...that the Tour de Redemption is not a sprint. And what a path it is. It starts with a single step, foot shaking as it hits the ground for the first time. Before you know it, you're taking two steps at a time...three steps...four. And then you're off, resembling a purebred stallion at the Kentucky Derby.
Most people will tell you that it's not about the end of a journey, but rather the journey itself. For Lance Armstrong, his will to ride a bike again helped him overcome the deadliest cancer for men. For Paul Pierce, his love for the game of basketball helped him come back to the game after getting stabbed repeatedly at the beginning of his Hall of Fame career. And for Tiger Woods, pre-marriage, it was his zeal, mixed with his father's determination, that led all of us to stare, unblinkingly, at a TV screen as a pock-marked golf ball rolled lazily down manicured grass into a hole in the ground, effectively overcoming racial tensions in a sport that has seen its fair share.
However, just because they are superstars, the masters of the generation, doesn't mean that we all don't have journeys of our own. When people tell me what they do, I'm not very impressed. But when people tell me how they got there, how they became a shark within a pool full of other sharks, my ears perk up and I'm sitting with rapt attention. So, in my way of introducing myself, I'm letting you know how I came to be here today, in hopes of helping you understand what this blog is all about.
764 days ago, I underwent surgery. I get a few questions, here and there, asking whether it was major or not. All surgery is major. But mine was complicated. In 28 words:
I've had Crohn's Disease for fifteen years and it got back, quick. Surgery happened and I could not walk upright without pain for months. I still have pain.
Back to the present: I took a journey, through my mind and body and told myself that I could overcome this obstacle. I started out at a snails pace and finished past a cheetah. My journey isn't over. No journey ever is. We are all constantly going forward, but what you should come away with is a deep, cog-turning knowledge of your self. You should not only understand how you tick but you should know what kind of watch you are. You should be able to predict your body and mind, with the accuracy of the mind. And that's what I was able to do.
What was my Tour de Redemption like? Nothing major; a few half marathons, a second chance at law school, and a dog who will forever be my best friend. But there were times along the journey that I learned things that I will never be able to put into words, much less a blog. The human life is intricate and inexplicable in it's delicacy, fortitude, and determination; I think we all can agree.
What I am telling you is to find your own Tour de Redemption. Maybe you are already running it. Maybe you've crossed the finish line and your downing a liter of protein to fuel up for more. Or maybe, you just don't know what the hell I'm talking about. Don't worry, you will. For those that do, slow down on your personal Tour, embrace it, smell it, touch it, taste it, see it, and hear it. Your Tour is like your favorite dish from home, it's there for the time being and when it's done you find yourself struggling to recreate it, so that you could experience it once. Why? Because it makes you feel alive. And that's what we are all struggling to do...live.
Ta ta, for now,
Lord Evan Burwell
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