Born to Perform (19 page)

We leave them in a small room at 59 Park Road. The Blackman. The Whiteman. The chewing gum. The carpet. Next time you get injured, Gerard Hartmann knows a way.

23

Positivity and Drive in the Face of Adversity

Noel Carroll rang me out of the blue one morning, like he so often did, only this time it was a phone call I will never forget. It was a Friday, October 23, 1998, and he was looking for some advice to pass on to his daughter Nicola. She was living in Barcelona at the time and had sustained a minor knee injury while in training to run a local 10 kilometre road race. I told him to make sure she took it easy, to ice it regularly and not to run through any serious pain.

Noel thanked me, and finished the conversation by saying he was about to leave his office in Dublin, where he worked as CEO of the Dublin Chamber of Commerce, and drive the short distance to the UCD campus at Belfield, where he acted as coach to the university athletics team.

There, he joined a young scholarship athlete named Andrew Walker, and together they would share the four-mile lunchtime run around the sports fields and wooded paths of Belfield.

Noel wasn't just a great coach; he was also a wonderful philosopher, and always worked on developing the mind of his athletes as well as their physical fitness. This leisurely run was to be the start of a promising weekend: that evening he was set to drive his wife Deirdre O'Callaghan, the renowned Irish harpist, to the Wexford Opera Festival.

At the start of the run, Noel told the young Andrew Walker that he should go into Eason's in Dublin and purchase a book named
Jonathan Livingston Seagull
by Richard Bach. The popular small book, a mere 87 pages in length, is one of the most celebrated inspirational fables of our time, and as relevant today as it's ever been.

The run continued, and the chat, as always, had Noel acting as coach and mentor, guiding his small athletic flock. Once finished and standing next to Noel's Rover car, parked at the UCD sports centre, Andrew asked, “Noel, what is the name of that book again?”

Noel looked at him and replied, “
Jonathan Living
…” and before he had the full name spoken he suddenly dropped to the ground.

Noel Carroll, husband, father, champion runner and Olympian, coach, author, and one of the driving forces behind the starting of the Dublin City Marathon – and above all a truly special man – had dropped dead on the spot. He was a fit, superbly athletic 57-year old. He had taught so much to so many people, and he was a true role model.

Noel Carroll's sudden death sent shockwaves through the athletic community. It was greeted with disbelief mainly, but also great sadness. Some said it was Jim Fixx all over again – the American runner and author who also died suddenly at the height of the running boom in the 1980s. The small minority of people who doubt the benefits of running could say, “That running business will kill you.” Who knows? But if Jim Fixx and Noel Carroll, and my friend Kim McDonald who also died of a sudden heart attack at 45 years of age, had not exercised, maybe they would have died years younger.

All I know is that, from almost 40 years of swimming, running, cycling and all-round exercising, I personally feel good and function well when I keep fit. On some occasions, when I have been sidelined through injury or illness or have been too busy with work commitments, my zest drops and I start to chug. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that regular exercise has positive benefits that far outweigh the risks involved.

Within days of Noel's death, and still dazed by his sudden passing, I pledged my support to the young Andrew Walker, taking him under my wing and offering to help him with his athletics and career in whatever way I could.

A couple of weeks after Noel's death, when Andrew was visiting me in Limerick and recalling the last moments he had with his coach, he explained about the book
Jonathan Livingston Seagull
. There and then, we walked together up to Eason's in Limerick and purchased two copies. That evening I read it from cover to cover, in one sitting, and realised how the story and message were indeed so simple. I saw how I shared many of the traits of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. In some ways we were brothers in the flight in pursuit of excellence. Here is a synopsis of the book:

For the flocks and flocks of seagulls that you see by the shore, life consists of the mundane routine of eating and surviving. Flying is just the means of finding food. Jonathan Livingston Seagull is different. He is no ordinary seagull. For him flying is the most important thing in life, and perfecting it like no other gull has ever done. Against the conventions of his flock and the greater seagull society, he seeks to find a higher purpose and his mantra is to become the best at what he loves. Jonathan has no fear of learning. To reach excellence he will make mistakes along the way but he sees no limits and he learns at a tremendous rate.

