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A man running across the orange finish line of a triathlon

Power in the Word

Aaron James

This story originally appeared in the Respect newsletter.

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One of the most iconic scenes in "The Shawshank Redemption" finds Andy Dufresne in the warden’s office, defying the rules by playing an opera record for the whole prison to hear. It’s a beautiful moment that earned him two weeks of solitary confinement known as “the hole.” 

 

When he returns to gen pop, his buddies ask him how it was. 

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To their surprise, he tells them it was easy time because he had Mr. Mozart to keep him company. Not through his ears, but in his heart. 

 

It was one thing no prison walls could block out, no guards could confiscate and no darkness of the hole could extinguish: Hope. 

 

I felt that way when I competed in my second outdoor sprint triathlon (500-meter swim, 12.4-mile bike, 3.1-mile run). Though I wasn’t allowed to wear earbuds, my faith, my music and my people propelled me to a strong finish and reminded me of how encouraging words can inspire hope. 

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If you look at me, you may not think I compete in triathlons. I’m in great shape, but I was an offensive lineman in high school and have a broad build. The race is an official USA Triathlon event, so the competitors participating live and die by this lifestyle. 

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I’m not one of those “happy to be here” people, but becoming a triathlete is the culmination of a personal health journey that included a new outlook, diet, exercise routine and a loss of 60 pounds. 

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Simply put, my only competition is myself. I just wanted to be as prepared as possible, and lay it all out there on the course so I’d have no regrets. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel uncomfortable, and secretly inferior, to a lot of the picturesque triathletes there.

 

Because it’s a USA Triathlon event, they’re a little tighter on the rules than a 5k would be. People aren’t allowed to wear earbuds because they’re a safety hazard, and before race day, I hadn’t seen anyone run with music in their pocket, so I also thought that wasn’t allowed. 

 

No matter. I know my favorite songs by heart, and I knew when the race started I could summon the lyrics like Popeye’s spinach to pump me up when things got tough. Initially, I was gonna make it all about the tunes, but then I remembered something. 

 

God doesn’t come from the music. The music comes from God. 

 

So, I prayed before the race. And I recited Philippians 4:13: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

 

I also had other mantras, such as Keep pushing and You got this.

 

The prerace butterflies in my stomach quickly disappeared as I dove into the water for the first part of the race. I sucked in air and my throat felt a little like knives. I’d had a stuffy nose the past few days, and my chest wasn’t as open as I’d hoped for. 

 

No Christopher Wallace. I was determined to do well and shook it off as I sliced through the water to finish the swim in 7 minutes, 45 seconds: 2:24 faster than last year. I was told after that the swim was slightly shorter than in 2023, but nearly enough to explain that time difference. Sometimes having the chest and arms of a lineman pays off.

 

The bike was much tougher. I’m slower on the pedals and didn’t have the chance to train as much on the bike this year as I did for the swim and run. But I kept a steady pace and good form, and as I was going up one of the first small hills, I heard the call of Lil Jon in my head: Let’s GO! If you want it, you can get it, let me know!

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That hook looped around in my mind like spokes on a bike wheel as I kept pushing. But as I pedaled and grew weary in the rising heat, my thoughts turned against me. You get to that point where, when you’re trying to overcome a challenge, all of your failures, flaws and fights come swarming at you like furious hornets. 

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I have OCD, which makes it tricky to manage my thoughts. While organically negative thoughts can be swatted away through thought redirections, OCD thoughts are like UFOs that penetrate the atmosphere of a glitchy brain. If I try to suppress them, they just come back stronger, so I have to just let them exist as white noise until their power is sapped. 

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Then still, there’s run-of-the-mill worry that’s separate from any chemical imbalance. And on top of that came those thoughts that lodged their way into my belief system through trauma and painful events:

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I’m not good enough.

I don’t got this.

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To which I replied:

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Yes I am!

Yes I do!

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But am I, though? Will I really be OK? I know I’ll be fine in this race, no doubt. But what about in life? 

