What happened to Ben Johnson?

Work in progress.


Last Saturday, I was sitting on the beach at the legendary Pipeline, on Hawaii’s island of Oahu, witnessing some of the most amazing waves on the planet. They seem almost unnatural. I am lucky. It was the Billabong Pipeline Masters off Banzai Pipeline at North Shore.
I had a weird sensation. Like I had stepped into the twilight zone, a feeling that these are the people that I am, and the people that I belong with. These people know how I feel, these people are of the earth, and I helplessly settled into the warmth of the sun, and the feeling of belonging.
While I was taking part of the sanctioned and organized event, I awed at how much of a feeling of hedonism that was so widespread all over the beach. The crowd was enormous. Every few seconds, I took a deep breath of fresh pot smoke coming from nearby hippies. A massive gathering of surf enthusiasts, nature lovers, all stood together to watch waves nearing 50 feet plow down on unsuspecting, puny humans.

The waves were larger than anything I’ve ever seen in real life. The efforts and bravery of the surfers, greater still. I realize that I miss being one of the chosen “tan-faced children” Walt Whitman spoke of in “O, Pioneers!” The children that Levi’s ads have plastered all over shopping malls and television commercials. It was so good to “ooh” and “ahh” in unison watching Mick Fanning, Kelly Slater, and Dane Reynolds with thousands of tan-faced brothers and sisters, all genuinely in awe with not only the sport, but the belonging feeling that all spectators enjoyed together being a part of greatness.

After a few hours of watching surfing, we got in the water for a quick soak, and then went to the nearby shrimp shack to eat spick and sweet shrimps over rice. I was transformed. I am transformed. The Ben Johnson who walked off the beach was not the same one who began the day. I happily ate my shrimp shack goodness, and sunk back into the sun as it lowered into the sea.

href But what happened to that Ben Johnson? He was the guy who would have been the first in the water, with his shirt and pants flying off leaving nothing but footprints and a spray of sand! He was the guy you’d have to peel out of the water long after the sun has gone down, and lure him out with promises of bonfires and cold beers. If you were looking for Ben Johnson, the usual places would be the Beach, the Gym (wrestling practice), the Pub & Sub, or in class. Now, I’m tethered to my work station, typing memos, or giving briefings or coordinating with vendors for medical supplies. Endless are the expectations of superiors, and endless are the fires I am constantly putting out.

I have had tremendous achievements in my 27 years. Few dismal failures. I am more than happily married, have great close friends, have a great job, and am still rising to the top of my potential in the workplace…but maybe that’s not enough. I can’t help feel an enormous longing for the Ben Johnson I used to be. The Ben Johnson who didn’t have anything but aspirations of excellence, with a driving competitive edge that kept me grounded but eager to go farther. That Ben Johnson is inside of me, and is slowly scraping back to the surface.
As a member of the Crossfit Ventura Community, I feel that I am part of something greater than me – a united group of athletes who do it to live better. I am part of a culture that is different and greater than average. Than everyone at my workplace, than everyone I used to think whose opinion matters. I am lucky to be a part of a group who genuinely wants me to get a personal record every time I pick up a barbell or climb onto the rower. I feel lucky to be a part of a community who cares what I had for dinner, and how much I slept last night or asks me what’s new because they care, and not to fill the silence.
I am afraid. I am afraid of today’s workout, not what negative feedback my boss may give me on my latest memorandum, or feedback on the speed of my chest compressions on a CPR dummy. I am afraid of not doing going faster, lifting heavier, or being better, when I know that I should. I am afraid of losing to me, not to the other team. I am eager to improve my form. I am eager to improve my life. I am eager to do hard things. I don’t bother trying to explain this to people who do not speak the lingo. They couldn’t understand.
Another thing occurs to me. I don’t care what teams are in the playoffs or who wins the superbowl. I’m busy with important things.