Day 49 - Learning about yourself

So according to Facebook, 5 years (and one day) ago Natalie and I completed the Chase the Yeti OCR event. Thinking back over those five years has opened up some interesting thoughts about how sometimes we need to reflect on where we were, in order to understand where we would like to be.

Natalie will tell you that it was an awful experience, honestly - and I have absolutely no qualms about taking full responsibility for that and apologising completely (I hope I've already done it directly but maybe not). I completely ruined that event by complaining the whole way round, about everything. I then sprinted to the finish to "win". Every single thing about that previous statement can rightly be classed as a dick move. Looking back I cringe at my behaviour, but even more for the reason behind it.

I let my ego and arrogance completely overtake me. Rick and I had been doing a few of these runs for a while by this point but he was getting better and I wasn't. I had stopped enjoying them because I hated losing, and I hated that I wasn't improving. Of course my arrogance at the time refused to allow me to accept that maybe it was because he was putting a shit load more work in than I was! I was frustrated and, instead of doing something about it, I just grumbled. In my arrogance I just assumed I would be able to do this because, well why wouldn't I?

Another part of it was that I didn't want to show this new girl that I was rubbish at something. Egotistical fucking asshole. 

What I should have been doing is what I am doing now - working harder to improve whilst removing ego from the equation. Instead of trying not to disappoint Natalie (and myself) I should have been taking the positives and working out how to make myself better each time. Accept your limitations, but don't let them define you, and work on making the most of them. Be humble, gracious and work hard. For some reason when I read those words back I hear them in my mum's voice, and that tells you just how good advice it is!

Fast forward 5 years. 

I stood on the line today with zero negative thoughts, zero ego and (OK maybe not completely) zero arrogance - certainly about the run. I knew what was coming and I embraced what it would tell me about myself, instead of fearing it. The difference was astonishing. I know full well I'm near the back of the field, and my time today would embarrass anyone who considers themselves a runner. 

I could not care less. I put everything I had into today, and trusted that the end product is simply what it is. No target other than complete the task. No losing mental battles. Yeah physically I struggled, despite my recent weight loss I'm still an overweight 39 year old with a chronic lack of fitness and a dodgy body. 

But it doesn't matter. I put myself out there, I put my ego and arrogance away and just enjoyed today for what it was. It was a challenge, and part of the trick of challenges is picking the right goals - the right definition of success. 

34 year old me was an arrogant, egotistical, petty child at times. Interested in the wrong things, targeting the wrong "successes" and trying to be someone I'm not, nor would I ever truly want to be. It cost me a lot, and it deserved too.

But 39 year old me is (I hope) a better human being. The one I wanted to be when I was 18, the one with all the dreams for the future and the whole world ahead of me. The one with a sense of pride, but in the right things. The one I hope Katie is proud of, and the one I hope (some of you at least!) are happy to call a friend. It's a long journey back to me, and I'm still on the road. But as long as I focus on the right things, I'll get there.

Post Race Party

No surprises that today's charity is the amazing Christie Trust. I cannot repeat enough what they have done for my family over the years, and how they still inspire me on a daily basis. The world is a better place because of them, a shining beacon in the darkest, most frightening of places. They don't have all the answers, but anything you can give (here - please either donate direct or use Lil/Dad/Ann's Snowdon Event) gets us closer

For you mum, always.

Till tomorrow, Tom

Day 0 - An Adventure Begins

So after nearly a year with absolutely zero in the way of blogging I'd decided to have yet another rebrand! Seemingly this is a regular occurrence.

This time however I hope that I am going to actually post something, because I have a genuine motivation for this. I'm the luckiest guy in the entire world because I get to be the daddy to the most amazing daughter in the world, Katie. And a big part of this blog will help me keep in touch with her (and show her what I'm up to) from over 3000 miles away.

I'm lucky enough to travel with work, and as a result I'm relocating to Baton Rouge for a year as part of a new assignment. I've spent a bit of time in Houston over the last 4-5 years on a separate project, but this is different. This is a proper relocation complete with apartment, car and visa!

Part of being able to travel with work is being given a golden opportunity to try things I would never have been able to. 

Me and the Monkey

I turn 40 this year and Katie's mum and I recently agreed to end our engagement. We are still going to be friends and raise Katie as mummy and daddy, but nevertheless this constitutes a seismic change in my life. All the plans that were starting to mature are gone, and new plans are needed to fill the spaces that now exist.

I've also had a chance to look back on the last few years and realise I am neither the person I used to be, nor the one that I wish to be. I became so scared about the future and losing what I had, that I forgot to live in the moment and cherish what was there. I've already lost so much as a result, and with my mum dying ahead of her time a few years ago this mortality has been brought into sharper relief.

