Motivation is for Losers

Total click-bait title, I know. I'm not calling anyone who misses a workout a "loser". Most runners - and athletes in general - already beat themselves up plenty without having insults heaped on them. I know I feel that I suck if I only run 13 miles when I was planning 20, ninety degree weather notwithstanding.

For purposes of this post, I'll call a loser someone who gives up on their goals, or doesn't even try to accomplish them in the first place. A very common excuse for this is lack of motivation. They "lose" their motivation, and don't know how to "get it back."

Here's a secret: I have no motivation.

I have a huge heap of little projects I've started on in the past few months, and I'm not working on any of them right now. They're all there, waiting for me to get back in to them, mocking me. But I'm just too tired. It's a million degrees in my bedroom, so I don't get any sleep at all. I exercise every single day and am perpetually fried. And if I run in the heat or don't eat enough, I have to deal with dehydration and/or low energy.

So yeah, my Pokemon Go™ ripoff called Cthulhu Go is a total nonstarter.

Gotta catch 'em all!

So you might be thinking, "ok, you're not doing those things because you lack the motivation." No. I'm not doing those things because they don't matter.

At least, they don't matter enough. Because if something is important, you'll do it. Period.

For those who complain that they don't have the motivation to exercise, I have to ask: How do you go to work? I definitely don't want to get up in the morning, brush my stupid teeth, feed my pudgy cat, put on my dumb clothes, drive through obnoxious traffic, and then sit at a desk and pretend to do whatever I'm supposed to be doing. If you're super excited about work, then that's awesome, but I'm guessing most folks aren't.

And what about all the other stupid crap you have to do? How do you do your laundry? I did my laundry yesterday. My clothes aren't organized. I have to take all the clean clothes out of the hamper from last time I did my laundry. Then I have to hunt down every errant sock, buried under piles of work pants (totally not put away in drawers) and old receipts. Then I have to drag all that junk down two stories and... anyway, you know how to do laundry. It takes more than zero seconds.

How do you get your car fixed? Do you just say, "oh well, guess I'm walking from now on." No, you climb into your busted a$$ vehicle, chug along at 10mph to the car-fixing-place, give them a bunch of money from the job you're totally not motivated to go to every day, and then come back two days later, get your car, and buy it ice cream. Except cars don't eat ice cream, so you eat it. How tricky of you.

Of course if you do walk, you might catch some critters!

You do those things because they're important, not because you're motivated to do them. I exercise every day because it's important to me. I sure as heck don't want to exercise. I also don't want to write this post, but I'm doing it anyway.

I get up every day, brush my stupid teeth, feed my pudgy cat, work out, and then do all the rest of the stuff I totally don't want to do. Then after work I exercise again. I go running even before I eat dinner. Because it's more important to me than eating (and I wonder why I struggle to get enough calories). And I do all that every weekday.

I didn't always. I used to only exercise sporadically, whenever I felt "motivated" to do so. I also used to be chubby. Back then it wasn't important. I knew, vaguely, that exercise was good for me. Most people "know" that they should exercise. But it's not a priority for them, and it wasn't a priority for me. Which meant I didn't do it much.

So whenever someone says they're not feeling motivated to exercise, what they're really saying is that it's not important to them. And I realize I sound like a dick right now. Most of those folks will say, "it is important.... I just can't get myself to do it!" Recycling is also important, but nothing bad will happen to you if you just throw your cans in the trash.

You have to feel that importance down to the bones. Missing a workout should give you the same feeling of panic that waking up half an hour after you're supposed to be at work does. So how do you do that?

This old pic of me is also panic-worthy

For some people it's something huge. They have a heart attack, and really really really don't want to get another one. Nothing like that happened to me. I just decided one day that I wanted to get fit, and to stay fit forever. I guess you can say vanity is what did it for me. And I refuse to go back to the fat me. But I can't say what it would take to make it super important to you. Crushing self-loathing maybe? Just kidding.

