Hurt, Dirt, and Hangovers: Part 1 - Hurt and Dirt

It’s funny the specific memories that the human mind can pull out of seemingly nowhere. Not long ago, my mind took me back to grade school. I was riding with my dad to the fire station where he served as a volunteer first responder. I was quietly staring out the window, imagining what kind of pop I would get from the fire department fridge as a reward for helping him with safety checks of the lights on a fire truck. We had just driven past my school when my dad, seeming out of nowhere said “Chris, someday life will knock you down. Someday, you’ll be at a point where you don’t feel like you have anything left and you have to decide to get up, brush the dirt off and start putting one foot in front of the other.” Being confused, I asked him what he meant, and we talked for about 5 minutes. As we pulled into the driveway of the fire station, he stopped talking. I hopped out of the car and followed him into the fire station, my sense of bewilderment mixing with the smell of stale sweat and old smoke coming from the building.

It’s amazing to me the level of detail I can recall of that conversation. It was gray and cloudy after a rainstorm but the air was warm. The brown seats of the GMC Jimmy he was driving. The puddles on the road. The pained expression on his face. The reason he interrupted my daydreaming was that friend of his had a child attempt to commit suicide. It was the first time I remember encountering suicide, however tangentially, and the emotional impact caused his words to sear themselves in my mind. Sometimes you have to decide to get up, brush the dirt off, and put one foot in front of the other.

For the past few mornings, I've found myself starting into my coffee cup and contemplating the last year. As I sit in the early morning darkness, I think about the past few weeks and the testament they have been to my dad’s legacy. My father built a successful choose-and-cut Christmas tree farm through his vision and toil. As far back as I can remember, my family has spent the weekends from Thanksgiving until Christmas working to sell the Christmas Trees that we had spent the previous year cultivating. Last year, Dad was privileged to watch his children and wife run the farm and enjoy one of the best years the farm had ever seen. Even though he was mostly confined to the house due to his cancer, he was incredibly proud of our effort and blown away with the fact that people still showed up without any advertising.

This year after his passing, it’s safe to say that our family has been knocked down pretty hard. It’s taken an unimaginable amount of work to figure out the things that Dad would just know how to do. Everything from the timing of herbicide and pesticide application to training employees how to prune trees felt like it was the first time. We spent close to triple the amount of time it would have taken him because we had to figure so many things out.

As I stared into my coffee cup this morning however, I couldn't help but smile. We had wrapped up the Christmas Tree sales for the year last Sunday. We had met our sales target for the year, cleaned up the sales lot, and closed the gates for another year. Despite losing a husband, father, brother, mentor, and friend, we managed to pick one another up, brushed off the dirt, and put one foot in front of the other.

One of MANY cups of coffee this week

Melted Ice Cubes

Editor’s note:  I wrote the following about a month ago.    I've deliberated about whether or not I’d post it, but I finally decided that it needed to be shared.

Lauren is traveling and I’m sitting alone with my thoughts in our new home, nursing what’s left a tall glass of scotch and some melted ice cubes. It’s been nearly a month since I lost my Dad to cancer and in the flurry of activity surrounding his death and the subsequent busyness I, if I may be blunt, need an evening like this.

 When I had just turned 18 years old, I finished high school early and drove north to the family cabin to help my dad finish his training and preparations for the 2004 Iditarod.  The roads were treacherous and what should have been 6 hour trip had turned into 14 hours.   When I arrived late that evening I found my dad working on his laptop.   After I had brought in my bags and had some reheated supper on my plate, Dad asked me to read what he had been working on.    I could smell the whiskey on his breath, but it didn't strike me as significant until I read what he had been typing.

He had just written an account of arriving on an accident scene while in the Upper Peninsula.  He stopped because of his emergency first responder training and assessed the situation. It was a grisly scene. Three or four gravely injured people.  He had to make triage decisions knowing that there was nothing he could do to save some of the people.   Dad asked me if it was an ok thing to share or if it was too graphic; that’s when I knew there was more to his empty glass of scotch than met the eye.

Dad and I talked late into the evening and at one point that evening he explained that he would often pour himself a tall glass of something strong and write about things that were bothering him.   I don’t know if he published the story he wrote that night story to his blog or simply deleted it like he did most of the things, but he described it as a coping mechanism.  If he could get it out, into written form, then he could let it go.  The alcohol helped with that.

