Sixty…how could it be? Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t avoid the unsettling reality. My sixth decade of living was fast approaching. And I was about to embark on the most daunting journey of my life. Was I ready? Could I do it?
There was only one way to find out.
The naysayers were out there, constantly reminding me that it had never been done.
You’re crazy.
You’re too old.
You’ll hurt yourself.
Why do you want to do this?
I had come to realize, that this was my journey…not theirs. So how could I expect them to understand? Most people simply didn’t get it. And I had to be ok with that.
It was clear to me that it was a calling. I know…saying it out loud for the first time sounded weird. It surprised me to think of this as a calling. That word just wasn’t in my vocabulary. Isn’t that something for bible-thumping Christians? And that wasn’t me.
Whether it was a divine calling, or just my own way of defiantly battling my encroaching mortality, I was about to test myself in ways that would both reveal and change me.
I called it “Sixty at 60.” I was turning sixty years-old. And I would do sixty Ironman triathlons in the same year. But there was another piece. The piece that made this feel like a calling. I would start a movement to use my journey to help others.
Once I put all the pieces together, I couldn’t sleep. For three nights, I was restless. I tossed and turned. The thoughts and possibilities bounced around in my head like ping pong balls. And endless volley of ideas. But far from exhausting, I was energized.
Damn the naysayers. It was now up to me.
And so it began, on January 6, 2018, I officially started the journey. On a chilly morning in Naples, Florida, I stood on a small sliver of beach with several hundred other athletes. As I looked out into the Gulf, I reminded myself of what I was here to do. Yes, I had a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike and 26.2-mile run ahead of me. But there was so much more.
Days before, I had launched Live Your Bold, a movement to help others step out of their comfort zones and live a bolder, more purposeful life. I was now time for me to lead by example and show that we are all capable of doing so much more than we realize. Yes, it was a callingand the time had come for me to preach from the pulpit.
At the sound of the gun, I raced into the surf.
In the days and months that followed, life changed. I started knocking out Ironman races every six days, on average. And I was finding ways to connect and provide resources to help others stretch themselves. I was contacted by an elementary school teacher in Massena, New York. She wrote,
I teach 4th grade in a rural district in Upstate NY. Our students are significantly economically disadvantaged. Our small district has all of the problems you would expect from an inner city school, without the city: poverty, homelessness, parents who are unemployed or underemployed, drug abuse, crime, etc. One of the many things we work on with our students here is the concept of “grit”. Most of our students have no role models at home to demonstrate the crucial importance of grit. A parent may have a job for a while, or a partner or place to live for a while, but the stamina and grit required to keep those things is missing. In my room, we talk about the three “spires” necessary for success: aspire, perspire, and inspire. The kids set goals for themselves and then, ideally, work to succeed at those goals. All of this is a rather long-winded way of asking if I could speak to the kids about your Ironman journey, show them some of the photos of your Ironmen, and keep them in the loop as you make this endeavor. I think they would find it fascinating and inspirational.
Since that initial introduction, Ms. Hartman and I started collaborating. We shared ideas. We brainstormed. We explored ways to engage the kids and provide lessons that would help them learn and grow.
I found other groups and individuals with similar needs. The people I interacted with craved more for themselves. But they didn’t always have the confidence, courage or tools to move forward. So, I developed and shared resources. I traveled to speak to groups, both school kids and adults. A community was formed.
All the while, I tested myself physically and mentally, completing race after race, with little rest in-between. It wasn’t easy. Each race brought its own set of challenges and hurdles to overcome.
In a small race in central Oregon, the thermometer skyrocketed to an unseasonably warm 98 degrees. The radiant heat off of the asphalt was at least 10 degrees higher. Half-way into my run, I struggled with severe dehydration, which resulted in repeated episodes of vomiting and cramping. I hobbled at times, barely able to stay upright. The pain was relentless. As my body faltered, I had to rely on my mental strength to keep moving. No doubt, I was being tested. As I would be many more times to come.
I crossed the finish line of that race, the only athlete to make the 17-hour cut-off. But I was spent. In fact, my body was so wrecked from the dehydration that I couldn’t sit or lie down without the cramps surging through my legs. So, I walked in circles for hours in a dark parking lot, doing my best to keep moving to ward off the gripping pain in my legs. At one point, well after midnight, I stumbled on the edge of the parking lot and went rolling down a small hillside, only to be abruptly stopped by a tree that was in my path. I didn’t have the energy to laugh, but I’m sure if anyone had seen the spectacle, it would have been quite entertaining.
No doubt, we each find ourselves in those races. The ones that push and test us to our limits. It’s how we respond in those difficult moments that shape and define us. It’s been almost a year since I embarked on my Live Your Bold movement and completed 61 Ironmans, besting the current Guinness World Record of 44. And my callinghas only been amplified. One of Ms. Hartman’s fourth grade students wrote me to say,
Dear Mr. Turner,
I am so happy you came to speak to our class. I really enjoyed your talk. The thing I liked the most was how you told us that we can reach our goals with hard work. I also liked your story about swimming with the shark. That was scary. Thank you.
Your friend,
Angela