Benson, our 6 year old Golden Retriever was on a leash, one of those retractable ones that allows the dog to trot away from you and back up to about 20 feet, and he was trying to pull me to 30 feet! It was a tussle between mans best friend and his master as we moved down the beach. It was my exercise for the day, which is something that doesn’t come as frequently or naturally as it used to before my leukemia diagnosis. Some days I have the juice to exert myself, and then there are other days... But this day I had some, amen.
I was jogging, at least in my own mind. I was moving my feet more quickly than if I were just walking, so that means I was jogging, I think. The truth is I actually was moving slower than a good walk, this I know because a few months ago on the Duke walking trail, my wife came along side me and was walking and talking on her cell phone while I "jogged" and she was moving faster than me. It kind of hurt my feelings, but, it is what it is. I realized the speed of my journey is no longer the most relevant thing to me.
Anyway, I had walked or "jogged" for over 20 minutes away from our house, and it was time to turn around and head back. I looked ahead at the shore line and picked out a house at which I would turn around. "The green one just past those last steps" I thought to myself, "and not the beginning, but the end of the lot" I heard myself say to myself.
I paused, and asked, "who was that giving you instructions?" “that was me." I replied.
Who?!
The ME of my entire life. I have always set goals; big ones and small ones, lifetime ones, yearly ones and daily ones too. I couldn’t remember a workout , jog, or sprint ever in my entire athletic career, or in my life, that I didn’t pick out the end line and then commit myself to finishing through that line - NO MATTER WHAT. Back in the day, I may have even thrown up after I crossed the line, or fallen over in exhaustion, but I never pulled up short. I used to pride myself on such a mental discipline, but I questioned myself that morning on the beach. Who cares where you stop?
The answer is I DO. I used to be disciplined in order to achieve my athletic goals of making a team or being a better quarterback or winning a championship. But what is the purpose now, at 53, old and heavy and disabled with bone marrow cancer?
The answer came quickly. IT IS WHO I AM. And it's who I have always been, and it is who I want to be. Because when I set out to do something, I finish it, I complete it. No shortcuts. I can remember in high school, our basketball team was very good and had a long tradition of winning championships. My sophomore year the team was running sprints and I was trying to win the race, which I did, but the head coach Bob Walsh called me out because I had not touched the line, I had stopped short. He made me do the sprint over. That was the last time that ever happened in my life.
That morning on the beach, I ran to the green house, to the end of the lot, and then halfway past the next house. There was no doubt about whether I had cut the run short. There never has been. I hope there never is.
Amen and AMEN