The Warrior Monk

So, I was eating a salad at lunch...

I realize when I embark on adventures I generally choose between 2 paths--the gregarious pack animal or the spartan warrior monk.  Naturally, the path chosen depends on the nature of the adventure.

If the adventure is a naturally group oriented adventure, then the natural path is the gregarious pack animal route.  "Hey, let's go to Wyoming!  YAY!!  ADVENTURE!!!"  We may adopt alternative personas and back stories and personal side quests and just have a shit ton of fun doing it.  "Hey, look!  A mountain!  Let's climb it!"  This is how we take our family trips. This is how we do things.

If the adventure is something more solitary, like a particular project or task or whatever, then I gravitate to the warrior monk route.  I go in to a small, dark, solitary place and harden myself against distractions and focus, focus, focus...  I also call it "riding the range" or "bringing in the herd".  I'll be gone for awhile, but be patient, I'll be back and the trip will be worth it.  This is how I ran and rode my bike. This is how I got my MBA. This is how I built my cabin. This is...  You get it.  I retreat to the cabin and do the thing.

The balancing act comes when it's a particular project that happens in a group setting.  A GROUP project is more fun when the entire group is engaged, but my own personal task within that project is a "shut up and let me bear my burden" type of thing.

Now, when you're building a business a balance must be struck. There are people you need to bring in, engage, direct, and collaborate with. Everything can't be a one-man show. 
So, too, with joining a training "team".  Together we build each other up, hold each other accountable, push and strive toward the common goal. Nobody can lift the weight for me, or run the miles for me, or lose the inches for me, but together, presumably, we can accomplish more than alone.
I'm skeptical. I've never done it that way before. Miles are solitary things that are consumed by one man. Only one pair of feet can fit in those shoes.
Bikes are built with only one seat. Nobody can ride those hours and miles with you.
I don't know how "team fitness" works.

Learning that is today's adventure.  Figuring out how that works is today's adventure.
The salad was average.

The first adventure

So…

I was eating a salad at Café express for lunch on my 43^rd birthday.  I finished lunch, wrapped up the loose ends at work for the afternoon, sent an email out to a potential distributor, and headed home. Traffic was light because it was summer.  Listening to the radio, blah blah the usual music and commercials.

When I got home I was greeted by my lovely wife, 2 boys, and the dog (the cat was nowhere to be seen, as usual).  This is easily my favorite part of every single day.  We hug, they tell me about their day, I examine what they’re currently building in Minecraft (one is building a second beacon, the other clearing land for a MASSIVE desert house).  They had gone out for the day and done stuff, so they didn’t just burn a day indoors.  That would have been less than epic.

My iPad dings with an incoming email.

I make my way toward the kitchen where I deposit my spoils for the day—a new bottle of whiskey.  The boys and my lovely wife bring me my hand made birthday cards.  They’re epic.  There’s nothing quite like getting a hand made card from a kid.  Yes, they wake you up in the morning.  Yes, they fight. No they’re never quiet (and if they are, something’s up). Yes, they ALWAYS cost money that you don’t have.  But there are times that it’s all worth it.  Money can’t buy the important things. It never could.  And you can’t buy the look in their proud little faces as they hand you a hand made card.

I had told my wife about 2 weeks ago in an off handed, half joking (I thought) way that I want a bird for my birthday.  A couple of parakeets would be fine, although I secretly (not so secretly now) would love to have an owl, or a crow, or a raven.  Those are some cool birds.  And besides, I can name the parakeets Hugin and Munin, the names of Odin’s ravens.  Or, more likely, something more familiar like Luke and Leia or Han and Chewey or Abbot and Costello or Fred and Gene or something like that (look that last one up, you dumb uncultured kids).

Anyway, she hands me her card with 2 hand colored parakeets on it and a message inside that we need to STUDY and learn about how to take care of these birds that will apparently live for 20 freaking years.  I’m skeptical how a little 1.5 ounce bird will live for 20 goddamn years, but fine, I can study. I’m a big boy.

Also did I mention my brother has been texting 1 letter at a time of “happy birthday” to me since 9:00am?  Well, he has.  It’s amusing, almost even funny.  He’s a dick.  Anyway…

So now I go change, screw around on social media for a few minutes, and it’s off to dinner with my folks, my sister-in-law, my nephews, any my lovely family.  Those nephews are crazy fun.  They’re full of life and joy and energy. I wish I could spend an entire day with those little wrecking balls and I’ll get that opportunity in a few days.  The thing is, though, when I spend time with a group of kids there is ALWAYS a fairly decent chance that they’ll all return. I’m responsible like that.  But there is also always a better than zero chance that one of them will get damaged in some way because I’m fun like that.  And these two boys, unlike my boys, are card carrying members of the emergency room frequent shopper programs.  And both cards have SEVERAL holes punched.  This outing is going to be fun.