You do have to be somewhat insane. I definitely am. But then, going to work every day is kind of insane too. There are plenty of people who don't work at all, and they get by just fine. They have a nice trailer. They even have a TV so they can watch Maury Povich with their five kids. I'm stereotyping a bit, but you get my gist. You work because you enjoy the lifestyle it affords you.

Cheesy pic to represent freedom? Success!

I exercise because I enjoy the lifestyle I gain from it. I like being strong and fit. I like being part of a community and having like-minded (crazy) friends. I like knowing that I can push myself every day and conquer challenges other folks wouldn't even try. I enjoy the sense of power and control I get from striving forward no matter what. Partying and drinking booze never gave me the sense of freedom that I have now. Freedom of body, and freedom of spirit.

I'm not willing to give those things up. I don't need motivation to exercise. Because not exercising is scary to me. What would I do if my sense of power suddenly dropped away? The world is a scary place. Really scary. There's been some stuff in the news recently that's downright terrifying. I'm sure you've seen it. Going out and hitting the pavement is a shield. It protects me.

I don't mean that I'm oblivious to the world's ills. I'm quite aware of them. I'm just not afraid of them. I drive myself past the point of pain every day. I can handle pain. Pain doesn't scare me. And I don't want to live in fear. I don't want to go back to living in fear. I want to be able to do things every day that are so hard that I feel like I can handle anything by comparison.

The anger and hatred you see out there, it comes from fear. I don't want to be angry, and I don't want to be hateful. I want to be open-minded. I want to understand and appreciate people without judgment. I want to look at a situation without bias. It's hard to make yourself do that. If you live in fear, it will taint everything. You can try to be thoughtful all day long, but if you're not used to facing stress, pain, and brutal challenge every day, your caveman brain will take over. It's fight or flight, plain and simple.

I totally burn out that fight or flight instinct every day. All that's left is calm. I'm too tired to be scared. I just let life wash over me. That's what we're here for, to experience life, good and bad.

So far it's been pretty awesome for me.

Do you dare clicketh?

Boilermaker

On Sunday I ran the Boilermaker in Utica, NY with Geoffrey, Meghan, and our friend David. This was despite Geoffrey's best effort to kill us. I love the man and he's a great runner, but he drives like a NYC taxi driver at rush hour. Not that I care. I'd let a blind man with Parkinson's drive as long as it meant I wouldn't have to. I hate driving.

The Boilermaker was 15 kilometers of pure awesome.

Considering that 15,000 runners converged on Utica, there was precisely zero percent chance of us securing a motel room for Saturday night, or even an errant box on a street corner. So we decided to camp!

I'm not big on camping. I don't have an inherent love of the wilderness. I enjoy peeing on a shrub as much as the next man; and it's exciting to eat a banana in a place that's not the kitchen. But beyond that, just seeing a bug makes me itch. And it only takes 30 seconds before every inch of me is covered in organic debris.

What we did was technically camping. But based on the definition I just Googled®, staying in a motel room can also technically be considered camping. Sleeping in your living room instead of your bedroom can be considered camping. You can even "camp out" in your own room. It's a pretty useless word, like describing a granola bar as "all natural". Don't eat it! It's a candy bar in disguise.

Packing to be away for.... one day.

Geoffrey and Meghan were committed to making the experience as little like camping as possible. This was evidenced by the fact that they brought a tent big enough to house a family of 8. They brought an inflatable mattress. They brought a special power converter so they could inflate the mattress off the car battery while they watched with silent approval. They brought enough food to feed half of Africa, but didn't eat any of it because we went out to dinner Saturday night anyway.

I'm not saying this in an accusatory way. We were running a race the next day, and they didn't want to have to f@#k around with rocks and twigs the night before.

I on the other hand bought a microscopic Walmart® tent. I bought a used Walmart® tent. It was so small that you could see my toes poking out the side. I brought a couple of blankets and a couple of pillows. Geoffrey and Meghan barely got any sleep. I slept amazingly. My back had been hurting for over a week before that night and the next morning it was cured.

Tiny home away from home.

