In search of giants

I had heard there were giants in the land. (Giants… ‘of very great size or force; gigantic’… larger than life.) These giants rise to the sky, striking fear into all who encounter them. Faint of heart beware. Do not stumble into their domain. Only the strongest and noblest of men dare to enter the land of the giants for they are formidable beings.

Today, I went in search of giants.

I rode nearly 5 miles before I felt the strength of riding return to my legs. Then another 5 miles before I made the turn into uncharted territory – the land of the giants. Until now, these giants were the stuff of legend. I had been on Y highway with it’s hills of death. I had been on 2 highway with the hill that is so steep it comes equipped with sherpas. The giants on F highway (toward 58) had not been seen. I honestly doubted their existence.

Then, rising in the distance as if to say, “Who dares enter my domain!?” was one of the longest steepest hills I have seen so far in my biking career. As I got closer, the road rose under my wheels. Without warning, the road shot up and I had entered into battle with a behemoth. I quickly downshifted to a lower gear than my normal climbing gear. I rose from my seat and stamped on the peddles hard. My legs burned with the effort. My hands gripped the handle bars, my triceps pulsing with every pull. My lungs struggled to find enough air. Then… as if being lifted to the heavens… I had conquered the giant! Victory.

As every biker knows, with every victorious hill climb comes the reward. The downhill. As I cruised down the hill, relaxing in my victory I saw in the distance… the giant had a brother.

Another behemoth as big as the first. Another battle. Another mental strategy. Another bout with physical agony. Another victory. Sweetness! The real satisfaction came as I reached the stop sign at 58 highway. I had done it! I had entered into battle with giants, and had won! I marveled at the journey I had taken on the bike this year. The strength I feel in my body. The mental victories I experience every time I improve. Yes! What a day.

Then I realized I was on an out-and-back. I had to return the way I came. I had to do it all over again. With steely resolve, I rode again to meet my foe because giants must be conquered.

I used to think I could do anything.

Sometimes I struggle with where life has brought me. It’s the classic “What if?” question. What if a different decision had been made? What if I had found better examples of leadership? What if I had grown up sooner? What if I had more intentionality in my decision-making throughout my 20′s and early 30′s? What if I hadn’t failed at that job or relationship? What if…?

When I was younger than my current 48 years, I thought I could do anything. I could be a Navy Seal, an architect, a veterinarian. I could be strong, smart, influential. Nothing was holding me back. The sky was the limit. If I wanted to do something different with my life all I had to do was, well, do it. In some respects that kind of thinking is cathartic. Helpful. It was full of hope, believing my situation could change because I wanted to make it change. Over the years I have found that I don’t actually control every aspect of my life. My “what if” questions are irrelevant.

I no longer want to be an architect. I realize I don’t have the stuff it takes to be a Navy Seal. I don’t want to sacrifice the time away from my family to go back to school to be a veterinarian.

Age, family, failures, household budgets, children. They have all contributed to an understanding that who I am is who God created me to be. He wired me in this unique fashion. He intends for my life to be about Him… to honor Him. My desire to make a difference, to be part of something incredible, is really about seeing God change lives through me.

I wonder what that is going to look like in the next few months.

 

Instead I got opera.

I believe I have settled into some of the traits of age. My knee hurts more when the weather changes, I sometimes groan when I get up from the couch, I forget things. One of the things I really enjoy is the nightly routine of watching something on TV while I lay in bed. Fifteen or twenty minutes and I am out.

The other day I started watching the festive Christmas classic, Santa Claus 3. Last night I was all set to finish that movie and sleep in the reverie of the celebration of Christmas. Roxann had other ideas.

She came upstairs and said (in her ‘if you love me you will do this voice), “let’s watch the phantom of the opera.” Everything within me cried out, “NO!!!!!! I want to watch the festive Christmas classic I have chosen for myself. I want to bask in the brief joy it will bring followed by the peaceful bliss of long-awaited sleep.”

I felt the trap enfold around me. I instantly saw the dilemma: if I don’t watch the Phantom of the Opera it may be construed as a blatant refusal to accept something my wife finds ‘shareable’ thus negating any positive strides I may have made toward strengthening our relationship (whether intentional or unintentional); if I do watch said movie I must remain lucid and responsive until she deems it appropriate to finally sleep, thus destroying any chance at a brief encounter with Christmas followed by a longer encounter with sleep.

The final result… I spent an evening in anticipation awaiting the moment when I could finally relax myself to sleep with Christmas joy. Instead… I got opera.