I’ve needed a night like tonight because, quite honestly, I haven’t had a chance to get a few things out until this evening. I haven’t had a quiet night where I could think and let my thoughts flow without inhibition onto the screen in front of me. It feels profoundly appropriate to borrow his method of coping tonight.

My father’s death has easily been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with. I expect it to be harder than my mother’s passing when it is her time for a few reasons, but the biggest reason is that my father taught me to dream; to dream wild and impossible dreams. Dad was a person who imagined things and then worked like hell to make them happen.   People have asked me how he got into the sled dog racing.  It’s baffling that he went from a guided tour of Alaska in 2000 to owning a few dogs in 2002 to completing THE race in sled dog racing in 2004.  Think about that for a moment, in the space of 4 years he went from a dreaming spectator to finishing a race that has been finished by fewer people than have summitted Mount Everest.  Dad taught me that when you combine a dream with hard work and planning you can accomplish amazing things.

 It’s just damn hard to know that the person who encouraged me to set wild goals and cheered passionately as I worked for them is gone.  Memories are great,  but I won’t ever get to feel his hand on my shoulder  80 miles into a bike race when I think I've got nothing left and asking me, “What are you going to do about it? You might as well keep going and see what happens.” 

Of all the lessons I learned as a child growing up, the lesson of pursuing your dreams resonates with me more than almost anything else he taught me. It has served me well, from graduating with honors from the University of Michigan with a master’s degree in engineering, to finishing a 100 mile mountain bike race and an ultramarathon. His lesson of dream + work = success is the reason Lauren and I were able to save for a house down payment in under a year.  As big of an impact as that lesson has had on my life, it recently became second fiddle to a more significant lesson.

The one thing that resonates with me far more than his example of being a dreamer is something that I never had the opportunity to thank him for while he was alive. The reason is that I didn't learn it until he was dead.  

That lesson is simply the value of kindness to others.

The legacy of my father, to me, will be one of showing kindness.   It has amazed me the number of people who mentioned that “He was a friend when I needed one” or “Your dad made a difference in my life.”   We only get one shot at this life and it became apparent to me that my dad tied to make people feel like they were valued and important whenever he could.   Sure, he may not have been perfect,   but lessons of kindness and respect that he taught will stay with me far longer than the lessons of corporate strategy or changing the oil on my car.

So what the hell   doe this has to do with running?   Didn't I start to write about the reasons why I run?  I suppose the death of my father would be an acceptable reason to sidetrack my series of essays. I actually had another one written just before I got the call that I need to go to the family farm to say goodbye.

The reality is that my father’s death has offered me more clarity as to why I run than I could have ever to hope to achieved prior to his death.    The answer doesn't need multiple essays. The answer is simple.

I run for joy.

No, not the temporary high of endorphins. Not the satisfaction of winning a race.  Not even the feeling of success I get from meeting a goal.  I run because while I run, I can leave the stress, misery, and grinding soul-sucking despair inducing world behind.  I get to, for a moment, step into the mystery and beauty of the world around me and I find joy there.

Not the warm fuzziness   that people think of when they’re happy. I’m talking about the piercing and heart-wrenching joy that makes you laugh and cry simultaneously.  The face on the person who suddenly sees their loved one return unannounced from overseas combat.   The young child who is set free and discovers a puddle to splash in.  Or as my sister so elegantly described in her blog (http://wordsrunningdeep.blogspot.com/2014/03/the-mile-that-matters.html ) the joy of seeing beauty in the face of unimaginable pain.

Indeed, running is how I get to glimpse joy.   I heard a pastor paraphrase C.S. Lewis in a sermon once saying that the glimpses of joy that God allows us are not a glimpse of what is, but a glimpse rather of what will be.

A rebirth and running

Well, it seems like now is as good a time as any to dust off this blog. Admittedly, I was prompted by a tiny bit of envy when I read my sister’s new blog post.  I’m not sure what will become of this effort, but I’d like to believe this will result in a few more posts than the last effort.  Of course, I carry those good intentions every time I begin writing a journal.  

Me and my awesome sister.  Note that I am a morning person and she is not.

In an effort to make myself look a little less petty, I’ll explain the envy I mentioned above.   You see, despite the fact that Whitney got several positive comments (I’m not sure anyone besides our mother has read mine....) I’m far more envious of her clarity when it comes to running.

I wish I had a short, acceptable, and understandable answer when asked why I run.   Whitney might not have a short answer, but her post tells you a lot about her motivation.  When people ask me why I run I stutter, mumble, and generally evade the answer. That’s because the short answer never seems to hit the mark.

