Training and new babies..

It’s difficult for me to wrap my head around my personal goals and their impact on my wife and new baby. Often I feel guilty about wanting to go rock climbing, parkour, or just train in general. Mrs. Average is quite positive about it, urging me to follow my dreams, but I can’t help but think that I’m somehow abandoning her and Baby X to the metaphorical wolves whilst I dangle from ledges by my fingertips.

They say that the first few months of one’s first child are the biggest habit breaking/forming times of one’s life. I’m trying to use this to my advantage, but its difficult. I still smoke cigarettes, albeit much less than before. I had counted on Baby X helping me to break that habit, but it does little to deter me, other than the pain in the ass of washing my hands every time I smoke. My paid work ethic has strengthened, which I like. Other than that, it seems each day is a blur of work, baby, then chilling, wishing I had done A, B, or C as well.

I have turned to my brother and father for advice, and they assure me I am on the right track. My brother came into town for a Zombie Run this weekend, three children in tow. It was quite inspiring, to see him not falter from his goal. I shall try to emulate him in this way.


An Average baby arrives!

On Friday November 22nd, at 6:40PM I helped to deliver my first son.

Mrs. Average’s pregnancy was completely, almost preternaturally uneventful. Apart from the obligatory morning sickness for the first trimester, the entire thing was easy. So easy that we took it as an ominous omen about the delivery, namely:easy pregnancy, difficult birth. Nothing could have been further from such frightful imaginings than the truth.

I was at my average plumber’s job, going over some plans and material invoices when I was texted by a co-worker of Mrs. Average. It merely read “E(Mrs. Average) wants you to come pick her up. Now.” An “oh shit” popped from my lips, and I quickly left. It was a rainy, cold 30 minute drive along a highway with an 80MPH limit. I fought to remain in control, calm, a quote from an astronaut playing over and over. “One thing at a time, and do that perfectly.” A cool sheen sheen fell across me, and I drove well, always in control. I kept it up, arriving at Mrs. Average’s work, getting her bundled off to our home in all due haste.

We chose the midwife route, and called her. I began timing contractions, and within minutes it was time to go to the birthing center. one very long hour in rush hour traffic later and we had arrived.

The rest was easy, for me and Mrs. Average. Five contractions, five pushes and one healthy baby boy popped right out. I burst into tears, comforted Mrs. Average, and spent the night basking in new baby goodness.

Just another large reason for me to improve myself, as Baby X will be looking to me for instruction, guidance, and examples of what it means to be a man, a human, a father, a lover, and all-around badass. I hope I can fulfill these weighty posts.

Thoughts on becoming.

Becoming is the process to which there is no end. Humans are not caterpillars, morphing into butterflies in caterpillar-cocoon-butterfly continuum. It is an evolving process, with no clear end.

I recently had a conversation about perfection, and was stunned by the participants’ absolute knowledge that perfection exists. I repeatedly asked them to point out something perfect, so that we may have a baseline from which to judge. Only one person was able to answer, and their answer was a particular piece of art. I responded that, most likely, there are things about her piece of art that the creator would change. This has been my experience with art, whether it is songs, screenplays or even blog posts, and people who don’t make art have difficulty understanding this.

The process of self-improvement, or Becoming as I call it, seems to be a popular pastime these days. I find this to be an extremely positive development. In my inexpert opinion, it is the next stage of human evolution. Environmental pressures gave us these amazing bodies, as well our brilliant brains, but those pressures have ceased to push the average western world citizen, i.e me. Our brains, and capacity for knowledge, have expanded almost exponentially, but we’ve lost contact with our bodies. I know I did.

After generations of sitting, toiling in factories, and living lives that are “nasty, brutish, & short”, we in the west suddenly find ourselves in an interesting situation. We have a world-brain, i.e. the internet, a vast repository of knowledge that grows exponentially almost daily. We know how our bodies work, what they were “made” for, but we are often missing the mental component. Only recently did we come to realize that mind and body are one, and to get our minds operating to their fullest capacity requires our bodies to be in peak condition as well.

And that’s where I am. Becoming fully human, with a body capable of doing the things my mind craves. Becoming fully Rory, able to conquer fears and go beyond what I am today. Becoming a beautiful butterfly, morpho menelaus if I may choose, unfettered by the fears that plague me, the trivial concerns that hold me back, the parts of me that insist I cannot become.


It’s harder for me to blog than it is to train.

I’m an intensely private individual. So private, in fact, that I have a hard time allowing myself to be photographed.

I don’t use social media, except Twitter, which I use to mostly follow journalists. I’m aware that is mostly likely borderline paranoid-whatever syndrome. Such knowledge changes little, though.

I have no problem showing up to the rock climbing gym 5 days in a row, then hitting the parkour gym for day 6. I can get on stage and perform for hours behind a drum set, guitar, synth or whatever. But it took me 4 hours to make it past the first sentence of this post, and a good two months to make my first post on this blog. Strange, but a challenge I have to deal with.

It seems odd to me that some people vomit their whole lives onto the blogsphere, sneeze thoughts into the twitterverse, and build farms in the hinterlands of facebookistan. Conversely, I’m aware of a burgeoning idea that people without a facebook, i.e. me, are “suspicious” for some reason.

Nonetheless, half the point of this blog is push myself, to make myself uncomfortable, and to see exactly what I am capable of. And right now, I just pushed my comfort zone into slightly wider circle.

Where I’m starting from…and where I’m going.

The hardest part of starting a new journey is taking a leap of faith right at the beginning…

And that’s what this is, a leap of faith.

2103 has been very kind to me. I started new, well-paying job, my lovely wife of five years is pregnant with our first child, a boy, and I found a passion for rock climbing and parkour I didn’t know I had. Add to that a self-set goal of running the ninja warrior course, and it seems like this is a recipe for happiness.

Why do I feel empty then?

I feel empty because I know, with every fiber of my being, that I am only coasting, not even trying to be what I know I can be. That I’m not living my “authentic self”. That most of the things I do are devoid of satisfying results. That the ease with which I took to rock climbing beliesĀ  deeper comfort with my body that I ignore. That I endlessly turn to distraction, and when the distraction of the moment ceases, I retain the void said distraction did not even begin to fill.

No more. Today I decide to commit to becoming the full person I yearn to be.

And this is part of it.

I’ve tried to write this piece many times, and always turned to distraction instead. I can’t, nay won’t allow this anymore. It seems trivial almost, to think about my forthcoming son, how I live and what lessons that will teach him, and decide to write a blog. But if you aren’t aware of where you are starting, how can you know where you are going?

I start as an average man. 35, 5’10” 165lbs, high school dropout, former small business owner, a rock climbing parkouring plumber, a musician, a husband, and a soon to be father. Where I’m going, alas, will not change any of those things.

What it will change is the lessons my son will see about life. What he’ll see is that anyone, especially average humans, can become something more than they thought possible. That others thought was impossible for them to be.

A year from now, I hope to be more than I am today. A year from now, I WILL be more than I am today. The authentic Rory Average.

Stay tuned for more…..Perhaps it will be worth it. You judge whilst I do.