What keeps you going at mile 21 of a marathon? Or go for that one extra, “optional” hill repeat after having already finished five? When life deals you a bad hand, why do you do the right thing instead of taking the easy way out? What gets you out of bed in the morning?
Me? To create something from nothing.
I was originally supposed to be a doctor. In college, I started out as a bioengineering major, doing all the usual pre-med stuff — organic chemistry, preparing for the MCATs, etc. Some part through, being an engineering major and all, Berkeley not so gently reminded me that I needed to take a programming class. I’d always made fun of programmers — I mean, really, who spends 10 hours a day staring at a computer screen? (Oh, the irony.) I whined and complained, but, no, I still had to take the class.
Wow.
Not only was it easy for me, I was good at it and I loved it. Even more than that, something clicked: unlike almost anything else, with almost nothing except maybe a laptop, a couple friends and a whiteboard, I could build anything I could dream up. Unlike, say, designing a new car or a new airplane, I didn’t need to hire a thousand people, raise hundreds of millions of dollars or build huge hangar and assembly line — I didn’t need anything but a laptop and a brain. The rest is history. I’d changed my major by the end of the semester, started heavy-duty academic research within a year, consulting the year after and Amazon the year after that. That original spark still stands: from almost nothing, you can build anything you can dream up.
Whether it’s the wall at mile 21 or a bad day gone horrible, why keep going? What’s the point? Because, if you stop, you’re left with nothing. On the other hand, if you keep going, just keep going that little bit more, if you finish, if you do something meaningful, then — well, then you’ve made something meaningful and you’ve made it out of nothing.
Here’s to creating something meaningful.
What drives you? What keeps you going?
From Spokane Al.
Hauntingly simple. Hauntingly beautiful.
Lifehouse — Storm
So let’s go there,
Let’s go there, come on,
Let’s go there,
Let’s ask can we stay?
Up high I feel like I’m alive for the very first time,
Still up high I’m strong enough to take these dreams,
And make them mine.
Can you take me higher?
To a place where blind men see,
Can you take me higher?
To a place with golden streets.
Creed — Higher
Nailed swim and bike splits: actual 1:19 vs. projected 1:15 for swim, actual 6:34 vs. projected 6:30 for bike. Especially satisfying because, in the swim, I held back a lot due to it being my first iron-level race and came out of the water hardly tired or even breathing hard and, with the bike, I wasn’t too confident as it’s my weakest my leg and the Ironman Canada course is particularly challenging. I’ve focused exclusively on endurance basework this year, so I’m really looking forward to next season when I start putting in some heavy-duty speedwork. Nailed it. Ecstatic.
The run, however, was pretty awful. I was running low on fuel at the end of the bike and was expecting to take down a few gels and bars early in the marathon, but I ran into GI trouble and just couldn’t get in or keep down any food. I was aiming for 4 hours but that goal pretty quickly went out the window, as did the fallback goal of running 10 minutes + walking 1, and even the next one of running 5 + walking 1. I ran what I could and walked the rest. One thing and one thing only saved the marathon, a conversation with a guy named Dean at around mile 17. Dean made one very important, very insightful observation: “It hurts either way.” That observation, 4 words, provided all the clarity I needed to try and run the remainder. I didn’t make it in terribly good shape or time — dizzy and nauseous, 1.5 hours off my projected time — but I made it and I made it running. From the looks of it, Dean finished about 40 minutes after me.
It hurts either way. Thanks, Dean.
T-minus 3 days. Excited and scared shitless.
Maybe that’s a deeper metaphor for life?
