Quiet Truths
What Applies Here, Applies Everywhere
I was in the last set of a 20 minute workout –10 pull-ups, followed by a 14-pound medicine ball toss to a nine-foot target 20 times, followed by 30 calories on the rower. All that four times over within twenty minutes. Or, that was the goal and I was deep in it. Deep into counting reps. Deep into focused breathing. Deep into the earned pain of an endurance workout. The timer ticked up past 17 minutes and 39 seconds. 40 seconds. 41 seconds…I moved from the ball toss to the rower.
Breathing heavy, I tucked my toes under the foot straps. A bead of sweat ran from my forehead down my nose, then plunged off my face onto the machine like I wished to do onto the floor. Instead, I took a deep breath. I pushed hard with my legs while pulling the bar toward my chest, and the unit's display flashed to life. Calorie one.
Finishing a workout on the rower is tough. It’s easy to get sloppy with the motion. There’s a place to sit and the equipment naturally pulls you into a hunched position. You can move and feel like you’re accomplishing something, but if your form isn’t dialed, you’ll make sluggish progress. Even when you’re not exhausted, it’s important to tighten your core, straighten your spine and drive with your legs while also pulling with your upper body. There’s an ideal range of motion, too. You coil your body together like a spring under tension at the short, then you explode off the platform through the middle, and tighten, tilt and pull at the length. Changing the form makes you inefficient, costing you precious time and energy per stroke. You’ll be there longer if you coil too tight or shorten the range or slip into any number of things that happen when you’re tired and don’t will your body to do what’s best, rather than succumbing to its relentless aching. Add in the rhythm of your breathing and cadence, and that’s a lot to manage.
Focus on form, I coached myself as the time ticked closer to twenty minutes. Doing this would be the only way to meet the goal.
The aching in my legs radiated up my back and my shoulders joined the chorus. My lungs burned and my mouth was a parched desert. I pushed and pulled, and forced my body into form until my movements reached an agonizing tone. Here, a quietness settled.
The rower whoosed, and my breath heaved, and rhythmic house beats thumped through my headset. Yet, in the quiet of my mind (my mind being quiet because there is too much pain for me to hear its chatter), I’m reminded of the symmetry of it all. What applies here, applies everywhere.
Getting sloppy when I’m tired is a waste of my effort per action.
This isn’t about perfection. This is about being honest with yourself. Not every effort is a level 10 out of 10. Sometimes you dial in and come in under 20 minutes. Sometimes you dial in and see the seconds tick past the time cap. But, who are you during the challenging moments? That is where you get to work on your integrity. Did you bend and fold and droop because it was easier? Or did you take inventory, straighten and drive with what you had left?
This isn’t about not resting either. Being dialed in is learning when to rest, like choosing to breathe deeply before the next set or drinking water while moving from one station to the other. This is about being intentional with your rest so you can be powerful with your work.
This is about paying attention. If you’re anything like me, you’ll notice the excuses your mind offers. You’ll notice the chicken nuggets you eat off your kids plate so they don’t go to waste. You’ll notice the weekend drinks that crept into your Thursday night dinners too. You’ll notice that you’re bored but also unwilling to imagine how a 10-minute early morning walk on your street could shake things up. It’s all the innocent actions that turned into a lifestyle because it was easier than changing.
Here’s the thing, when my form is dialed, I don’t question if I’m giving it my all…I know I am. I feel it. Even if I’m exhausted and not moving at the same rate as I was, when I am holding form, I feel proud. I don’t have to convince myself or anyone else that I am enough when I’m actively being the most locked-in version of myself I’m capable of. My confidence soars. In this state, whatever the end result becomes is just what it is. It’s a by-product of both the things I could control (my focus, form, and attitude) and the things I could not (everything else). But when I allow myself to bend because it’s comfortable, just for one stroke…well, then, I better be disciplined enough to keep it only to one stroke because it’s an effortless slide from one to three to five. Feeling productive without having to focus and make adjustments is just too easy.
“Nothing is wasted.” A friend reminded me recently. It felt like years of my work were going to waste, and so I said those words as we sorted through difficult business issues. Their words struck me. I already knew nothing was wasted, but when was the last time I felt that way? A state of frustration had turned to wallowing, then intermittent depression. I had let one stroke become five, and soon enough, my form was sloppy. Talking with someone who’s walked through the fire; who can coach you back to shape while also you yourself being willing to be coached - that’s being dialed in.
The time ticked past twenty minutes and I kept rowing for another forty-seven seconds. The unit’s display clicked to 30 calories and, feeling proud, I stopped. It’s not about coming in under the goal time, it’s about who I decide to be when shit gets real hard. It’s about how I feel about myself when the effort is over.
Take inventory.
Tighten. Straighten. Drive.
Breathe and finish.
Beats: Devil A Pray—Easy Mccoy