Why didn't they sleep well? Because it was pouring rain the entire weekend. Apparently rain falling on a giant tent sounds like a drum circle with no rhythm (so... every drum circle). Considering that most of New York state is currently in a drought, we couldn't even remember what rain was. We were like, "why is everything getting wet?!"

Our friend David also camped with us and ran the race with us. He brought a french press and some kind of propane powered turbo water heatermajig ("Jetboil" I think). So I don't have anything judgmental to say about his camping experience. We were totally fine with tearing down our tents at 5am in the rain because we had coffee. Whatever misery we may have been suffering was extinguished with the first sip of that divine concoction. Thanks David!

To rewind a bit, we drove up Saturday. We went to the expo, which was very densely packed. Geoffrey bought another hat, which - if you recall from my previous race report - is his big thing. This one was blue. I bought a tech shirt. Usually I get smalls, but I decided to get a medium this time. It looks like a flag billowing in the wind. It's HUGE around my waist. But the small looked like it wouldn't fit a 5 year old in the shoulders. Gah. Meghan got a triathlon themed tank that is now the brightest thing in her closest. I think it has sparkles on it. David waited for us impatiently for about an hour.

Then we went to the Herkimer Diamond KOA Campground, which between the cabins, RVs, trucks, playground, pool, pavilion with bathrooms and a flatscreen TV, looked like anything except a campground. We waited for the rain to abate and set up our tents. Then we drove back to Utica for dinner with a bunch of awesome fellow L.U.N.A.R. runners, including Shawn Mastrantonio! We ate at Georgio's Village Cafe, and the food was amazing!

Shawn gave me some good training advice. It was quite valuable for me, as my current training is like that of a toddler who just discovered his feet. I write about running all the time, so you'd think I know a thing or two. But most of what I write amounts to: "Run, get sore and tired, then run more anyway." Amazing, I know.

We drove back to the camp and went to sleep.

Race Day

My alarm woke me up at 4:50am. It was still raining, and I didn't want to get out of my cozy little tent. Then I remembered the promise of coffee and stumbled out. I was all packed and ready to go in about 20 minutes. Then I stood huddled under the car's hatch listening to Geoffrey grumble about the rain and his lack of sleep. I watched David pump out dozens of cups of coffee with quiet fascination.

Morning haze

With some minor difficulty we made our way to the race and managed to park in front of an Italian food importer about half a mile from the starting line. I had no idea that's what it was. I looked it up on Google maps just now. It was a huge brick building full of monsters as far as I knew.

We walked the short distance and ran into a mob of people about half the population of the town I live in. I've never seen that many people in one place before. I went to NYC for New Year's one time, but I spent the whole evening on a rooftop with a bunch of Scots, drunk. I ended up waking up on someone's hardwood floor the next morning with my shoe for a pillow after being lost on the subway for many hours. So that hardly counts.

We immediately got in line for the port-o-potties, and somehow made it out without missing the race. I didn't have enough time to do my usual warm-up jog. I waded into the massive crowd. After a few minutes I ended up in a roped-off... corridor I guess. I followed that until I saw people with the same color bib as me and got into my corral.

It would have been way easier if I had actually been listening to the loudspeaker. They actually did a great job of organizing the runners by their paces. There were about half a dozen corrals, each with a giant banner above it matching the color of your bib. I got to my corral a bit early, and it was almost empty. It was weird having all this free space around me, so close to the starting line, with over ten thousand people behind me. I felt a little bit like a cheater (a cheater in a kilt). But hey, I ran within two minutes of my predicted time, so whatever.

10,000 people eyeing my corral jealously.

The first to go was the wheelchair race. I was close enough to watch them blast off from the starting line, their Herculean arms pumping at warp speed. It was quite inspiring to watch such dedicated athletes competing no matter the obstacle. The ropes between the corrals were removed and the rest of us bunched up to the starting line.

Wheelchairs about to start!

The air was vibrant with the energy of all those excited runners!

