I remember receiving an email from a good friend shortly after IM China. (Please see www.janellemorrison.com for a race report.)  I had barely returned to Canada, and was absolutely exhausted from the sickness and symptoms that lasted for week upon my return, the disappointment of the race, the travelling/jet lag….everything.  Through this friend, I was reminded  that life really is all about the journey, not the destination.  At the time, I was unable to see this, in fact, I didn’t even want to see it.  So, I told her that my experience with IM China was not a journey, instead it was a “death march.”  Okay, given, I was not in a great state of mind, but at the time, that was truly where I was.  It has only been in the last few days that I have begun to comprehend the real meaning of this well-known phrase.  It’s funny how we think we can ‘get’ something, but it isn’t until we are face down in the mud that we realize that we still have so very much to learn. 

Over the last few weeks, I have been busy washing a lot of dirty laundry (literally too….you don’t want to know what my suitcase smelled like upon coming home from China…you really don’t.)  But figuratively…I had a lot of soul searching to do.  And the tumultuous experience of the last few weeks was not giving me any options to put it off. 

During this time, I looked good and hard at why I am doing this.  Why I chose to put aside a Masters degree, a good job that I enjoyed (teaching), selling a house to live in a basement suite, living like a student again in more ways than one.  The pull and desire to just put aside this craziness, to get off this crazy roller coaster, and to go back to some form of safety and stability was becoming very, very strong.  My teaching career was looking pretty darn good and this basement suite was looking pretty darn ugly.  After an injury that had me take a solid three months off running this fall/winter, and then an extremely challenging and difficult race experience on my own on the other side of the world…yes…fear had me by the throat.   I had to look at all of this very, very hard to make sure that I was making the right decision to continue on this road of being a professional triathlete.

There are many things that helped me through this…some of which I will mention at the bottom of this blog, as I would not have had the strength to do this soul-searching without the incredible support of so many people (see below) but largely I realized that this really IS about the journey.  I ventured onto this new road because I was chasing down a dream, sure, fair enough.  But I have now realized that it is so more than that.  Before, I still understood the dream to encompass ‘finish lines and results.’  I didn’t see yet that these things really are so fleeting, and as nice as they can be to experience, that all the finish lines in the world will never love you back.  There has to be more. 

I’ve always said that I am doing this because I don’t want to be the 90 year old in her rocking chair (if I make it that long of course) who wonders ‘what if?’  And that is true.  None of that has changed.  But I have had to ask myself what that ‘what if’ means.  Does it mean putting it all on the line to work towards winning races that surely will come and go? Does it mean having your name ‘up in lights’ for a moment in time only to be replaced by another?   Does it mean putting all of your energy and attention into something that may never even happen only to put more pressure on your shoulders than necessary? No, of course it doesn’t.  None of these things will ever make you happy, because they don’t last.  The finish line won’t be there to hold your hand while you take your last breaths and the media exposure won’t provide you a shoulder to cry on when you need it.   That is for absolute certain.

Now, this might sound obvious, but for a bull-headed person like me….sometimes these things take longer to process than for othersJ  And for an athlete, until you are able to put the pieces together in your life outside of racing, to understand the true meaning of it all….then how can you ever expect to succeed?  How can you expect to succeed if you focus all of your energy and attention on one thing that is anything but a guarantee, and in turn, neglect (although not purposefully) the things in life that really matter?  You can’t.  So you either die trying and become progressively miserable throughout the process.  Or you stop.  Take a deep breath.  Ask yourself some fundamental questions.  Find some answers.  And then learn how to use these new answers to become a better person, both in and outside of racing.

When I was teaching, I had a poster in my classroom that said “Fall down 7 times, stand up 8.”  I always reminded my students of this, and told them that if they remembered one thing in life from our 2 years together…to remember this. ..and I hope they do.  It was time, however, for me to take some of my own advice.  Through this I also learned that sometimes you need to stay down for a little longer before you stand up.  So that when you DO stand, you stand with conviction, strength, and purpose.  The important thing is that you stand up again.  It matters not HOW you stand…for this is definitely not a race…instead just stand.