“Because I don’t like the person I am when I don’t run.”

“I really like the discomfort and suffering.”

“I have a hard time being happy without running.”

Those are the type of one-line responses that bounce around in my head. Those sentences can make me seem like a masochist with low self-esteem and little other joy in life.   Fun stuff, hey?   Sentences like that are what you use when you want to end a conversation at a cocktail party.

One of my favorite trails at the Maybury State Park

I’m going to use this blog to dig into the “why” of my running and training.   I can’t promise any definitive answers, but I can promise that I’ll try to keep it interesting.  

Run for your life,
Chris

Riding, lots of riding!

So, after what seemed like an eternally wet spring, the trails are finally dried out enough to go ride. And I've done lots and lots of riding, both in a car and on the bike. After the last post, Lauren and I jumped in the car and drove to MArquette for Whitney's graduation, and commencement ceremonies. I'm still really proud of her for finishing her nursing degree. Yay Whit!

Lauren and I drove home on Sunday (the drive from Marquette is a day long endeavor) and the next morning I set out for Tremont, Illinois to visit my friend Brad. This time, I brought my mountain bike. 18 miles of brutal single track on Tuesday and another 14 miles of easier riding on Wednesday were really good training. Then another day-long drive home on Thursday.

After a chore day on Friday, we drove up to my parents (only a short 2 hour jaunt) for Whitney's Bridal shower. Then back home again Sunday night for a total of almost 2300 miles in 10 days. My butt hurts and not from riding my bike.

Yesterday I went for a long ride. Well, at least that was the intention. I wanted to do a 5-6 hour ride, but in the process of waiting for my new biking shoes, I didn't get out the door until uch later than I wanted. About 15 minutes in I went over the handlebars and cut some good scrapes and bruises. No serious damage but it definitely made a big difference in how I attacked the trail. It also put a nice little hole in the sidewall of my front tire. The Caffelatex sealed it right up, but I forgot to do something really basic - check the air pressure. It turns out that the tire dropped from 30psi to about 10 psi while the puncture was sealing. That 20 psi difference made the front end feel like a boat anchor by the time I was working on my third lap.

So, after three laps I called it quits. 33 miles in 3 hours and 10 minutes wasn't too shabby in my book even though I was hoping for 40-50 miles.

Day of Failure?

The plan was to work out today, really it was. THis morning my legs were still really sore ater yesterday's "San Franciso Crippler" and I've been feeling really really run down this week. So I decided "no crossfit" this morning.

THis evening should have been intervals. Just as I was about to get after them, my friend Brad called. We talked for almost half an hour about some pretty serious stuff. I needed to share my recent faith journey. He had a lot of stuff to vent about. I'm pretty sure God connected us tonight.

So, exercise wise, today was a failure. Yet, somehow I'm ok with that.

Lets Race!

My first ever bike race went well. I learned more than I expected, finished faster than I'd hoped , and generally had an awesome time.

Highlights:

1) Passing people on uphills is the best feeling in the world. Particularly when their bike cost more than my bike AND my car combined.

2) Beautiful weather! Cold and sunny is my favorite!

3) Great atmosphere! Everybody seemed like they were having fun.

Lessons learned:

1) I'm a salty salty sweater. I cramped up twice, almost perfectly 1 hour after I had taken my most recent electrolyte supplement. Water + another shot of electrolytes= no more cramps. So, next time I just need to stay ahead of that curve

2) Race smart. I had a really nasty crash early on because I was racing too aggressively on some less than ideal terrain. I was fortunate that my right hip absorbed most of the impact and I didn't get run over. No major muscular or structural damage to report but the bruise is a sight to behold! The lesson is to race smart, you can't finish first if you don't finish

3) Gear taller (for this race) The added adrenaline really helped me crush the climbs, but a 32:17 ratio was a little low for the flats and downhills. . A 32:18 may be in order next time.

4) Use Aid stations. My hydration pack froze (guess it breathes "too well" on the back panel) so I wound up carrying 25 oz of water that never got used. I was able to use the aid station, but I should have just planned on it being there and used it accordingly.

Dropping the hammer

In cycling, "dropping the hammer" refers to cranking up the power output for an extended period of time. I realized today that I only have 5 more weeks of class.... so it's time to drop the hammer academically and finish strong for the semester. 3...2...1... GO!

