Birthday Suit

Ok, so I'm not really in my birthday suit here. I do have shorts on. It's Motivational Fuel, the blog, that's naked. It looks funny, all blank.

But... I guess that's ok. It is brand new to the world after all.

Going back to this picture though, I can't help but long for warmer days. I also can't help but think of how naked you really do feel when you race a triathlon.

I signed up for my first triathlon of the year today (well, I'm signed up for many, but this will be the first one I compete in). It's the YMCA Indoor Triathlon Championships, taking place this Sunday, April 22nd at the YMCA in Puyallup by my house.

It's a short Tri, only 550 yard swim, 15 mile bike and a 3 mile run, but none the less, it's a little nerve racking. It's not the distance that causes any swelling of fear really, it's more the realization of a swiftly approaching confontation with other people through competition that causes the swell. I know after my first 2 or 3 triathlons of the year the fear will subside somewhat, but the first couple are always tough.

But that's enough about Tri for now (believe me there will me much more). For now, I want to leave you with an exerpt from my book. It's a story about giving, receiving, and finding strength and joy in this life. Let me know what you think!

The Secret Gift

Snoqualmie Pass

Last winter I made a trip over to eastern Washington for a cycling training camp with the race team I had recently joined. Weather reports had reported numerous times how difficult the conditions were going to be going over ‘the pass,’ but I had already committed to the team that I would show up and I didn’t want to go back on my word. What should have been a three or four hour drive there turned into a seven hour, white-knuckled trek. At one point, nearing the top of Snoqualmie Pass the roads turned into a pure sheet of ice, with more snow falling all around and cars beginning to slide off the road left and right. My car chose to go to the right, and I decided it was time to learn how to put my chains on. I had purchased my first set of chains only months before in anticipation of a difficult winter, but had not needed them until now.

Standing in the cold, snow falling all around me, I stared in bewilderment at the chains I was so happy I had purchased. In a temporary lapse of testosterone I retrieved the instructions from the case and tried to decipher what exactly it was that I was supposed to do with my new chains. After several very cold and wet minutes I figured it out, more or less, and went to work getting the chains fastened to the tires. My hands were numb when I finished, but the chains were on and I was on the road again, feeling pretty resourceful. I can almost hear other men laughing at my pride in putting chains on as I write this. In my own defense I am fairly handy with cars, I had simply never witnessed chains being put on before, and I am always very proud of myself when I do something new. In any case, I made it safely to Kennewick, Washington and enjoyed two very difficult days of cycling.

At the end of the camp on Sunday, I filled up the gas tank, purchased some snacks, and headed back to the west side of the state. I knew from my wife’s weather reports that Snoqualmie Pass was going to be extremely ugly again, maybe even worse than the conditions on my first trip over. This time I resolved to put my chains on at the first site of snow on the road, to avoid as much of the white-knuckled terror as possible.

I didn’t think it was possible, but the roads were far worse than on my previous trip. I put my chains on early and buckled down for a long, long drive over the pass. This time the drive took nine hours, three times as long as it should. The entire way up the mountain traffic crawled, with four-wheel drive cars and trucks sliding off the road and getting stuck and two-wheel drive vehicles stopped to put chains on at every turn.

It was at this point that I noticed something that all at once made my heart sink and swell. On the side of the road, a small hatch-back ford was stopped and two ladies, one quite young and the other older, were bent down in a complete blizzard, apparently attempting to put chains on their car. The younger woman was fighting with one set of chains, tugging back and forth, her hair soaking wet and matted down, the older woman, also looking quite defeated by the cold and wet, was looking up and around in an obvious plea for some kind of assistance.

I could hardly believe that no one was stopping. As I came nearer and nearer to the scene, an overwhelming sense of both compassion and anger filled me. The older woman was obviously looking at every car with a pleading look that someone would stop and offer help. At the time, I could not understand why no cars were stopped to help these two people so obviously in need of assistance. I put my right blinker on and ended up having to stop in the far left lane for anyone to notice that I wanted to get over. At that point, the car was so enveloped in snow, that the blinkers were not even visible to signal my intentions. Eventually, I made it over to the shoulder and put my hazards on in vain.

When I approached the two women I noticed that the younger woman, still struggling with the same tire, was in fairly rough condition. She was soaking wet, head to toe, and her hands were bright red. She had obviously been at work on this for a while. I asked what the status was, and they explained to me rather frantically that the gentleman who sold them the chains had told them to put them on the back tires, and that their friends had put them on the back tires but the car still slid all over the road, and that they did not watch the chains get put on so they did not understand how it worked, and were scared they would be stuck on the mountain overnight. Just like that, all very frantic.

As it turned out, the chains were a mystery to me as well. They were nothing like the chains that I had purchased; these ones had a thick rubber band piece which the metal part was apparently supposed to hook on to. They definitely did not belong on the back of the car; it was obviously a front-wheel drive vehicle. Their friends had told them in passing that the way to install the chains was over the top of the tires, without moving the car, but that didn’t make any sense to me. So once again, in a moment of weakness, I asked to see the directions. By this time, the directions were just about falling apart after being exposed to the snow for so long and being passed back and forth. After some thorough examination, I decided that putting the chains in front of the tires and moving the car forward was the correct way to install the chains, despite what their friends had told them. We laid the chains out, the mother put the car in neutral and the daughter and I pushed it forward onto the chains. Once we had done this, it was only a matter of time before we figured it out. Success! We were all crying and hugging… No, I’m just kidding, but we were thrilled, and I wished them luck and said good bye as they thanked me repeatedly.

I was soaking wet and cold, but I felt incredible. It was at this point that I really established my theory. I had loosely held this theory in practice for some time, but after my experience on Snoqualmie Pass I had formed something concrete in my mind that provided me with an incredible secret weapon for living a fuller life: The Secret Gift.