(warning, this post has very little to do with Triathlon. I mention the word once, but that's it - oh, and I say, "Ironman" too...)
say you're scared. I'm scared. Not about the economy. I know that's tit's up. Foregone conclusion. I'm scared 'cause I know what I want to do, and it seems reckless. Even for the M-dot Bigun.
I want to go West. The Mountains. The Rock. The weather. Things in my own country I've never seen before. The Grand Canyon. Yosemite. Salt Lake. Deserts and high mountains. Low humidity. Ghost towns. Stuff like that.
Weirdly, at 45 (in a few days) I'm at a reset point in my life. I can go anywhere and do anything without any more (read MORE) negative effect on my career or financial standing. A big giant ditto for my wife's situation. Together, we have little to lose no matter where we go. It's sad and exciting at the same time.
At 45 you'd hope to be in cruise mode. You'd hope to be on the career path with the train having left the station, all the cars lined up in a row. Safe. Not so much. What's even worse is that in a highly specialized world (if you don't believe that it is, just try to look for a job these days) I'm a very un-specialized guy.
It's a bad habit formed from my military days. Every two years or so, sometimes less, in the Army you change jobs. I'm not talking a quick change from, say being the guy making the widgets to being the guy supervising the guy making the widgets. An Army infantry officer could one day be leading a platoon of dudes specialized at firing mortars to the next day being the head Human Resources (S1) honcho of the "Corporation". The next year you could be the maintenance HMFIC (BMO) and then spend a year managing logistics (S4). Just enough time to get good at the job they throw at you, but not long enough to become an expert.
That was cool, back then. I never got sick of a job. Since leaving the Army, my resume is splattered with varying jobs and duty descriptions. My sales career of 7 years is the longest I've ever done anything on a consistent basis - oddly, it's the least favorite job I've ever had. What a dumb ass!
I've been asked, "what do I want to do"? I struggle with that daily. The best job I ever had I gave up 12 years ago, and nothing since has come close to it's coolness. To say, "I miss the Army" is an understatement. But that's all water under the bridge.
I've tried to supplement my lack of satisfaction in my work life with challenges in my free time. Triathlon. Ironman. These things were (are) awesome and were great achievements but unfortunately do not put bread on the table. The fiddler is on the doorstep, and he's got his hand OUT! And you know what, it's not about becoming rich for me. I'm not looking for the crazy huge house or expensive cars or whatnot. I think it boils down to three things: Be challenged, make a difference, and do it honorably with honorable people around me. With that, pay me fairly for what I do.
If I keep looking, something like that will come up. I'm pretty sure of it. Just not here in Tampa. Lets face it, I don't fish. I don't lie on the beach. I don't sunbathe. I'm not a boater. I hate lawn work. Exactly - what in the heck am I doing here? Uggg. As spontaneous and as carefree as Di and I seem to be, I'm still one to have a plan. At least a fall back plan. In the past, I've been places that I was able to stay with family while we regrouped. In the past, Di's expertise was highly sought after - now, it's not. I think that Di's efforts at her career and passion for what she did made just doing the "sales thing" tolerable for me. True, there are lot's of "I's" up there, but it is not all about me. I have a feeling that Di does like it here, and that adds a dimension of suckitude to the moving equation.
Perhaps I'm over thinking all this. "Just do it", right? Can I get a big, "quit 'cher bitchin' Bigun and do something" from the crowd? Gosh, when did I become such a puss?