Workout:

4 "Full" Cleans at 60% 1rm (#115) on the minute for 5 minutes - It's hard to force myself to do a full clean when I can power clean it so easily.

Rest 5 mins

30s on, 30s rest of knees to elbows for 4 minutes

7,6,7,and 6 reps. Yep, still hate how much those work my lats and abs....

Intervals:

2 x 10 min. w/ 5 min recovery: 2.89 miles and 2.84 miles ,

2 x 2 min. w/ 1 min recovery: 0.66 miles and 0.67 miles

Fruits of Labor

Well, aside from being really sore from yesterday's workout, today has been a really, really good day.

This morning I drove out to Island Lake State Rec area to do a shakedon run of my prposed race plan. Everything went amazingly well. I rode for about 35 miles on the pavement (the trails are still too soggy) and it only took me 2:20. I was planning on it taking almost 3 hours. I've gighlighted some of the key observations below:

1) Pre and post ride weight was almost identical.This means I'm right about on target with 25 oz/hr of water. I'm sure this number will creep up when it gets warm out, but for the time being it is really encouraging to know I'm close

2) 32:16 seemed to be the sweet spot today. I'm planning on racing the Mohican with a lower gear, but for the rolling hills I was on today, man I was able to MOVE. I even caught a guy on a road bike; that was the best feeling I've had all week.

3) Hammer Perpetuem seems to work. I was taking in about 270 cal/ hr and my stomach was fine. I did start the ride with Hammer gels , but those were a pain, were really thick in the cold, and only tasted "ok". The thought was to give my body what it needed nutrient wise throughout the ride, but I think next time I'm just going to start with the perpetuem. Calorie wise it seemed pretty good. I wasn't even hungry an hour after I finished. Normally I'm famished within 20 minutes and could eat an entire pizza on my own!

*** I also was taking one salt-stick electrolyte tablet every hour starting 1 hour into the ride. I don't know if this is necessary since Perpetuem contains some of the same ions. I will play with this more as it begins to get warmer out and my sweating increases.

4) This is the big one; it appears Crossfit Endurance is working. Knocking 40 mins ff of my expected time, and feeling good for most of the ride was awesome. The infamous "Mile 3 Hill" at Kensington Metro Park got beat 3 times today. In fact, not once did I burn out on a longer climb. Sure I slowed down, but I didn't feel a need to stop and rest which is a first ever, even with a geared bike.

I did notice that I was feeling pretty gassed at the end of the ride. I'll have to play with some things to see if I can't beat that.

So the last 3 months of sweat, sore muscles, and research seem to be paying off. Today is a good day.

Been slacking

I've been away fromthe blog for a few days, here's the run down

2-1-2011

100 DB power snatches for time 35#, 50 per arm

7:44

2-2-2011

Rest Day

2-3-2011

1000m row followed by

5 rounds of

7 power cleans, 135#

7 juming pullups

3:50 row +17:25 = 21:17

It turned out to be fairly convenient that Wednesday was a rest day. Tuesday night the weather babes and dudes were calling for a "snowpocalypse" that would engulf SE Michigan. More like sNOpocalypse. Not only did we get a measly 6-8 inches, but if it were to occur in Houghton, the weather babes and dudes would have been fired for lying and exaggerating how terrible it would be. I want a job where I can be wrong more than half the time and still expect to stay employed.....

Anyway, class is about to start. Time to go learn about turbulence...

One legged sqauts

I never thought this workout would develop the interest it did on Facebook..... apparently even mentioning a one-legged squat is worrisome to people who don't understand the mechanics of the motion and the progression of the skill.

It's ok, I guess I forget that most people, even educated people don't have the desire to learn as much as I do when it comes to exercise.

12 minute AMRAP

10 pistols (1 legged squat)

10 KB swings , 55#

4 rounds

myofascial release

It's been said that self myofascial release is about as pleasant as sticking a hot branding iron in your eye.

That sounds about right.

In all seriousness however, the tight muscles in my legs hurt like hell when I use a foam roller or "The Stick". Both are therapy devices, and I'm not sure how they work, but they take my tight and knotted muscles and work all the nastiness out of them.

Should have been 1-14-2011...

Sitting at 33,000 feet I never cease to be amazed at what is possible. Think about it, untold thousands of passengers all around the world walk into a multi-ton metal tube. Minutes later they are not only airborne, but comfortably doing so and enjoying a book, music, movie, or even connected to the vastness of the internet. It is simply mind-blowing to think of where we have come as a society in the last 100 years.

