Sobre el empleo...

El patrimonio de una persona no es su puesto de trabajo, sino sus oficios. Hay que ser empleable, no empleado, y hay que explicárselo a los jóvenes, que se formen. Si tu único patrimonio es un oficio, el día que deja de ser útil te quedas colgado.

How Will You Measure Your Life?

Before I published The Innovator’s Dilemma, I got a call from Andrew Grove, then the chairman of Intel. He had read one of my early papers about disruptive technology, and he asked if I could talk to his direct reports and explain my research and what it implied for Intel. Excited, I flew to Silicon Valley and showed up at the appointed time, only to have Grove say, “Look, stuff has happened. We have only 10 minutes for you. Tell us what your model of disruption means for Intel.” I said that I couldn’t—that I needed a full 30 minutes to explain the model, because only with it as context would any comments about Intel make sense. Ten minutes into my explanation, Grove interrupted: “Look, I’ve got your model. Just tell us what it means for Intel.”

I insisted that I needed 10 more minutes to describe how the process of disruption had worked its way through a very different industry, steel, so that he and his team could understand how disruption worked. I told the story of how Nucor and other steel minimills had begun by attacking the lowest end of the market—steel reinforcing bars, or rebar—and later moved up toward the high end, undercutting the traditional steel mills.

When I finished the minimill story, Grove said, “OK, I get it. What it means for Intel is...,” and then went on to articulate what would become the company’s strategy for going to the bottom of the market to launch the Celeron processor.

I’ve thought about that a million times since. If I had been suckered into telling Andy Grove what he should think about the microprocessor business, I’d have been killed. But instead of telling him what to think, I taught him how to think—and then he reached what I felt was the correct decision on his own.

That experience had a profound influence on me. When people ask what I think they should do, I rarely answer their question directly. Instead, I run the question aloud through one of my models. I’ll describe how the process in the model worked its way through an industry quite different from their own. And then, more often than not, they’ll say, “OK, I get it.” And they’ll answer their own question more insightfully than I could have.

My class at HBS is structured to help my students understand what good management theory is and how it is built. To that backbone I attach different models or theories that help students think about the various dimensions of a general manager’s job in stimulating innovation and growth. In each session we look at one company through the lenses of those theories—using them to explain how the company got into its situation and to examine what managerial actions will yield the needed results.

On the last day of class, I ask my students to turn those theoretical lenses on themselves, to find cogent answers to three questions: First, how can I be sure that I’ll be happy in my career? Second, how can I be sure that my relationships with my spouse and my family become an enduring source of happiness? Third, how can I be sure I’ll stay out of jail? Though the last question sounds lighthearted, it’s not. Two of the 32 people in my Rhodes scholar class spent time in jail. Jeff Skilling of Enron fame was a classmate of mine at HBS. These were good guys—but something in their lives sent them off in the wrong direction.

As the students discuss the answers to these questions, I open my own life to them as a case study of sorts, to illustrate how they can use the theories from our course to guide their life decisions.

One of the theories that gives great insight on the first question—how to be sure we find happiness in our careers—is from Frederick Herzberg, who asserts that the powerful motivator in our lives isn’t money; it’s the opportunity to learn, grow in responsibilities, contribute to others, and be recognized for achievements. I tell the students about a vision of sorts I had while I was running the company I founded before becoming an academic. In my mind’s eye I saw one of my managers leave for work one morning with a relatively strong level of self-esteem. Then I pictured her driving home to her family 10 hours later, feeling unappreciated, frustrated, underutilized, and demeaned. I imagined how profoundly her lowered self-esteem affected the way she interacted with her children. The vision in my mind then fast-forwarded to another day, when she drove home with greater self-esteem—feeling that she had learned a lot, been recognized for achieving valuable things, and played a significant role in the success of some important initiatives. I then imagined how positively that affected her as a spouse and a parent. My conclusion: Management is the most noble of professions if it’s practiced well. No other occupation offers as many ways to help others learn and grow, take responsibility and be recognized for achievement, and contribute to the success of a team. More and more MBA students come to school thinking that a career in business means buying, selling, and investing in companies. That’s unfortunate. Doing deals doesn’t yield the deep rewards that come from building up people.