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A little after I hit the u-turn spot and hit the back half of the bike leg, Aretha Franklin’s words from her 1972 gospel album, "Amazing Grace," came to mind:

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God will take care of you.

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I exhaled and felt free. God’s got it, so I can just do my thing. I hit the back half with a vengeance, and it helped that the majority of the hills were on the first half. I wasn’t worried about anything or anyone. That’s when Eminem’s song, “Never Enough,” came to mind:

 

And I could give a fuck what category you place me…

 

I wasn’t doing this for anyone else on that trail. And even though I was encouraged by the thought of my close group of friends, the Platoon Squad, this race ultimately was for me. 

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A little later came T.I.’s “Salute,” which has been my go-to survival song for years: 

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That’s why, I ain’t gotta be the greatest of all time/Long as I keep it real in all my rhymes I’m fine/I ain’t lying, gimme mine and I’m satisfied/I’m just happy I got to make it before my daddy died/And all things considered, every time destiny called, king delivered.

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More than even Tip, the King of Kings definitely had my back in that race. 

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It was on. After a smooth transition, I began the run. But like everyone else out there, my legs were (Tuco from "Breaking Bad" voice), “Tight, tight, tight!” 

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I stopped to stretch my hamstrings real quick, and then picked up the pace. That’s when Jay-Z’s “U Don’t Know” hit my soul. How can you not get hype from a Just Blaze beat?

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One million, two million, three million, four/In just five years, forty million more!

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That song stuck in my head for a while as I pushed myself forward. I even thought of what my old football coach, Joe Magorien, once said:

 

If you don’t have the air, use your size and take long strides.

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All these years later, it worked.

 

And then came external motivation. Some guy – whom I’m assuming finished the tri and doubled back to motivate people – guided me and others on our final stretch. He helped me with form, motivation, encouragement and even when to take a break and walk uphill.

 

He was awesome. But what was even better was when I was running up a hill and a woman ran by with music playing from a phone in her pocket. It was a Christian song called “Overcomer” by Mandisa that I know well.

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You might be down for a moment/Feeling like it’s hopeless/That’s when He reminds you:

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You’re an overcomer!​

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​I remembered all I had overcome, all the adversity I had faced and everything that tried to derail me in my life. And how, with God’s help, I continued to take strides toward being the man I was created to be. I was proud of myself, and I made it up the hill undaunted. 

 

One thing’s for sure, though: Next year, I’m bringing my phone to play music.

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Even some classic rock entered the mix. I got a shot to the heart from, well, Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love a Bad Name:"

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Shot through the heart! And you’re too late, darlin’, you give love a bad name!

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The heat beat down on me as I ran, and I recited the first and third verses of Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” in my head to keep me going — my fatigued brain couldn’t summon the second verse.

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As I ran down a flat stretch and saw friends of mine waiting for me, I waved. They yelled encouragement, and I smiled and picked up my stride. I powered to the finish, and when it was all over I thanked God for helping me through. 

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My time was nine seconds slower than in 2023, and the race was slightly shorter than last year’s, too. I was initially disappointed, but then I heard that others were talking about how the heat made running a struggle.

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I don’t like to make excuses, but I do consider all factors. Between my constricted airwaves and the 85-degree heat during the run – much hotter than last year – I am very pleased with how I did.

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Most importantly, I had my friends and family to celebrate with. I was even told that my race was inspiring, which was a really humbling thought. I happily carried on my tradition of a big breakfast after a race. Chocolate chip pancakes on deck. 

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Editor's note: There's no photo of the chocolate chip pancakes, so may we all mentally visualize the deliciousness...

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The mind is a battleground. Events in our lives and the negative things we believe can cause us to retreat or lose our grip on what is true and real. That’s when, with our legs seized up and the sun beating down on us, we can start to feel hopeless. 

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But when we focus on what uplifts us – God, powerful lyrics and the encouragement of others – we can have hope that our struggle will have meaning that can result in not only victory, but inspiration for others. 

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Simply put, you don’t have to be the fastest in the world to know the race is already won.

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The Respect newsletter is all about saluting hip-hop culture. Subscribe here.

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