Mustering the Strength to Fight On…

For most of my life, I’ve felt like a pretty emotionally stable bloke.  But lately, it seems my days are bookended by feelings of anxiety at night followed by moods of depression in the mornings.

There are a variety of reasons for these emotions, but most of them are related to my continued realization that life (at least the good stuff) is really tough.  That in order to live a full life, there are things I have to face head-on and fight each and every day.

Apparently for most of my life I drank deep from the well thought that says that “things are supposed to get easier the older you get”.  My experience, however, is that the more I venture forth and step out into the great unknown, the more difficult things get.

The more I strive for a family dynamic of closeness and togetherness, the more opposition I face from outside forces.  The more I try to be innovative in my business, the more inadequate I regularly feel.  The more I try to keep my heart  pure, the stronger the tug I feel toward self-destructive behavior.

And so I face the following dilemma daily:  Do I keep on fighting for all that’s good, or do I bow out and take the easy road of comfort and instant pleasure?

Now, I am certainly not opposed to comfort and pleasure—but I fear I make an idol of them on a far too regular basis, which makes me loathe the uphill battles that life seems to present me so often.

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Back in April of last year, I had double hernia surgery.  There are two ways doctors perform this operation: arthroscopically, where they poke three little holes on each side and go in and do the repairs; or by inflicting a 4” incision in the lower abdomen and get in and do the job the old-fashioned way.

Mine was the latter.  On both sides of my lower abdomen.

I’ve never really entertained fantasies of getting raging drunk by 9am before, but let me tell you, recovery brought out the crusty sailor in me—after all, my mind was too cloudy to read books, I couldn’t move from my spot on the couch, and even the interesting sports stories on ESPN get old really quickly when you’ve got no other options.

One of the hardest parts about the recovery was that this injury was not self-inflicted.  If I had broken a leg doing some feat of incredible athleticism, I would at least have a cool story to tell; a cool memory to hang onto.  I could even beat myself up for being careless, or laud myself for being awesome, or something.

But no, this injury was given to me—not as a result of something I did or didn’t do, but simply because guys tend to have weak abdominal cavities, and as the doctor said, it’s not a matter of if but of when for most dudes.

So there I was, given the gift of hardship without the corresponding cause/effect lesson.  Just hardship.

And that experience revealed some interesting things inside:  When I experience genuine hardship (and I’ve experienced quite a bit over the past 3 years), my first response is to flee, to escape to creature comforts that provide momentary relief and help me to forget the uphill trek in front of me.

What is so difficult to swallow it that, all of my life, I’ve considered myself a fighter when it comes to obstacles.  In high school and college, I worked my butt off to become a very good basketball player even though I am not gifted with a natural “basketball build”.  In college, when faced with the unexpected death of my best friend, I ultimately shed off months of depression and unanswered meaning of life questions and finished my education through sheer will and fight.  In my teaching career, I faced many obstacles and faced them head on and beat them.  And now as an entrepreneur, I face newfound obstacles each and every day.

So why such strong leanings toward escapism at this point in my life?

Is it that I’ve been a farce all this time, and that all of my previous “acts of courage” were nothing but charades?

Is it that I used to be courageous, but have been beaten down by life enough where it finally has landed its knockout blow?

Is it that the journey is just getting too steep, and I need to turn back and give up notions of reaching the summit?

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One of the ways I’ve been combating these inner demons is by getting out on my bike more regularly.  And lately, I’ve been thrilled to discover that I’m finally riding at my pre-surgery pace (it’s taken nearly 10 months of slogging through rides to finally hit a breakthrough where I feel strong enough to conquer the local hills, rather than having them conquer me).

And as I have been riding stronger and tackling more climbs, I am faced with the very real awareness that riding those hills is never easy.  No matter what shape I find myself in, I am always tired when I climb.

I always get out of breath on the ascent.  I always feel the burn in my legs.  I am always aware of how difficult the journey is at that particular moment.

But when I look for inspiration by the best of the best, I’ve noticed that the Tour de France is not won on the downhill, the sprints, or even the flat.  It is the mountain climbers who distance themselves from the rest of the competition and end up carrying the trophy when the grueling race is done.

And at the end of those mountain stages, the victors are often so tired that they need assistance just staying upright after they cross the finish line.

But they push through; they don’t drop out of the climb, because they know there is a reward at the end of the race. 

And I imagine, there is little that compares to the feeling of finishing strong, staring adversity in the face, and crossing that finish line to the sound of the victorious cheers from the supporters at the top.

And you know the crazy thing about those riders?

They momentarily celebrate their victory, only to suit up again the next day, shunning the physical agony of the previous day’s climb, and stare the challenge of a new day directly in the face.

They seem to have figured out something that I have yet to fully grasp; that each day presents a special and unique set of grueling challenges, and that the true victors are the ones who don’t back down from those obstacles but face them head-on with vigor each and every day.

Here’s to willing ourselves daily to the starting gate, clipping in, and slowly fading out of the view of the spectators as we choose to ride on…