Enjoying the Business Class

So 2020 marks a change, a reversion to where I was 3-4 years or so ago. I'm going to be saying "yes" to things, instead of finding reasons to say no. I'm restarting my challenges, whilst trying to raise as much money for the fabulous Christie hospital in Manchester who supported mum unwaveringly. I'm also going to get as fit as I've been in years and tick so many things off my bucket list that I should have done with others when I had the chance.

Along the way I want to show you Houston and Baton Rouge, and dispel some of the myths people who aren't from this part of the world have. The people, places, cuisine and culture are amazing - I hope this comes through from my blog. So this is Day 0 and I'm writing this from 37,000 ft as I cross the Atlantic for the next (but by no means last) great adventure.I hope you come along for the ride, and enjoy it. 

Till tomorrow, Tom

You can't choose your family

It was my sister’s birthday yesterday and it got me thinking about our time growing up together. She is now married with two children (3 ½ years and 5 weeks) and so quite clearly has left childhood behind – I on the other hand attempt to embrace it and every thing to do with it on a regular basis. I have therefore decided to do something a bit different and dedicate this particular entry to 2 or 3 stories of my childhood with a little sister.

We were both born in Germany in the early 1980s, which has proved a source of difficulty throughout most of my adult life so far. The gentle ribbing about me being German or a Nazi or a Sausage Muncher is pretty easy to laugh off (mainly as it comes from people I actually like!) but trying to get any official document (like a passport or driving licence) or enter certain countries (Hello USA) has proved hilariously difficult so far. Apparently British people AREN’T born in Germany and it doesn’t help that my birth certificate has the reference number 000001 on it – presumably I was first in a new book used by the British Consulate in Frankfurt but that has lead to more than a few raised eyebrows over the years.

The first time I ever met my sister I had a lump the size of an ostrich egg and a plaster across my forehead due to an unfortunate collision between head and coffee table. My Nana had been looking after me at the time and was ironing when the aforementioned collision took place. She therefore arrived at the hospital to present my Mum with an essentially broken child and a pillowcase with a perfect iron-shaped hole burned into it. My folks always claim they only planned to have 2 kids but this comical situation may have been a factor in them stopping after my sister!!

Germany was left behind when I was about 3 and my sister 1 and it was briefly back to Britain for a few years before departing to Brunei – where we would stay for two years before finally settling back in the UK permanently from 1987. My sister doesn’t have many memories of Brunei unfortunately but I thankfully do.

One of my favourites (and actually one of my earliest memories of all) was the first day we arrived at our new house in Brunei. Mum and Dad sent us to have a look at which one of the bedrooms we would like to have. I, being the older (and also slightly faster), managed to get to the door of the bigger room first and flung it open, ready to declare it as mine. Until a cockroach which was comfortably the size of my hand scuttled diagonally from corner to corner across the room and I very chivalrously declared that my little sister could have this room as it was only fair – she had always had the smallest room before. I “think” I have since confessed the actual reasoning to her, but I might not have.

Not long after we returned to England there was a family holiday to the Black Forest in Germany which is not a million miles away from where we both born (both in the same hospital and apparently in the same bed of the maternity ward – albeit 27 months apart). One day Mum and Dad decided to go back to where we had lived and explore the town to see what had changed in the 7-8 years or so since we had left. After driving around and visiting a few places we ended up in the car park of the hospital where we were born for Mum and Dad to point it out to us – not much to see really, they all look alike these hospitals. Still it was an interesting moment for us, being born abroad always meant it was unlikely we’d ever see the place we were actually brought into the world unless we made a concerted effort to go find it – the moment however was kind of ruined when my sister asked why we were spending so long there and my dad replied “We are just waiting for your real parents to turn up and collect you”. I don’t know how long my sister cried and bawled for, but it was long enough to permanently drill the noise into my head.

I have to confess that my life growing up with a baby sister was very pleasurable indeed – I’m very lucky to have one who not only tolerates me but also idolises me. Well, she did have her hair cut in a boy style very like mine and used to follow me around a bit…….. although looking back at it now (a) Mum probably chose her haircut and (b) She was probably following me around for my own safety!

As we’ve got older she has taken all the family responsibility, both having one of her own to provide our folks with grandkids and also managing the dangerous political games that all extended families seem to play almost as well as the old empires used to.

They do say you can’t choose your family but (and here comes the really soppy bit) I actually couldn’t have chosen a better sister to grow up with. So Happy Birthday Lil and thanks for looking after me all these years, keep up the good work though as its not even close to being finished yet! :-D

Till next time,

DT