"THE HEALTHIEST COMPETITION OCCURS WHEN AVERAGE PEOPLE WIN BY PUTTING ABOVE AVERAGE EFFORT."
COLIN POWELL
Maybe it's all the stories I have been reading about Olympians. Maybe it's all the blogs I've been reading about the Spartan Death Race. Whatever it is that has stirred up this feeling in me, I'm grateful for it. I am tired of being average. As I was running 4 miles this morning, my thoughts continued to waver between the nearly overwhelming desire to slow down and the craving for a PR. In order to pry my mind away from my body's screams to slow, I began thinking of those Olympians and the amount of suffering they embrace to achieve the level of eliteness that they have fought for. Please. I know that I will never be an Olympic athlete. But I also know that it is that exact thought that has imprisoned me in the stagnancy of average.
If I am satisfied with my level of fitness (or my life in any area), what makes me want to become better at what I do? If I can put forth some effort and get some results, should I just settle? I see this in students all the time, and it drives me crazy! So many are satisfied to do very little work (if at all) and as long as they get to play outside they are satisfied with scribbles. It starts so early. This satisfaction with mediocrity is completely frustrating.
I was discussing this with my running partner (God) this morning. Telling Him that I was tired with being stuck at average; asking Him if I'm crazy for thinking I can ever be better than average? Is that selfish? Egotistical? Absurd? He seemed to reassure me that I'm on the right track. He made us all to have a deep craving for more (evidence is found in the astounding number of addictions that exist-- we try to feed that craving in unhealthy ways). He created us with a longing for greatness. Greatness can be found within all of us. However, my greatness lies not in who I am or what I have done, but in who He is and what He does through me.
One of my favorite Bible passages reminds us of this: "For God, who said, 'Let there be light in the darkness,' has made His light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ. We now have His light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves." 2 Corinthians 4:6-7.
So, how do we overcome average? How do we move beyond the idea that "I'm getting older and therefore slower, so I'll just accept it"? We set a goal and train like crazy.....
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Risk..
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor, catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.
– Mark Twain
I'm a much different person than I once was. I was once the quiet kid in class. Now I'm the teacher. I was once the wall-flower at the school dance, too afraid to step onto the floor and dance to the music. Now I'm the lady in the car next to you, dancing with abandon at my favorite song. Once I was afraid to stand out. To take a chance. To be vulnerable. Now I'm... well, I'm still afraid, but I'm learning to ignore my fears and take chances.
I've decided that life is just to short to play it safe. I want to live passionately. To enjoy each day. To laugh loudly and contagiously. To give everything I have in everything I do. I don't want to plod along, head down, looking up just long enough to check a box on my "To Do" List.
I'm not talking about blindly gambling life away. I'm talking about blowing the doors off my comfort zone, dismantling the box and exploring life outside of it.
– Mark Twain
I'm a much different person than I once was. I was once the quiet kid in class. Now I'm the teacher. I was once the wall-flower at the school dance, too afraid to step onto the floor and dance to the music. Now I'm the lady in the car next to you, dancing with abandon at my favorite song. Once I was afraid to stand out. To take a chance. To be vulnerable. Now I'm... well, I'm still afraid, but I'm learning to ignore my fears and take chances.
I've decided that life is just to short to play it safe. I want to live passionately. To enjoy each day. To laugh loudly and contagiously. To give everything I have in everything I do. I don't want to plod along, head down, looking up just long enough to check a box on my "To Do" List.
I'm not talking about blindly gambling life away. I'm talking about blowing the doors off my comfort zone, dismantling the box and exploring life outside of it.
Come to Jesus...
"One who gains strength by overcoming obstacles possesses the only strength which can overcome adversity"
Albert Schweitzer
In an instant, life can suddenly become harder than we ever imagined. One phone call can tilt the whole world and leave a person clinging to a sense of normalcy. This happened to me a few weeks ago. A perfectly normal morning (I had just gotten home from a run) was shattered with a phone call. I'm not sharing the details because it's intensely personal and involves other people. But I felt like I had been hit by a punch from Ali. The world was suddenly a precarious place to be. Everything I trusted, believed in and knew to be true was on the brink of changing.
Now, as a Christian, my hope is firmly secured in God. I know that He is in control, and I am not. I know that He has the power over my life and this planet. I trust in His love for me-- that He will never leave me and that He will take care of my needs. Immediately, I desperately prayed for His intervention in this situation where I had had control ripped from me. Suddenly, I was very tangibly completely vulnerable and helpless. I didn't know what the future would hold.
A little more than two weeks later and things have calmed down. Life has slipped back into the routine. I am back to feeling like I have control of my life again. But really I don't. It took a phone call, a near disaster to prove to me that my life is really not my own. Our bodies are such a precious balance of chemistry. We're walking miracles, really. Everyday is a miracle, really. How many times are we inches or moments away from a devastating injury or loss?