I’m probably thinking about time and such since it was my birthday yesterday. I am now 25 years old, which still feels remarkably young since I’m still in school. I suppose however that my awe and appreciation of today’s modern technology stems from the things I’ve learned in school. An appreciation for fluid mechanics, turbulence, material properties, chemical reactions, and gas dynamics makes the flight of an airplane simply amazing.

Where am I going? I suppose I ought to answer that question. Lauren is running her first half-marathon this weekend in Phoenix, AZ and I’m going with her. Leaving the snow will be a nice break for a few days. I wish I could find a way to have brought my mountain bike along, but that isn’t the point of this trip. This trip I get to play support person. I’m the photographer, team cheerleader, masseuse, psychologist, nutritionist, general go-fer, and husband. I’m comfortable in my role(s) and I’m pretty good at it. The biggest challenge will be containing and putting up with Lauren’s nerves. That challenge is incredibly small however in comparison to dealing with my dad’s nervous energy on a 3000 mile drive to Alaska and waiting in Anchorage for a week prior to the start of the Iditarod. Putting up with my wife, who is much better to look at and generally smells better is going to be much easier.

Morning shakes

It's been awhile since I was shaking and sick to my stomach on the way to campus. No, I don't have a major exam. No I am not ill or malnourished. I was full of nervous energy thinking about my workout today.

It's been too long since I've gotten a good dose of fear in the morning. The quesions of "Will I make it?", "How fast can I go today?", and "I hope I don't throw up" raced through my mind as I drove to the gym on campus. Somehow I know on a gut level that if I don't fear my workout, if I don't intentionally put myself in an uncomfortable situation, then I'll never see meaningful results.

Part of exercise for me goes beyond the physical training. The mental strength, courgage, and fortitude required to rise before the sun in order to face something that I'd rather not are integral things to training for me. What good is a capable body without a capable mind? What good is a sports car if you only use it to get groceries?

So, in addition to the nervous shakes and feeling nauseated, I felt a sense of joy that has been missing from my routine lately. After 15 minutes of sprints, situps and back extensions, I was lying on mat, making a sweat angel while trying to breathe, and thinking about how happy I am to be alive.

Summary

Lately I've been riding my mountian bike with Brian. He's one of the guys who lived on my floor freshman year and happens to live in the area. It's awfully nice to have someone else to ride with. I put a new suspension fork and front brake on and it's been a real treat learning how to ride a bike that feels brand new.

Being a resident of suburbia, I've been feeling a need to go into wilderness lately. I've decided I want to find a place where I can practice survival techniques in a relatively controlled environment. Basically I want to find a place nearby where I can make fires, build shelters, hunt small game, etc where I can easily walk back out to my vehicle/ safety if I decide I need to. It might be a pipe dream in this area, but I'll keep looking. I'd really like to find someone to go practice with, but that might be asking a bit too much.

Until next time,

Chris

Reflections on the Sabbath

I've been working hard lately. Really hard. I've been pushing my physical and mental capacities to the limit at school. Right now I'm sitting downstairs wide awake because my body refuses to sleep past 7:00. It's used to waking up earlier so I guess 7:00 could be considered sleeping in.

With the work I've been doing lately, it's hard to keep myself recharged spiritually and in tune with God. I do have some time to do so during the week, but there are times that the problems I'm working on literally invade my thoughts and even my sleep. It makes it nearly impossible to focus on other things I woke up yesterday after I dreamed about the solution to a computer modeling error. The solution turned out to be correct. That brings to mind another story about my father working on a wiring harness in his pajamas because of a similar situation. Maybe it's a weird chromosome that lets us keep working on a problem even when we are asleep.

I know I'm studying the right stuff because I wouldn't be excited to go back to the labs at 7:00 am when I left at midnight the previous night. Yes I am excited. I truly enjoy what I'm doing even though it is the hardest thing I've ever had to do from an academic standpoint.

That being said, Sunday is a day I do my absolute best to keep as a day of rest. I'll spend time in prayer, go to church, probably take a nap, spend time with Lauren, and enjoy whatever the day may bring. I'll let Lauren sleep in, we'll go to 11:00 service at church, and proceed from there at a leisurely pace.

We are blessed enough that we don't have to work on Sunday to feed ourselves and keep a roof over our heads. It is fitting then that I take the day to praise Jesus and worship him.

