Jake, sold out. And so is my right lung. But the left lung feels great!
On a recent backpacking expedition I received my first finance lesson on mergers and acquisitions, private equity, cash flow, and the like from Max, my brother Nate's roommate from UVA and a man of character (and of steel - he lifts). Max taught me the little I know about how private companies sell out to the i-banking big dogs of Goldman Sachs and JPMorgan Chase, for example. For the private business owner, this has to be a psychological struggle and a personally difficult decision - selling something that belonged only to you, was a part of you, that you built from the ground up, and then giving that part of you away to an impersonal world that doesn't comprehend its intrinsic worth as you do.
I've never been one too eager for "selling out" - certainly in the sense of jumping onto the trendy bandwagons of life, whether that's fashion, lifestyle, technology, a favorite sports team, or what have you. In fact I often have intentionally embraced the offbeat and taken a little pride in stirring things up in a unique way. So when I do jump on a cultural bandwagon whether large-scale (example: using an iPhone) or small scale (example: finally joining the NMU boys in their Oakley sunglasses obsession) it's as if an old, well-known piece of me has sold out to the Goldmann Sachs of pop culture.
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One of my first sellouts in progression:
The Packer's hat was an impromptu choice as a senior in high school. From it I derived the powers to hold off a few master blasters. Yes, including Piotr.
The green sweat pant - converted into "chimney" hat continues to make appearances in practice. It was an integral component to performance during my winter with Bill, Ben, Jan and Zach as a part of FAST, often to their collective chagrin.
The helmet hat was a high school staple for skate races (my bend-at-the-waist-til-your-forehead-touches-your-knees technique caused it to fall far over my eyes in classic) and made an occassional appearance in college when I felt things needed to lighten up a bit. endsnowplowing#
The notecard-taped-to-headband came in clutch when #skiing4acause. In this case I believe I was in protest of Caitlin Gregg not being named to the 2014 Olympic team.
The free-flowing buff. Nuff said. Plus, team italia (Salices).
And here it is. The ultimate sellout. Onezie, racing hat, and Oakleys (yes, they were borrowed, but still). Never thought I'd see the day. But I also never thought I'd learn to classic ski. Thanks, NMU boys and Sten! And don't worry, there's still a piece of creativity somewhere underneath that hat.
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I don't mean to characterize this selling-out thing as some giant gooey soul-sucking dementor; maybe it is such a monster sometimes, but not necessarily so. Jesus calls us to totally sell out for him. It's something I fall short of almost every day, and something I've been reminded of as of late:
A week ago I was visiting my bro Luke down at Dartmouth; we had a great time and fun was had by all. However, on Saturday night my lungs did not have fun. At all. Instead they were subjected to a 25-foot side-flop from a towering rope swing into the Connecticut River. The air was knocked from them, and when my airways finally opened again I began to cough up blood - not a good thing!
But I'm a stubborn little guy and hate any notion of not trying hard enough. So I kept training, afraid to take the time I needed to let myself heal. Less than a week later I was coughing up blood again, and after two X-rays I was given "doctors orders" for no activity. No training. No shooting. No climbing on boulders or running. No light jogs and lifting. No neature walks. In other words: No fun.
I pitched my iPhone across the lawn outside the health clinic.
I punched things in anger.
I was devastated.
And I realized that I couldn't mentally, physically, or spiritually go without activity for 24 hours. This is a problem.
I had made activity my god. Do I punch things if I go a day without talking to God, or getting in His word? Nope.
Boom. It hit me like a truck. I find my identity in being able to DO. Not just ski or exercise, but DOING STUFF. Exercise, sports, camping, anything. Something I can write home about. These are great things, and being active is AWESOME! But activities had strangled my primary identity: one saved by Jesus Christ.
So its time for me to sell out. Yes, as far as this blog is concerned, I'm selling out of my "do-the-opposite-of-most-wannabe-professional-endurance-athletes" thingy and giving in to the interwebs' call to blogging. So it's a good way to say, "Hey friends, I'm writing a blog now. Hopefully its read by at least one person once every other week for two weeks." But more importantly I'm setting the goal of selling my reliance on activity out in exchange for an identity as one saved by Christ. I'm a sinner and am not going anywhere in life without the perspective that I need daily spiritual sustenance.
These dudes are an inspiration to me. They leave their lives' previous identity behind to be a disciple. On a dime. Just like that. Why is that so hard to do?!?
Matthew 4:18-20
As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fisherman. "Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him.
I'm sure these disciples had doubts and I know they do go fishing again (I wonder if they dreamt about spincasting or flyfishing, wishing they could leave the nets and have that surge of excitement that only comes with a 1-on-1 battle with a fish on the hook). However, their primary identity is no longer rooted as a fishermen. They sold out. "Motivator!"#
So here we go! Jake is selling out and joining the blogging bandwagon of XC-skiers, endurance athletes, and food snobs alike! And trying to keep my purpose where it belongs as I go! Let's go! Go team, go world, go biathloning, and go Moose!
