This hill’s 1,000 feet and I’m at the bottom of it, making my way back up after reaching the midway point of my 8.5 mile run.
I’m trudging along and, so far, I’m feeling surprisingly good.
I like this route. It’s in the mountains near a ski area, but it’s less crowded than the resort’s main access road. The trees frame the road with vibrant green leaves and the sound of running water keeps my mind occupied. I’d initially been listening to the latest episode of the SOLVED podcast from Mark Manson, but I don’t have cell service here, and I forgot to download it, so it stopped playing a little bit ago. Just as well—I was going to pause it anyway.
As I was running, Mark and his co-host, Drew, were talking about the science of what we can actually change about ourselves and which stuff we simply can’t. That’s always fascinated me. And, for as much as I don’t want to like Mark, he’s making it difficult.
I’m whooped.
Still, I let out an audible “aghh fuckkkk” when he said “there’s understanding why you do something and then there’s changing it; but those are two separate things.”
My “running” right now feels more shuffling. It’s like I’m on the stair-master at the gym. I hate those. But, for whatever reason, I like this. Go figure. I’m moving, though, and that’s all I care about. I’m gasping for air while trying to control my breathing with four-count inhales and exhales. A car passes and I can’t even look at them or I’ll lose my focus. Spittles flying from the corner of my mouth. My chest is on fire. The counting is helping, though.
I’m even smirking, slightly, thinking of the strength and conditioning program we did for high school football, and how I’d spend all day in the sun working before driving my ass to the turf to run sprints three times a week. That was in addition to going on my own runs in the morning and going to the gym after work on the days when I wasn’t at the turf. I don’t know if the coaches thought they were being kind by ramping things up incrementally, but it only created dread for me. We’d start small (ish), before building to full-out, 100-yard sprints. Then, once we were exhausted, we’d finish with hill-sprints from the parking lot behind the gym. Plenty of us would throw up and I guess I just thought that was normal. Same with the coaches screaming in our faces to keep going.
My self-talk sounded like that for a long time until I realized it didn’t have to. For one thing, it’s proven that people respond better to praise than reprimands. But, also, I came to accept that I wasn’t moving though life at a deficit that needed to be made up. There’s a lot of stuff I like to do where improving is part of the fun. Take snowboarding for instance. Or writing. But living my day-to-day life doesn’t need to be rocket science. Working to get better can be enjoyable rather than belittling.
So as I’m inching my way along the guardrail, through a corridor of trees among the surrounding mountains, I’m wanting to hate Mark Manson and the self-help gurus out there for preying on people who are hurting—for unnecessarily playing the role of yelling football coach. But then he goes and says that thing about how understanding something and changing it are different. And he follows it up by adding how the industry is full of grifters who sell people “change” when what they mean is “understanding.”
And he’s right.
I crest one of the hills within this bigger hill and take some time to walk the straightaway and catch my breath. For now, I’m just focusing on breathing. There’s plenty that I understand about myself and still struggle to change. And I’m working on it.
I never stopped to consider whether it was a fool’s errand.
Our Daily MAP Year Prompt
315/365
Can you think of a time when understanding yourself was easier than changing?
onward.
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