I want students to leave my classroom knowing that.

Create a Strategy for Your Life

A theory that is helpful in answering the second question—How can I ensure that my relationship with my family proves to be an enduring source of happiness?—concerns how strategy is defined and implemented. Its primary insight is that a company’s strategy is determined by the types of initiatives that management invests in. If a company’s resource allocation process is not managed masterfully, what emerges from it can be very different from what management intended. Because companies’ decision-making systems are designed to steer investments to initiatives that offer the most tangible and immediate returns, companies shortchange investments in initiatives that are crucial to their long-term strategies.

Over the years I’ve watched the fates of my HBS classmates from 1979 unfold; I’ve seen more and more of them come to reunions unhappy, divorced, and alienated from their children. I can guarantee you that not a single one of them graduated with the deliberate strategy of getting divorced and raising children who would become estranged from them. And yet a shocking number of them implemented that strategy. The reason? They didn’t keep the purpose of their lives front and center as they decided how to spend their time, talents, and energy.

It’s quite startling that a significant fraction of the 900 students that HBS draws each year from the world’s best have given little thought to the purpose of their lives. I tell the students that HBS might be one of their last chances to reflect deeply on that question. If they think that they’ll have more time and energy to reflect later, they’re nuts, because life only gets more demanding: You take on a mortgage; you’re working 70 hours a week; you have a spouse and children.

For me, having a clear purpose in my life has been essential. But it was something I had to think long and hard about before I understood it. When I was a Rhodes scholar, I was in a very demanding academic program, trying to cram an extra year’s worth of work into my time at Oxford. I decided to spend an hour every night reading, thinking, and praying about why God put me on this earth. That was a very challenging commitment to keep, because every hour I spent doing that, I wasn’t studying applied econometrics. I was conflicted about whether I could really afford to take that time away from my studies, but I stuck with it—and ultimately figured out the purpose of my life.

Had I instead spent that hour each day learning the latest techniques for mastering the problems of autocorrelation in regression analysis, I would have badly misspent my life. I apply the tools of econometrics a few times a year, but I apply my knowledge of the purpose of my life every day. It’s the single most useful thing I’ve ever learned. I promise my students that if they take the time to figure out their life purpose, they’ll look back on it as the most important thing they discovered at HBS. If they don’t figure it out, they will just sail off without a rudder and get buffeted in the very rough seas of life. Clarity about their purpose will trump knowledge of activity-based costing, balanced scorecards, core competence, disruptive innovation, the four Ps, and the five forces.

My purpose grew out of my religious faith, but faith isn’t the only thing that gives people direction. For example, one of my former students decided that his purpose was to bring honesty and economic prosperity to his country and to raise children who were as capably committed to this cause, and to each other, as he was. His purpose is focused on family and others—as mine is.

The choice and successful pursuit of a profession is but one tool for achieving your purpose. But without a purpose, life can become hollow.

Allocate Your Resources

Your decisions about allocating your personal time, energy, and talent ultimately shape your life’s strategy.

I have a bunch of “businesses” that compete for these resources: I’m trying to have a rewarding relationship with my wife, raise great kids, contribute to my community, succeed in my career, contribute to my church, and so on. And I have exactly the same problem that a corporation does. I have a limited amount of time and energy and talent. How much do I devote to each of these pursuits?

Allocation choices can make your life turn out to be very different from what you intended. Sometimes that’s good: Opportunities that you never planned for emerge. But if you misinvest your resources, the outcome can be bad. As I think about my former classmates who inadvertently invested for lives of hollow unhappiness, I can’t help believing that their troubles relate right back to a short-term perspective.

When people who have a high need for achievement—and that includes all Harvard Business School graduates—have an extra half hour of time or an extra ounce of energy, they’ll unconsciously allocate it to activities that yield the most tangible accomplishments. And our careers provide the most concrete evidence that we’re moving forward. You ship a product, finish a design, complete a presentation, close a sale, teach a class, publish a paper, get paid, get promoted. In contrast, investing time and energy in your relationship with your spouse and children typically doesn’t offer that same immediate sense of achievement. Kids misbehave every day. It’s really not until 20 years down the road that you can put your hands on your hips and say, “I raised a good son or a good daughter.” You can neglect your relationship with your spouse, and on a day-to-day basis, it doesn’t seem as if things are deteriorating. People who are driven to excel have this unconscious propensity to underinvest in their families and overinvest in their careers—even though intimate and loving relationships with their families are the most powerful and enduring source of happiness.

