Gift of the Mamba

I looked to Kobe Bryant for some much-needed inspiration in November 2013 at Ironman Arizona.

Well, a framed image of Kobe with a quote that resonated with me, tucked inside my special needs run bag.

(How many people put framed photos in their special needs bag, I wonder?)

When I was hurting and wanted to slow down during that race, six weeks after a miserable Ironman performance in Lake Tahoe…I turned to Kobe.

Kobe was there.

You can read about that race experience and see the image for yourself here.

For quick reference, here’s that Kobe’s quote: “We all have self doubt. You don’t deny it, but you also don’t capitulate to it. You rise above it.”

Pure Mamba.

Like almost everyone else in Los Angeles and far beyond, I’m very much struggling to cope with the death of such good people. I’m struggling as a father. As a lifelong Lakers fan. As a local resident who drove past the Las Virgenes freeway exit with my eldest daughter less than 20 minutes before the chopper crashed nearby. As a friend of the deceased pilot’s original flight instructor and mentor. As someone who has friends who knew the Altobellis or Christina Mauser. As someone who’s been hit by a car while cycling (actually just a few blocks from the helicopter crash site) and knows what it feels like when you think you only have seconds left to live.

That last thought, I really can’t get past. I can’t imagine seeing the scared look in my daughter’s eyes and knowing I can’t do a damn thing for her when it matters most. I continue to replay this scene over and over in my head. It’s among my greatest fears as a father. I’m tossing and turning in the middle of the night between sleep cycles, feeling that moment in my soul.

During the day, I’m feeling equal parts viscerally present (with my family) and cavernously distant (consumed by grief).

Then, I think about Mamba Mentality. What it means to me. What it’s meant to me. How it bubbles to the surface of my personality… sometimes on command, other times when I least expect it.

Most people think I’m all about Rudy Ruettiger, the famed runty Notre Dame walk-on football player.

That’s 80% true.

That other 20%…Mamba. Anyone who has cycled with me on a group ride when someone tries to sprint past knows what I’m talking about. Anyone who has run with me in a track session has seen it too. You might be better than me, but I’m gonna make you take it from me. Every time.

Mamba Mentality transcends Kobe. It’s his gift to all of us. It renders banners and rings useless and trivial.

Mamba Mentality is a priceless gift. A legacy. A dare for those willing to take it.

Mamba Mentality is a look. Jaw protruding. Eyes on fire. Muscles flexed. “I OWN THIS MOMENT!”

Mamba Mentality is a way of life. Relentless. No excuses. Brutally honest. Pure. Raw. Gladiatorial. Unapologetic.

LeBron is making a promise to serve as the caretaker for Kobe’s legacy.

With humble permission, ‘Bron, I’d like to share some responsibility in my own small way.

For me, Mamba Mentality is making every day count. Every moment. With pride and fire. No slacking.

Mamba Mentality is completing my training every morning even if I’m exhausted from Ayla bottle feedings. No excuses.

Mamba Mentality is putting the damn phone down when I get home and spending better quality time with Audra. Nothing is more important.

Mamba Mentality is ensuring that Steph always feels like she’s my Queen. (Without the $4 million ring though…sorry bae!)

This is my Mamba Mentality promise.

It’s my promise to myself, in honor of someone I never met.

I didn’t have to meet Kobe though. He has been a part of me for a long time.

And he will always be a part of me.