2017 was one hell of a year, both nationally and personally. I finished my Bachelor’s degree and traveled and wrote to my heart’s content. I began working on a memoir and explored beautiful places with people I love the most: North Carolina, New Mexico, Colorado. Not least of all, I took on many new physical challenges and worked on improving my fitness. I still call myself an “amateur athlete,” because the reality is, that’s exactly what I am. I get a thrill out of beating my own previous race times but it’s not something I cling to.
My original goal remains: Enjoy the ride.
In the past year I have raced in triathlons. After a five-year hiatus of being benched on the sidelines due to knee issues, I learned how to start back slowly and am finally able to pound the pavement on the regular. Exercise — especially running — is my favorite form of therapy, and I am ecstatic to be able to lace up again. Despite an injury preventing me from signing up for a full marathon, I was able to complete two half marathons this year.
Perhaps most significantly, I faced my fears and took on an assortment of physical challenges I would never previously have even considered: I spent an hour in an isolation tank for sensory deprivation “therapy” (I use that term loosely). I tried acro yoga and even went on a zipline tour, despite my intense fear of heights. My wife dragged me to a local CrossFit gym and I totally fell in love with the sport.
I’m not good at giving advice. I have tried telling my siblings how much a study abroad course will change their lives; I have scolded my sisters for talking back to my parents, advising them that when they get to be my age, they will regret those hours spent yelling and wish they could take them back (I know I do).
Each time I try to give advice, I get subtly rolled eyes and stolen glances that say when did our big sister become so uncool?
And yet, here I am. Giving advice again. Roll your eyes if you want, but here’s what I’ve got:
Take the jump. Both literally and metaphorically. Push yourself. The limits fear imposes on us do nothing to serve us; they close us in and separate ourselves from the rest of the world. I may look and sound like a total jackass when I sing to myself and attempt a mock-synchronized swim to get me through sixty minutes of iso tank therapy; I know I seem foolish when screaming and shaking at the top of a 60-foot drop during a zipline tour (I still have nightmares about falling, by the way). I probably seem silly asking a million questions every time we lift a barbell in CrossFit.
But I do it anyway. And I really, truly feel joy each and every time I look back on those experiences — even the ones I didn’t love. I have spent countless hours worrying about how much faster other athletes are; how much better they look while running or how much easier the months of training sessions leading up to a race are for others. I’m not the world’s fittest person and I am far from the leanest. Regardless, I keep moving forward. I sign up for more races and I try to say yes to every new challenge — even (and especially) the ones I fear the most.
Because life is too short to pass up an isolation tank session, amirite?
This article appears in Feb 8-15, 2018.