Jonathan chooses to be a one-in-a-million bird. The most important thing for him is living to reach out and touch perfection in doing what he loves to do, and that is to fly. He spends hour after hour every day practising flight, testing advanced aeronautics. Jonathan can see that other seagulls' lives consist of boredom and fear and anger. That is the reason they are unfulfilled and their lives are so short.

Jonathan perfects flight and sets a world speed record for seagulls. But it is at a price. He knows that “The gull sees farthest who flies highest.” The flock on the ground stand squawking and fighting among themselves, wasting unnecessary time and energy.

Jonathan's pursuit of excellence does not make him popular with other birds. He is reprimanded for his pursuit of excellence. He is called into a Council Gathering by the elder seagulls and is brought to “stand to centre” for shame. He is told he violated “the dignity and tradition of the Gull Family”. He is cast out by his own gull society, banished to a solitary life on the Far Cliffs.

Jonathan pleads to the Council flock: “Give me one chance, let me show you what I've found…Who is more responsible than a gull who finds and follows a meaning, a higher purpose for life. For thousands of years we have squabbled after fish heads, but now we have a reason to live – to learn, to discover to be free.”
⁵
It falls on deaf ears. The gulls intone together, and with one accord solemnly close their ears and turn their backs on Jonathan.

Jonathan spends the rest of his days chasing excellence. His one sorrow is not solitude, it is that other gulls refuse to believe the glory of flight that awaits them, that they refuse to open their eyes and see.

When I was a student at the Salesian College in Pallaskenry, Co. Limerick, showing enthusiasm and potential as a young runner, I was fortunate that I had a Sports master, Fr Martin Loftus, who gave me the freedom to expand my wings to fly. As a special concession, he allowed me to get up early and run before breakfast. Fr Loftus looked out for his flock of sportsmen in true Salesian Christian fashion. St John Bosco, founder of the Salesian Order, had stated: “The teacher who is seen in the classroom and nowhere else is a teacher and nothing more; but let him go with his boys to recreation and sport and he becomes a brother.”

To me, this freedom of running was like a powerful light that I could switch on during the dark winter mornings and evenings. It was a floodlight that lit up the field that I shared with sheep. I sometimes ran barefoot on the field at night, like Jonathan training and perfecting what I loved, spurred on by the bright glow of passion for running.

I was also fortunate that I had parents who encouraged me to chase my dreams. In 1978, at sixteen years of age, months after I ran a marathon fundraising for Trocáire, I won the All-Ireland 2,000-metre Steeplechase Under-17 title; the following day I finished second in the 800-metre event. That Sunday evening, I set off on a ferry from Rosslare to Cherbourg in France with my friend Derek Wallace, who had finished second to me in the steeplechase.

I had planned to cycle almost 3,000 miles around Europe. Derek bailed out after one week and got a train back to Cherbourg and the ferry home.

I continued on my merry way, covering 2,700 miles in 6 weeks, cycling the length of France and through northern Italy, Switzerland and Germany. Doing such extreme things at a young age set me apart and gave me the confidence and independence that would serve me well throughout life.

When I arrived back in Limerick after my cycling tour, my dad greeted me with great relief. When I had not been in contact for over three weeks, my mother feared the worst and had travelled to Lourdes to pray for my safe return.

It can't have been easy for my parents to see their only son go to the US at 17 years of age to pursue excellence in running, instead of continuing a long tradition and working in the family business; head off a second time to pursue excellence in triathlon; and, at 29 years of age, change tack again and return to college in the US for further study.

