Out of Touch ...

Post #22
Weeks of training complete: 19 weeks, 2 days
Time remaining until Ironman: 12 weeks, 5 days
Miles swam: 78.41
Miles biked: 1,180.51
Miles run: 301.01

Goal: $5,000
Total raised: $795

Somewhere in Minneapolis tonight, a friend of mine – someone who, although we haven't talked in quite some time, I would call a very good friend – is sitting in a jazz club listening to music, preparing for what will probably be one of the biggest events in a life full of very big events. He is a man of great success, and a man with whom I'm gone through some pretty low lows and some pretty high highs with. Until tonight, when we chatted briefly for about two minutes, I hadn't talked to him in close to 9 months.

Elsewhere, in Pennsylvania, somebody who I probably saw every single day of my childhood from age 6 to 17; and again from 20 to 22, is doing his own thing; making pretty a new home, honing skills on his art; crafting beer in the basement; having conversations with his wife. I once called him best friend; still do. But I haven't really had a conversation with him in, hell, I really couldn't tell you.

The stories repeat themselves; in San Francisco, a master video technician who used to act as the social glue of our circle of friends in a previous life; in Connecticut, and old roommate who now has beautiful children, an amazing wife and a successful business; in Portland, Oregon, a man I admire very much; soon to be travelling to Nepal to help those in need with pro bono medical treatment; in Tallahassee, one of the best reporters I've ever met and somebody who, in my formative years, I spent every minute I could looking up to, learning from, emulating; in Calgary, Alberta, my true mentor, the guy who made my success in media possible; in Boston, one of the purest people I've ever met (congrats on the engagement again!), in northern Maine, the truest artist I know. And here at home, just a mile down the road, a fellow Sun Devil and Diamondbacks fan, and one of the best, most sincere individuals and fathers I know; just south in south Tempe and Chandler, two of my best friends since early adulthood; people I'd bend over backwards for, cross the country for, put my word on the line for; and who I'm sure would do the same for me ... And lots and lots more I can't even begin to list, lest this run on forever.

What do they all share in common? They're people I'm largely out of touch with; people I care for deeply, but for whom, I can find no time. I can't even respond to all my e-mails (10,800 this week alone through work). The important ones get buried in the junk. The publicists drown out my friends. Sure I talk to some of them briefly, but many of them I hear about through the grapevine; their achievments, pains, successes, failures broken down into a 30-second "here's how they're doing tidbit." This is no way to know them. It's like the stories in my magazine. Condensed, easy to digest, missing the complexity of real humanity.

I know them like I know resumes; all polished and successful. I am jealous. I am uncertain why I am jealous. I am certain they have forgotten me. And, really, I'm just sad because I miss them.

But I have these problems closer to home. When do I really have the energy to play with my children? Is it once a week, twice a week? Sometimes, like this week, when a flu bug is trying to ravage our plans, toy with our perfectly teetering balanced schedule, is it zero? It might very well be zero.

I was warned: you will sacrafice time for this; you will upset your family from time to time in this goal; you will learn what is important and what is not; you will learn who can have your time and who cannot; you will be forced to say no.

To the warnees: you were correct.

You can't help but ask sometimes, is this all worth it? This smug goal: complete an event that only .001 percent of the world population even ever tries? Training day in, day out. Begging people for money? What comes of this when it's all said and done? I can trek 140.6 miles in a single day. You can't.

Big deal.

So ... here I am ... that came out in a rush. So I sit back, take a sip of beer, reassess, take a deep breath. Shake my head. Nod. Rest my chin on my hand.

Smile.

Yeah, it's worth it. Sort of.

First thought: at least some people on that list I'm missing will see this; know I care, know I think about them all the time; know I miss 'em, love 'em. So that's good.

Second thought: Ed, have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? Damn, you look good.

Third thought: Shut up, ego.

Four thought: Let it go. Let it all go, and focus back on the task at hand - being there for everybody the best you can. This is a lifestyle choice; a lifestyle choice better than many of the previous lifestyle choices you made, where maybe you were too numbed, or too buried in work to be capable of feeling accurately. This is a good place; healthier and the time will come again to make old connections. There's weddings and celebrations in the months ahead. Connections will be broken and made, broken and made, broken and ... when they're remade again, they'll be so much more to tell and say and hopefully, they'll be beer, too. Beer would be good.

I injured my right shoulder and neck muscles on Sunday throwing Beck airborne in the pool. The muscles aren't healed properly, but I tried to swim anyway this morning. Bad idea. After 1,100 meters, I had to accept that the muscles needeed a rest. That I needed a rest. I cancelled the run, went home, made a pot of coffee, had a cup, goofed off on the computer, made breakfast and took it easy.

And, in the end, I felt no remorse.

I can't run my body, or my mind, into the ground. I must keep perspective. Both mentally and physically.

While we're at it, here's some perspective you should have: Chances are, if you're reading this, I probably miss you.

With love,
Ed