The unexpected journey
“There is a fear associated with change. Everything negative in your life has been brought by change. But if you flip that, everything good about your life has been brought about by change.”
My trip to Alaska in 2023 was the greatest moment of my life. My parents overcame whatever limitations they had to take the 16-hour journey and meet me in Anchorage for the cruise. In my fitness life, it was a coming out party. I was about 30 pounds heavier than now, but it was the time that I knew my body could take on more – and I was going to show my parents that in Alaska. I found the most adventurous excursion on the itinerary for each day and signed up for it. A 26-mile bike ride; a hike; a helicopter ride onto a glacier; and rock climbing! Never had I ever done any of those before except for a hike. I had not even ridden an outdoor bike in over 20 years. All but the rock climbing went extremely well. The climbing went well too in that I climbed two easy routes — terrified, but without harm. But I refused to try rappelling at the end of the day. With respect to rock climbing, I felt like I left something in the tank, so I gave it another shot the following spring. You probably know how that turned out. Still, showing my parents – and the world – all that I could do with my new body – and proving to myself that I could do it, and more – is why it was the greatest moment of my life.
But life is not as perfect as that story above. There is another layer to it. The one where my parents’ limitations showed. Don’t get me wrong – they were rock stars. They pushed to overcome steep ramps to exit the ship and climb into the helicopter to see the beauty of Alaska. They put off for a little longer whatever physical limitations were looming. This part of the story made me realize that Alaska could be our last big trip together. The reason I wanted to show off to my parents that trip was to let them know that we can all turn things around. But I was also not naïve enough to think it would have been easy or that life would not interfere. I even began to wonder if, one day, I might need to move to be closer to them.
In many ways, the next three years have been the best of my life. The progress I made up to Alaska continued in leaps and bounds. I was not a runner back then. Now I am training for the New York Marathon – confident that it will be a success this time. Alaska inspired me to make nature a bigger part of my life, and I’ve since traveled to Antarctica, Moab (twice), and will be going to Yosemite next month. I’ve jumped out of a plane and off a cliff – several times. Rock climbing has become my sanctuary. But again, life is never as perfect as its highlights.
Three years have also passed in the lives of my parents. Several age-related issues have made those years more difficult. While it’s been hard for them to admit, even they will tell you they’ve declined since Alaska. They stay as active as they can, but father time limits their abilities. I sleep restlessly at times in anticipation of when I might get another call that something happened. Recent events have made clear that it’s gotten harder to take those calls from 1,200 miles away. Now, I need to be closer to my parents.
As I mentioned, Alaska taught me to climb mountains – both literally and figuratively. Ready to climb the next one, I am making the move and will be leaving New York.
The unexpected journey . . .
I call this move “the unexpected journey” because as much as I’ve contemplated the possibility that I would someday need to be close to my parents, I had not accepted it until an incident two weeks ago (all is fine now). I didn’t see it coming, or at least, didn’t want to. After all, this is the greatest city in the world. A few years ago, I asked my mom – who always said I should move closer – “Do you need me to?” The answer was, “no.” I never really asked again since then – even as I sensed the answer was changing. I wanted to hold onto this life for as long as I could. But part of what’s made this life all that it has been, is my willingness to embrace whatever the universe gives me. Holding on to this life means embracing the unexpected journey. Thankfully, the lessons I’ve learned over these last three years have taught me as much.
How skydiving (and the rope swing) prepared me for this . . .
When a friend recently asked how I feel about this change in my life, I compared it to jumping out of a plane – full of adrenaline, curiosity, and fear, I just must make the jump. No sooner did I explain this, than did this appear on my Instagram . . .
The post speaks to it all, as the lessons I learned from jumping out of a plane are helping me through this.
A topic I often write about is fear. From, “Do one thing every day that scares you” to The Why of Fear, the common thread in these posts is not about becoming fearless but rather, it is about overcoming the fear inside. And, no doubt, I am scared to make this jump. But skydiving has taught me that it’s ok to do what I am afraid to. Don’t wait for the fear to go away – it usually won’t. Do it with the fear and learn that it can all be ok. More than ok, it can be better. As the post says . . .
