I had an epiphany this morning. It could have been after the 12th 50-yard-sprint (8th while wearing a parachute). Or it could have been on the 80th sit-up during Coach Clark’s Core-apalooza. Or it could have been when my hand slipped off the box during my power pushups (I nearly smushed my nose.) It could’ve even happened while I was doing bunny hops through a quick-foot ladder. I’m really not sure, but I realized I was getting stronger mentally and physically. My dread of waking-up early evaporated and my rapidly beating heart was filled with a joy. Yes, I was gasping for air between the sprints (Coach Trahan’s promise of “full recovery” never really happened.) But I felt a strange happiness. As I was lying on my back, looking up at the stars, I felt small. But I felt purpose.
For one hour of the day, I turn my brain off and allow my body to achieve things I never believed it could. I sweat, hurt and celebrate victories and curse when I fall short of my own expectations. I compete with my friends and I support them. I cheer when they achieve personal victories on and off the field. I’m part of a team who chooses to change their lives for the better. And in turn, I am better for it.
I write this blog as a journal of my progress. I want my kids to understand why I believe fitness is an important part of my life — and theirs. During a time in my life when I am under great personal and professional stress, it helps me keep an even keel. It helps pull me out of depression. It obliterates despair. I want my children to know what gives their dad his strength.
My epiphany was that for the first time in a while, I felt a passion for life. And that, as we like to say during our PLS training, is the next level.