The Next Level

At 4 a.m., I searched for the next level.

Trust me, at 4 a.m., I’m searching for a lot of things. By 4:15, I’m dressed and making sure my son is ready. We head out of the house by 4:30 for the 5 a.m. Paul LaCoste boot camp, dodging deer on our way. By five, we are out on the field and our heart rates don’t go down until after six. My son and I drive home and get ready for the day. We particularly enjoy watching runners sweat it out as we zip by. We smile — Our work is done.

I search for the next level four days a week. I push myself hard so that I can continue to push myself hard for the rest of the day. My son does, too — and does things that most 15-year-olds can’t do. He’s shown me guts and determination. That will take him far in life. Come to think of it, I’m doing things most 48-year-olds can’t do. I forget my age sometimes. My body reminds me from time to time. I’m not immune to aches and pains. But I roll with them. The next level requires sacrifice.

Today’s the third day back out of 48 days total. My legs are particularly sore from lactic acid (I’m rolling it out as I type). But as I pushed today, I enjoyed the pain. It’s my pain. It’s pain that represents growth and change. I’m getting better and stronger — physically and mentally.

When it’s done, my son and I race each other back to the car (he’s MUCH faster than I am.) We then talk about what we did that day. It’s our currency. It’s what we have to talk about. Sure, our workout makes us physically stronger. But it also makes us closer.

Come to think of it, I found the next level after all.

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