You are never ready . . .
The people who change their lives are not fearless . . .
They just decide . . .
Commit . . .
Jump . . .
Confidence comes after the jump
Whether or not a fear goes away entirely, my experience skydiving – and jumping off a cliff in Moab – has taught me that it can take up a smaller space in my psyche. It gets replaced by confidence – and freedom. The ability to overcome fear is what lets me take on bigger changes in life like this one.
How running (and marathon training) prepared me for this . . .
Just this past weekend, I went out to run 14 miles – my longest run since recovering from my injury this past winter. As I started the run, I thought about the long road ahead in marathon training and the day’s distance which felt immense. Immediately, I told myself not to focus on the destination. Just think about the step ahead of me, making sure that each one is at a comfortable pace. The 14 miles only factored in to help me know what pace to set – not to think about how far way it was or how long it would take to get there. As I focused on one step at a time, I began to lose myself in the journey. The focus on feeling comfort made me at ease as I had 13 miles left, 12 miles left, and eventually just one mile remaining. In the end, I reached the destination without ever thinking of it. I reached it by embracing the journey.
Much like running, now is not the time to think about the destination here. If life goes as one would expect, this will end with me losing my parents someday. That could be 30 years from now, or it could be soon. We never know. But that’s the way things are supposed to happen if all goes as it should. Aside from that ending, the destination here is truly unknown right now, and all I can or should do is focus on the next step – making it as comfortable as possible so that I reach whatever destination is ahead. I also can’t help but think that focusing on the step ahead is exactly how the New York Knicks overcame double-digit deficits in their four NBA Finals wins to become World Champions. Go Knicks!
How rock climbing prepared me for this . . .
The lesson I learned from rock climbing in Alaska is no doubt one of the most important ones of my fitness journey. As I mentioned above, climbing is my sanctuary. But as I also mentioned, it was hardly that way after the first time I climbed in Alaska. That day, I let fear get the best of me. I refused to try the rappel. I was in it for the photo op so that I could say I did it and never thought about anything more. But the feeling that stuck with me afterwards was unsettling. I wondered if that was really all I could handle or if I left something on the table. How I dealt with that is what changed my life.
Over the course of the year that followed the Alaska trip, I continued to get fitter and stronger. My journey was one unexpected success after another. I started running; I traveled; and I felt as good as ever. But I also did not rest on those laurels. The effort I put into climbing – or lack thereof – still nagged at me. Not because I knew I came up short, but because I didn’t know one way or the other. I needed to know what I had in me whether that was more or whether it wasn’t. It turns out, that I did have more, and when I gave it my all the next time, it changed me forever.
The story of how I became a climber because of Alaska is about how different life can be when you give your all to something versus when you only do enough to show up. It is now the foundation for how I approach this next journey – by giving it my all, not just by showing up.
This is my journey . . .
To call this a “new” journey would be wrong. It is neither a new journey, nor is it a detour. It is my path along this much bigger journey. The one that encompasses the last three years, the last 12 years, and much more. It is the same journey that has given me all the highlights above as well as the life that happens alongside of them. The life that will happen around the journey is unknown. It always is. But the pursuit within this life of mine will not change. I will still run the marathon. I will continue to train for El Capitan. And I will jump out of any plane or off any cliff whenever it is time to do so. What I’ve learned throughout this larger journey is that I can adapt my fitness life anywhere. I did it pre-pandemic when I travelled a lot; I did it during the pandemic; I did it at trial; and I do it every day. This life keeps me at my happiest. The opportunity to now grow that even further by adapting to a new place only advances this life. Especially as I now get to do it while being closer to my parents.
It’s important to note one last thing. I cannot complete this blog without it because it speaks entirely to why I am doing this right now. It is all because I can. My friends have been great. Work has been amazing. And the ability to do it fits into my life. We can only do what we can do. If circumstance in life were different, then perhaps I wouldn’t be able to help the way I am. But, as I said, this is my path. All I can do is be grateful for it.
Aaron