A funny thing happened to me on the way to old age. I became an athlete. And not just any athlete. No sirree. This here athlete is an expert in back-of-the-pack running. In fact, I am the most unlikely runner (or mountaineer) you will ever meet. But that hasn't stopped me from pursuing my goals. I have a dresser drawer bursting with race t-shirts to prove it.
I thought about that while getting in my penultimate (oops -- my next-to-last) workout at the gym before flying to Europe in 4 days.
While performing exercises like lat pull downs, I was listening to an interview with Pittsburgh Steelers head coach Mike Tomlin. Apparently the man is known for his wit in addition to his stellar ability as a football coach.
The interviewer asked him to explain certain of his "Tomlinisms" for the listening audience. Here's one of them, and I will never forget it:
If you have red paint, you paint the barn red.
I love that. If all you have is red paint, then you're stuck with painting the barn that color. This means, for me at least, that in life you have to work with what you have. No matter what others may do, it's your life to live, and you have to live up to your potential. I will never climb Everest or Denali, but I think I've got another 3,000 meter peak in me called the Riffelhorn. As an author I will never win a Pulitzer Prize, but I can say without the shadow of a doubt that I have written all the books God led me to write, and I am right pleased with every one of them. No one uses lighter weights in the gym than I do, but I don't care because I'm not going to let anyone else define me.
Being an adult-onset athlete has taught me, and continues to teach me, that there is great joy in accepting your limitations and making the most of them. True, I've only got red paint, but I've got a pretty big brush. I am not finished with life. I am not done pushing myself so that I will have nothing left on the table when I get to glory.
Being an athlete, even an old and slow one, allows me to believe that if I am willing to work hard enough, I can achieve the impossible. I prize my finisher's medals, not for what they are, but for what they mean to me -- a simple man who is constantly striving for his ideal self.