After posting my last post, and spending another two weeks continuing to struggle with consistency and mental toughness in workouts, I find myself with the serious question of why I want to work so hard and be so strong...because frankly, it would be far easier and far less frustrating to opt to sit on the couch every night of the week than convincing my body to try hard things with the soreness and sweating that accompany it. What exactly is my motivation? Especially when it comes to racing and endurance sports. Some days I seem to come up against a pity party so strong and so illogical, that it almost makes me want to give up. After all, I have lots of friends who never work out, and they have so much free time to do, well, anything else. Whine, complain, boo hoo...enough. Let's get the facts straight right now in order to refocus energy in a useful direction.
1. I really actually, truly do want to be healthy in every way.
We only get one body and one life. And although some may be able to get by just fine (or perhaps convince themselves they're fine) without a day of working out in their lives, I can't. I want to live to a ripe old age and not end up in a state of decrepitude at any point on my way there. I want to be mentally sharp and physically able all the days of my life. If I really want that, I have to work hard for it.
2. I need the space and time.
If given the opportunity, I think I would work myself to death. I would sit at my computer for hours, endlessly plugging away at all there may be to do. And when I run out of things to do, I make more things to do. Physically working hard, as counter intuitive as it may sound, gives me space in my life to do something else, something that is fulfilling and good and good for me. Workouts give me time to wrestle, think, pray, fight, laugh... I need these things in my life to keep me sane and happy. Some days workouts are hard. Some days they don't feel like an increase of time or space, but more like a constriction of both. But I have never once come to the end of a workout and looked back at it with regret. Not once.
3. It's mine. It's God's.
Sometimes I think that I need something that is just for me. Just mine. I used to think that running was that thing. But then I discovered that run time and prayer time together. And suddenly, this workout thing wasn't mine at all. It was clearly God's. It was God's gift to me, a multipurpose time designed for me and Him to spend some time together and for me to get stronger, get this, for His glory. Though it can be hard to remember in the tougher, more frustrating workouts, every time I spend time working out and praying, dwelling on scripture, or even just clearing some of the frustration from the day, I am honoring the gifts God has given me, the gifts of my body, my strength, my joy. This is, perhaps the most motivating thing I need to remember. I work hard for me AND God.
Sometimes I just need a good solid press of a reset button. Today's workout reminded me that I needed to seek out the why of choosing to be strong and work hard. No more pity parties, just good hard work from here on out.
After a slow few days following a yellow fever vaccination that resulted in a few days of a sore arm, a low grade fever, and some flu-like symptoms, I thought I'd try to take a little run. It had been a week since my last outing, and I was itching for a good stride. Due to some nasty winds and some impending rain, I opted for a nice cozy treadmill rather than being blown into traffic at the top of some hill.
A half mile in, I knew it was going to be a tough run, so I chose some shorter burst speed drills rather than going for distance, which at least gave my lungs some reprieve between sets. But the experience got me to thinking about how I ever got to be any sort of athlete at all. Three years ago, I couldn't run two minutes at a time. I couldn't really swim more than a length of the pool. I didn't own a bike or a good pair of running shoes. Sure I've been a long-time on-again, off-again yogi, but I didn't focus nearly any time on conditioning my body, just when it happenstancically fit into my work schedule.
I think there are lies that we tell ourselves when we aren't good to our bodies. Things that somehow justify our behaviors and leave us in our places. Thinking of these lies bring me back not only to a few years ago, but to my first days as a college recruiter, where road time, sitting in high schools, and running through the McDonald's drive-thru were my normal activities. Scary to think how fast my work clothes didn't fit and I started feeling pretty terrible. A few months really. But anyway, back to the lies.
Lie #1: Really, I'm fine.
Really? That's where we want to start? Yeah, keep telling yourself you're fine as you struggle mightily to get up the stairs. As your joints complain and show signs of wear. Keep up the lie that you're fine and unaffected as you gain weight and lose muscle and flexibility and range of motion.
