Doing the dues
By Alison Colavecchia
3.12.02 (www.slowtwitch.com)

A while back I was "borrowed" to the field of addictions. I learned a great deal. One of the gifts I was given came from a client with many life struggles. She never quit. Each time she dug herself a hole, and she dug some pretty deep ones, she would climb her way back out. The phrase she often used to describe the process of digging herself out and getting back on track was, "Alison, I’m just doing my dues." For her this meant getting back to the hard labor of recovery. And it was very hard labor. Doing the dues meant always moving, thinking and feeling her recovery, 24 and 7. It meant a return to frequent AA meetings, attending church and connecting regularly with her sponsor. It was always more than a full-time job for the first while.

As I reflect on this phase of Ironman training, "doing the dues" seems to capture it best. There aren’t many races, it’s still cold and dark out, and there is much to do everywhere in my life. I am working hard at taking care of business 24 and 7. It is not always easy, and it is not always fun. Things just have to get done. Get the gear washed, wear it, put it back in the laundry. Wake up, get a load of laundry done, finish the lunches, clean up the previous evening's dishes and then head out to do my bike, run or weights. Get to work, work as hard as I can, have a coffee (large) and go for a swim. Eat lunch in the car, back to work, drive home. Cook dinner, another load of laundry, out with the kids, hugs and kisses for all before bed, make the lunches, go to bed, wake up and be prepared to work hard again.

There are times when I am exhausted not just because I am physically fatigued but because I am mentally fatigued. This is often from wanting to work hard at it all, wanting to give everything the time and energy it deserves, wanting to give my best to it all—all at the same time. At this stage, though, I have come to accept that this just isn’t possible: There simply isn’t enough of me. I also know that doing the dues will become even more challenging over the next few months, for I have seen the annual plan.

While I might whine now and again, you’ll never hear me complain, for I know I am lucky. I am privileged to have life and limb, to love and be loved by family and friends, to have a job I love (except at budget time) and a new passion in my life. While each in turn—or sometimes all at once—demands I pay dues for the privilege, I willingly ante up. That's because in return for the grunt work, for showing up to "do the dues" 24 and 7, I get to cross some of life’s most amazing finish lines.

Still tri’n