Like all Great Men (and women), it is often not the final victory, but the overcoming of great obstacles that define us. Remember how Teddy Roosevelt overcame a sickly childhood to become Bully-in-Chief, one of the strongest presidents in our history? Consider Michael Jordan against the Utah Jazz in the NBA Finals. He had suffered from flu and dehydration and yet found the iron will to defeat the Jazz and make us all soccer fans. Think of how Luke Skywalker defeated Darth Vader with that bum artificial hand. Reflect on how Napoleon Dynamite transformed his gawky clumsiness into a John Travolta-ish Dance Diva that won the election for Pedro.Then there's Justin Bieber who started out as a goofy awkward self-possessed girly-boy and grew into a world-famous goofy awkward self-possessed girly-boy. Point is: all Great Men have their challenges and overcome them through blood, sweat, and tears to make them better, stronger, and more dedicated than ever before.
Or we simply throw in the towel and go back to watching Pawn Star. It's kind of a toss up.
For me, my great cycling goal has just run into its greatest challenge. My goal is to ride my bike from my house to Jackson Hole (no, not a motorcycle, an actual pedal bike!). I've been training like a mad man. I purchased my first ever really nice bike (translation: it didn't come from Wal-Mart or have a big basket and little ringy bell on the handle ). I logged countless hours and miles at the gym. I have accomplished my first key milestones: I rode from my house to Brigham City, to Antelope Island, and up through South Weber and along Highway 89 and back to my house. These were three 25+ mile rides. On my last ride, a second trip to Brigham on Memorial Day, I felt strong and ready to take the next step, a 50-miler from my house to Logan. I was progressing, getting stronger, and feeling more confident. Plus, my butt had finally calloused enough to not feel all the chafing from the bike seat!
Then tragedy struck on Memorial Day, 2012. I had my GREAT INJURY. Very much like how a solider throws himself on a grenade or a great athlete sacrifices his body for the team or a loved one donates a kidney to a sick child, I sacrificed my Achilles tendon in the epic conquest to act as silly and childish as my teenage son. The goal was inspiring, nay, nearly breath-taking. We had to conquer THE DITCH at the cemetery in Brigham City. This is not some ordinary everyday ditch, either. This was Grand Canyon-like in width, depth, and danger. Spencer and I had to leap over this massive canal, much like a mortal man trying to leap the Panama Canal. Not only must we leap it, we had to rebound and jump to the other side, then to the other, bounding back and forth like gazelles, like cheetahs, like the fastest and most agile of land animals. With great alacrity and agility I leaped across the water, almost Moses-like in my miraculous feat of defying the liquid element. My foot extended, my strength of body exerting, pushing my flying through the air like an eagle, a hawk, a 180 pound 40 year-old human Scud missile. I hit the side of the canal . . . and POP. My Achilles tendon snapped.
Being the noble, mature man that I am, I immediately blamed my son-in-law, Kevin, for smashing my ankle with a rock. It felt like I'd been hit by a baseball bat or shot by a gun right in the back of my ankle, right along the Achilles tendon. I writhed in pain but fortunately uttered not a single swear word (sort of like how George Washington could never tell a lie, I can never say a swear word . . . inspiring, aren't I?) The tendon, like a taut elastic band, snapped in two. There was no question. I knew it immediately. Linda heard the snap, crackle, pop sound from several feet away. Just like that I lost my tendon, my summer, my goal.
Or did I? Tomorrow I go in for surgery. It will be a long multiple week recovery and rehab. My Achilles tendon may never be as good or strong as before. Yet for some reason I feel ready to cast aside my Slacker Self and rededicate myself to this goal. I SHALL OVERCOME! I SHALL RECOVER! I SHALL RIDE MY BIKE! I may only make it from my house to McDonald's for a Big Mac, but I will ride again this summer! In fact, I will ride from my house to Preston Idaho before the end of September!
When this first happened I thought that I would not be able to ride the bike again this summer. It was a very depressing thought. I had progressed so far already! I felt stronger, more confident, more capable of reaching my goal than I thought possible at the beginning of the year. Had this all been for nothing? I feared this would be so. Yet now I know it is not. I have the fire inside me to overcome this challenge. It will be long and hard and painful, but I will do it. I know I can do it. I know I WILL DO IT!
I will ride again, my friends. I will ride again.
Or we simply throw in the towel and go back to watching Pawn Star. It's kind of a toss up.
For me, my great cycling goal has just run into its greatest challenge. My goal is to ride my bike from my house to Jackson Hole (no, not a motorcycle, an actual pedal bike!). I've been training like a mad man. I purchased my first ever really nice bike (translation: it didn't come from Wal-Mart or have a big basket and little ringy bell on the handle ). I logged countless hours and miles at the gym. I have accomplished my first key milestones: I rode from my house to Brigham City, to Antelope Island, and up through South Weber and along Highway 89 and back to my house. These were three 25+ mile rides. On my last ride, a second trip to Brigham on Memorial Day, I felt strong and ready to take the next step, a 50-miler from my house to Logan. I was progressing, getting stronger, and feeling more confident. Plus, my butt had finally calloused enough to not feel all the chafing from the bike seat!
Then tragedy struck on Memorial Day, 2012. I had my GREAT INJURY. Very much like how a solider throws himself on a grenade or a great athlete sacrifices his body for the team or a loved one donates a kidney to a sick child, I sacrificed my Achilles tendon in the epic conquest to act as silly and childish as my teenage son. The goal was inspiring, nay, nearly breath-taking. We had to conquer THE DITCH at the cemetery in Brigham City. This is not some ordinary everyday ditch, either. This was Grand Canyon-like in width, depth, and danger. Spencer and I had to leap over this massive canal, much like a mortal man trying to leap the Panama Canal. Not only must we leap it, we had to rebound and jump to the other side, then to the other, bounding back and forth like gazelles, like cheetahs, like the fastest and most agile of land animals. With great alacrity and agility I leaped across the water, almost Moses-like in my miraculous feat of defying the liquid element. My foot extended, my strength of body exerting, pushing my flying through the air like an eagle, a hawk, a 180 pound 40 year-old human Scud missile. I hit the side of the canal . . . and POP. My Achilles tendon snapped.
Being the noble, mature man that I am, I immediately blamed my son-in-law, Kevin, for smashing my ankle with a rock. It felt like I'd been hit by a baseball bat or shot by a gun right in the back of my ankle, right along the Achilles tendon. I writhed in pain but fortunately uttered not a single swear word (sort of like how George Washington could never tell a lie, I can never say a swear word . . . inspiring, aren't I?) The tendon, like a taut elastic band, snapped in two. There was no question. I knew it immediately. Linda heard the snap, crackle, pop sound from several feet away. Just like that I lost my tendon, my summer, my goal.
Or did I? Tomorrow I go in for surgery. It will be a long multiple week recovery and rehab. My Achilles tendon may never be as good or strong as before. Yet for some reason I feel ready to cast aside my Slacker Self and rededicate myself to this goal. I SHALL OVERCOME! I SHALL RECOVER! I SHALL RIDE MY BIKE! I may only make it from my house to McDonald's for a Big Mac, but I will ride again this summer! In fact, I will ride from my house to Preston Idaho before the end of September!
When this first happened I thought that I would not be able to ride the bike again this summer. It was a very depressing thought. I had progressed so far already! I felt stronger, more confident, more capable of reaching my goal than I thought possible at the beginning of the year. Had this all been for nothing? I feared this would be so. Yet now I know it is not. I have the fire inside me to overcome this challenge. It will be long and hard and painful, but I will do it. I know I can do it. I know I WILL DO IT!
I will ride again, my friends. I will ride again.
