We’re in the last week before the Fractured Atlas Triathlon Team debuts on the world stage. Loyal blog readers have met many of the team members and learned a little bit about where we’re all coming from. Now it’s my turn, and I’m going to get a bit personal.

My childhood and early adolescence were spent at the bottom of the social ladder. I was that guy who even the nerds picked on. I’m sure there were myriad reasons for my unpopularity, but my lack of anything resembling athletic ability always loomed large for me. Among boys, a huge amount of social status stems from skill (or ineptitude) at sports. I was always picked last in gym class and no one ever regretting not tapping me earlier.

The one athletic talent at which I was borderline adequate was endurance. Maybe it’s just stubbornness and a high pain threshold, but I’ve always been able to keep going longer than most. I’m not fast, I’m not strong, I’m not agile, but I might just outlast you in the end.

When I switched to a new school for 9th grade, I decided to put this “skill” to work by joining the cross country team. I wasn’t great - middle of the pack on the J.V. team - but at least it was something. And I desperately clung to the fantasy that somehow this might establish a floor for my unpopularity.

I remember the first 5K race of the season. We’d trained hard for 6 weeks and I was determined to have a good showing, to prove to myself and my new schoolmates that I was worth something to the team and that I was no longer a complete loser. Buoyed by race-day adrenalin, I went out fast and hard. Most of the course was on trails through the woods, but it emerged onto a field for the final 1/2 mile. I remember bursting out of the woods feeling confident and strong, solidly ahead of where I was expected to be. The varsity team was there on the sideline, enthusiastically cheering on the J.V. squad. It was the best feeling I’d ever experienced in any athletic activity. Maybe high school wouldn’t be so bad after all. Maybe this was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

I turned the corner to head towards the finish line. Then, without any warning, the world caved in on me. In a span of about 5 seconds, my vision collapsed to a pin hole as I staggered off the course and passed out in front of the varsity team. When I came to I found myself being helped up by Andrew Price, a varsity sophomore who was one of the coolest kids in school. I looked up and felt boundless gratitude as I saw genuine compassion in his face, rather than ridicule or scorn. Then I vomited on his shoes.

I finished the race, probably 4-5 minutes slower than I would have if I hadn’t inexplicably collapsed. Needless to say, this was an inauspicious start to my career as a high school athlete. And while I never passed out during a race again, my experience on the cross country team was not the social salvation I imagined it would be.

Fortunately, life provides many chances to reinvent oneself, and eventually mine turned the corner for good (at least so far!). But I still carry around baggage from my years as a social outcast, and despite many accomplishments, both personal and professional, the wounds are surprisingly fresh.

I started running again at age 29. I’m honestly not sure why I did it. But one New Year’s Day I was feeling particularly fat and unhealthy and I decided to go for a run. I’ve kept running, with a few breaks, since then. That’s 3.5 years of consistent training, during which time I’ve become a bit less fat and hopefully a bit more healthy.

Then my wife, Elizabeth, upped the ante. She started doing triathlons. That’s crazy, right? Only an insane person goes out and swims, bikes, and runs long distances without any kind of break. But to her immense credit, she’s kept up with it. And I have to admit, it’s surprisingly fun going to her races. Being a spectator at a triathlon feels like you’re at the circus. There’s so much going on, you’re never sure exactly what you should be watching. Even if you’re not into the sports themselves, it’s inspirational to watch people compete, or even just finish.

Of course, I could never participate in a triathlon myself, mainly because I’m a crappy swimmer. So I had to be content to let this be Elizabeth’s thing, while it was my job to get the kids up and out the door in time to see her transition from the swim to the bike.

The missing link turned out to be Tim Cynova, who joined Fractured Atlas this spring as our Deputy Director. Tim is an avid cyclist who even goes to the Tour de France every summer. As soon as Elizabeth found this out she began lobbying for the three of us to do a triathlon as a relay team (swimming is her strongest leg).

Somehow, she talked us into it, and a Half-Ironman no less! Keep in mind, the running portion of a Half-Ironman is more than twice as far - 13.1 miles - as I’ve ever run in a race before. This would require a lot of hard training if I even wanted to finish. I needed to find a new well of motivation or I’d never make it.

Then one night, staring at the ceiling at 4am, I had an idea. The two most powerful sources of motivation I know of are 1) terror of public humiliation and 2) money. If we turned this thing into a fundraiser for Fractured Atlas, we’d effectively be burning the bridge behind us.

So that’s what we did, and it has all been chronicled on this blog. I’ve trained harder than I ever have in my life. Just getting in three runs per week means waking up at 5:30 to do speed work on days when I won’t get home from work until 8:30pm. Weekends have been about long runs, culminating in the 11.2 miles I did yesterday morning.

13.1 miles is still 1.9 miles further than I’ve ever run, and more that twice as long as I’ve ever raced. But I’ve made a public commitment that I’m going to finish this thing, and I’m determined to do so in a reasonable time. My target is two hours, which works out to roughly 9 minutes per mile. Not exactly Olympic greatness, but faster than my training pace and tough enough that it should push my feeble body to its proverbial limit.

I’m posting this goal here precisely because it tempts fate. My time will be public, along with everyone else’s, whether I like it or not. And while the Fractured Atlas community is hopefully a bit more forgiving than the jerks at high school (and a lot less concerned with athletic ability as an indicator of social value), I’m acutely aware of the embarrassment I’ll feel if I fail at this task.

I want to thank everyone who has contributed to support this campaign so far. Each donation toughens our resolve and reminds us that we’re doing this to support a healthy and robust infrastructure for the arts in America. Today, with 6 days left before the race, I’m prepared to double down with two promises:

1) I promise that every single penny you donate in connection with this fundraiser will go 100% towards supporting Fractured Atlas’s programs and services for artists. You’ll be doing your part to ensure that artists have affordable health insurance, fiscal sponsorship, and countless other tools and resources that enable them to their work without fear of financial ruin.

2) For anyone who donates TODAY, I’d like to make a special personal guarantee. I am going to run my ass off on Sunday. And if I don’t finish in under 2 hours (barring injury), I will personally refund your donation. Consider this is my way of demonstrating that I’m as committed to the cause as you are.

I’ve shared my personal story, but the truth is that every member of the Triathlon team - all 7 of us - have worked extremely hard on this. I like to think it’s a reflection of how hard we all work every day to support the Fractured Atlas community, and in turn how hard our members work to inspire, to entertain, to educate, to provoke.

The funny thing is that you have the power to make it all worthwhile, and without much work at all. Make your impact. Join the team.