If you study the root causes of business disasters, over and over you’ll find this predisposition toward endeavors that offer immediate gratification. If you look at personal lives through that lens, you’ll see the same stunning and sobering pattern: people allocating fewer and fewer resources to the things they would have once said mattered most.

Create a Culture

There’s an important model in our class called the Tools of Cooperation, which basically says that being a visionary manager isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s one thing to see into the foggy future with acuity and chart the course corrections that the company must make. But it’s quite another to persuade employees who might not see the changes ahead to line up and work cooperatively to take the company in that new direction. Knowing what tools to wield to elicit the needed cooperation is a critical managerial skill.

The theory arrays these tools along two dimensions—the extent to which members of the organization agree on what they want from their participation in the enterprise, and the extent to which they agree on what actions will produce the desired results. When there is little agreement on both axes, you have to use “power tools”—coercion, threats, punishment, and so on—to secure cooperation. Many companies start in this quadrant, which is why the founding executive team must play such an assertive role in defining what must be done and how. If employees’ ways of working together to address those tasks succeed over and over, consensus begins to form. MIT’s Edgar Schein has described this process as the mechanism by which a culture is built. Ultimately, people don’t even think about whether their way of doing things yields success. They embrace priorities and follow procedures by instinct and assumption rather than by explicit decision—which means that they’ve created a culture. Culture, in compelling but unspoken ways, dictates the proven, acceptable methods by which members of the group address recurrent problems. And culture defines the priority given to different types of problems. It can be a powerful management tool.

In using this model to address the question, How can I be sure that my family becomes an enduring source of happiness?, my students quickly see that the simplest tools that parents can wield to elicit cooperation from children are power tools. But there comes a point during the teen years when power tools no longer work. At that point parents start wishing that they had begun working with their children at a very young age to build a culture at home in which children instinctively behave respectfully toward one another, obey their parents, and choose the right thing to do. Families have cultures, just as companies do. Those cultures can be built consciously or evolve inadvertently.

If you want your kids to have strong self-esteem and confidence that they can solve hard problems, those qualities won’t magically materialize in high school. You have to design them into your family’s culture—and you have to think about this very early on. Like employees, children build self-esteem by doing things that are hard and learning what works.

Avoid the “Marginal Costs” Mistake

We’re taught in finance and economics that in evaluating alternative investments, we should ignore sunk and fixed costs, and instead base decisions on the marginal costs and marginal revenues that each alternative entails. We learn in our course that this doctrine biases companies to leverage what they have put in place to succeed in the past, instead of guiding them to create the capabilities they’ll need in the future. If we knew the future would be exactly the same as the past, that approach would be fine. But if the future’s different—and it almost always is—then it’s the wrong thing to do.

This theory addresses the third question I discuss with my students—how to live a life of integrity (stay out of jail). Unconsciously, we often employ the marginal cost doctrine in our personal lives when we choose between right and wrong. A voice in our head says, “Look, I know that as a general rule, most people shouldn’t do this. But in this particular extenuating circumstance, just this once, it’s OK.” The marginal cost of doing something wrong “just this once” always seems alluringly low. It suckers you in, and you don’t ever look at where that path ultimately is headed and at the full costs that the choice entails. Justification for infidelity and dishonesty in all their manifestations lies in the marginal cost economics of “just this once.”

I’d like to share a story about how I came to understand the potential damage of “just this once” in my own life. I played on the Oxford University varsity basketball team. We worked our tails off and finished the season undefeated. The guys on the team were the best friends I’ve ever had in my life. We got to the British equivalent of the NCAA tournament—and made it to the final four. It turned out the championship game was scheduled to be played on a Sunday. I had made a personal commitment to God at age 16 that I would never play ball on Sunday. So I went to the coach and explained my problem. He was incredulous. My teammates were, too, because I was the starting center. Every one of the guys on the team came to me and said, “You’ve got to play. Can’t you break the rule just this one time?”

