Two monks were on a pilgrimage. One day, they came to a deep river. At the edge of the river, a young woman sat weeping, because she was afraid to cross the river without help. She begged the two monks to help her. The younger monk turned his back. The members of their order were forbidden to touch a woman.
But the older monk picked up the woman without a word and carried her across the river. He put her down on the far side and continued his journey. The younger monk came after him, scolding him and berating him for breaking his vows. He went on this way for a long time.
Finally, at the end of the day the older monk turned to the younger one. “I only carried her across the river. You have been carrying her all day.”
It’s so easy to blame problems on other people, and I do that too — but I’ve found with training (and life), only one person is responsible . . . me.
I have wallowed about my ankle, my heel, and asked myself a thousand times why I would want to do another Ironman. I have dug for excuses not to, rather than reasons to push myself higher. To become a better person. It’s taken a bit of soul searching, but I finally figured out why I do this: Because everything truly worthwhile is hard.
We always want more money, a better body, or someone we can’t have, but instead of looking inside to figure out how we can make that happen, we project bad energy on the very things we want. It’s totally fucked up and that’s what I’ve been doing with Ironman.
Why on earth would I want to do Ironman? They don’t care about me. They never retweet me or follow my blog. It’s too expensive. They’re all about the pros, blah blah blah. But this isn’t about fucking Ironman, it’s about me.
There is only one way out, and that way is in.
This world is full of people who blame everything on everyone else. We prey on other people’s problems.
News is a continual stream of catastrophe. Daytime talk shows parade sick people in front of us so we feel better. Radio personalities fuel arguments, even when they agree with the person calling. It’s all for show and it’s all to make the passive viewer/listener feel better about themselves. Comfort food for our soul.
Listen to me. Nobody gives a shit about what you think. They don’t care about your little injuries or broken dreams. If you are so insecure that you need to project blame on outside forces to get attention, it’s time to look in the mirror.
That is what I’m doing. Standing there and taking responsibility for my life. Who I am, what I want, and who I want to be with. Because nothing good ever happens when you stab yourself in the back.