I have learned that in those times of adversity, there is no amount of miles logged that can heal what is broken. I've tried. And much of my training is driven by stress and a desire to sweat away my fears, doubts, and insecurities. And I feel better after some sweat therapy. But the only true way to overcome adversity is to be weak. (Not exactly in agreement with popular advice.) The weak I'm referring to is the weakness that admits helplessness and a need for someone bigger and stronger than not just me, but any problem I will ever face.
Albert Schweitzer
In an instant, life can suddenly become harder than we ever imagined. One phone call can tilt the whole world and leave a person clinging to a sense of normalcy. This happened to me a few weeks ago. A perfectly normal morning (I had just gotten home from a run) was shattered with a phone call. I'm not sharing the details because it's intensely personal and involves other people. But I felt like I had been hit by a punch from Ali. The world was suddenly a precarious place to be. Everything I trusted, believed in and knew to be true was on the brink of changing.
Now, as a Christian, my hope is firmly secured in God. I know that He is in control, and I am not. I know that He has the power over my life and this planet. I trust in His love for me-- that He will never leave me and that He will take care of my needs. Immediately, I desperately prayed for His intervention in this situation where I had had control ripped from me. Suddenly, I was very tangibly completely vulnerable and helpless. I didn't know what the future would hold.
A little more than two weeks later and things have calmed down. Life has slipped back into the routine. I am back to feeling like I have control of my life again. But really I don't. It took a phone call, a near disaster to prove to me that my life is really not my own. Our bodies are such a precious balance of chemistry. We're walking miracles, really. Everyday is a miracle, really. How many times are we inches or moments away from a devastating injury or loss?
I have learned that in those times of adversity, there is no amount of miles logged that can heal what is broken. I've tried. And much of my training is driven by stress and a desire to sweat away my fears, doubts, and insecurities. And I feel better after some sweat therapy. But the only true way to overcome adversity is to be weak. (Not exactly in agreement with popular advice.) The weak I'm referring to is the weakness that admits helplessness and a need for someone bigger and stronger than not just me, but any problem I will ever face.
#1
I have 2 training accessories that I always have with me sweat and fears.
Sweat is great! Never minded working up a good sweat, and am actually fairly impressed with myself when every limb is sweating and my eyebrows are little diving boards for the drops launching off my forehead. Sweat has that smell of victory to it, right?
Fear can be a good thing too…motivational, inspirational and even kind of funny sometimes. I think we all have a good number of fears as we endeavor to better our bodies and minds with crazy workouts, insane races and the gauntlet of funky smells and sore bodies.
For example: I fear that my butt looks wobbly in that certain pair of yoga pants. That my form when I’m doing burpees is attracting the attention of The Weird Dude that drives by my park 47 times. I am afraid that, in my next race, I’ll wear that pair of underwear that always rides up my left cheek and have to endure a chafing wedgie for 45 minutes because I’m not gonna yank it out during the race and chance a picture being taken Just Then to be posted on the website. I also fear running in temperatures below 30 degrees F, forgetting my bib on race day, that my stove will spontaneously combust…
But what I really want to address here isn’t just normal, everyday fear, it’s…
FEAR!!
You know, the kind that keeps you awake in the wee dark hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering if you’re really getting stronger or just fooling yourself. The kind that whispers in your ear, over and over at mile 2, 3 or 6 that there’s no way you’re going to make it another mile and maybe it’s better to just stop and say you tried. The Fear that crept in at 25, established residency at 30 and has now redecorated in my head at 33 by hanging a neon sign that says, “You look like an idiot out there with all those young, fit people. You don’t belong out there…stop embarrassing yourself.”
Yeah, that Fear.
It disguises itself as fatigue, anger, anxiety…and sometimes is very convincing when it shows up as a juicy cheeseburger while waving your overscheduled calendar in your face. Sure I’m tired; overworked and overscheduled, and fitting in those workouts seems like a real pain in the you know what!!. But it’s the Fear talking. If I can find an excuse to avoid the training then I have a way out. No one would expect me to get out there and race if I’m not in shape. I can just put it off. Right?
WRONG
Because I know what will happen if I give in to Fear. Fear pals around with Self-pity and Depression, and you don’t want those two ringing your doorbell. They’re not selling cookies, oh no. They’re gonna bring over at least a couple days worth of gluttony and sloth and snicker at you while they hide your running shoes. Nope. That whole situation just needs to be avoided. And that means Fear has to get the boot.
Goodbye.
Tot ziens.
Adios.
Sayonara.