Music

I realized today why I have found Christian rap and hard rock to be the mainstay of my music collection. Much of it has to do with the lyrics. Most of the music classified under the Contemporary Christian Music (CCM for short) is full of vapid repetition and fails to recognize the real difficulties of living a Christian life in this world and also fails to provide release for some of the pent up frustrations people have growing up.

Don't get me wrong, there is absolutely a place for adoration and praise of Jesus. However, when music and lyrics become one dimensional, like "Jesus, Jesus, my Jesus" repeated ad-nauseum, it makes complete sense as to why many people view the whole CCM genre as junk. I can hardly blame them.

Another week

So another week has come and gone and I'm pretty much in equilibirum at school. I'm getting homework finished, understanding concepts, and finding more and more ways to spend quality time with Lauren. Life is good.

I woke up this morning at 5:30 again so I could work out prior to my 8:30 class. Sitting in bed after turning of the alarm clock, I really didn't want to get up, really didn't want to go to the gym , and I absolutely wanted nothing to do with another workout that would stress my body to the point of nausea. I got up anyway.

Yesterday I read that

"Performance directly correlates with intensity. Intensity directly correlates with being uncomfortable." -Greg Glassman

While this was written in regards to athletic training, I think it transfers to life pretty well. Consistently choosing to get up early and get going, choosing to push as hard as you can instead of coast, choosing to do the hard things rather than the easy is what separates the people who excel from everyone else.

I learned something about myself today while at the gym. For most of my life, I've been content to coast because even coasting I was "ahead of the curve". The reality is that when I look back at the points in my life that I really made an impact or accomplished something extraordinary are the same points where I consistently chose to pursue my goal with vigor. The times I elected to be uncomfortable.

Because I have the capacity for intense focus and drive, I like to think of myself as driven and highly motivated individual. I am not. I to endeavor to change this, rather than be content with coasting, I want to find out exactly what I can do. I want to push my limits because doing so expands them.

Simple observation

I have made a lot of comparisons between the education, teaching styles, and environments that exist at Michigan Tech and at the University of Michigan. However, I had a realization today that explains much of my observations and really gets at the heart of the matter.

First, a few definitions. An engineer (from my perspective) is someone who applies science and scientific principles to a problem in an attempt to generate a solution. The motivation varies but the end result is the solution to a practical problem.

A scientist (again from my perspective) is someone who again uses science and scientific principles to further understand the physical world. Again, the motivation varies but the end result in this case is the advancement of knowledge, not necessarily a solution to a practical problem.

Ignoring the fact that most engineers have a little scientist in them and some scientists have a little engineer in their blood, my observation is this:

Michigan Tech is aimed at creating engineers. The University of Michigan is aimed at creating scientists.

Maybe that's why when Tech plays U of M in hockey, the taunt "Michigan engineers drive trains, Choo Choo!" rings out....

Settling in

Today I claimed my space in the grad student office located in the basement of my building. I am supposed to share the space with another MSE student, but at the moment I don't believe he is too interested in using the space. Thus, I suppose I will occupy the area until changes need to be made.

I have now been in grad school for a little over a month. I am studying for my first exam and am finally getting back into the rhythm of academic life. It is taxing to say the least and I think Lauren wonders when she will get her husband back. Unfortunately, I don't ever expect that I will see her as much as I did when I was unemployed and waiting for school. School and work will probably demand much of my attention until I retire.

I have also settled into a workout routine. 4 days each week I arrive on campus by 7:30 and go to the gym. I attack a workout designed to stress my body, take a sauna, shower and then get on with my day. It really seems to make a difference in how well the rest of my day goes.

Fighting through

I'm not sure where I learned to be stubborn. Perhaps it was watching my mom struggle through law school. Maybe it was watching my father complete the Iditarod despite a severely injured leg. I don't know.

This morning I found myself in the gym, halfway through a workout I really didn't want to start looking at the clock and I realized I was at a tipping point. I could quit, which was a completely rational idea given that I was feeling nauseated and my parking meter was going to expire. The other option was to accept the discomfort and continue to the end of the workout.

The larger issue here is whether I can live with myself as someone who quit. The answer is no. Yes it's just a workout. Yes there will be another one. Yes there may be consequences to not quitting. Fundamentally I don't feel as though I can just walk away when something gets hard.

I feel there is a lot of value of persistence in the face of adversity. I want to thank everyone along the way who helped me develop that characteristic. It has served me well..