The Weakest Link in Your Chain
Just when you think you have it all handled, you don't and that's ok
I have an inch by inch square block of Tungsten sitting on my desk. It was a gift from a friend after my recent hit and run accident.
As I lay that first night in the trauma center ER amongst the logjam of gunshot, knifings and other medieval era-inspired forms of injury and violence that surrounded me, I had some time to think.
What I thought about was choice. What I was going to choose next.
Specifically, I made the choice that I would leave the hospital how I came in-walking.
My wife made it to me before the ambulance and drove me to the ER. I walked in.
And in doing so, I would embrace what happened to me, not playing the victim but instead to use it as an opportunity to grow as a person to have a platform for voicing the things I felt were important and to have one epic comeback story.
I recall the ER Ortho physician telling me through the fresh onslaught of pain that I was outside of their pay grade. They were transferring me to a Level 1 Trauma facility.
Four days later, I was doing semi-normal things only a day after leaving the trauma center. Like going to the coffee shop in order to try and tackle some of the work I didn’t want to push off. Yeah, I was in pain but it was manageable and each day it receded.
People that I encountered and who knew what happened gave me puzzled looks and asked sheepish questions. “Hey…Whoa. What? You are in line for coffee? Having a normal conversation? Smiling, laughing and joking? Dude, where is your walker? I’m so confused.' I thought you got hit and were seriously hurt?”
“I was. I am. Yeah.” I go through the injuries. It’s a long list. “I got discharged from the trauma center last Sunday.”
“But that’s like five days ago…”
I reply, “And? Pain isn’t physical. It’s mental. How you choose to recover is also as much mental as physical. This is how I choose to approach it.”
My friend who sent me the block of Tungsten knew I’d get it. Tungsten is a rare earth metal. Number 74 on the Periodic Table. Tungsten is the strongest of any naturally occurring metal. It has a tensile strength of 142,000 pounds per square inch.
That’s some hard shit.
His message to me was “Stay the course. You are one hard dude. Don’t let what happened define you. You define it.”
It was beautiful, sunny and hot at 11:52 am when I stepped outside for my first walk since getting hit. I told myself it was a ruck to make myself feel better about this important but very small and generally unimpressive first step.
Down the street and back. A whopping 0.928 miles at a blistering pace of 21:00 minutes per mile. I fired up Strava and set out in my running shoes, the Big Sugar Lifetime Series Race cap from last year’s race, the now ever-present Aspen brace and shoulder sling to keep the jostling of the still sensitive large number of fractured bones covering the middle part of my body to a minimum.
I walked the quiet road winding through our neighborhood. Not a soul in sight. Zero traffic, which was not unusual in the neighborhood this time of day in the summer. I thought whimsically, “Hey, it’s just like that day on County Road 1120. Except this time I am walking.”
County Road 1120 is where I got hit. No, I didn’t get hit. I got absolutely creamed. The neurosurgeon in reviewing my scans told me, “you are here and functioning by 3 centimeters.” He was not joking.
In the past, I have had friends tell me I have avoided catastrophe by a thousandth of an inch. One friend recently joked he thought I was immortal. Like the guy in the movie ‘Highlander’. One of my favorites. Maybe for a reason. Perhaps I just haven’t fulfilled my higher purpose yet. Perhaps I have one that I have missed or ignored.
That is for later though.
Amyway, I came to the stop sign I had told myself was the non-negotiable turn around point and walked slowly and steadily west towards home. I noticed I had a moderate headwind. Even though I was walking and not riding I smiled with amusement. All systems were still online and functioning. I was good. This was the right thing to do. First day out doing mileage. Uh, ok almost a mileage. Slow and solid. Focus on breathing and what you are doing. Mind your form (no, really I actually thought this).
Then it all went to shit.
A landscaping pickup, a large blue Ford (yeah it had to be a Ford. I have been hit by 3 Fords. Only Fords. Weird.)
The F350 Super Duty which hadn’t seen a wash in weeks, covered in dust and dirt, which nearly obscured the underlying once bright blue paint, lurched by pulling a steel mesh double axle trailer. The trailer’s equipment shifting and loudly complaining as the truck rolled by, about 18 inches from me, moving in slow motion.
The truck cab was crammed with dark brown workers in grimy yellow safety t-shirts, all of them seemingly staring at me. With the neck brace on, I couldn’t turn my head to see what was coming up on me. I saw it as it passed. I felt it. Not just the heavy air the truck moved out of the way but the weight and mass of the truck. The vibration it made through the concrete. The driver was probably only going 15 miles per hour when he passed me. I noticed the white magnetic decal on the door announcing the name of the Landscaping company’s name. It was crooked.
As the truck passed, all of my work to get where I was mentally just evaporated in a nanosecond. I thought I was strong as Tungsten. Then, instantly I wasn’t. This collapse shook me to the core. What flashed in my mind was the block of Tungsten and how I had mis-identified with it.
I wanted to throw it away. What utter bullshit.
I went immediately back to the accident remembering new details this experience was triggering. I remember thinking before I blacked out after smashing into the garbage cans, “What the hell? Why does these trash cans have the owner’s name painted on them? Who is going to steal a trash can?” I remember the taste of blood in my mouth and not being able to breathe. I remembered the smell of grass that brought me back from the darkness.
Standing alone on the road, the truck having already turned left out of the neighborhood half a mile up, I began to shake. Tunnel vision ensured. Waves of terror washed over me. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to be a bag of broken bones bleeding out on the pavement. I didn’t want to be stuck in a wheelchair the rest of my life.
I stood there for a moment then opened my eyes and looked up as much as my brace would allow. I let it pass. I realized I had spotted a tell. Like card player who gives away their hand with some unconscious tick or movement. I knew what to expect. Rather than fold or collapse, I had learned something.
Rather than weaker, I smiled, realizing I had just grown stronger.
I had forgiven the person who’d hit me. I still do. I knew I would physically heal and was already plotting, as I said, my epic return. What I had not anticipated was this. The trigger from sounds approaching from behind. I wonder what will happen on my first ride? I will make sure I will have a team mate with me as I am sure now it will not be as easily mentally or emotionally as I once thought. Still, I have to do it and will lean into it…cautiously.
At the mid-point of writing this, I decided to Google Tungsten after sitting here staring at the block for a very long while. I leaned something else.
I learned something supremely important.
As hard as Tungsten is, it isn’t impervious. In terms of impact strength, Tungsten is relatively weak. Not everything. Not even Tungsten is universally strong.
This is how life is. We all work towards our goals with expectations. Then, sometimes something happens that isn’t expected. A haymaker punch you didn’t see coming
Whatever is going to happen will happen. So let it. Focus on how you choose to respond.
Accept what comes, lean into how you choose to respond to it. Be strong and do not fold.
However, remember that even the strongest metal-Tungsten-has weakness. Don’t ignore your weaknesses. Embrace them. Learn from them. Inventory them. Find their boundaries. Put them to work for you. You are resilient because of your strength. You learn and grow…and ultimately become stronger by paying attention to your weaknesses. They are not to be hidden or ashamed of.
They are part of what makes you human and uniquely and powerfully you.
Peace, out.
Hey Steve, you just left a comment to one of my notes and now I'm here to check out your work. I'm a bit shocked how well written this story is. It not only has a great moral at the end but is also written like great novel. So much detail in the description of your experiences. When I read your story it was like a movie playing in my head! Since we are both writing about topics that are in a similar niche I would love to recommend your Substack. 🙏🏻