I’m a deeply religious man, so I went away and prayed about what I should do. I got a very clear feeling that I shouldn’t break my commitment—so I didn’t play in the championship game.

In many ways that was a small decision—involving one of several thousand Sundays in my life. In theory, surely I could have crossed over the line just that one time and then not done it again. But looking back on it, resisting the temptation whose logic was “In this extenuating circumstance, just this once, it’s OK” has proven to be one of the most important decisions of my life. Why? My life has been one unending stream of extenuating circumstances. Had I crossed the line that one time, I would have done it over and over in the years that followed.

The lesson I learned from this is that it’s easier to hold to your principles 100% of the time than it is to hold to them 98% of the time. If you give in to “just this once,” based on a marginal cost analysis, as some of my former classmates have done, you’ll regret where you end up. You’ve got to define for yourself what you stand for and draw the line in a safe place.

Remember the Importance of Humility

I got this insight when I was asked to teach a class on humility at Harvard College. I asked all the students to describe the most humble person they knew. One characteristic of these humble people stood out: They had a high level of self-esteem. They knew who they were, and they felt good about who they were. We also decided that humility was defined not by self-deprecating behavior or attitudes but by the esteem with which you regard others. Good behavior flows naturally from that kind of humility. For example, you would never steal from someone, because you respect that person too much. You’d never lie to someone, either.

It’s crucial to take a sense of humility into the world. By the time you make it to a top graduate school, almost all your learning has come from people who are smarter and more experienced than you: parents, teachers, bosses. But once you’ve finished at Harvard Business School or any other top academic institution, the vast majority of people you’ll interact with on a day-to-day basis may not be smarter than you. And if your attitude is that only smarter people have something to teach you, your learning opportunities will be very limited. But if you have a humble eagerness to learn something from everybody, your learning opportunities will be unlimited. Generally, you can be humble only if you feel really good about yourself—and you want to help those around you feel really good about themselves, too. When we see people acting in an abusive, arrogant, or demeaning manner toward others, their behavior almost always is a symptom of their lack of self-esteem. They need to put someone else down to feel good about themselves.

Choose the Right Yardstick

This past year I was diagnosed with cancer and faced the possibility that my life would end sooner than I’d planned. Thankfully, it now looks as if I’ll be spared. But the experience has given me important insight into my life.

I have a pretty clear idea of how my ideas have generated enormous revenue for companies that have used my research; I know I’ve had a substantial impact. But as I’ve confronted this disease, it’s been interesting to see how unimportant that impact is to me now. I’ve concluded that the metric by which God will assess my life isn’t dollars but the individual people whose lives I’ve touched.

I think that’s the way it will work for us all. Don’t worry about the level of individual prominence you have achieved; worry about the individuals you have helped become better people. This is my final recommendation: Think about the metric by which your life will be judged, and make a resolution to live every day so that in the end, your life will be judged a success.

Clayton M. Christensen (cchristensen@hbs.edu) is the Robert and Jane Cizik Professor of Business Administration at Harvard Business School.

El secreto del exito

Ser auténtico, estar abierto y atento, conectar con tus emociones. Aprender de los errores, escuchar al que más sabe, trabajar duro, rodearte de un buen equipo y contagiarles el entusiasmo; y sentido común.

Sobre la educacion

En un entorno global competitivo, o aseguramos la educación de las próximas generaciones o hablaremos todos chino rápidamente.

¿Y qué significa educar?

De acuerdo con el conocimiento científico tres cosas: el niño debe estar rodeado de un entorno que fomente al máximo todas las capacidades que su código genético permite. No se trata de hacer nada artificial sino permitir que esa potencialidad fructifique.

No idiotizarlo, vaya.

En segundo lugar hay que rodearlo de afecto. Y en tercer lugar hay que darle modelos de conducta que pueda imitar y que le transmitan los valores que socialmente queremos, véase el rigor, la disciplina, la meritocracia, la justicia, etcétera.

Entendido.

