The August Assault: Introduction

We all have 10 weeks until August 1: time enough to mount our siege on the dream that's eluded us now for so long--and whatever has kept us at bay.



It could be anything, really.

Year after year after year, for instance, you may have sworn upon your soul to show the world a beach bod:




Or you may have sworn to quit smoking:





Or have you dreamed less and less of writing a great break-out novel?




I'm sure we're all on the same page now. No matter what we've accomplished, there's something we've lost on the way. Something that's eating away at our souls and making us feel incomplete. And, regardless of gender or color or age, our starting point remains the same. We need a sense of urgency--and not a mild one either. For our failed dreams fester within us. And with each excuse we make we rot a little more.




Do not think for a moment that your lost dream was childish or is unworthy of you now. And do not give a moment's thought to anyone's opinion. If you've sworn for years to do something, failing again and again, be assured of this: in one way or another you have been paying the price.

What I call the August Assault resulted from a nasty fall I took on April 5. Nothing was broken, but I'd suffered deep tissue damage in my right pelvis and hip, along with severe back strain. I ended up taking a long-planned vacation, including a round-trip cross-country train trip. But I was in agony all of the way and those I met in Buffalo--a sister and a friend I hadn't seen in many years--were shocked by my condition. I looked and felt like a tired and beaten old man. Back in Seattle, my misery grew: I couldn't exercise or do anything, it seemed, but eat. And I hated how I'd come to look.

But:




Today I'm here to tell you, though--even with my cane--that all of this was good. One morning I awoke with a white-hot sense of urgency: I could no longer live with the "me" I brought to Buffalo, old and whipped and beaten. I needed to return to the fabulous condition that I used to be in when I lived in San Francisco in the early 80s.

Urgency! No dallying!

Slowly and painfully, I returned to my home workouts.

I began making green smoothies and eating mostly raw.

And, to fuel my commitment, I promised online to produce a limited edition photo postcard revealing the results by August 1.

I have ten weeks and miles to go. But I'll share my results with you because we're all in this together. Each of us has a lost something that cries out to us for completion. Join me, friends, with your own August Assault.

The Hard Art of the After-Fall

On April 5, at approximately 5 a.m., I took a hard tumble on a dark street while hurrying toward the bus stop.



The fall was bad enough to cause one driver to screech to a stop. He helped me to my feet and stayed till I assured him that nothing was broken and I'd be okay...though I did seem to hurt all over. I turned down his request for a ride to a nearby hospital. He left reluctantly, turning to ask me one last time. I thanked him. But no, really, I was Reb MacRath. I'd studied Aikido for too many years to not know how to tumble.

Wrong. I needed help getting onto the bus and more help getting off it. Though still sure that nothing was broken, I'd strained a groin muscle almost certainly.  Or I had a hernia. I left a message on the sick line at work, explaining that I was temporarily immobilized. Since the next day, Wednesday, was my day off, I had two days to rest and heal. I should be fine by Thursday, I thought. And I had to be fine by Sunday--because that was the Magic Day.

Yes, I'd booked my ticket months ago for a cross-country train tip from Seattle to Buffalo. And, let me tell you, I'd planned the trip down to the tiniest details: a glorious walk through my old college campus...a long walk through the downtown area...visits with my sister and an old friend I hadn't seen since my years in Canada...a visit to my parents' graves.

So I'd heal because I had to heal within the next five days. Right?



Wrong. Long story short: I did board that Amtrak train and take the trip, but not as planned. I accepted gratefully a wheelchair at the station and needed to sleep upright in my cabin every night. The train car attendant brought me my meals. And in Buffalo I ended spending most of my time sitting with my leg raised or lying down. I met with my sister and friend, nothing more--except for a round-trip cab ride to a nearby Starbucks once.

I'm home again and somewhat healed 15 days after the fall...but not nearly healed enough to return to work yet. So today I'll see a doctor or cab to an emergency clinic. What's my situation and what do I need to do?

Equally important: What the devil have I learned?



1) I'd felt angry and bitter the day of the fall. I'd paid for my vacation a half-year before and had been planning it down to the tiniest details. The timing of the injury couldn't have been worse, I thought. But I see now that the timing could have been much worse. If I'd fallen three days later, I'd have had to cancel the trip because of the pain. If I'd fallen four months before, I wouldn't have had the medical insurance that I now enjoy.
2) The fall itself could have been much worse--and I think those years studying Aikido did help. Tens of thousands of break falls and rolls did teach me to protect my head when landing.
3) Suddenly, it's become completely unimportant to me to run for a bus or to be first in line for anything. As a man with a cane now, I'm focused on each step along the way.
4) Our infirmities bring out the worst in some people and the best in others. We'll meet bullies who'll go out of their way to block our path, demanding we move when we're barely able to stand. But we'll also meet saints who go out of their way to see if we need help.
5) The thigh bone's connected to the hip bone and the hip bone's connected to the back...The groin pain and hip soreness were clear enough to me. But the back pain came later and mystified me. That is, until I played amateur detective. I was having enormous difficulty getting out of bed--and also having a good night's sleep. Could the villain be the old foam futon, set on the floor with no frame?
Had the back strain resulted from tossing and turning on the old foam's hardened ruts?
6) Our life strategies must be connected as well. Today I'll see a doctor...after having a new bed delivered at noon. I'll need to set up a work schedule that meets my doctor's orders. And I may need to take more time off.
7) Finally, for now: be grateful for the humblings. We all need to be reminded that we are not invincible and are not here forever. Because my movements were so restricted, that vacation was all the sweeter. And I wouldn't have exchanged it for a week on the world's finest beach.