For years, my motivation was primarily the oversized chip that resided on my shoulder, a burning need to prove that I could work harder, work smarter, work longer, faster than anyone else. But times have changed. I’m older, wiser and perhaps a little more tired. I’m a parent now. Becoming a parent changes your perspective, or at least your orientation, regarding a few things.
That burn is akin to the feeling of holding onto a weight when your grip begins to give out—when you can feel it slipping out of your hands, out of your fingers, but it hasn’t yet fully slipped; and you know if you squeeze just a little harder, you can hold onto the bar for just a little longer; but it hurts, so you want to stop; but you want to advance, so you continue to squeeze; and you feel yourself being pulled in different directions, how long can you ignore the sensation, how long can you hold on.
For those among you who compete, we all do it for different reasons. A personal challenge for some, or proving to the world that you can accomplish a Herculean task. A display of discipline and drive, focus and commitment.
I’ve been getting nervous lately. A little afraid. Which is odd– fear is not an emotion I entertain often. I know the pain, suffering, misery, and grueling days that lie ahead.
Dave, a personal trainer at my gym served as my mentor and coach. I was very impressed by his client service, attention to detail, and passion for the sport — thanks for all the help, Dave!
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