So, then there’s dinner with a complimentary dessert.  They bring out the tiramisu but forget the compliment.  I make the waiter give us compliments, much to the joy and amusement of everyone at the table (except my wife who’s seen this act before but still gets embarrassed when I pull it) and I close it out with a stupid joke I make up on the spot:

A glass of milk goes in to a bar.  The bartender says “we don’t serve your kind here!”  The milk says “that’s ok, I was just going to have a beer.”

Comedy gold, Jerry!  GOLD I TELL YA! (Look that up too, you dumb uncultured kids.)

Anyway, we have the stupid joke, we have the complimentary dessert, I come up with a few more “thing walks into a thing, they don’t serve that there, it’s eating something else” jokes.  They’re all dumb.  No, seriously, they’re ALL dumb.  For example:

            A chicken walks into a steak house…

            A cow walks into a vegan kitchen…

            A horse walks into a cannibal’s village…

They go on and on.  And, of course, I’m giggling about every one of them because I’m a giant nerd and despite them being dumb, they’re funny.  Don’t lie, you laughed.

Dinner wraps up and it’s time to roll out.  We head home and it is now way way way past bedtime for the boys, even in summer.  So it’s immediately up to change into pajamas and bed.  My other favorite part of the day follows when we have goodnight hugs and tickles and more hugs and I tell my boys how much I love them, how special they are to me, and what high hopes I have for all they are going to do in life and how they’re going to change the world in ways we haven’t even imagined yet.  I remind them to dream, to remember their dreams, and then follow their dreams.  This is easily my favorite part of every single day and every single day that I’m home I do this, even if they’re already asleep when I get home.  Every night.  “I love you, you are so very special to me and I am so proud of what you have become and what you are becoming.  The greatest thing you will ever do hasn’t happened yet, so don’t forget to get a good night’s sleep, dream big dreams, and follow them.”

Every.

Single.

Night.

Speaking of dreams, 2 nights ago I started my week by dreaming the oddest little dream.  Trust me, this is a good aside.

It was in that moment between sleep and wake when it was the last dream of the night so it was oddly vivid and real.  We were on one of our many land cruise adventures going through some kind of nature park.  Little critters were all over the place, but mostly little creatures that are less than knee high.  Rabbits, and porcupines, and foxes, and little goats, and these little things that look like furry penguins, stuff like that all over the place. The area looks like South Dakota or Nebraska, dry and arid and gorgeous. We stop the car and everyone piles out with cameras and next thing I know our little one is trying to pet a bear cub. A FREAKING BEAR CUB! The cub knocks him over, he gets up and pushes it back because, obviously.  Then the momma bear shows up and knocks him down and starts stalking towards him in a threatening way.  I see this and go into full hulk mode, break into a full sprint, drop my shoulder and tackle this beast blasting it over and sending it tumbling.  It gets up on its hind legs, fully extended and aggressive and ROARS its big bear roar.  I rip open my shirt (of course, a white linen shirt, camera bag satchel at my hip, iconic and stylish soft leather hat perched atop my head, and bear in mind this isn’t idealized “adventure me”, I actually dress this way in real life with the exception of the camera bag) and RAAAAWWWWWRRRRRRR back at this bad bitch and punch it square in the face.  The bear reels back, drops down to all fours and runs away as I’m roaring and flexing at the beast.  I take the cub and present it to my wife like a conquering hero stealing the children from the conquered village. I wake up with adrenaline coursing through my veins and can only assume we raised that cub as one of our own. Epic way to start the week.  Totally epic.

Where was I…  Oh yea. Kids are tucked in to bed so I pop open the email that came in before dinner.

That distributor I had emailed at lunch contacted me back.  We have a call scheduled for the next day. This is potentially a big deal, but this part of the story isn't finished, yet, so it will have to wait for another day.

I pour a glass of that whiskey and savor the taste of a truly epic day.

So, kids, follow your dreams.  Because you just might get a chance to do something epic. Like make a stranger laugh.  Or raise a couple of fantastic children. Or hang out with your epic nephews.  Or love someone and be loved by someone.  Or punch a metaphorical bear (punching real bears is not recommended). Or drink a particularly delicious glass of whiskey.

Or live a great story after eating a salad.