Happy Saturday! If you’re new to THE CRAZY QUEST, you may wish to read about it here. Basically, I’m tracing my journey as I attempt to answer the question: What would you do if you didn’t know you couldn’t do it?

This week of training: 108 miles (and some vacation/R&R)

SURVIVE OR THRIVE

When I began riding my hand cycle, it was all about survival.

I didn’t try to ride well, or ride fast, or even ride better. I simply tried to get to the end of the ride. It didn’t really occur to me that it might be any different. I was, after all, a quadriplegic. I was weak, I couldn’t use most of my body, and survival was about all I could expect. If I got where I was going, the ride was a success.

I think a lot of people live their lives like that. They’re just trying to get wherever they’re going, and as long as they’re reasonably upright they’re satisfied.

It took me a long time to learn that cycling, and life, didn’t have to be about survival. After a lot of years and miles of just crawling along, maintaining a minimal pace but not really trying for anything more, I magically discovered that riding could be about more than minimal survival.

SURVIVE TO STRIVE

I discovered that I could work on technique, get stronger, and push myself even when it hurt. And it did hurt, but each time I pushed past the pain I realized that it didn’t kill me. I learned that I could work, I could try, and it actually felt kind of good.

I moved from surviving to striving.

I didn’t instantly ride much faster. Massive shoulders didn’t magically materialize. In fact, at first there really wasn’t much observable change in my performance, but it still felt good. And that taught me something important.

Striving involves its own intrinsic value. Even when progress proved ponderously slow, it still felt good to do something besides simply surviving. I think it’s part of the Substance Or Style discussion, the idea that the value lies more in process than in results. As soon as you focus on results, you get disappointed because it never happens fast enough.

I think striving is an important part of a substantial life. It’s okay to progress slowly, or even to fail. But to live a life of substance, you have to try. It’s got to be about more than simple survival.

SURVIVE TO STRIVE TO THRIVE

In the past year I’ve increased my normal riding speed more than 20%. I’m still painfully slow by regular cycling norms, but the improvement feels like thriving to me. I used to struggle to survive a ten-mile ride. This summer I’m riding 25-30 miles per day 5-6 times each week.

The point that seems important is the progression, from survive to strive to thrive. The middle step is the critical one, and in cycling and life we tend to want to skip it. But the middle step is the process, and you can’t skip it.

SOMETHING BAD HAPPENS

First, you gotta survive, take the initial blow, and get back on your feet—or, in my case, get your backside in a wheelchair. It’s painful and difficult, and it takes time. Most of us understand that part.

But then the culture messes us up, because the messages jump to results. Shake it off. Get back in the game. Just do it. Quit surviving and thrive—right now!

New diet? The weight will disappear in a few days. Beginning a workout program? You’ll have a cover-model body quickly in twenty easy minutes per day. Finances a mess? Call for our simple five-step plan to wealth, risk-free.

We want to skip the striving, the struggle, pain, and risk. We want it all, and we want it now. That’s the way it happens for everyone else, right?

I think that’s a big problem with how I pray. I ask God for the results, like He’s some cosmic gumball machine—stick in the right words, pull the handle, and out pops my wish. Except that’s not how it works.

God cares more about my character than my accomplishments, and character’s about the striving. Perhaps if I prayed for persistence and patience I’d feel a bit less like a kid sitting on Santa’s lap.

My cycling is thriving right now. It’s better than I ever imagined, and maybe I’ll write a book—TWO YEARS TO INSTANT SUCCESS!

My life’s thriving as well. Only took twenty years to figure out that I can do more than survive the ride. Finally, I learned that I can get past the pain and fear, that failure doesn’t kill me (I’m not skydiving), and that it feels good to work on stuff I enjoy, to help others, and to define success in my own terms.

I hope you’re thriving—but I hope even more that you’re striving.

What’s an area where you can shift from surviving to striving?

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net. 

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Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1)

Yesterday I wrote about Substance Or Style.

I was struck by how frequently Christians get caught up in style and forget substance. At times we all become immersed in form and doctrine and liturgy, and we lose sight of Jesus’ simple message of love. But especially for people who struggle for freedom from a tragic past, the awareness that God values essence over appearance might be overwhelming.

HOPELESS

I’ve heard it dozens of times. “If God really knows me, then He knows all of the junk inside, all of my past mistakes, all of the horrible events that I can’t erase. And if He can see all of that, it’s hopeless.”