El conocimiento científico demuestra que, al nacer, la mayor parte de nuestras neuronas no están conectadas entre sí. Se conectan o no en función de los estímulos del entorno, y cuanto mayor es el sujeto más difícil. Con lo cual, quien debería fijar el calendario educativo es el desarrollo biológico del niño.

Es usted un poco determinista.

Hay tres estereotipos. El primero es el del salvaje feliz, lo de que hay que dejar al niño que brote espontáneamente como las lechugas. Una educación no intervencionista no es educación, es agricultura. Y condena al niño a ser un fracasado toda su vida. No hay ninguna excusa para los padres vagos.

Radical.

Una vez que el niño ya tiene cierta edad (entre los 10 y 14 años), y empieza a tener una vida cada vez más autónoma en la que la influencia de los padres es cada vez menor, se encuentra con situaciones que son contradictorias a aquellas en que lo han educado.

Póngame un ejemplo.

Si al niño lo han educado bien en su casa, tendrá un concepto claro de la justicia: yo puedo predecir qué voy a hacer y qué me va a pasar, en función de lo que haga, mis padres me van a premiar o castigar. Pero cuando sales al mundo te das cuenta que hay cosas que funcionaban en tu casa que en el ámbito macro no funcionan igual.

¿Entonces?

También es necesario dotar en cuanto es posible al niño de un criterio propio, sólido y fundamentado para que pueda resistir el contacto con la realidad sin considerarse idiota ni abjurar de sus principios.

¿Y cómo se hace eso?

A través de tres claves: Formación, información y ejemplo. No basta con decirle al niño desde pequeño que la honradez es un valor positivo, debes predicar con el ejemplo. Si tú admiras a un ladrón porque preside un gran banco te estas contradiciendo.

Las contradicciones son inevitables.

Hay que darle información para que comprenda que no tiene que cuestionar sus principios sino sobrevivir en un entorno donde no siempre se aplican. Intentar aislar al niño en una burbuja es un suicidio, porque en cuanto el niño sale al mundo se lo comen.

Glups.

Hay que prepararle para que cuando tú ya no estés tan presente, sea capaz de autoeducarse constantemente. Es lo que deberíamos hacer todos los adultos.

Usted bombardea el sistema educativo.

Año tras año, cuando salen los resultados del informe Pisa, el director general de turno o la ministra, si las elecciones están cerca, hace dos declaraciones tópicas típicas y hasta el año próximo. Con este planteamiento el fracaso está garantizado.

¿Qué propone?

Volver a implantar valores y mecanismos educativos contrastadamente eficaces y dejarnos de experimentos pedagógicos. Por ejemplo deberíamos agrupar a los niños por nivel, no por edad biológica. Eso de que los niños crecen industrialmente y el que nació el 31 de diciembre le corresponde otro nivel del que nació al día siguiente es una aberración que sólo cabe en la cabeza de los que perpetraron la Logse.

¿Qué más?

Instalar mecanismos de premio y castigo (que no significa tortura y mimo) que es como funciona nuestro cerebro. Si tratas igual al que estudia que al que no lo hace, estas incentivando que todo el mundo suspenda.

Aboga por una educación tradicional.

Estamos en un entorno políticamente correcto y blandito que nos está llevando al hundimiento colectivo. Ahora por ejemplo la competitividad no está de moda. Pero vivimos en una sociedad globalizada, la competencia está y hay que aprender a manejarla. Aprender a competir es no abusar cuando ganas ni frustrarte cuando pierdes.

¿Qué pasó entre usted y su padre?

Me permitió hacer lo que yo quería siempre que estuviera a la altura: si quieres tocar el piano, te comprometes a hacerlo lo mejor que puedas. Si pretendes ser libre tienes que demostrar que eres digno de esa libertad y que la ejerces bien. No ganas derechos por el hecho de crecer biológicamente.

Interesante matiz.

Si el niño aprende a abjurar del esfuerzo no sólo lo conviertes en un vago, sino que mediatizas todas sus decisiones de futuro, siempre va a hacer lo que le sea más fácil.

Además de educadores, ¿podemos ser amigos de nuestros hijos?

Los padres pueden decidir ser amigos de sus hijos, pero tienen que ser conscientes de que los dejan huérfanos.

