“I got pooped on, but that was an awesome adventure!”

"There are things that can be controlled and things that can't. Somewhere in the spaces between the two we fashion out art and our lives"
-Jim Bridwell


I’m writing this sitting in the airport waiting for the final leg of my red-eye flight from San Francisco, arriving a little late after a TWO DAY DELAY! This delay has not only provided adequate time to finally write a blog posting, but also consider situations out of my control. I do not hesitate to admit that I’m a bit of a control freak with my life; I quickly feel trapped when I do not have an easy escape.

Granted when I was first told that it would be at least 2 days before I would have a chance of leaving, my first reaction was to punch the guy in the face. But I quickly reasoned that might not help the situation, and the counter would likely get in the way of a clean hit. While still recognizing the situation definitely sucked, I soon starting planning how to take advantage of two more days in San Fran. All this really hit me the next day when I finally had time for my first run in over two weeks. As I ran along the bay, watching an enormous suspension bridge rise out of the fog, I still wished I was home, but recognized this delay was not the destruction of my holiday.

Few things ever seem to go right, and that is life. I am not trying to get all feel good, let’s hold hands, and sing around the campfire. But I realize most of the things that I call “adventures,” are actually things going wrong. My epic Mount Wilson adventure = things gone wrong. The epic long day of climbing Mount Whitney = not the day we planned. The last 100 miles of the Fireweed race, the last 6 miles of every marathon = things not going right. In fact, there is a very thin line between “adventure” and life taking a poop on you. Coming from a control freak, I have learned the delineation between these two outcomes many times comes down to me; do I decide to smile and say, “bring it on!” or do I scowl and say “@$#@#!@!##%($*$#$(@#)!@$%!!!!!!”

This is where Jim Bridwell is spot on. I have learned the most about myself when things are going wrong. You can prepare under controlled conditions, but there is a reason that you do not take tests with all the answers right in front of you. Understanding that things will go wrong and this is the essence of the experience, all you can do is just embrace it. Now I go into marathons looking forward to the final 6 miles, because that when I really start to suffer. Without that suffering, it is just another run.

This fall I returned to the Columbus Marathon. I ran with the Boston qualifying pace group again, but this time I was not a newby to marathon or Boston. It was interesting to see the other runners who were in the same spot I was two years ago: first time marathoners with a dream goal of getting to Boston. Around mile 19, I pulled up next to one said runner. He mumbled, “I need to do something to wake myself back up.” Looking at him, I knew his goal of Boston would not be won this year and in this sense his race was over. The guy was clearly working way too hard by this point in the race and beginning to suffer too early as well. But the next 6 miles were ample time to remedy these challenges. I knew his race was over by the look on his face. I told him, “Smile, you are running your first marathon!” He just responded with a heavy, “Yea.” The problem was that this race was not simply his first marathon, it was the means to his second marathon, Boston. While I considered explaining all this to him, I reasoned he was suffering too much to have some random guy lecture him nearing mile 20 of a marathon.

It takes a unique personality to willingly suffer. This really hit me during my fantastic opportunity to run with my brother-in-law (BIL) in his first marathon. Fortunately, we chose an incredibly difficult trail marathon in December for this first race. As cramping and IT band pain hit him around mile 16, running for over 5 hours in pain seemed absurd. After seeing the look on his face after the finish line, it all made sense. Any challenge, be it 5k, 200-miles, or plane flight home can go completely wrong. There are too many variables out of our hands. But, what is in our hands and only our hands is the decision to throw in the towel and punch the airline attendant in the face or to roll with it. Even if we cross the finish line on our hands and knees, we can hold our chin up, smile, and say, “I got pooped on, but that was an awesome adventure!”

PS. Shortly after writing this posting, my final flight got canceled.