My 17km Run To Give You This...

Every year on Christmas day, I give myself the gift of a long morning run. You might think this is a cheap gift, as it's something I do every weekend. (If you need an explanation- then shame on you as you obviously did not run this morning.)
In my 17km slow steady run I thought of my races in 2011, about how my new WiiFit is sure to improve my Hula Hooping skills, about how much apple pie I ate last night, about Dylan's wide eyes when he woke, and about all of you. What could I write? How could I choose my words wisely? I wanted to post something this Christmas, as I couldn't send each of you a card... but I had nothing worthy. And time wasted reading BS is time you can never get refunded.

So sometimes, in moments of question/ depression/ writers block/ hangover, we are best to use the words of others. I could stare into this computer screen with all the motivation in my heart, with all the high hopes of inspiring each one of you wonderful readers, and yet sometimes my words can be much like the NBC coverage of Kona- wasted potential.

So I decided to share my favorite poem. If you believe yourself not poetic, read it anyways pls... I've used Kipling's words many times in my life, and I believe they might prove useful for you too.

You are all uber-smart people, so I need not explain it's relevance. I hope it inspires you all to keep reaching your goals and to keep tri-ing. Cheers to your massive success in 2011!
Train safe,



If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!


–Rudyard Kipling