Completely transparent intimacy intimidates everyone to some extent, but that sense of total vulnerability can overwhelm someone who faces despair and regret. When I’m ashamed of the past and depressed about the present, how can I possibly look to God with hope?

Jesus proclaims, “You are the light of the world.” (Matthew 5:14a) Then, in verse 16, He continues, “…let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

What good deeds? What light? He must be talking to someone else. When the past contains only sorrow and the present is shrouded in darkness, how can I possibly let my light shine?

A COMPASS

I’m absolutely convinced that God cares more about where we’re going than where we are or where we’ve been. Because of Jesus’ sacrifice, He’s concerned with direction rather than location. To me, God’s more like a compass than a map. The map reveals how I arrived at my current position, but the compass points north from any situation. Jesus is the direction to freedom in every circumstance.

Songwriter Don Francisco phrased this idea beautifully:

I don’t care where you’ve been sleeping; I don’t care who’s made your bed.
I already gave my life to set you free.
There’s no sin you can imagine that is stronger than my love,
and it’s all yours if you come home again to me.

Does God care what we do, or that we do our best? Of course. “…let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.”

But He cares much more about motivation. Unless the LORD builds the house, its builders labor in vain. Unless the LORD watches over the city, the watchmen stand guard in vain. (Psalm 127: 1)

As I said yesterday, the end doesn’t justify the means; instead, the means change the end.

God values character more than accomplishments, who we’re becoming more than what we’re doing. As Rick Warren said, “We’re human beings, not human doings.”

You can live a life of substance in any situation. Let go of the map.

Follow the compass.

Within you is a limitless, unborn potential of creativity and substance, and the present experience can be your great opportunity to give birth to it. Disadvantage can become advantage, failure can become opportunity, and disappointment can become “His” appointment.

Do you have trouble following the compass rather than the map?

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

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If you don’t know where you’re going, you might end up someplace else. Yogi Berra

There’s not much point to “living on-purpose” unless we actually have a purpose in mind.

It’s one thing to actively choose responses rather than simply reacting to whichever way the wind happens to blow. But how do I choose? What are the internal guidelines that give decisions direction and intent?

ROUTE OR RESULT?

We’ve all heard that life’s about the journey, not the destination. Do you agree? Which counts more—where you’re going or where you end up?

I’m not sure that course and conclusion are as distinct as we imagine, because the nature of the journey alters the character of the outcome. The same destination reached by different paths might really not be the same at all. Perhaps the road and the goal are essentially intertwined.

For example, I’d like to increase readership of this blog. The Internet is littered with effective schemes for attracting traffic, but they feel a bit slimy to me. If I raise my numbers by employing a system that tricks people into visiting, I’ve altered the long-term nature of the circle by turning it into a marketing gimmick.

The end doesn’t justify the means; instead, the means change the end.

I choose to try to write interesting, useful stuff, publicize it in ways that feel respectful, and ask readers to subscribe, visit frequently, and pass along their recommendation to like-minded friends. The circle grows much slower, but I don’t have to wash my hands as frequently.

So, if both process and result matter and they’re not separate—where do we focus our attention?

CONTROL

In just about any area of human endeavor—human relations, business, athletic competition—process precedes product. It’s a control issue.

I cannot control who visits this blog today. No matter what I do or how well I do it, nobody will see my work if my host’s server suddenly goes offline. A significant national news story might monopolize attention. A regional power outage could prevent computer use. Any number of factors beyond my control could depress the number of visitors.

I only control the quality of my own work. Good content and effective publicity create a better chance for success, but don’t guarantee it.

The principle’s simple:

• Excellent processes create the possibility of excellent results.
• Questionable processes never produce excellent long-term results.

Try as I may, I cannot control results, just as I cannot dictate present circumstances. I cannot control where I am or where I end up. I can only decide my current course. The character of our lives depends on direction rather than destination.

ONE DEGREE

Words matter. Sometimes two words convey almost the same meaning, but that almost is significant. So I need to be certain about the words I choose to stake out the sort of process I’m seeking.

Being a math geek, I performed a calculation to demonstrate the importance of precise direction. In a one thousand mile trip, missing the correct heading by one single degree would leave you nearly twenty miles off course. Over a lifetime, almost might lead you a long distance from your intended path.

So what’s the best word to characterize the journey? I considered meaningful, remarkable, significant, important, and great. They’re all close, but they miss the mark a bit on two accounts.

