My Mom Figured Out Why I'm Doing Ironman

Gotta love my mom.  She has no idea why her oldest son would put himself through something like Ironman training, but she is absolutely ecstatic about my quest.  We spoke today while I was picking out flowers to put around my pool, and, in between excellent suggestions, she couldn’t stop talking about where she was going to watch the race at Wisconsin.

“Now, I looked at the route, but I’m still not sure where we’re going to stand and cheer you on.”

“Don’t worry mom, we’ll make sure you find all the best spots for you to wait hours to see me for 3 seconds.”

I’m sure the mom in her is nervous as hell, but she really thinks this is the coolest thing.

“I can’t really understand it, but it’s probably addictive.  I mean, I’m sure people don’t understand why I enjoy pulling weeds in the garden.”

How awesome is that analogy?  It may actually be the perfect metaphor for what I’m doing.

It’s really not about the race as much as it is preparing for the race.  When you don’t pay attention to your garden, the weeds run wild — and that’s exactly what was happening to my life.

My weeds were bad food, lots of beer, couch dwelling, and putting off things I wanted to do with my life.  Committing to Ironman has given me the focus I needed to turn my life in a new direction.  And let me tell you, over the last 5 months I have been pulling weeds like a madman.

In the course of the last week, I woke up (and got out of bed) at 6 am four times, all without an alarm.  I’ve planted flowers, cleaned and filled the pool, mowed my lawn countless times, went into work early, wrote in the mornings, and did silly amounts of training.  My personal relationships are more genuine and trustworthy.  I’m much better at follow through and generally more happy to be alive.

For so many years I’d look into the backyard of my parent’s home and see my mother on her hands and knees digging deep into bushes and flower beds.  She was fearless and stuck her arms into the thickest of brush to remove any form of foliage that did not fit her grand scheme.  After a couple hours she’d come in the house for a beer or ice tea, her clothes dripping with sweat and mud stuck to the side of her neck.  But all you really saw was the smile on her face.  That fully engaged, happy to be alive look.  I could never understand it, but now, I am a hundred percent certain why my mom wakes up on a sunny day with an extra little bounce in her step and goes into the yard to pull more weeds.