I was fortunate, too, to have stumbled across the emerging sport of triathlon, all of 30 years ago, in 1981. Triathlon and Ironman gave me more than I could ever have imagined: it gave me freedom and identity, and it allowed me to taste sporting success. It also taught me discipline and how to endure the pain and suffering necessary to reach the top. It gave me plenty of highs and, indeed, lows, introduced me to so many people, and helped me make some great friends. It allowed me the opportunity to chase excellence. Nobody ever wins the race of excellence: it is an ongoing process, a race that never stops. In many ways, excellence is perseverance in disguise. Most important of all, sport and triathlon gave me the confidence to believe in myself. Sport builds and tests character like nothing else I know.

Like Jonathan Livingston Seagull, I, too, have come across my detractors. In the early years doing triathlon, some people tried to tell me it was only a “fad” or a “craze”, a sport that would not last. Some actually scorned it, stating that it was only a sport for failed athletes who could not succeed in an individual sport: “You could not make it in athletics, so you are trying to make a go of this crazy sport” – well, I heard that a few times. Yet, to a certain degree, that comment is correct: many of the top triathlon stars have been good in a single discipline, either swimming, cycling or running, but not quite top class.

It can be true that a combination of adequate talents can lead to excellence. It was Larry Mullen Jnr, the drummer with the band U2, who explained to me that as a drummer he is very good, but there are other drummers in the world just as good, if not better. And the same with the Edge, the guitarist, and Adam Clayton, the bass guitar player – there are probably other guitarists in the world just as good as them too. But, together with Bono, if you put these four band members together, as Larry admitted, “Something very, very special happens.” Magic – in other words. Together, as a group, they light up and rock the world, and they have done so for over 30 years now. To this day, they are reaching higher, searching for more.

Colin Jackson, the British former sprint and hurdling athlete, once commented to me that in a flat-out 100-metre sprint there are at least 40 athletes in the world who could beat him. But he perfected clearing 10 hurdles in the 110 metres hurdle event to become a world record holder and two-time world champion. To his natural speed he added great hurdling skill and technique to become a world beater.

There will always be the doubters, either negative people or those with big chips on their shoulders. There is no good whatsoever in negativity. It is a soul destroyer, drains people of their vitality and robs them of their potential in life.

Jack O'Connor, the successful manager of the Kerry football team, once told me what he thought of negativity. “I don't do negativity,” he said. “There are two types of people in this world: those who fill your bucket and those who drain your bucket. Some people who drain your bucket like to turn it upside down to make sure it's completely empty. They are to be avoided. But the worst of all are those that drain your bucket drip by bloody drip. They're the worst type of all because they suck you dry, unknown to yourself.”

Of course, there are people who suck themselves dry too, by wallowing in their own misery. One individual, a physiotherapist, who must have a particularly large chip on his shoulder, appears to be consumed with anger and jealousy at the success I have had in my profession. In fact, he has disparaged me enough times to keep a solicitor busy for weeks. With every chance, he tells people that I am not adequately qualified. He has written to heads of university departments, and often, having read an article in which I am featured, he immediately complains to the person who wrote it. To me, he is either wasting his energy on a nonsensical battle that can never be won or else he is tormented by his own shortcomings. One should never let what they cannot do or affect get in the way of what they can do. The higher one flies the more one can see, and the more jealous people get and want to see them fail.

I don't waste energy on these negative impositions. Instead, I set my stall out to reach new heights, to excel and to continue chasing excellence. I let my work and performance speak for itself. My client base tells me all I need to know about what success really is. I focus on them, not on the competition.

In life, there is endless potential. I didn't come into this world to be a magpie sitting on the fence or, worse still, a bickering seagull. I came to participate, not to be a spectator.

To reach the top, not just in sport but in business or in life, you have to think outside the box and take risks. You have to believe in yourself through thick and thin. Anything worthwhile in life is gained through hard work and sacrifice.

The goal should be to reach beyond yourself, to aspire to go where no one else has ventured, and the end result will, more often than not, be success and happiness. Extend yourself to sharing with others, reach out to the greater cause and join the brotherhood of mankind – those who lead the flock in the right direction.

When Jonathan Livingston Seagull attempts to come back to the flock, there is a great clamour of squawks and screeches from the thousands of seagulls: “He is a devil! DEVIL! Come to break the Flock!”