First, each conveys an element of being big, important, or noteworthy in someone else’s eyes. There’s an implication of concern for external appearance or comparison to some sort of standard or norm.

Second, they’re all oriented toward results or outcomes. How do I create a life that’s significant or remarkable? I’m looking for process, whatever precedes or underlies the results.

I thought for a while about quality. That’s closer, but it’s really difficult to define. It seems to me that quality is one of those “you know it when you see it” attributes that doesn’t really help much in describing what I’m after.

A SUBSTANTIAL LIFE

I settled on substance or substantial, at least for now. Substance implies something actual or real, as opposed to appearance or form. Substantial connotes inherent value, something that matters because of its essence rather than what others think of it.

Substantial isn’t a reaction to surroundings; it simply is what it is. It carries its own inherent significance. Doesn’t matter much what others think. It’s valuable because of what it is.

What are the characteristics of substantial people? I thought of a few–there are probably more, but this is a start.

Substantial people know what they believe. They’re clear about the principles that inform their choices.

Substantial people strive for integrity between actions and beliefs. They resond from principle rather than reacting to trends, so their direction is consistent and considered.

Substantial people act with courage. They create their own meaning and significance, and they choose based on principle rather than popularity or convenience.

Substantial people develop their character. Because it’s about the journey, they’re honestly introspective and accountable to a process of continuous, incremental growth.

What’s your take? What other characteristics do you associate with a person of substance?

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net.

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A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles. Christopher Reeve

Lance Armstrong’s story inspires me. I hope you’ll take thirty seconds to watch this video:

(If you have trouble viewing the clip, this link will open it in a new window)

When I was a kid, sports personalities could still be heroes.

Before the Internet and 24/7 cable news with their insatiable appetite for sordid personal details, we viewed our idols through a lens of innocence that made them seem a bit larger than life. Paparazzi-driven media thrives on inevitable off-field flaws and failings, but something’s lost in the harsh spotlight of reality where box scores and records are overshadowed by financial transactions and court proceedings.

Even in the megabucks world of modern sport, I confess to retaining a bit of child-like admiration for Lance Armstrong. Without dismissing his personal struggles or ignoring his obvious marketing genius, Armstrong is a man who’s overcome adversity and uses his experience to inspire and encourage others.

I don’t care that he’s making a ton of money from Nike; in fact, good for him. I choose to focus on the people who are encouraged by his story to continue their fight. I choose to acknowledge the millions of dollars he’s raised for cancer research and treatment. I choose to admire those yellow bracelets that symbolize hope for folks all around the world. I choose to crank a little harder up that next hill in pursuit of The Crazy Quest.

It’s easy, and therefore tempting, to focus on what you oppose. Accomplished communicators accumulate followers, power, and riches by rallying resistance. Influential preachers and politicians build fanatical support based on opposition. I suspect that most people know more about what Christians oppose, often with bitterness and hatred, than what we support or believe. As Rick Warren said, “I love God, I’m just not mad about it.”

For me, the message of the video, and of Lance’s story, is simple. When you’re doing something positive, critics don’t really motivate you because they’re irrelevant. Don’t get distracted by the unavoidable naysayers standing outside the lines. Instead, do what you believe to be right, and do it with passion and persistence. Do it with love even when others don’t love you back.

Stand for something. That’s how you live a life of substance.

People like Armstrong, Christopher Reeve, Jim Valvano, Mike Utley, and Nick Buoniconti and don’t inspire because of what they oppose. These guys all fight (or fought) a tough opponent, but their legacy isn’t about disease or injury or anything negative. They’re too busy moving forward to waste energy on what’s behind. Their legacy is about proceeding with optimism, hope, courage, and passion.

That’s what I want. That’s a life of substance.

Is Lance Armstrong a hero? Ask the kids in the cancer center or the millions of people who run or ride every day because of his example. Perhaps they’re better judges.

Sometimes we forget that God uses imperfect people, because that’s the only kind He has to work with. Rather than cynically seeking defects to criticize, perhaps we’d all do better to emulate the courage that surrounds us.

I don’t admire Lance because he’s perfect–he’s not. I admire him because, despite his human flaws, he’s doing what he can to make his corner of the world a little better. I appreciate that he inspires me to do the same.

If that makes me seem a bit wide-eyed and innocent, I’m okay with that.

What’s your definition of a hero?

Did you enjoy this article? Please leave a comment, visit my website, and/or send me an email at rich@richdixon.net. 

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