I have also realized that when you chase down a dream, the beautiful thing about it is that you cannot fail.  Either way it turns out…you will have succeeded.  If you meet your ‘outside goals’, then great.  If you don’t, then at least you will know within yourself, that when fear had you by the throat, when you felt like the puny kid at school who was backed into a corner, when you were laying face down in the dirt, that you stood up and said, ‘bring it.’ THAT is what matters today, and that is what is going to matter at the end of this life.  Plain and simple.   As Roosevelt once said, “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.  Whose fact is marred by dust, sweat, and blood.  Who at best knows the triumphs of success, and at worst, knows that his place does not belong with those cold, timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.”  And it is with this that I now truly understand.  The weight has been lifted.  The pressure that I put on myself in this process is off.  I am doing this because I love it, and I understand that now.  I am doing it because it is something that I feel I am destined to do.  And that no matter how it all turns out, it will be a success.   I finally get it.  It really is the journey…thanks again, Myra.

In saying this, I cannot end this blog before personally thanking the following people for their support over the last few weeks.  Without this support, I truly, truly, truly would not have the opportunity to venture on this dream chasing road, because no one has the strength to do it alone.  So the following is a tribute to you:

Team Timex and Tom Schuler (who if you don’t already know rode for the superstar 7-11 team and is a US National Road Champion…so he was already my hero before all of this) who proved to me that TIMEX is not the king of watches simply because they have great products for consumers to buy.    No, TIMEX is so much more than that.  TIMEX is the king of time because of the people who are behind it.  Good people, real people.  Thank you, TIMEX for standing behind me when I was truly at the ultimate fork in the road and for reminding me that I belong to the best damn team on the circuit.  I won’t forget it.

Eric Wikjord.  My fiancé, my best friend, who sacrifices just as much (if not more than I do) so that I can do this.  And who never wavers in his belief and support in me.  He also is living in a basement suite, he also is holding off having a family, he is also spending a lot of lonely time as I am away or putting in the miles required to be at your best in this high demand sport.  And even though it would be so easy for him to tell me to ‘stop’ when I am down, he doesn’t.  He tells me to go on.  He tells me I need to continue.  He is the least selfish person I have ever met and I can’t thank him enough.

Scott McMillan, Factor9. My coach, mentor, and friend.  For putting all that he does into helping me to reach my full potential.  Who does so much more than write my programs for me (which are impeccable…but that’s another story.) Who listens to me ramble, replies thoughtfully, and who is a person who when you meet him, demands your respect. Not because he asks for it, but because his words and actions leave you no choice..  I wouldn’t be here without all that you do. 

Jenny and Brian.  For all the support and words of wisdom day in and day out.  For inspiring me.  For sending me this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45mMioJ5szc&feature=player_embedded

My mom.  Who listened to me, who lent an ear when I needed to talk.  Who didn’t judge, who didn’t ‘tell me what to do’ but who simply gave me enough advice to allow me to see it all for myself.

For ALL of the emails and support from each and every one of you from here in Vernon, from across Canada, and even all the way over on the far corners of the world.  I wanted you all to know how much your support means to me, and I hope that somewhere, someone, is able to hear this story and find the strength within themselves to get back up even when they didn’t know how.  If so, then I have already succeeded.

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Why is it that right before the first and last race of the season, I find myself shoveling my driveway the day I fly out for the race?  I guess that’s how it goes when you live in Colorado.  Either way, I have to take advantage of the snow as a great way to squeeze in a short snowshoe workout to prep for a race!  I did feel prepared for Oceanside this year and was excited to start another season of racing. 
 
