Choose Who You Want To Become

When I was twenty-four my father accidentally gave me some life changing advice. It came at the end of one of our frequent phone calls about my needing to find some direction as a young man. As I closed out the phone call telling him for the thousandth time that I still didn’t know what I wanted to do, he replied:

“You just have to choose who you want to be at thirty.”

Which in his mind rhymed with “octor” or “awyer.”

It never would for me.

After hanging up the phone, I went for a jog to think things over. He was right. I was starting my mid-twenties and still working/getting fired from disposable office jobs with no real career in sight. I had potential according to most of my friends and some very patient authority figures, but had no idea how to use it. The hurdles to everything I wanted to accomplish seemed insurmountable. I couldn’t even conceive of how to begin. Each day I woke up defeated, facing down another day that would resemble the last one. There were never any “best years” either behind or ahead of me. As my feet pounded out the miles I thought back over all the mistakes I’d made in a life that had stalled out early. My future remained hazy and my present seemed worthless.

As my jog neared its end up a steep, winding hill out of Seattle’s arboretum, the conversation with my father still played through my head. Suddenly, a future version of myself appeared in my mind. Walking down the street at thirty years old on a sunny day, he looked happy. He’d faced down challenges and become stronger for it. All I had to do was get over my fears and do what he’d done. Then I could be happy too.

Suddenly I had a destination. The path itself remained to be blazed.

When I got home, I devoted myself to completing what would become seven goals for myself before I turned thirty. The future me that I’d seen had done these things already. I would drop one goal and alter another, but within a year they would solidify into:

1. Backpack across Europe

2. Run a marathon

3. Teach English in Asia

4. Walk the 750-mile Shikoku Pilgrimage

5. Bicycle Across the United States

6. Get a Black Belt in a Martial Art

7. Write a Book

They were all things I’d been wanting to do separately for years and never committed to. I’d always gotten scared, convincing myself that it would take too much time and effort to fail at.

So at age twenty-four, I made a simple decision

Stop telling yourself what you can’t do and find out what your limits are.

Over the next six years I devoted myself to accomplishing the seven goals. I worked the regular 40-hour weeks to support them. In between I spent time with friends and family, had a few relationships that never lasted, and put off the career choice that everyone kept asking about. Some thought I was wasting my time, others admired my dedication. A few well-meaning folks would ask how I was doing on my bucket list. That question always bugged me the most. A bucket list sounded so superficial. A checklist of things you think would be fun before you die. I was attempting the opposite.

It wasn’t that I felt my time was running out.

It was knowing that there was so much time ahead.

I wanted to be a better person for all those years past my thirties. To make up for the time I’d wasted so far being afraid of trying to do better. I hoped to become someone I was proud to be. Someone who could tell other people that they could do the same. That they shouldn’t fear living up to their potential.

By the time I woke up on my thirtieth birthday in a tent in Wyoming, midway through bicycling across the US, I’d accomplished all seven goals. I celebrated by going to my first rodeo.

Looking back, the marathon was the shortest and comparatively easiest. The black belt took the longest. Writing the book was the hardest. The year teaching in South Korea was the most challenging.

Everything taught me something, usually nothing I was expecting.

Backpacking through Europe taught me that I could be my own guide and make it through. I was able to find a place to sleep every night, plan ahead, and make changes on the fly. It was also my first of many lessons that an imperfect journey is more valuable than staying where I was.

Teaching in South Korea taught me patience and adaptability. I committed to a year, ending up as an educator in a slightly crooked private school. I didn’t really enjoy the culture I was in, finding it too superficial and bland. So I learned to make it worthwhile. I forced myself to seek out adventures like visiting The Simpson’s animation studio and to go hiking solo on South Korea’s many mountains. It was there I discovered that in the end, you are responsible for your experience. Plus, some of my students make up my best memories.

Running the marathon taught me that fearing failure is worse than never trying. Though I had been a runner for years, this was the goal I put off the longest. There was that fear of having to bow out. That I would discover a limit I couldn’t overcome. It’s hard to describe why this was such a mental block, but being unable to complete it scared me to my core. Instead, I learned that by simply committing to something, even if the outcome is not assured, you can surprise yourself.

Karate taught me how long it takes to become good at an art, and how much longer it takes to become great at it. To start out flailing and trust that with enough passion and practice, you will improve. To understand that a plateau in learning is not endless, and neither is progress. To wake up every morning knowing that this day too will take effort. These are the steps of learning a discipline. Over five years, I became good at Karate. I am still humbled to see the great ones.

Walking the Shikoku Pilgrimage taught me to find appreciation in the world even when it’s challenging. The obstacles were seemingly endless: shoes that hurt my feet with every step, sweating through twenty mile days on what was then the hottest summer on record. I faced down hunger, boredom, a leg infection, and plenty more. Through it all, there were the moments of clarity. Accepting the challenges and joys of each moment being perfect as they could be, and learning gratitude for the smallest things.

Writing the book proved that the discipline and focus I’d gained from Karate were just the beginning compared to what was required. It took levels of devotion that had been previously untapped and remains the hardest thing I’ve done. Two solid years of sitting down and willing something into existence. The headaches, the constant editing, and in the end, the knowledge that out of thin air I made something the best that I could.

Finally, bicycling across the country taught me introspection. To forgive myself for the past mistakes that were weighing me down. That looking backwards is useful as long as it doesn’t distract you from seeing a new future ahead. Every day I woke to know that I was in the world, with all the challenges and wonder that it provides. I also knew that this was the end of one long journey. Since that life-changing conversation with my father at age twenty four, it had all been leading up to this.

Also, I got to sit on an Apatasaurus leg bone, which is the oldest thing my butt has ever touched.

Each goal built upon the next one. Each gave me the confidence to know that I could do anything I set my mind to. It gave me the gravity to tell others that they could change their lives too. Having friends tell me that I inspired them to seek after their own passions filled me with joy. So did the fan letters from strangers who said that my book had made their lives better. Of course, I didn’t turn into that vision I had when I was twenty four. I don’t walk down the street happy every day. Life has a way of continuing past the storybook ending you expect. I still deal with doubts in the hard times. But I like myself better. I proved my potential is there. That alone will change your life.

You don’t have to devote yourself to seven goals like I did.

Financially, I wouldn’t recommend it.

But I urge you to pick one goal that you’ve been wanting to accomplish. Make certain its concrete. Something that you can attain. Keep it in your mind and pursue it. Don’t be afraid if you stumble, or if you get lost along the way and have to find your way back. Don’t fear the time you spend going about it the wrong way before you find the ideal path. If you dedicate yourself to accomplishing one goal, I promise you that you can reach it.

Once you succeed, no matter how much time it takes, you will look around and ask yourself

“What else did I used to think was impossible?”

All it takes is getting over the fear of how hard it may be to become yourself.

My book is about hiking 750 miles on a Buddhist Pilgrimage in Japan in 2010, and everything that went wrong along the way