Don't pay interest, earn it

I see a lot of people who have 401K savings accounts, and then borrow money against them.  That’s nuts.

When it comes to money, debt, savings, and investment, you don’t want to be paying interest, you want to be earning it.

There’s more to say about this than I can write in one average post, but let’s look at credit card interest.  Let’s say the rate is 18% and you carry a balance each month that grows and grows. 

The Rule of 72 tells us that the amount of time it takes for the money to double is the interest rate divided into 72.  So 72/18 = 4 years.  So if you let that balance ride for 4 years you are paying double.

Let’s say you walk into a store and buy new shoes for $65 and put them on your credit card.  If you let the balance roll over and only pay the minimum, in four years you have paid $65 in interest on those shoes for a total of $130.  If you don’t pay the card off, they keep getting more expensive.

To be even more cruel, the shoes are probably worn out or out of date before you pay them off, and you have to buy another pair – on your credit card.

There’s the cost of the thing, and the cost of borrowing the money to buy the thing.

Financial ignorance is very expensive and keeps people doing dumb things and staying broke.

There is nothing wrong

Did you expect there would be no pain, no failure and no struggle in this life?  

There is nothing wrong.  It’s part of the journey.  Use it and move on with what you now know – stronger and smarter.

You make your own limits

There are limits of course, but they are WAY beyond the ones you have constructed and accepted for yourself.

Stop being your own limitation.  Take your foot off the brake.

Be the best version of the imperfect you

“We are all worms.  But I do believe I am a glow worm.” – Winston Churchill

None of us is perfect and you will not be the first.  We all make mistakes, do dumb things, and screw up.

Of course, we need to get smarter, more virtuous and more disciplined.  

But don’t let your imperfections of the past prevent you from being better today.

Follow what's inside

What have you been wanting to do?

How about this year?

Chapter Twenty One – Redemption

I made the last turn.  People lined the streets.  I could see men standing in front of the podium.  When they saw me, they erupted.  I was happy for them.  I was happy I did not let them down, for they had come so far.

I rolled up the podium ramp and they ran to me.  Bobby grabbed me and hugged me and declared the result.  “You did it!”. 

Victory.

They put the finisher medal around my neck.  On the strap, it said “Ironman”.

I became the oldest finisher, and one of only 20 riders in history to finish the Baja 1000 Ironman. 

I finished 4^th out of ten in 33 hours and 45 minutes.

Five riders of the ten starters finished, including Liz Karcz who rolled up 45 minutes after I did.

I finished in second place in the season championship points.

Tanner and I are the only father and son Baja 500 and Baja 1000 Ironman finishers in history.

I qualified for the “Milestone Award” having finished every mile of every race in the SCORE desert racing season, only the third Ironman in history to do so.

Special thanks to –

Tanner Janesky – my son and inspiration

Victor Abitia – Chase driver and friend for the entire season.

Bobby Miles and Kevin Koval – great friends who never gave up on me.

Arturo Davila – Mechanic/gentleman.

Javier Gonzalez – mechanic/driver and good luck charm.

Oscar Hale – 1000 pre-run riding mate/sage of Baja

Jimmy Holley – Hot Rod bike builder.

Chris Haines – Racing legend and mentor

Jesse Dostie and Ted Waldron – Videographers, tech whizzes, enthusiast

All those who cheered for me at home, staying up all hours tracking me, and pulling for me.  I knew you were there.

You, Think Daily readers, who compel me to get better.  It’s amazing what YOU can do.

Great friends all.

“An extraordinary life of shared experiences.”

714x

THE END (?)

Chapter Twenty – The Return of 714x

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs.  Ask yourself what makes you come alive and go and do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” – Howard Thurman

I raced away into the beautiful desert afternoon.  I wound through the brush, up the hills and down into the valleys.  I dared the switchbacks and flaunted my machine ever closer.

I know there were some that asked “What if he doesn’t finish?”  I asked, “What if I do?”

The course here going back into Ensenada was the same course as when it came out over 33 hours earlier.  The danger of this adventure was worth 1000 days of ease and comfort.  Getting close to Ensenada I was on paved roads now.  Five miles to go.  From my elevation, I could see over the city now – the gleaming vast Pacific Ocean just beyond.

I had lived this before.  I had finished the race in my bed, many times.  Now there was rushing air and the vibration under me.  This was glory not for another hour, but for this hour.

I dropped down into the river wash in the middle of the city.  I was one mile out at an altitude of 10,000 feet.  My muscles and joints were lubricated by the magnetism of a checkered flag and knowing my team and 1000 people scattered across the globe were waiting for me at the finish line.

I popped up out of the wash onto the city street. 

Four blocks and two turns to go. 

“Very important for your life”.

The dark night of my soul.

Gasoline and whiplash and spikes. 

Two blocks.

Heat and cold and dust.

Blood.  Tears.

Mis-takes, and pain and the Weatherman.

Faces and hearts.

Last turn.  One block.

Love and honor and promises.

Chapter Nineteen – Talking to Spirits

“When an idea’s time has come, it cannot be stopped.” – Ram Dass

I was in pain.  I had been in pain for 24 hours.  I was 32 ½ hours in.  My butt was raw, even though I had an extra wide gel seat, and two layers of bicyclists padding on my undergarments.  My upper back and shoulders ached, and my hands hurt.  My legs – everything hurt, and yet it didn’t.