I flew in late Friday night, chatted with some of our sponsors, checked in, and got to bed early for my 3:30AM wake up call.  Race morning I felt ready to go and was definitely excited to race, especially on my new Orbea Ordu that I received just 4 days earlier.   At the race I met up with my other two teammates, Dan and Alex.  I went on a warm up run with Alex and felt great.  I pulled on my Aqua Sphere Icon wetsuit and Kayenne goggles and headed to the 59 degree water.  In my wave I chatted with my friend Adam Zucco who I knew from my racing days in Chicago, and before I knew it we were off!  “Here we go” I thought, as another racing season was upon me.  I pulled to the front of my wave and led the group out of the water with a swim time of a little over 25 min.  I got on my Orbea and immediately felt good, however, I saw that was getting passed early on.  I try not to mentally get caught up in those things as they can really mess up your race.  The hills in Camp Pendleton were tough as usual, but I did my thing and pressed on.  It was my first time using my new Shimano Dura Ace Wheels.  I have to say I felt very confident on them, especially on the descents.  They deliver speed, yet are durable.  Thanks to Dustin at Shimano for hooking me up with them for the season!  
 
Onto the run which is always my favorite.  I started the run feeling pretty good, but knowing I had some work to do.  After 3 miles, I saw some people in my wave I had to catch and settled into a good pace.  Soon I caught some people, downed several Tangerine Power Gels (my favorite) and just focused on what I needed to do. At mile 9, my friend Gordo Byrn passed me at we had a little chat.  The former pro is a class act and all around nice guy from Boulder.  The last 3 miles were tough as I pressed on to the finish, crossing the tape in 4:22 and 3rd in my age group in one of the most competitive amateur fields in the 70.3 race circuit in my opinion.  I have done this race 9 times in a row and have seen a lot of consistency in my times (other than 2002 where the course might have been short?): 
 
2002-4:14
2003-4:23
2004-4:33
2005-4:26
2006-4:23
2007-4:20
2008-4:23
2009-4:19
2010-4:22
 

The part of the race that was entirely new to me was experiencing my 1st drug test.  Immediately as I crossed the line, I had a a guy from the USADA introduce himself, escort me to a condo, and I sat with about 5-6 other pro athletes that were being tested.  I could not eat or drink anything (unless it was bottled water or Gatorade) for about 1-2 hours.  To my knowledge, I was the only age grouper that got tested, as this is a new rule for age group athletes in 2010 which I am happy to see.

Thanks to everyone at Timex for all the new gear this year.  I am looking forward to racing Wildflower in a month, the Long Course and the Olympic distance races!  BTW – I wore my new Global Trainer for the race and it worked great.  At the end of the race my distance read very close to 70.3 miles!
 
Be safe out there,
 
Tim

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Up until this year, I was the proud “old man” of the Timex Multisport Team.  This year, along comes Stu Fitch, a 57 year old Aussie.  OK, I thought, another “Grand Master” to inspire others.

Inspiration?  Meet Stu – the guy who was just recognized for swimming – ready? – 17,000,000 (that’s 17 million) meters!  For we Americans, that’s 18,530,000 yards!!!

Here is the story that just got posted on www.ntnews.com.au.  I’m sure Stu is too humble to post this himself (OK, maybe not; but, I thought it is certainly blog and newsworthy!)  By the way, doesn’t Stu look great in his Sugoi Timex kit, and his new Timex Global Trainer?  Love you, man!!!

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California 70.3 is in the book s and although not the best of days for me, it was a solid showing with many, many positives.  All 3 Team Timex athletes finished within 2 minutes of each other, so it was a real family affair and great to see the other guys on the race course.  Something about wearing and seeing the Team colors fly makes me want to go faster.   More details to come about the race later but I wanted to share something that some of you might have already seen as it has been floating around for years.  The speech below is from the dinner reception the night before the 2001 Border Clash.  It is something that I read fairly regularly as it provides inspiration and perspective.    To everyone that raced yesterday, congratulations and thank you, we ‘co-conspired’ (you’ll see what I mean below) for greatness together:

BORDER CLASH, 2001: REMARKS  by Jeff Johnson

Thank you. Good evening.

