When I grew up in Louisiana we had a name for people who weren’t born in this country but moved here. It didn’t matter that they became naturalized citizens. If you lived in southern Louisiana, you referred to them as “them foreigners.” Please don’t misunderstand me. I grew up in a special place. I grew up in an area that didn’t have the natural twang. You know that hillbilly twang most of the South has. I grew up in an area known as Cajun country. Cajuns don’t sound like anyone else on the planet. They, or might I say we, can somehow twist the English language so far out of whack that it sounds like a different language. Yet everyone knows what everyone else is talking about. The one thing Cajuns don’t understand is different people from different cultures. In some laughable sort of way they look at themselves as perfectly normal, while the rest of the world is screwed up. I was a little different growing up. I was always fascinated by different people and cultures, even different religions. It wasn’t until I moved to New Orleans for college that I saw the diversity commonly found in bigger cities. One thing always stuck out to me. It seemed that everyone who moved here from somewhere else had a greater appreciation for the United States. They seemed to see the opportunities that Americans who were born here couldn’t see. We, meaning naturally born Americans, expect everything. Those who move here really feel privileged to have freedom to do what they want. The reason they do better in business is because they can see an opportunity that seemingly blinds a person born with that same opportunity. I told you that to tell you this. I train a lot of people. Some are morbidly obese. They just want to lose weight and live a normal life. Some are weekend warriors and just want to do better in their next 10k or charity ride. I have housewives and celebrities all with great goals in mind. I applaud them all for working hard and achieving their goals.
Today I want to shine a light on one of my favorites, Caroline Lettieri. She stand 4’11” and she turned 50 this year. Over the years, she has run no less than 25 marathons. She has done enough triathlons of every distance, including half Ironman, to choke a mule. This weekend, on Nov. 21, Caroline will attempt her first full Ironman. Though most of my readers know the distances, I will put it down anyway for the uninitiated. A full Ironman is a swim of 2.2 miles, followed by a 112-mile bike, the run is a full marathon at 26.2 miles. Why do I think it’s so special that Caroline will attempt this distance (and finish it with ease, in my opinion)? It’s simple. She suffers from lupus. Just like the Vietnamese guy who never complains about keeping his liquor store open all night in a bad neighborhood because he loves this country. Or the Jamaican who works three jobs because the life he has here is better than the life he came from. You would be hard-pressed to know that Caroline ever had a problem, though she does complain about her age now and again. I’ll be in Tempe, Arizona when she jumps into the water, and I’ll be waiting when she crosses the finish line. I’m proud to call her a friend.