How about instead, you take a good honest status check of what your body is really saying. That McDonald's food isn't satisfying, neither is the third helping of anything. Your knees might be wearing out. You know that once they're gone, they're gone right? Your lungs are crying out for assistance. You, my friend, are not fine. This is a lie developed by the side of you that is more content lying on the couch than going to the effort of stretching or moving. The side of you who would just as soon find an elevator. The side of you that believes that your knees or hips or back won't ever really wear out completely. But here's the thing - our bodies only know how to deteriorate when left to their own devices. (More on this in a bit.) You're not fine. Find what isn't fine in you. Recognize it and be ready to work to make it right.
Lie #2: I don't have time.
Funny thing about time, it's always somehow full. We make choices everyday about how we will spend our time. And there is a side of you, the same side that believes the lie that you're fine, that believes that there is nothing you can do to find time to work for the benefit of your body. Sure, that hour long phone conversation was important. And on, my favorite movie is on tv tonight! And isn't it just nice to come home from work and just be home for the night? Ooh, Facebook drama...cat videos...new baby photos! There is always something lurking in the shadows that wants your time.
But you do have a choice. You have choices everyday to make your body better or to make it worse. I, for instance, have nearly completely given up watching tv. Why? Because it takes up time, it's generally not good for me in any way, and it's not even all that gratifying to watch! But yet, we watch. For hours. Sometimes I give up sleeping in an extra half hour. Sometimes I sacrifice a little quality snuggle on the couch. Something always has to give when you make a new choice about how to spend your time. But time is always there for you to decide what to do with. Trust me, you do have the time.
Lie #3: My body can't do that.
Do you think that I got to where I am today (or will get to where I will be in the future) by believing the lie that my body just can't or won't do something? There is a force far more powerful than your body. It's your heart (or for extremely mental athletes, your brain...I'll talk about both here). Your body will always believe only in its limitations. As I said before, our bodies were born knowing only how to decay. They were, indeed born to die. But our hearts and brains are constantly learning, growing, shifting, changing, developing... And their strength is incredible!
And let's have an honest moment about working out hard. It hurts! I mean really! My body will always tell me no. It believes it can't. It tries to convince me it won't. But then my heart kicks in, and it gives my body its marching orders, because, well, I really want to be well, to be strong. I do. My body doesn't. So I push it. I force the issue. I quiet the lie that tells me I can't with a might and ferocious, "I CAN." And then I do my very best. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes, like tonight, I struggle. But after a few years of pushing and forcing and encouraging and believing in my heart that my body is wrong, it turns out, it is.
Look, I don't really know who this pep talk was meant for. Maybe just for me. I don't want to settle for believing I'm fine. I want to take the time to work hard and sweat and get stronger, and I know that I can expect my brain and heart to push my body well beyond the limits it believes it has.
I am 30. I have every intention of not allowing my body to decay and deteriorate. I will fight death with life, with deep breaths, with strong muscles, with fast runs, long swims, impossibly hilly bikes. I will get stronger because I can. Won't you join me? Save that deteriorating body with an invigorated soul, with new goals and with no lies about what is possible standing in your way.
In a recent lecture that I sat in on on the topic of leadership, the idea of authenticity, or as it was defined, being true to one's self, was brought up in almost every type of leadership. But I found myself getting hung up on the word, or perhaps the definition.
What if deep down, in my truest core, I'm an emotional wreck. I mean just a real disaster? What if my heart yearned to shed tears at nearly every situation or experience? As a leader, is that the authentic self I should rely on? I think we can all agree that basket cases don't make great leaders. And what if my truest self was angry at the world? That doesn't seem like a healthy place to lean on. What if my true self wanted to always make others happy to the point that I couldn't tell them the truth if it was painful?