It’s a real pleasure for me to be with you tonight.

It seems to me that I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by winners. First, on my own high school and college teams, then later working here at NIKE, and finally in coaching. It is a privilege to be back in the company of winners once again.

I come to you tonight with a question. It’s a rhetorical question, so don’t raise your hands.

Here’s the question: Why do you run?

You’ve probably been asked that question before. It’s not an easy question to answer, is it? If someone has to ask, they’ll probably never understand.

A man once came to Mozart and said: Teach me to write a symphony.

Mozart answered: I can’t teach you.

The man said: Why not? You were writing symphonies when you were 4 years old.

To which Mozart replied: Yes, but I didn’t have to ask how.

To write timeless symphonies requires a genius that running does not demand, lucky for us, but the problem of explanation is much the same:

If you have to ask, you just don’t get it. And you probably won’t get it.

But you get it, don’t you? You would never ask someone: Why do you run? (Except maybe rhetorically.)

Nevertheless, even you who “get it” have a hard time articulating your passion. I think that is because running is a passion of the spirit. And explaining the spirit is never easy. Running is the expressway to self-confidence, self-awareness, self-discipline and self-reliance. From running, you learn the harsh realities of your physical and mental limitations. From running, you gain strategies for extending those limitations, that you might run farther, run faster, and run tougher. You learn that personal responsibility, commitment, sacrifice, determination, and persistence are the only means of improvement. Running, you come to understand, is a profound, far-reaching and never ending contest of the runner with himself, or herself. And you learn that runners only get promoted through self-conquest.

Running asks a question of you, and everyday it’s the same question:

Are you going to be a wimp, or are you going to be strong today?

And when you answer that question in the way that you people in this room have answered it, you become a better, stronger, more confident animal, with a capacity for achievement greater than before, and a formula for success that is forever engraved on your brain. (It is no accident! I think, that this place was founded by runners.) The single, most outstanding characteristic of the runner is independence. Through your own will, you present yourselves to the fire; and the fire changes you, permanently and forever.

Body and spirit

I surrendered whole

To harsh instructors – -

And received a soul.

Rudyard Kipling wrote those lines nearly a century ago. It’s unrecorded what Kipling’s PR was for 5K, but I suspect that he had one.

Why do you run? Each of you may articulate it differently, but perhaps we can agree that running touches us spiritually, it forms us, and it strengthens us. It makes us who we are, and at some level, it is who we are. But you can be a runner without being a racer.

So here’s another question for you: Why do you compete? Why do you race 3.1 miles? That’s gotta hurt. Why do you do it?

For most of you, I imagine that you race for the challenge, the danger, the ‘rush’ of putting yourself in a place where you must do your absolute best. Because the race requires it. To give your best is to honor your fellow competitors, your teammates, your coach, your school, your family, your community, and all the good people who have worked so hard to put on the race. To give your best in a race is a matter of honor, and duty, and you know that going in. You know, also, that the course will challenge you, that your competitors will challenge you, and that you will challenge yourself. You know, too, that there will come a critical moment in the race where you must make the decision to lay it on the line, to take your shot, or to fall back and regroup. And you hope you’ll be up to the challenge, but you’re never entirely sure, and it’s that uncertainty that calls to you, because it is there, at that moment, that moment of decision, that you offer yourself up to be measured: by the clock, by your legs and lungs, by your guts, and by your heart. And if you want to win the race, in that moment of decision, you’re going to have to go a little crazy.

You race, then, because races are a big deal. (In fact, speaking from the vantage point of both experience and hindsight, I dare say that at this time in your lives, the race may be the most important thing that you do. A girl on one of my high school teams came up to me on the day of her graduation and said, ” I learned more in cross country, than I learned in high school.” “I’m glad,” I said, “so did I”.