The mayor said some motivational words. He reminded me of the Fuccillo "HUUUUGE" guy (if you're not a central New Yorker, you have no clue what I'm talking about). There was a snazzy trumpet rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. And then we were off!

Being near the front I got to my pace without too much trouble. It probably took the runners behind me some time before they crossed the mat. Almost immediately I became aware of the cheering spectators along the sides, spectators who lined almost the entire length of the course. I've never run a race with so many people. It was great.

Even more exciting was the music. There were plenty of radio stations blasting recorded stuff. The majority of it was live music though! There was a cool dude pounding a drum to records. There was a teenager doing an awesome Zeppelin cover. Several other live bands charged us on. Towards the end of the race there was a row of.... I couldn't even count, maybe 30 or 40 drummers all in a row? Epic.

The water support was fantastic. You were never thirsty. There were overhead sprinkler systems, um, sprinkled throughout the course. I didn't have to worry much about overheating.

We had to climb a pretty big hill near mile 4. At the top a lady runner called out to me. She recognized me from a previous race by my kilt! I don't know her well enough to share her name, so I'll call her Lady Archnemesis (but, like, affectionately). Then I lost her as I flew down the other side of the hill like a maniac.

Apparently I'm easy to spot.

Also flying down that hill at breakneck speeds were the wheelchair racers. I couldn't fault them, as they had just spent the last 4 miles inching up obnoxious inclines. We all shouted for runners to move to the right, and that worked out OK. However, apparently that wasn't the case every time...

David too saw a wheelchair zoom down the hill. And in that case runners were shouting to make room as well. However, there was one stupid idiot running the race in his headphones. I don't like to insult fellow runners, but seriously, do not wear f@#king headphones in a race, especially one with that many people. He had his music turned up so loud that he couldn't hear the people shouting directly into his ears. And you can already guess. Yes, the wheelchair slammed into him full force.

David couldn't see the fallout from that situation, but I feel terrible for that wheelchair athlete. I don't care about the runner. I hope he got knocked into orbit. But the person in the wheelchair had persevered through some obvious hardships, and had climbed some gnarly hills, only to get sidelined by some jerk who couldn't spare an hour away from his jams. I hope he learned his lesson.

For the most part the race went smoothly. The crowds and energy level continued to be sky high. A couple of miles before the finish, Lady Archnemesis passed me! Apparently she did a better job of managing her pace than I did. I nuked it up and down those hills, leaving myself a bit fried for the rest.
 

Contemplating my first encounter
with my archnemesis...

I kept her within eyesight for the rest of the run, and then on the last one third of the race I turned it up to full throttle. The gap between us was melting, but I could see the finish just ahead. Could I catch her in time? I increased my speed until me legs were a comical whirl of motion like in the cartoons. We crossed the finishing mat at the exact same time (1:07).

However, I later I discovered that her net time was 11 seconds faster than mine. Which is why she's the Lady Archnemesis. We exchanged some further pleasantries at the end, making a promise to Facebook® each other. I don't even know how people met before that. "Hey! Can you rapidly spit out ten digits at me? I'm sure my endorphin-addled brain will totally remember them."

I collected my fancy pin and water bottle (I promptly lost it on a sidewalk somewhere). I reconnected with my friends and some other LUNARs. We loitered around the massive after party. I believe it's considered the biggest race after party in the US. I believe it! Picture ten thousand people in one place eating bananas, drinking sports drinks, listening to live music, and slamming free beer (so sad that I'm sober now).

After that we headed back home. I'd like to say we all crashed into happy naps. But no. Geoffrey and Meghan swam for 40 minutes and then went on a long bicycle ride. I ran more for a total of 18 miles that day and bicycled 16 miles. Because I wanted to eat, just, an obscene amount of ice cream without running out of calories.

All in all it was a truly amazing weekend. I had a blast spending time with Geoffrey, Meghan, and David. It was super great seeing Shawn and many other amazing LUNAR runners. And the race, of course, was incomparable. On a sad note, I did lose my Garmin Forerunner 235 on the highway in Utica. It's fitting that Boilermaker was the last race I wore it for. Back to my old but trusty Forerunner 220.