So what are we really talking about here? What is authenticity all about? Are we really just talking about the positive elements of our true selves? Our true good selves? Why don't we just say that then? Are we really talking about something beyond ourselves? Something of greater magnitude? If so, why do we consider it being true to self rather than being true to whatever it is?
I think some serious examination is in order to try to discover what this authenticity world is all about. Because, to be honest, sometimes I don't really like what I see when I look deep within myself. I don't like how I react to things sometimes or even how I choose to lead sometimes. If I don't like all the things that make up myself, then given the definition, I can't say I really want to be authentic all the time. And where do words like consistency, judgement, rationality, emotional stability, empathy...all those other words that we associate with good leaders land in the realm of authenticity? How are they connected?
Some days, I open a blank blog post and start typing in hopes that answers to my questions come flowing through the keys, as if by some godly channel that produces wisdom beyond my own. Some days, it shows up. Today, it's just questions, so I'll need to seek my answers elsewhere.
I must start this post with a confession. I am not the fearless wonder woman I project myself to be. Now, don't get me wrong. I want to be a fearless wonder woman. I strive to be a fearless wonder woman. But I've got fears. Oh, boy, do I have fears.
I'm afraid of bugs, spiders mostly. I'm afraid of forgetting important things. I have fears of doing things wrong. Of being incapable of doing what I want. Germs, especially of the raw meat variety. Winter driving. Running in the dark. Being careless with money. Saying stupid or embarrassing things. Grates in sidewalks. Public restroom surfaces. Trying new experiences for the first time.
I spend a lot of time masking these fears, pretending to be a fearless wonder woman. But last night, some of the fears started leak out of me. And it quickly snowballed. It was mostly mysterymoon related. For the past three months, I have been beyond exciting to have Derrick plan a secret trip for us, leaving me totally in the dark about all of it. I desperately wanted to be able to let go of control and allow him to plan it all. I wanted a grand adventure.
Or so I thought.
But then, I started to get scared. What if he didn't think of everything? What if we get stuck wherever we're going and can't get home? What if we don't have the right equipment. What if I'm not strong enough? What if, what if, what if... And this incredible sense of guilt began to wash over me because, as I started spewing me fears in Derrick's general direction, it sounded a lot like I didn't trust him to plan this trip.
But that's just not true. I trust the man with me life. I trust his skills and abilities and research. I trust his instruction and his instinct. It cannot be then that I do not somehow trust him with some vacation plans.
But, the more I think about this, the more I begin to think that perhaps fear and trust are not so related. I mean, I trust my dad when we're climbing big mountains, but I still fear crossing rushing streams on rotting logs or slippery stretches of path near the summit. I trust that my co-workers are working hard, but I still fear that collaborative programs might fail. I trust God's plan in the world, but I fear for the lives of future generations.
It seems like trust and fear should be more related. If I really trust, do I have reason to be afraid? The logical answer here is no, of course. And yet... I think perhaps where my fears live is a different habitat all together than where my trust lives. I think trust lives deep in the heart and forms a line that somehow supersedes reality. No matter the circumstances, I can still choose to trust. But my fears create a scatter plot of all of the many external forces, the unknowables, the slim chances, the what if's that live around reality. Fears live in all of the other possible realities that exist all around us. Trust is on a different plane all together. To trust, I make a decision to trust, to follow that line above basic reality. To not fear, I have to shut out a whole lot of dots on a scatter plot. A whole lot.
I think the only effective way to become a fearless wonder woman is two fold. I need to keep on trusting. Trust can and will help me to continue to rise above fears. And I need to go and do many scary things. Kill spiders, rely on my memory, test my capabilities, cook, drive in the snow, run with a head lamp, stick to a budget, speak up, walk over the grates on the sidewalks, use public restrooms, and try everything at least once. I fully trust my love to send us on a once-in-a-lifetime mysterymoon trip, and I'm scared out of my mind. But without hesitation, I will go. And just maybe come back a little bit more of a fearless wonder woman.