Races are a big deal. Races are the culmination of all the forces that have brought you here:

desire, commitment, focus, sacrifice, suffering, self-discipline, hard work, responsibility. You race because you are invested in effort, and you are invested in success. Moreover, you are invested together.

Look around you. Go ahead. Do it. Look around.

Who are those people you see? Do you think they are your opponents? People who oppose your quest for excellence? Well, they aren’t. They are not your opponents. They are your fellow competitors. In fact, they are your co-conspirators, for to compete is to enter into a conspiracy. The conspiracy is revealed in the word itself: compete, which comes from two Latin roots, com (CUM) and petere (PET-ER-AH), which mean “to strive together”.

Al Oerter, the 4-time Olympic gold medallist in the discus, once said: “I’ve never competed against anyone in my life. I’ve always competed with people. To compete against people is a negative thing. To compete with people is a celebration, a celebration of human capability.”

And so it is. The worthy competitor is essential to the race, not as an enemy, but as a co-conspirator. The race, you see, is a secret form of cooperation. The race is simply each of you seeking your absolute best with the help of each other.

Steve Prefontaine said: “To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the gift.” What gift do you think he was talking about? The gift of your talent, surely. But perhaps also the gift of opportunity, and the gift of youth, perhaps even the gift of life itself.

In any case, you give your best to the race as a matter of honor? You can do no less, because your competitors are giving their best to you. Now, not all races justify all out, total effort. For some races, your have lesser goals – - to score points for your team, to qualify for a more important race later on – - or just to have fun.

I offer that qualifier to my remarks tonight because I know that all of you are coming off a long, hard season. For some of you, tomorrow’s Border Clash is not another test but, rather, a fun, end-of-season reward. For others, it may be a tune-up for the Footlocker Regionals still to come. For all of you, your goals for tomorrow’s race are a matter between you and your coaches. We understand that. It isn’t my intention tonight to try to get you “fired up” for a race where an all out effort may be inconsistent with your goals. The Border Clash is held solely to honor you, the best cross country runners of two states, and in the hope that you will all gain something joyful and positive from the experience of meeting and competing with each other. But the next time you step to the starting line of an important race, the conspiracy of striving together for excellence will be about to unfold! That white line on the ground before you, and that other white line five kilometers away, will define a sacred place, rife with potential, an arena in which excellence and ultimates are the only acceptable, indeed, the only honorable standards – - and an arena into which only a few, special people ever venture. There – - between those white lines, in a race that matters – - you will give your best to each other. And there – - between those white lines, on that sacred plain, you will learn who you are, of what stuff you are made, and what you can endure, which is essential knowledge, for it will inform your whole, entire life.

Billy Joel wrote: “I won’t hold back anything; and I’ll walk away a fool, or a king.”

For my money, if you’ve done your best, fool or king, there’s equal honor in both. Doing your best is much more important than being the best.

A friend came to visit me last weekend, and he looked over my intended remarks for tonight.

“What are your goals for this speech?” He asked me.

I told him: “I want to tell these kids that they have chosen a sport that ennobles them.”

“So many runners are thought of as loners or geeks. I want these kinds to recognize themselves as people who are learning to take responsibility for their lives, people who are learning to control their own destinies.”

“I want them to know that the lessons they learn as cross country runners will stay with them their whole lives, that as a result of being cross country runners they will gain the habits of winners: setting goals, working hard, doing their best, being patient, persistent and focused.”

“I want them to see that making a commitment, laying it on the line, and taking a chance, pays off more often than not.”

“I want them to understand that competition is not an anti-social act, but a social one, and that to give their best is part of the social contract.”

“I want them to know that whatever else they do in life will always be secondary to having been an athlete. That from being an athlete first – - and especially a long distance runner – - they are already fundamental victors.”

“They don’t know it yet – - and they certainly don’t understand it – - but the sport they have chosen will never leave them. It will lead them down avenues of achievement and success that they cannot yet imagine.”

Those are my goals for this speech.