Shawn is a VHL Warrior. Check out the site and show your support: http://www.vhl.org

Step 8

I'm referring to step 8 of the 12 Step Program, but don't worry. This post isn't about drinking or alcoholism. It's about guilt and forgiveness. Although that may make you groan out loud just as badly. Maybe you were hoping for a post about training your cat to sit on your shoulder while you run. Well tough luck!

That wouldn't be comfortable anyway. Cats are heavy. Especially mine.

Step 8 says, "[make] a list of all persons we [have] harmed, and [become] willing to make amends to them all." I'm going to focus on making amends to one specific person though: Yourself.

Any time I write something like that, I always get this vision of a bank robber saying to me, "thanks for writing that! I totally don't feel bad about all the bank-robbery I've done! Woohoo!" If you're the kind of person who steals lamb chops from puppies, then totally: Feel guilty. Jump into a shallow canyon (I didn't have the word shallow in there at first, but I don't want anyone to get hurt).

Most folks, however, feel guilty over dumb things. I definitely do. My mind is a carousel of past misdeeds, mostly minor. It's especially bad when I'm in a cranky mood. I reminisce over things I can't possible change. Things that don't matter at all, and serve no purpose except to make me feel shitty.

I once stuffed grass down my brother's shirt, because I'm an A$$HOLE. Or I was, when I was like 11. I don't even remember. Sometimes I eat too much ice cream, leaving less for others. GASP. Stupid examples, I know. But they gnaw at me. It's ridiculous.

A plastic boat of guilt!

I feel guilty about friends that I feel like I've let down. They tell me, often, that I haven't. And I should trust that. They forgive me for things that I won't forgive myself for. In fact, they don't even consider that there's anything to forgive. In reality they're trying to help me feel better.

I feel guilty about Pixie. She used to come up often in previous posts. She doesn't anymore. Sometimes I feel like I made the right choice with her. Sometimes I feel like I made the worst choice possible. Sometimes I feel like I was thinking of her best interest. Sometimes I feel that I was deeply selfish.

The reality is that it was all those things. Real life is messy and complex. We want things to be simple and clear cut. But trying to fit people and situations into little boxes doesn't do them justice. It may help you feel better for a while. But eventually those things burst out of their ill-fitting boxes.

Step 8 is about acceptance. Accepting that you've hurt people: other people, and also yourself. It's about apologizing, and about forgiving. You can't hold on to regret forever, no matter how much you may feel that you deserve it. It will destroy you. Sometimes I feel that I deserve to be destroyed. But that's a coward's way out.

Because making amends takes hard work. You have to look inwards and think about things you don't want to think about. Not in a knee-jerk emotional way, but in a logical way. You have to let go of the things that don't matter, and do what it takes to fix the things that do. It takes strength. If you simply surrender to your guilt, you don't fix anything. And in fact you end up further hurting the folks who watch you suffer. The loved ones you feel that you've hurt.... You hurt them even more by wallowing in misery. They feel just as helpless as you do.

Don't do that. Don't do that to them. And don't do it to yourself.

Reading this you may think I've found all the solutions and that I live with a clear conscience. I don't. I'm not going to pretend to be an expert at life. Just yesterday a friend made me realize how little I actually know. But I write this as much for myself as for others. Because I need to take Step 8 as well. I've been dipping my toe into it for a while. Chewing on it. Appreciating the worth of it.

But those inner demons still circle around me, much like my cat when she's hungry.

Hungry. Always so hungry.

I work hard to improve myself. I quit drinking. I go to bed early. I exercise (very) regularly. But exercise is also an escape. While it helps make me stronger, it also lets me run away from my thoughts for a while. It makes me too tired to feel bad. That's not a lasting solution though. And it's a recipe for injury.

I'm trying to be more conscientious. I try to stop negative thought spirals before they take root. I remind myself every time that they're irrational. They do absolutely no good to anyone. There are plenty of people who dislike me. And no doubt they'd enjoy watching me suffer.

