Terrible Analogies

Somehow, through the course of normal conversation at work, it slipped out that I was training to run up Mt. Whitney in September.  Now, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be given the opportunity to do this because the results of the yearly lottery haven’t been announced yet, but I’m going to assume that I’ve secured a spot on the mountain this year.  Anyway, the admission that I was planning on running the tallest mountain in the continental United States drew a reaction of disbelief and mocking distain.  I was accosted with questions such as “Why would you do that?”, “You’re how old?”, and “When was the last time you trained at altitude?”.

It really gets me when somebody can’t quite figure out what drives a person to do something out of the ordinary, when they can’t be bothered to understand their motivation for doing such a thing, and instead of trying to connect on the most superficial of levels they turn their back and make snide comments.  It’s during moments like this, when people who you get along with in a professional sense suddenly turn on you like an abused animal, that I sometimes feel like an alien.

But hey, that’s okay.  The way I see it is that when people are shown their limitations they tend to disavow and cast aside such ideas as absurd and unthinkable.  It’s a defensive mechanism.

To let you in on a little secret, I’ve always been a fit individual.  I’m a life-long runner and a weight lifter.  I like to physically push myself, see how my body reacts, and to discover how much pain I can endure.  When I was a kid instead of toys I got running shoes and paid admittance to local 10K’s.  Instead of partying in high school I went out for track.  When I got my ass handed to me in a fight a few years ago I started lifting weights, knowing that next time I’ll be prepared to defend myself, and I wouldn’t hold back.  The last time a jerk called me out, he did so at a stop light.  Ya see, this particular idiot cut my wife off, then flipped us the bird and motioned with his hand, daring me to come get him.  When I got out of my car to oblige (under the objections of the wife) and crossed two lanes of traffic to find out what his problem was I could literally see his face turn white and the panic of prey set in his eyes.  Like a switch flipped on, I could see the instant this guy knew he was in over his head.  I have to admit, that’s a feeling no drug could recreate, knowing that I absolutely owned this guy.  That I had him trembling, praying to God that I wouldn’t knock his teeth out.  But, being the guy that I am, I simply had a few choice words for Mr. Tough Guy, embarrassing him in front of what I’m guessing was his kid.  I’m not a naturally violent person, but the fear in his eyes….man, that was an amazing rush.

Anyway, when people question in a derisive tone why I lift or run, I don’t take it personally, but I do purposely internalize their words and use them as fuel when I’m working out.  The way I see it, somebody has to tame the mountain and desert trails.  Might as well be me.