“Then say that,” my friend said.

Good idea, I thought. So I just did.

Thank you for listening to me tonight. I have the greatest admiration and respect for cross-country runners, and it’s been a genuine honor for me to be with you.

May you all have a safe race tomorrow, and may you all reach your goals.

Thank you.

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By now you would have read my wife Ali’s blog (“A race to the top”, 03:22:10, posted in “Racing”) of her race up Mt Kosciuszko, Australia’s highest mountain.

So there I was at the summit, waiting for Ali to finish.  There were throngs of Polish-types all around, their red and white scarves with “Poland” on them flapping in the gale, and lots of excited talk in a very NOT English language.  This was THE place to be if you were Polish today, and in Oz (Australia).

Even the Polish Consul General was there, resplendent in his suit and tie, amidst the wind, the barren waste at the top of Australia, and people shivering in their ski-parkas.  The only suit within a 100 miles.  He had ridden his mountain bike up to proclaim the greatness of this moment to the Polish people, on Polish National TV.

And out of the blue and above that wind this loud commanding voice demands

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT HAT??”

My stomach tightens, a knot forms at the fleeting thought that maybe my space/time/hat continuum had coincided with a passing seagull, and perhaps I was hat plus something I didn’t know about.

A race competitor flashes through the finish.

Somewhat sheepishly I say “what hat?”, knowing full well that I was wearing a hat but hoping that my idiotic question might, in the circumstances, elicit somewhat more information.

“I WANT THAT HAT!”

I look up to see the key Mt Kosciuszko race official directing her demand at me, while at the same time casting furtive glances towards the race finish she was in charge of.

Perhaps unknown to her, she was flanked by two hulking great Polish blokes, enjoying the race opportunity to voice a nationalistic fervor, who gave the impression that she was the spokesperson for an ad hoc posse, intent on my hat.

Now I am a tall fella maybe 6’3’’, but these two giants made me look little, and feel little, and I had this fleeting image of two Polish partisans who would not take “no” for an answer.  Particularly when this was the Polish moment of moments, and the key player was wanting my hat.

Another competitor dashes across the finish line.

Well, what could I do?  I hoped that the wind would blow me away, perhaps out of sight, or maybe behind nearby rocks, so that I could be spared the ignominy of being seen with my knees knocking.  I hunch my shoulders and look around, thinking that I might slink-off unnoticed.

“I MUST HAVE THAT HAT!”

My verbal assailant moves closer, and I remove my hat and extend it to her as a peace offering “ … w-would you like my hat?” I stammer, knowing in such circumstances that baring my totally bald head to the elements was a lesser evil than offending this person, and her attendant posse, at this particular time.

Yet another competitor hashes past to finish.

She softens, and explains that, many years ago, she passed by Kona in Hawaii, en-route to/from the XTerra World Championships in Maui, and had been given an identical hat, which she had never seen the likes of since.  She had loved and used this hat, she said, to the point of it now being old, tired and fluffy, worn thin by time and use; and many years past its use by date.

And still her time-worn hat was in use and loved, almost daily.

She explained further that provenance had brought us together at this place, and at such an important time, delivering a new hat, via my head, to now replace the hat she had cherished for so many years.

Well fortunately I had a spare hat – not identical to the one I had just given away, but it served to keep the sun and wind off my head, so all was not lost.

My spontaneous generosity was rewarded with an equally spontaneous hug, of some length and passion, to her repeated chorus of “I LOVE YOU!” directed at me, her savior, complete stranger, and TIMEX hat-bearer.

Later, whilst retreating off the mount, I hear her melodic words carried down to me on the wind

“I LOVE MY HAT!”  “I LOVE TIMEX!”

“I LOVE MY HAT!  “I LOVE TIMEX!”

Such are the new friends you might meet in visiting the highest place in Australia, during a running race celebrating a Polish national hero, when you wear a TIMEX hat.The Lady and THE hat .

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