I toiled for weeks over how to follow Courtney Murphy and Ray Bolden's extraordinary Seawolves Stories. I sat, staring at a blank page, struggling to find an aspect of my own life - any aspect - that carried enough weight to befit such company. Then, in a moment of inspiration, the above quote quite literally whispered itself in my ear.

I wish I could tell you that it was wisdom from the lips of an ancient philosopher, groundbreaking poet, or inspirational political figure.

I'm sorry.

It's not.

It's the chorus of my favourite jam from 2007.

A little embarrassingly, it took Pete Murray's Opportunity; a D-List single that never made it farther than New Zealand, to come coursing through my headphones to wake me up.

To remind me where I am, where I came from, and what it took for me to make the journey.

A leap of faith.



Because 'life', in its simplest form, is just an endless buildup of choices.

Yes or No. Stop or Go.

But - contrary to popular belief - it's not always WHICH choice you make that will define your future; simply your ability to make it. Because generally people don't like making choices. Choices mean change. Change is scary.

Believe me, I can empathize.



I grew up in a small city, in an even smaller country. Not many people have heard of Christchurch; it's a coastal city that gets a lot of earthquakes and (I'm sorry to burst the bubble) looks absolutely nothing like Lord of the Rings. But this little gem - nestled right in the heart of New Zealand - will forever be home. It had everything I could have needed: a loving family, an unforgettable group of friends, and a sport that constantly tested me.

Distance running, whether it be the wintery crunch of cross-country or the summer heat of track, challenged me to better myself every day - both as an athlete and an individual. It would raise me up, and break me down. It taught me both hunger and humility. It was my first love, but I never saw it as a gateway. The notion that cross-country could actually take me ACROSS countries was, quite literally, foreign.

So when America came calling, life really rewrote my rule book on perspective.

My world, at least the one I'd known up until that moment, suddenly seemed very small indeed.



9,170 miles separates New Zealand from Long Island. A tad longer than my old high school commute, to say the least. It was a daunting distance, and one that - if I were to accept Andy Ronan's offer to attend Stony Brook University - would become my reality. 9,170 miles between my family, my dogs, my friends, my job, my life, and whatever I would find on the other side of the Pacific.

It scared me, it truly did. But whether or not I knew it yet, I'd entered the fast-paced world of collegiate athletics, and opportunities don't hang around forever.

Could I drop everything? Should I drop everything? Would I find what I was looking for? WHAT was I looking for?

These questions reverberated around my conscience endlessly. It wasn't just difficult for me either. Every day I saw the desperation in my mother's eyes, and her admirable attempts to conceal it. She didn't want this decision to be any harder than it already was. Nothing worth doing was ever easy though, and it hurt, but the open door was quickly closing. So within two months of putting pen to paper, I was winging my way to New York.

Excited, unprepared, terrified.



Not many people understand cross-country. I discovered a lot of things in the months following my arrival to the USA, but this realization in particular stood out to me. People struggle to comprehend what would possess a person to regularly put themselves through hell, for seemingly nothing more than bragging rights. People think we're crazy, and at times I don't blame them.

But I also discovered an insane group of individuals, whose madness matched my own.

A team who understands that running, just like life, is simply a buildup of opportunities. It's a relentless barrage of voices in your head, sweetly offering you the chance to make the pain go away, or else take the road to greater torment.

At Stony Brook I found a team who, day-after-day, are brave enough to take the latter option without question, because they know that their brothers beside them won't hesitate to do the same.

I've had the privilege to watch them grow from strength-to-strength. When I arrived we were conference pretenders, but thanks to my teammates' ability to embrace the challenges thrown at them, we now sit on the verge of a historic America East three-peat, and clinching our first ever berth in the NCAA championship race.



And I could well have missed it all.

It would have been so easy for me to decide that New York was too far. The change too great. Those dreams too large.

But if I'd sat idly by, and waited on my New Zealand shores for winter turn into summer, I'd be constantly hunting for a nameless treasure.

I would have never found this family.

So when your exit's here, no matter what walk of life you happen to lead, my only hope is that you can bring yourself to take a leap of faith.

Because no opportunity is everlasting, so don't pause too long.

It's fading now, it's ending all too soon. You'll see.

Soon you'll see.
 
Cameron Avery