A few days ago, I wrote a blog post called Who is testing you?. That evening I went to a new craft brewery in downtown Orlando with a friend of mine and ordered lobster artichoke dip. Even before I learned that the dish was really a garlic dip with some artichokes and lobster meat tossed in, I knew this was a bad idea. But the next morning was my long run day, and I needed carbs, right? Well, you know what happened – that dip kept me up most of the night. When the alarm sounded, thousands of voices justifying staying in bed were dominating my thoughts. There was only one voice that mattered – the one that kept asking me: “Who is testing you?” Why’d I write that post? Who is testing me? Dammit. Ok, I’ll get out of bed. Ok, I’ll do my run. I’m so glad I did. I’ll be forever grateful that I did.
This run was going to bring the end of my listening to Shoe Dog – Memoirs of Phil Knight, the founder of Nike. About a mile into my run, he told his reader about the death of his son Matthew. His relationship was always strained with Matthew, and his story almost foreshadowed a tragic ending for him. But the story surprised me while running. He died while scuba diving – taking a risk that didn’t pay off. I cried as I ran. No one should ever have to bury their child. My sister Penni used to say that all the time, and my Mom had to bury her two months ago. Penni’s words will never leave me, and I cry every time I hear of such a tragedy. Here I was, miserably running while everyone else was sleeping, and now I’m balling – what a site. Why’d I write that post yesterday?
As I turned the corner onto Summerlin Avenue and headed home for the last half mile or so, Knight was listing his regrets. His final and biggest regret of his life? Not spending enough time with his kids. Nothing new. I would’ve guessed that before buying his book. This was different though. This time, my immediate reaction was: “Yeah, that’ll probably be my biggest regret, too.”
Wait … what? My daughter is five years-old, and I’m already laying out my experience with her? What did I just do?
Yes, that’s what I did. That reaction stopped me in my tracks. I increased my speed to arrive home quicker and start to think through this prediction. I’ve got time. I can start now. What can I do? What’s my plan? I don’t want that regret. I felt like George Baily after he found Zuzu’s petals. I’m writing this only about 40 minutes since returning home, so I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I’ve done is write this post because I thought it would be a good topic and I needed to get my thoughts into words. All I know is that I will not let that be my biggest regret … or on the list.
What’s going to be your biggest regret? Are you ok with that? I hope my biggest regret is not switching to play linebacker in high school when I realized that a 190lb offensive guard probably wasn’t going to be that great. It won’t be about my daughter. It won’t be that I didn’t spend enough time with her. It won’t be that I didn’t try harder with her than anything else. It won’t be that. I promise.
Again, what’s going to be your biggest regret?
