It Doesn't Matter Where Your Heart Goes

Ian was singing this over and over again in the bath tub tonight. Ian is my son. He is four.

The thing is, he's right.

Well, maybe saying he's right is a little broad. I can think of many instances where we could follow our hearts into dangerous or unhealthy places. We've probably all done it.

So let's make it a little more specific. Let's put in the context of our endurance sports pursuits.

I've written recently about why I swim bike and run. But I put it in the context of achievement. I referenced "goals" and "raising the bar". Not that I think this isn't a valid method of measurement. I'm competitive, I'm driven. "Goals" are part of a language that I understand and can easily use to communicate with others.

However, it doesn't account for the times on a run, alone and with the sun setting behind me, that I burst into uncontrollable bursts of laughter. It doesn't account for the times when I've finally reached the summit of a mountain and am met with a panorama so beautiful that I am no where near a good enough writer to describe it. And it doesn't account for the night after a race, as I lay in bed with my sleeping wife, replaying every minute of the day, and just being plain stoked.

Because these moments have nothing to do with competition. These are spiritual moments. These are whatever you want to call them moments. Because they are your moments. And in these moments, it really doesn't matter where your heart is going, you are definitely going to follow.

Nicely done, Ian.