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Week 9: Breaking Bones on Our Birthday, Toxic Egos, and Going All In

Welcome back amigos!

This morning, I dropped off my mother and brother at the airport after a long stay for my oldest son’s birthday weekend. I drove home in silence, lost in thought.

I thought about trips I took with my parents as a kid. I remembered the fun times, the adventures, and exploring the world around us. I thought about the last big trip I did with my father, a fishing trip to Alaska with my brother. I remembered how surprised I was when he got choked up saying goodbye to me at the airport when it was over, like he knew that was a “last hurrah” kind of moment.

When we’re young, we think we have forever.

Endless trips. Countless hours of sunshine and fun. Numerous chances to do it all over again or change the game for the better.

And it’s sobering when we consider the harsh truth.

Momento mori is a heck of a thing. It’s both the source of our greatest strength and our greatest weakness as humans; the knowledge that we will someday pass.

Spending the time with Grandma and Uncle Mike was wonderful. Not just for me, but for the kids, the wife, and especially the dog.

Every second counts.

So make every second count.

Philosophical Dad Stuff

It was a weekend of birthday extravaganza. My oldest son turned 6 and it was turnt.

There were Super Mario characters everywhere. There was a bounce house. There were games. There was pizza. There was a Goomba piñata.

Then he broke his foot 30 minutes into the party. While it only temporarily dampened his spirits and sidelined him from the bounce house, it was still a heck of a way to start it off.

The thing about it was, the only people who really cared in the end were probably my wife and I. It had taken the wind from our sails, but everyone else had a great time.

It made me question the things we do as parents. We expend energy and resources in order to produce those core memories of joy and contentedness. At the end of the day however, my favorite part was cooking hot dogs in the garden at sunset with the family.

I often say one of the best things about being a parent is redoing childhood on your own terms.

But are we sometimes overdoing childhood on our own terms?

Leadership

Ego is a success inhibitor.

And never more so than when it comes to leading people.

I had something come up where I took an easy solution in the moment, which is usually fine. But as time went on, I never went back and made the right decision.

One of my people called me out on it.

And I responded by being a jerk. Basically pulled rank.

Regardless of my negative tendency to react emotionally in the moment, I quickly realize when I’ve been at fault. So I recalibrated my response and addressed the problem directly. I also called it out specifically to the team, and whether that helps anything or not, I at least wanted to put my cards out there.

In this process, I also learned another valuable lesson. And it’s a predictable one. Again.

It’s often said that truly wise people learn from the mistakes of others.

I still have much to aspire to.

Couch to Ultramarathon

The devil whispered in my ear:

              “You’re not strong enough to withstand the storm.”

              I whispered back: “I am the storm.”

Tattoo on the leg of Spanish ultrarunner Azara Garcia

I think I’m starting to get it.

It’s like the first crack of dawn when we still can’t see things clearly. But I’m starting to get it.

I’m starting to understand what this is going to take.

It’s not selling out. Oh no. Far from it. And it’s not just buying in.

It’s going ALL IN.

One thing I’ve learned about myself in recent years is that I’ve only got two modes in life.

All in, or nothing at all.

So if becoming the storm, going all in, and burning the ships is what this journey of discovery and transformation is going to take, then so be it.

Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.

In closing, I found this poignant today.

It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure. The very cave you are afraid to enter turns out to be the source of what you are looking for. - Joseph Campbell

Live triumphantly. See you next week.