A Journey of Self-Discovery, Part I: The Quest for Balance

The Karate Kid is one of my favorite movies from small kid times.  Thanks to Netflix, I watched it again for the first time in a while, and I remembered all over again while I liked Mr. Miyagi.  That man's got lots of wisdom.  Here are a few lines that I was particularly drawn to while watching this time around:

Miyagi:  Better learn balance. Balance is key. Balance good, karate good. Everything good. Balance bad, better pack up, go home. Understand?
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Miyagi:  You remember lesson about balance?
Daniel:  Yeah.
Miyagi:  Lesson not just karate only. Lesson for whole life. Whole life have a balance. Everything be better. Understand?


Wakarimasu!  I feel as though I am constantly struggling to attain or keep balance.  God, family, friends, work, play, sleep, "me" time, "others" time, running, swimming, biking, the list goes on.  Athletes, especially endurance athletes, can be pretty selfish.  The long hours required for training and racing means time away from other things.  Being the competitive person that I am, I'm always cautious about spending too much time training and playing at the expense of others who are important to me.  Sometimes it's not the time but the energy.  So many times I've come home with no energy left to give.  It can affect the amount of patience I have towards others, my irritability, all kinds of things.  At that point, doesn't sport become detrimental?  I mean, there's only a portion of the training that I do that is actually required to maintain fitness.  The rest is me pushing myself to become a better athlete.  At what point does that become too selfish?


While I usually try to limit my assessments to myself, I can't help but wonder about how other athletes achieve balance.  When I went to watch the Kona Ironman, I was already inspired to do triathlons or at least to keep running and start swimming competitively.  But something about the scene worried me.  I saw these people who had obviously accomplished something meaningful, and I couldn't help but think, "What did they give up to do this?"

Some people justify their athletic pursuits as a means of inspiring others, building relationships, feeling better about themselves so they can impact others, and other altruistic ends.  I agree completely that sports can and should accomplish these things.  However, a goal of endurance athletes is to push beyond boundaries, which often leads to a need for more of everything.  More miles, more swimming, more biking, more racing, more time, more energy...  The quantity increases, and sometimes the quality decreases.  And I don't mean just the quality of training or competition; I mean the quality of life and love.

I realized that the way I try to achieve balance is something like a zero-sum game that I play every day.  When I do something for myself, like running a race, working out, or buying myself something, that's a minus one.  When I do something for someone else, that's a plus one.  The days that feel most fulfilling to me are the days when my score at the end of the day is zero.  It sounds simple enough -- just balance out the things I do for myself versus the things I do for others, and it's all good in the hood.  The only problem is... the energy and other resources I have each day are finite.  If I really push myself while training, I don't have much energy left but still need a lot of points to get to zero.  So I end up pushing myself even further -- I'll try to bake something when I get home from a race, visit a relative, or buy a gift for someone.  Sometimes I end up getting sick or just feeling tired all the time.  I wonder how long I can keep going on like this because I know there's an easier solution -- just do less for myself.  Slow down, train less, spend less, and be less busy.  But I'm a 21st century female -- I want to do it all and have it all, and I believe that I can and should.  Thus the Quest for It All begins... but that's for next time.