Priorities

I learned that we can do anything, but we can’t do everything...at least not at the same time. So think of your priorities not in terms of what activities you do, but when you do them. Timing is everything.
                                       Dan Millman

I typed out the text, sent it to Jaime, and let out a long and pronounced sigh. I got up and started to pack for my long seven-hour journey to the Wallowas to pick up my daughter at music camp. Originally my wife was supposed to drive to Wallowa to pick up my daughter Kiley. I knew that my wife really wanted to do a mountain bike race over in Oakridge – a three-hour drive away. The race was the same day that my daughter would have her end of camp concert in Joseph. I decided to be the good soldier and told her that I’d pick up Kiley so she could do the race.

I was originally supposed to ride with Jaime and Riley on Friday. It was going to be the epic over Bachelor to Sparks Lake ride and back. It would challenge me and get me ready for Lake Stevens. We would leave at 10:30 a.m. and the ride would probably take 3 and a half hours. I would be lucky to leave Bend for Wallowa by 2:30 or 3:00. This would get me into Wallowa around 10 if everything went perfectly. It would also not account for me being tired after a ride that would involve 60 miles of riding and 4000 feet of climbing. Somewhere along the way common sense kicked in. I realized if I wanted to get to Wallowa in one piece I needed to prioritize things, even if I wasn’t happy with the results. I texted Jaime and told him I wouldn’t be riding, packed up my bag, got my bike on the rack (I would at least do some training) and began the trek to the far reaches of Northeastern Oregon.

I arrived in Wallowa in time to get in a good afternoon ride. Before I left I saw that Jaime and Riley had noted on social media just how epic a ride it had been. I threw on my kit, drove out to Joseph, and prepared for a long ride alone. It was gorgeous scenery. The Wallowas are known as Oregon’s Alps and I could understand why the Nez Perce had fought so valiantly for the right to remain in this area. The miles flew by but my mind wandered. I couldn’t put my finger on why I was in such a funk over a ride. I finished up, changed into street clothes and set out to explore Joseph. Much like my ride I felt like I was going through the motions, in the same old funk.

When I get like this I have to start figuring out why and then I have to figure a way out of it. I’m sure it drives my friends crazy and I’m sure it does my coach as well. It took some contemplation during dinner to put my finger on things. I was reminded of something Jaime told me about a bike camp he had gone to in Moab. Joe Friel, of Training Peaks, and countless books that triathletes and bike enthusiasts swear by showed up as a surprise guest of the camp. Jaime said he spent the whole camp attached to Friel, riding with him, asking questions, listening to what he had to say. Hanging on his every word. He gained a lot of insight and knowledge during his time with Friel and he expressed surprise that others at the camp weren’t doing likewise.

As I thought about this story I realized that some of what Jaime saw in Joe Friel I myself saw in Jaime. When we ride Jaime tends to talk about things, share insight and wisdom, and relate things that he normally doesn’t do off the bike.  He notices things in your own cycling skills and offers suggestions. Most importantly he pushes you ever so slightly to go a little bit harder and just a little bit faster. I noticed how Riley had benefited from his time during the spring when they’d ride together. I was perhaps envious of the benefits he was gleaning from those rides. During the school year I rarely if ever got a chance to do a hard ride with him. I hoped the summer would give me a chance to ride with Jaime and learn from him but life as a Dad and a husband, along with an injury had seemed to have gotten in the way of these rides. Here I was yet again wondering about the whys, the what ifs, and the what becomes, and wondering if I’d ever get to benefit from the intrinsic things that only occurred on the bike.

While I may have determined the cause of my funk I still needed to figure a way out of it. That night I briefly talked to my wife and wished her luck in her race. I went to bed a bit depressed and awoke the same. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I needed to drive down to Wallowa Lake and meet my daughter Kiley at 11. It would give me plenty of time to get a training set in but I just couldn’t bring myself to do so. I’m not sure why. I just wasn’t feeling it. I drove into Joseph, got breakfast, and walked around – still the same mental zombie as the night before. I drove down to Wallowa Lake to the camp where my daughter had been staying for the past week. She was excited to see me and related what a wonderful time camp had been and how much fun she had while she was there. We talked over lunch and then she told me she wanted to play some of the music she had learned for the afternoon’s concert for me. We finished up our lunch and walked up to her cabin. She got out her saxophone and her sheet music and set up a music stand outside. I sat on the steps of her cabin and I began to listen to her play. I was surprised at how well she had progressed during the week. She played with feeling and passion. As I watched her play under the towering pines I realized that this was my priority at this place in time. Sure things would be different if I was single or had a job that allowed me to train basically any day or any time of the week, but that just wasn’t the case. I realized that with what I had going on in my life that sometimes what I wanted wasn’t necessarily going to be the highest priority in my life at that point in time.

I went to the concert and marveled at how my daughter, who was one of the youngest musicians at camp was holding her own with other students who had been play two to three times longer than she had. I texted Jaime a note that basically said I had made the right decision and he texted the word 'priorities' back to me. I knew I’d miss another ride on Sunday with him – the concert wouldn’t be done until after 4 so it only made sense to stay another night. I’d miss another chance to learn, to talk, to share, and to be challenged. I was ok with the decision. I knew right now that where I needed to be was with my daughter, even if it did foul up training for Lake Stevens.

That night she and I enjoyed a great dinner together at a tavern the innkeeper had recommended. It was in a tiny town called Lostine. We had time to talk and share and tell each other about things that normally got trampled at home by living our lives. We headed back to the inn and I decided to take a walk around town to the let the food settle. I walked along the deserted storefronts and thought of my priorities in the coming weeks – getting ready for Lake Stevens, finishing up the round of various appointments for the kids, getting ready for the school year, and hopefully getting in a swim or two and a couple of bike rides with Jaime (he tends to chat during our breaks in between laps, and it’s amazing how much you can learn). I could feel the wind pick up and it looked like a storm was coming in. I decided to head back to the room.  Before I reached the room I got a text from my wife. Earlier in the day she had texted me that she had won the Master’s Division of her race. I congratulated her and let her know how happy and proud I was of her. We had gone back and forth and finally I jokingly asked her if she had gotten anything for her winnings. She noted the only thing she got was the knowledge that she could accomplish and finish the race (a very difficult one I might add) and in that was her personal victory. I smiled knowing that even though at the time I might have thought the opposite that I clearly had gotten my priorities straight. I also realized that with each passing day I would need to constantly review, reset the table, and hope in the end that I’d gotten my priorities straight.