. She showed me what true toughness is. She gave me perseverance. She lost a tough, courageous battle with cancer. She was probably the only person who broke through the blinders, as she was my "why". So there is no Houston for myself or Mrs. Cyr.
A few months ago now I was at Adam's and he wasn't home so I was talking to Kara about her plans gone 'unplanned'. And in a rare moment of sharing deep thoughts with someone besides my own head, I remember telling her that perhaps my greatest gift/skill in life, is my ability to pick up the pieces and put them back together. I have had to do this so many/too many times that I when I reflect on it, I do see, that I have an uncanny ability to pick them all up, put them in a bag, run to an open space and put them back together - yes in a different way then the original puzzle intended - but often better.
But, for the first time in my life, I don't want to pick up the pieces and put them back together. I want to pick up the pieces and I want to throw them as hard as I can.