That’s when I have to step back and talk myself through it. Aloud sometimes. I’m not too tired to workout, and if I just get started I’ll have the momentum to finish. It’s not too cold outside to run. I have the right clothes and I just need to put them on. I can eat the cheeseburger, and enjoy it, without pigging out for the rest of the day. I’m not too old, or too inexperienced to enter that race. There are age categories above mine full of people and I’ve never stood at a starting line without seeing folks of all shapes and sizes. And I can absolutely go that One More Mile. I won’t die. I might wheeze and cry and limp, but I will cross that finish line. And Fear cannot come with me.
The Fear will be back, I know. It’ll show up unexpectedly as too many fat rolls in a picture taken by a friend or a finish time that makes me wonder if everyone else took a shortcut. It lurks. But it’s easier to ward off than it used to be and it’s no longer all consuming. More of a stumbling block than a gaping pit of doom these days. I think it’s scared of my new friends who are taking names and kicking some booty!!
DETERMINATION and COURAGE
We’re running a race together in a few weeks.. Determination, Courage and I…in the mud and wet, with 8 foot walls sponsored by a bunch of college kids with good abs. And it’s going to be FUN! Fear will be there. But hopefully my running pals can leave her at the starting line.
Sweat is great! Never minded working up a good sweat, and am actually fairly impressed with myself when every limb is sweating and my eyebrows are little diving boards for the drops launching off my forehead. Sweat has that smell of victory to it, right?
Fear can be a good thing too…motivational, inspirational and even kind of funny sometimes. I think we all have a good number of fears as we endeavor to better our bodies and minds with crazy workouts, insane races and the gauntlet of funky smells and sore bodies.
For example: I fear that my butt looks wobbly in that certain pair of yoga pants. That my form when I’m doing burpees is attracting the attention of The Weird Dude that drives by my park 47 times. I am afraid that, in my next race, I’ll wear that pair of underwear that always rides up my left cheek and have to endure a chafing wedgie for 45 minutes because I’m not gonna yank it out during the race and chance a picture being taken Just Then to be posted on the website. I also fear running in temperatures below 30 degrees F, forgetting my bib on race day, that my stove will spontaneously combust…
But what I really want to address here isn’t just normal, everyday fear, it’s…
FEAR!!
You know, the kind that keeps you awake in the wee dark hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering if you’re really getting stronger or just fooling yourself. The kind that whispers in your ear, over and over at mile 2, 3 or 6 that there’s no way you’re going to make it another mile and maybe it’s better to just stop and say you tried. The Fear that crept in at 25, established residency at 30 and has now redecorated in my head at 33 by hanging a neon sign that says, “You look like an idiot out there with all those young, fit people. You don’t belong out there…stop embarrassing yourself.”
Yeah, that Fear.
It disguises itself as fatigue, anger, anxiety…and sometimes is very convincing when it shows up as a juicy cheeseburger while waving your overscheduled calendar in your face. Sure I’m tired; overworked and overscheduled, and fitting in those workouts seems like a real pain in the you know what!!. But it’s the Fear talking. If I can find an excuse to avoid the training then I have a way out. No one would expect me to get out there and race if I’m not in shape. I can just put it off. Right?
WRONG
Because I know what will happen if I give in to Fear. Fear pals around with Self-pity and Depression, and you don’t want those two ringing your doorbell. They’re not selling cookies, oh no. They’re gonna bring over at least a couple days worth of gluttony and sloth and snicker at you while they hide your running shoes. Nope. That whole situation just needs to be avoided. And that means Fear has to get the boot.
Goodbye.
Tot ziens.
Adios.
Sayonara.
That’s when I have to step back and talk myself through it. Aloud sometimes. I’m not too tired to workout, and if I just get started I’ll have the momentum to finish. It’s not too cold outside to run. I have the right clothes and I just need to put them on. I can eat the cheeseburger, and enjoy it, without pigging out for the rest of the day. I’m not too old, or too inexperienced to enter that race. There are age categories above mine full of people and I’ve never stood at a starting line without seeing folks of all shapes and sizes. And I can absolutely go that One More Mile. I won’t die. I might wheeze and cry and limp, but I will cross that finish line. And Fear cannot come with me.
The Fear will be back, I know. It’ll show up unexpectedly as too many fat rolls in a picture taken by a friend or a finish time that makes me wonder if everyone else took a shortcut. It lurks. But it’s easier to ward off than it used to be and it’s no longer all consuming. More of a stumbling block than a gaping pit of doom these days. I think it’s scared of my new friends who are taking names and kicking some booty!!
DETERMINATION and COURAGE
We’re running a race together in a few weeks.. Determination, Courage and I…in the mud and wet, with 8 foot walls sponsored by a bunch of college kids with good abs. And it’s going to be FUN! Fear will be there. But hopefully my running pals can leave her at the starting line.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)