My Challenge

So. First post on a new blog – always a challenge.

Challenge!

From being a standard phrase in job applications and something that “I am never afraid of” and something that “I see (together with possibilities – to get it all standardized) instead of limits” it has evolved to become a genuine part of my life. At least for the next 11 months.

My Challenge!

…consists of a major goal…

The Challenge Barcelona Maresme 2011.

But there is so much more to the dream than that…

Right now I am sitting in my living room with my feet in some kind of soap solution. The water is a wee bit too warm, burning actually. Putting my feet in there is in fact a challenge. So why do I do it? Because they are all covered in blisters – nothing new under the sun there. Except this time these little bastards have not been caused by wet football shoes or stiff ski boots – this time they have been caused by running. Simply… just plain running. True story. I did not run after a ball or because someone was after me. I did not run because my coach forced me or because I was late for the train, again. Nope. I ran because I like it. I have learned to like it. Still not love – love is such a great word – but like. Definitely. I do, however, truly love the challenge of competing with myself. Competing against time. Against the pain. Against my personal limits.

This love does what true love really should - it gives me the power to keep on fighting even when everything looks the darkest. It supports me when I feel all alone in the world out there on the road. It gives me inspiration to seek new challenges, and most importantly; it makes me want to perform my absolute best.

I know that I cannot perform my absolute best in Maresme unless I take every minor or major challenge along the road serious and the road is so long.

All of these challenges – the entire process – the dream – that is; My Challenge.

Why? Why on earth do you want to do this? That question must pop up in the mind of every single sane person reading this.

A dear friend told me that he considers it decidedly vulgar to do an ironman. He thinks it is too much to cope with. Extreme beyond the extreme, is how he put it. But in the same breath he said: I think it’s cool that you do it. You are physical – I know that. I know that you need this.”

…He knows me better than most.

I could write pages about a lot of other issues concerning inner and outer goals, personal development and the beat goes on. I will spare you for that song now – a song, which will probably change tune a billion times during the next 11 months. You will hear the original and a bunch of remixes – no worries. Later.

I will instead introduce to you a beautiful little piece of art made by the surf photographer, Mickey Smith. Yes, some will call it art. I will call it art. What is art? Who is Art? Ohh, not that discussion in this forum, sorry. Focus. Soak in the impressions yourself in the short story (movie clip. Don't know how to embed videos in here yet) here and in the so perfectly put words below.

“If I only scrape a living, at least it’s a living worth scrapeing. If there is no future in it, at least the present is worth remembering. For fires of happiness and waves of gratitude, for everything that brought us to that point on earth in that moment in time to do something worth remembering with a photograph… or a... scar. I feel genuinely lucky, hand on heart, to say I love doing what I do. And though I may never be a rich man, if I live long enough I will certainly have a tale or two for the nephews, and I dig the thought of that.” – Mickey Smith

Even though you cannot compare surf photography and triathlon directly, when not taking every sentence literally, this is exactly how I feel deep inside when thinking about the big notorious “why?”. It touches me deeply and without being able to explain it better in words myself, and with the chance of sounding a bit cheeky, I can say that the essence of his are – terrifyingly - close to “a greater meaning” in my world.

And once when I turn to my nephews and go “kids, let me tell you a story” it will start something like this:

“Once upon a time, in the very northern part of Sweden – so far north that the sun never sets and the people never speak… that is where it all began”

How the story will end I have absolutely no idea about, but I cannot wait to reach the part, where I can say

“…and then I made it to the line in Maresme in the year 2011.”

…and neither can my nephews.

This blog is dedicated to share experiences with my top of the pop co-writers and to entertain whoever is interested in following me on my journey creating my story. Living My Challenge!

Btw, no worries… I will not just write long jada-jada stories like this. I will post my training stats and stuff too when I have something to share on that matter. But hey – I missed blogging, man.

…The water is no longer burning, but my feet do look like raisins.

I’m out! Keep it real.