Iron Man Part 1

 

I learned the first year of the seminar not to try to navigate around holidays, so the schedule ends in November, and we kick off again after the Open in March. This gap created unintended but welcomed downtime.   During these months, I spent a lot of time working on our schedule and website. And now that the course doesn’t need huge adjustments like it did in the first year, I can get back to basics like our social media and new additions. This time also tends to involve more evenings reading books I put on the list, longer showers, sleeping in, dancing in the kitchen ((chuckle)), and a few more glasses of eggnog than I usually like admitting ((giggles)).

Right after Thanksgiving, I get my new version of ‘Cultivate What Matters’ to start the season of reflecting and setting new goals or revising old ones. The month of December is usually a time of great self-reflection. It takes a while to work through all the pre-work and determine the next twelve months. I work through the big high-level goals, build out the finish line goals, and then figure out what daily habits need to happen. What needs to be adjusted or changed altogether? It usually takes most of December to work through it, and this year was no different. But as I finish this year’s version on New Year’s Eve (right on time), I am entering 2024 with one of the most God-driven, eye-opening, mind-shifting, self-reflective gifts of my life.

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It started in the first few precious days of December. I met someone whom I lovingly referred to as ‘Iron Man.’ It wasn’t because of his freakish superhero looks, although I was smitten by a dimple on his left cheek under the slightly graying bearded rubble. The nickname came from his profession.

The Mesabi Iron Range is a mining district in northeastern Minnesota. It is the largest of the four major iron ranges in the region, collectively known as the Iron Range. The area has its own lasting cultural legacy, including mining communities, diverse ethnicities, a history of labor strikes, and strong labor unions. It has also been a source of inspiration for movies, writing, art, and music and is considered one of the most beautiful areas in our state.

After dating and almost marrying an uptight, somewhat arrogant narcissistic attorney where every conversation felt like a deposition for eleven years (single for quite a few years following), I was instantly intrigued with someone radically different in every way humanly imaginable, including everything I thought would be necessary to me.

He didn’t have the level of education I did but could handle conversation like the best of scholars; he could match my humor and wit in perfect tandem. I hadn’t laughed this way in years. He didn’t do CrossFit, but the fact that I could talk about things outside of CrossFit for the first time in years was a relief. I was surprised, but it didn’t bother me in the least. He didn’t wear joggers or Metcons; instead, he wore a hard hat, overalls, and boots and got to handle heavy explosives. I welcomed every bit of it with open arms.

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He was quick to disclose the fact he was going through a divorce, which initially made me a bit nervous. I had two steadfast rules:

1. I will not date anyone who has been divorced.
2. I will not date a man who has children.

I realize these rules seem inflexible and probably were, but I wasn’t even sure how they started. I just had them for as long as I could remember.

Shortly after we met, Iron Man opened up and told me about ALL his children: 5 boys. My eyes grew bigger and bigger as he told me about each one, ranging in age from toddler to early 20s. I put my hand on my heart, and I could feel my heart starting to pound heavier. I went from biting my lower lip to feeling like I would hyperventilate.

Later that night, I am in bed staring at my ceiling, talking to God.

“…. God, I don’t know here. Five? Seriously?  I can’t even with this right now”…..

That feeling of “I can’t even” changed the following day when he showed me a picture of two of his youngest, each wearing identical dimples. My heart melted, and my eyes got watery. These beautiful babies didn’t scare me.

My reluctance and over a decade-long of digging in of heels when it came to children was pulling at every string connected to my heart.

I would pull up that picture several times over the next week. A few times, I was teary-eyed, but I always asked myself the same question, “Do they scare you?” I always answered, “No, they don’t.”

The third time I did this activity, I sank into the chair upstairs in my dressing room and just sobbed. I threw my arms toward the sky…

“God, what THE FUCK”.

I knew there was something I was holding onto that I was going to GET TO work through. Little did I know…