William H. Stone, genetista

Para la vejez, dos consejos: uno, evita la soledad, busca compañía; dos, haz cosas que te hagan sentir útil a los otros.

¿Y algún consejo para los jóvenes?

¡Sí! Tengo mi "Fórmula Stone para el Éxito" para jóvenes: 1) Disciplina. 2) Enfoque. 3) Pasión. 4) Autoconfianza.

¿Se le ocurre cómo puedo estimular la curiosidad científica en mis hijos?

Envíelos una temporada al extranjero. ¡Ojalá el ministerio de Educación español ofreciese más ayudas a los estudiantes!

¿Qué es lo mejor que ha hecho usted en su vida?

Tener 10.000 alumnos universitarios. Yo he tratado con varios premios Nobel, con Isaac Asimov, con Visconti, con los Kennedy, con Cavalli-Sforza... ¡pero estoy más orgulloso de mis alumnos!

¿En qué ve diferente este mundo de hoy del que vivió usted siendo joven?

Hoy gozamos de mayor longevidad y calidad de vida, pero cada vez estamos más dominados por el poder del dinero concentrado en pocas manos. ¿Ha visto usted el documental Inside job?

No.

Salí indignado del cine: desvela la desvergüenza con que actúan los núcleos de poder, con aquiescencia incluso de decanos de universidad, ¡cosa que me avergüenza!

¿Algún último consejo, doctor Stone?

Sí. Tengo mis "Normas del Juego de la Vida": 1) Tómate lo serio con humor. 2) Tómate el humor en serio. 3) Todo es cuestión de actitud. 4) No temas el amor. 5) Ya reposarás cuando hayas muerto. 6) No despilfarres tu tiempo con gente insustancial. 7) Incumple estas normas cuando te sea necesario.

Anotado.

Y le haré una última confesión: lo mejor de mí... es la gente que me rodea.

Rasgos de los afortunados

Estos son los rasgos que tienen en común las personas afortunadas, las personas con buena suerte, satisfechas de su suerte.

• Uno, buen autoconcepto (aunque seas bajo y calvo, eso no te acompleja).
• Dos, optimismo (ves salidas a todas las situaciones), como los militares húngaros perdidos en los Alpes.
• Encontraron un mapa, y eso les ayudó a hallar la salida. Pero ese mapa... ¡era de los Pirineos! Ellos no lo sabían: o sea que si crees que hay salida, ¡será más fácil encontrarla!
• Tres, extraversión: allá donde van, establecen buenas relaciones (¡es el mejor modo de encontrar trabajo!).
• Cuatro, empatía: saben ponerse en la piel del otro, escuchar con el corazón.
• Cinco, autogestión emocional. Autocontrol pero saber enfadarse cuando toca.
• Seis, proactividad: generan sus circunstancias, las que les resultan más favorables.
• Siete, perseverancia: saben picar piedra.

"¿Cómo voy a quejarme yo?"

¿Desde cuándo va en silla de ruedas?

Desde junio pasado, cuando sufrí el accidente.

¿Qué pasó?

Competía en la Race Across America: por primera vez lo hacía un equipo español, éramos cuatro ciclistas...

¿En qué consiste esa competición?

En cubrir 5.000 kilómetros en bicicleta, cruzando Estados Unidos de oeste a este, mediante relevos. En una carretera de Wichitta, un coche me arrolló.

¿Desde detrás?

Sí. Aunque yo pedaleaba por un arcén muy ancho, un chico de 20 años se despistó rebuscando en la guantera y me atropelló.

¿Qué lesiones padeció?

Yo avanzaba a 30 km/h, y él, a 100 km/h: volé tres metros, me rompí las dos cabezas de los peronés, la cadera, cuatro costillas, el esternón... y dos vértebras aplastadas y dos vértebras rotas.

Buf.

No perdí el conocimiento... Mi condición física de deportista me salvó, dijo el médico.

¿Desde cuándo hacía deporte?

Desde siempre: raqueta, fútbol, atletismo, maratón, montañismo, esquí de travesía y, por fin, bicicleta en largas distancias.

¿Cuál fue su mayor gesta?

