We all travel on a predestined route manipulated by our own freewill. Some of our paths merge, overlap, and oddly enough, even intertwine; but as often as we approach a fork in the road, we rarely choose with the foresight of what lies a few miles over the horizon. If we knew then what we know now at those crossroads behind us, maybe we might have picked the other option.
More times than not we don’t follow the signs as we venture. Sure, we read them, but feel that they don’t apply to us, or better yet, “I know a shortcut.” Unless you’re piloting the damn General Lee across the Platte River with no intentions on using a bridge, you know no “shortcut.”
Meanwhile the rest of us are cruising a ’93 Honda Accord, or cars of the like, and are just lucky to be rotating the tires down the freeway. Whether it be North, South, East, or West, we all roam the interstates at mach twelve speeds to reach our “destinations” first. The problem is that we all have different departure and arrival times, not to mention unique itineraries. It’s not a race people. Never the less, we go forth to the highways, passing through tiny towns hidden amongst vast rural farmland. And now, we are forced to rely on iPhones and GPS systems at this point. Really? Really? You can’t get cellular service in Nebraska, and that Garmin you got last Christmas doesn’t know County Road 43. So we drive along, questioning our navigational skills, wishing we paid attention in Boy Scouts “True North 101” or listened to our instincts 70.3 miles ago when we took that left. Now the gravel beating on the floorboard in a defining rhythm might be a sign that we need help. But no, no, no – we insist to push on. Just when we think things couldn’t get any worse… DETOUR.
I’ve been traveling down the road of being a professional triathlete for four years now, and I’ve encountered my fair share of detours of all degrees along the way: monetary setbacks, faulty equipment, injuries and… reoccurring injuries. I still dream of accomplishing the goals that I have set forth. It almost seems ridiculously easy, these goals, getting from point A to point B, unless there are two transitions or countless detours within the course.
This weekend (07.04.10) marks the six year anniversary since I competed in my first multisport event. I was anticipating in traveling back to Lincoln, Nebraska to participate in the TNT Duathlon, but after reoccurring injuries plagued me last week in my first Ironman 70.3, I’m staying home and attempting to collect my composure in hopes to return to my season. With my potential I promise myself to make the best of the road that lies ahead.
God has a plan for all of us. I wish you the best of luck with yours, and I welcome you to return and join me on mine.