I prioritized what I value most, finishing, over what I wanted now – to get off this bike.  That’s a formula for any of us.

It’s amazing what you can do. Your body can do more than your mind wants it to.  Your potential is far greater than the mind wants to allow.  Your mind’s job is to protect your survival.  It avoids risks and wants you to take the easy way.  It does not want you to drain your body’s resources like this.  You have to hijack these natural tendencies with powerful conscious thought. 

The sun was high and the landscape in Uruapan was beautiful.  Hostile in places, but beautiful.  I raced up the hills and down the descents.  I tried to keep a rhythm – a flow in the whoops between the golden boulders and outcroppings. 

The team put a tiny audio recording device in my helmet.  It was the size of a flash drive and recorded for 50 hours.  I talked to it during the race.  I dedicated sections to my daughters Autumn and Chloe, and to Tanner and my wife Wendy.  I talked to my Dad, and my Mom.  Both of them are gone now – but I talked to them.  I gave commentary on what was happening, and how I felt.  I talked a lot here. 

This was the last of the really challenging terrain, and I was moving through it with precision and speed.   I summoned strength from somewhere.  I was getting faster and making up more time.  During the entire race, now, 32 hours in, I had never ridden better.

Baja wasn’t going to give me anything.  It beat me the last two years and it couldn’t care less if I never came back.  But I did, and if I was to beat it, I must beat the old version of me to do so.  We must believe in ourselves and take bold action.

I came out to a familiar dirt road outside Ojos Negros.  I thought I had it made for a while on this road but had forgotten the course drove me back into the whoops and up the mountains for another cycle.  I emerged again and raced to my last van stop where Javier and Oscar were waiting for me.

The other vehicles with Victor and Arturo, and Kevin and Bobby had gone to the finish line to wait for me.  I had 33 miles to go.  Javier went over the bike.  Oscar refilled my hydration pack while it was still on me.  A woman and her husband were next to us waiting for their vehicle to come in.  They knew I was an Ironman and congratulated me. 

She took over for Oscar and rubbed out my shoulders and hands wanting to help in any way she could. 33 miles to go.   “I am going to be the oldest Ironman finisher ever,” I told her.  A spurt of emotion welled up in me.  I hid it in my helmet.

The stop was only a few minutes as usual.  I rose again.  The last time.  I threw my leg over the bike.  Javier and Oscar encouraged me.  I recalled what Oscar had said earlier. 

“Remember, this is very important for your life.”

Magnetism

I was spent.  I knew what came next.  Uruapan again.  Steep hill climbs, rocks, whoops – a challenge.  I sat down in the chair they had for me and had a Red Bull.  It was a reward of sorts.  I figured by the time I crashed from it I’d be across the finish line.  

Bobby knelt down in front of me and looked straight into my eyes.  He said loudly and with firm resolve,   “Now listen.  You need to ride strong and ride fast.  And when you get a chance to go fast, you go fast. You gotta finish this!  Do you hear me?!” 

I knew what I had to do, but hearing him say it filled me up.  I knew I wasn’t on my own.  Three years…I had come so far, and I was so close.   They didn’t want me screwing this up now.  I was working for them, and me.

A guy in checkered sneakers and a pony tail was at the stop videoing me.  He was giddy.  He was a fan of the movie and could not believe I was in another race right there in front of him.  His smile was ear to ear.

They filled me up with gas so I didn’t have to worry about the next gas pit a few miles down the road.  When I got there I went by it; an eerie feeling as if disaster would come in 25 miles or so.

I was 69 miles from the finish line – close enough to feel it’s magnetism.

Chapter Eighteen – Man against himself

“Everyone winds up somewhere in life.  Wind up somewhere on purpose.  You are the only one who can determine where that is.”

I had two more stops at my chase truck.  The next one was 737 at Santo Tomas.  The course wound up another section of mountainous terrain above the ocean for 15 miles or so, where I could look down and see the Pacific.  Down to the coastline again – so beautiful but, I couldn’t look; I had to focus on the course. 

Turn back inland with switchbacks to get to elevation again, then sweeping dirt roads.  When I crossed mile 707, the math was easy.  100 miles to go.  It sounded like nothing.  But it was something.

When I pre-ran I came around a switchback at speed and had to drift to the left side of the road.  Around the corner, a pick-up truck was coming.  I couldn’t make the turn tighter without crashing, so I drifted all the way to the edge of the cliff figuring the driver could go by with me on his right.  His brain didn’t figure that out and he came right at me with his brakes locked up on the dirt.  We both stopped, my front wheel 12” in front of his bumper.  I was looking right through the windshield.  He had a choice look for me.  Of course, I would have lost the contest.

I kept my encounter in mind as these roads were open to the public during the race.  I descended into Santo Tomas and onto Route 1 – the paved road on the Pacific side of Baja.  I turned left and saw my truck.  Race mile 731.

731.  That’s a big number.  I was 30 hours in and unexpectedly, I felt good.   

I was riding for my life.