En el 2008 pedaleé 12.822 kilómetros en cien días (a 128 kilómetros por día), desde la Expo de Zaragoza hasta los Juegos Olímpicos de Pekín, en condiciones extremas.

¿Qué fue lo más duro?

Una ventolera en Mongolia:me arrojaba piedras, me tumbaba de la bicicleta.O temperaturas de 51ºC en la depresión de Turfan...

¿Y lo mejor?

Dormir bajo las estrellas del desierto. Y el cariño de la gente por el camino. Hice amigos para siempre, como Josan, que me acompañó dos días; como León, que me alojó en su casa en Serbia; como Mike, que pedaleó a mi lado por China... Lloré al entrar en Pekín. ¡Cumplí mi sueño!

¿Y con qué sueña ahora?

Con volver a ser profesor de instituto, casarme, tener hijos... Y rodar en bicicleta de tres ruedas, pedaleando con las manos.

¿Qué le dicen los médicos?

Una negligencia postoperatoria allí ocasionó isquemia de médula espinal: muerta hasta la vértebra cervical-6, mis músculos no responden de pecho hacia abajo.

¿No hay recuperación posible?

Jamás moveré ni abdominales ni piernas.

¿Y en qué consiste la rehabilitación que ha hecho en el Institut Guttmann?

Me han enseñado a valerme por mí mismo: vestirme, pasar de la silla de ruedas a la taza del váter, levantarme desde el suelo, superar obstáculos con la silla... Se trata de ser autónomo.

¿Es duro?

Durísimo. Incluidas unas paralelas para estar vertical... ¡Pero es la mejor sensación del día: volver a estar de pie! Y favorece la circulación sanguínea y combate la osteoporosis.

¿Qué añora más?

Pasear por el bosque, por las montañas del Pirineo de Huesca, perderme entre los árboles del Somontano, buscar setas... Porque en silla de ruedas ya sé que no podré...

¿Cómo está de ánimo?

Mi novia ha sido muy importante, psicológicamente: tras el accidente, le planteé abandonar la relación. Pero me respondió que ella estaba enamorada de mí, no de mis piernas... ¡Y está a mi lado! Conservar mi entorno afectivo ha sido decisivo.

Me decía que quieren tener hijos...

Sí, en un par de años, cuando hayamos asumido esta nueva vida... Existen métodos de fecundación con mi propio esperma…

¿No puede ser mediante sexo convencional?

Soy flácido de pecho para abajo. Hay fármacos que pueden facilitarme una erección, pero al carecer de sensibilidad, me resulta imposible eyacular.

¿Qué planes tenía justo antes del accidente?

Cruzar Canadá en bicicleta, en solitario. Lo tengo aplazado, claro, pero me ilusiona volver a viajar, hacer deporte...

¿Cómo se mentaliza para no caer en una depresión?

Pienso en el ahora, no en el pasado, y procuro que el presente sea lo más pleno posible. Ahora he escrito un libro sobre mi viaje Zaragoza- Pekín, mire.

¿Ha hablado con el chico de 20 años que le atropelló?

No quise verle. ¿Qué le digo? Todos nos hemos despistado alguna vez, yo le perdono... Pero, ¿me aporta algo ponerle cara, identificar a un culpable? No creo...

¿Se ha arrepentido alguna vez de haber ido a la Race Cross America?

No. Pero una cosa tengo clara: ¡nada de competir con pocos medios, sin garantizar al máximo la seguridad! Hay que decirlo.

Caen muchos ciclistas en la carretera...

Sí. Por favor, conductores: un ciclista puede molestar, ¡pero su vida está en tus manos!

¿Hasta cuándo estará en rehabilitación?

Ya tengo el alta y vuelvo a instalarme en casa, en Barbastro.

¿Qué se lleva de los seis meses aquí?

Que no estoy tan mal: hay compañeros de rehabilitación con lesiones cerebrales... o medulares más graves. He hecho un amigo, Alberto, paralizado de cuello para abajo por un accidente: su esposa acaba de darle gemelas, y él... él daría todo por poder acariciarlas... ¿Cómo voy a quejarme yo?, ¿cómo?