 | | | | THE DAY OF ASH AND SMOKE | Spartans,
Twenty-two years ago, I was sitting in my office at 40 Wall Street on a routine conference call to start another work day.
At 8:46 am, while I looked out the window, American Airlines Flight 11, a massive Boeing 767 aircraft, slammed into the northern façade of the North Tower of the World Trade Center.
Seventeen minutes later, a second Boeing 767, United Flight 175, crashed into the southern façade of the South Tower.
Right in front of me, a block away. I was stunned.
Flames and smoke burst from the towers, the twin symbols of America's financial might. A plume of dust engulfed my building, and hundreds of sirens signaled the arrival of those who are trained to run to disaster, not from it. New York's Finest: Fire, police, EMTs.
You've heard tales about the heroes who rose to the challenge of the moment. Regular people who put the safety of co-workers, friends – even strangers – before their own. And those trapped in the sky, their fates sealed, who phoned loved ones with one last expression of love.
It was the most surreal moment of my life. One second, life was normal, the next it changed forever, for all of us.
I had just returned stateside the day before, after competing in a 400-mile race from St. Moritz, Switzerland, to the Matterhorn in the Pennine Alps on the border of Switzerland and Italy.
During the race, one of the competitors had died, and it brought home in a very personal way the importance of living the life you want. The attack on the twin towers was infinitely more powerful.
And personal.
The morning of 9-11, I had planned to meet my girlfriend of four weeks for breakfast at Windows on the World, the restaurant on the top two floors of the North Tower. But we decided to skip it, and instead she caught a flight home to Boston.
Just one of thousands of stories of how fate impacted lives that day.
As soon as I got my bearings after the planes hit the towers, I checked to make sure my girlfriend -- now my wife -- got back to Boston safely. Then, my co-workers and I ran to street level to see if we could help.
The police and firemen wouldn't let us get close, their training had prepared them for this moment, and their bravery has been well documented.
So, in a state of deep confusion and concern, we all walked home through the chaos that was Manhattan, the sky darkened by smoke and an eerie quiet settling around us as ash fell like snowflakes.
Like every New Yorker, over the next few days I was in constant contact with friends and family to find out who was safe and who was missing. I was lucky, no one in my circle died that day.
I didn't know it then, but that experience would affect me, and thousands like me, deeply and forever. I asked myself that if it had ended for me, would I be happy with how I had lived my still verdictless life.
I didn't have a clear answer.
Within a few years, I left Wall Street, and Manhattan for a new life with my new wife in Vermont. I dedicated myself to building things. First my family, then my career and local businesses where I could help people support their families. Eventually, Spartan.
After 9-11, I made up my mind to never complain about anything, ever again. And I committed to doing hard things, to pushing myself physically and mentally each day.
Now, every year at this time, I'm filled with sadness for so many of my fellow New Yorkers who lost their lives, lost loved ones, or who still suffer the physical and emotional effects of the attack on the World Trade Center.
But I'm also filled with deep gratitude. For the first responders, for the citizens who performed selfless acts of service to others, and for the life I have with meaningful work, a wonderful wife, kids, and family, and trusted friends.
I'm still not sure if I've done enough with my life, the verdict on Joe De Sena is not yet final. I know I'll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the examples of selflessness and bravery I witnessed on that day, 9-11-2001.
I'm also committed to continuing to use Spartan's platform to help as many first responders and military personnel as I can participate in our races as a way to hone their fitness and skills, to stay ready.
The truth is, we never know when we'll need it.
Here's to The Hard Way!
Joe | |  | In remembrance of those who lost their lives 22 years ago, we invite you to hit the road this coming Monday, September 11th, and tackle 9.11 miles of pavement, trail, or whatever path you choose.
Join the Spartan Family as we take this challenge on together. | | | | |
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