Sometimes we just get caught up in all the wrong stuff. I’m probably the best example of this, my most recent debacle for instance. What’s more important: actually getting out there and doing the work, or getting the credit for having done the work? I started a fitness journey with the sole purpose of being able to do these things, to improve my overall health, to have fun. The purpose wasn’t to leave a legacy of official times littered over the internet, to wit, the very first race I ran on my 46-in-46 year was a self-timed 5k.
Ah, but that little goal set me off on the wrong course: 46 races by the end of the year wasn’t what I needed to focus on. It wasn’t long before I was running 2 races a day, or 3 in a weekend to push the number up. That in and of itself wasn’t bad, but hell why run anything longer than a 5k when you’re only getting credit for one race? Why not run 2 5ks and get two done? The next year I course corrected.
“ I used to think the human brain was the most wonderful organ in my body. Then I realized who was telling me this.”
Sometimes, we get what we need right when we need it. Earlier this week I was out for a run with a friend. It wasn’t a long run, or a hard run. It was pretty easy for the most part: while it eased off during the obstacle races, my piriformis is still pretty much in a knot and has really hindered running. I know this guy from running- we met on the first long run either of us had done, where we spent the time talking and really got to know each other; you learn quite a bit about people when you have 90 minutes to do nothing but chat. Of the topics of conversation that day, books and life philosophy topped the list, so its really no surprise that a year and a half later thats what we should be discussing.
He’s mentioned it to me in the past, but this day he had pulled out a specific reference from The subtle art of not giving a f#&k, illustrated it in practice and I decided I needed to check it out. It was the perfect antidote to my Spartan funk.
There’s absolutely nothing special about that race, about having that finishing time. Nothing. The only thing that makes it remotely special to me is that I did it. There’s literally thousands of people that run these races every year. Not special.
So I picked up the book, and swallowed it whole. The vignette that really caught my attention was one where in his late teens while at a party in the woods, the author and his friend were discussing jumping off a cliff into the water. The last time he saw his friend alive, he was on his way to get a sandwich and the friend was heading to the cliff.
I could see myself in the same situation, overthinking the “what ifs” and “if onlys.” Spinning endlessly into depression and self-loathing. It took the better part of that summer to come to some meaning to his friend’s death, but he ultimately settled on the idea that if there is really no reason to do anything, then there’s really no reason NOT to do anything.
There is literally no reason to ever give into fear or embarrassment, and in not doing something to avoid these things you’re actually avoiding living. Death is inevitable, but living isn’t.
And there is it. My friend Duke had given me the key to what was really messing my head. You screwed up. So what. What are you going to do next? I wasn’t afraid of failure to start, why do I fear it now? Seriously. If I was that fearful, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place. Failure is always a possibility, giving up is not. Failure is a possibility only as long as you’re alive – only the living get to experience it, and if I fail because I lose focus doing something badass, that means I’m human.
I’m stopping blaming myself, stopping the self-flagellation and moving on. At some point you realize that you’ve lived more of your life than you have left, and I’ve decided that I’m going to live that time to the best of my ability and I will not let myself get in my own way. It doesn’t matter anyway, so get out there and life your best life. I’m not building some “immortality project” (from another book the author references), I’m just out there living.
Much earlier in the week we were discussing a couple of races to run together, and I was goading him on. There’s a 10k trail race this weekend with an option for a half marathon. He’s running the 10k, I asked him why not the half – predictably, because most sensible people would say this, his answer was that he’s running the half we had just signed up for in a couple weeks. To which I said there’s no reason he can’t do both. As it happened I decided to run neither.
This went around a bit to this point in the conversation where I said that I feel more bad-ass now than I did at 45. I love that I can kick ass on most guys my age. I am celebrating the idea that I can do this stuff. I hate running. I hate these aches and pains. But, I LOVE kicking ass. I’m not masochistic. I’m showing anyone who pays attention that it can get done if you want to get it done. All of which sounds like the book that I’ve just finished, I just didn’t realize it. He then said something most unexpected and most appreciated: “You’re scratching your itch which is to inspire others, motivate others through your karma…I love this about you.”
I’ve never thought of myself as anything of the kind, but I appreciate the words: letting go of the reasons you can’t do something, and giving yourself the permission to challenge boundaries, to live your life may have the effect of inspiring others to do the same. Thank you Duke for that inspiration.
ADDENDUM: I had included a copy of the “Subtle Art..” book here, but was served up with a copyright notification. So It seems that while the author encourages one to not give a F, someone clearly does:
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Some content on this page was disabled on December 31, 2020 as a result of a DMCA takedown notice from Infinity Squared Media LLC. You can learn more about the DMCA here: https://en.support.wordpress.com/copyright-and-the-dmca/
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