I won't say that they should forgive me. They may believe I don't deserve it. That's fine. But projecting hatred onto others is just as bad as projecting it onto yourself. In the long run it turns into a poison. There are plenty of people who have hurt me as well. It doesn't matter. I've moved on, and I hope they have as well.

I've found that sometimes when I judge another for some attribute of their character, it's because I see it in myself. And attacking them - even if it's only in my own head - is a way of ignoring that flaw in myself. Other times it's because I don't understand or appreciate their viewpoint, and being angry at them is easier than trying to see things through their eyes.

All of that negativity starts from inside of you. It's easy to blame someone else. But if you feel angry or hurt, then you are the one who has to endure that. It may sound like this post is a plea to someone in particular. It's not. It's a plea to everyone. To be forgiving.

And especially to forgive themselves.

"C'mon, it's just one little apple. No big deal."
Panting: Adam and Eve c. 1550 - Jacopo Tintoretto

One Month Sober

As of today, I've been sober for one month. I haven't had a single drink in that time, and haven't even been tempted to have one. This past month has been too good for me to ever want to go back.

Living without alcohol is amazing.

I wish I had taken this step a long time ago. But as I mentioned in my previous post, a younger me did not have the experience to really appreciate this. I did quit drinking though before it seriously injured me or anyone else, so for that I'm thankful.

Even more than that, I'm thankful to all of the truly wonderful people who gave me so much of their love and support when I made the decision. I'm late in thanking all of you, but I have definitely felt and appreciated your generous kindness in this past month.

I felt a little guilty when I received the outpouring of heartfelt compassion from so many people. I've been quite blessed in my life, as all of you showed. There are many with struggles that are much larger than mine who never get the same kind of support. But I hope that anyone who read my post about quitting became more willing to share their own stories and to allow others to help them.

You can accomplish a lot on your own. You accomplish a lot more with others.

And you can accomplish crazy workouts!!

When I wrote "I've had my last drink", I didn't mention in that post that my good friend Geoffrey quit drinking at the same time. He needed to share that in his own way - which he did. And he too got a large and warm response. Both of us have been tremendously buoyed by those many uplifting voices. And we remind one another almost daily how happy we are to have both made the decision. It would have been a tougher journey for either of us alone.

I was amazed by the many personal stories that individuals shared with me. I hadn't realized how many people have been touched by alcoholism, either directly or via someone closely connected to them. I wish I could share some of those stories here, but most of them were shared privately. I'm lucky that I didn't have to hit "rock bottom" before I learned my lesson, as many others have. Reading the stories did a great deal to reinforce my decision.

Thank-you, truly, to those who shared those personal memories with me. And to those who invited me to contact them if I ever needed a compassionate ear.

One thing I've gained through this blog is the ability express my personal demons openly. Some of my friends pointed out their appreciation for my ability to recognize my own problems and to deal with them. They appreciated my vulnerability. Many folks are afraid to be vulnerable, and I hope that my writing inspired them to be more open.

It is indeed scary.

Less scary with friends

But I made a decision a long time ago not to live in fear. To make hard choices. I suppose it comes almost second-nature for me to face fear with defiance. But that's not the case for everyone. And I hope I can motivate others to conquer their fears, to be vulnerable, to show their cards and let the chips fall where they will.

Stepping outside of the comfort zone is worth it in the long run. Trust me.

So again, thank-you, all of you. Even those of you who chose to keep your thoughts private, thank-you just for reading. The decision to quit drinking has been of great benefit to me. However, it's just as important that it benefit others as well, whether it's to strengthen their own resolve, or to encourage them to make choices to bolster their own health and happiness.

Easier to train and improve with buddies!

Finally, I'd like to finish the post with a bit of "crunch": A list of pros and cons of quitting drinking. Here we go.

Pros:

• It is a lot easier to wake up every day. I wake up every morning before my alarm rings at 5:40am. I no longer miss a morning workout, unless it's a rest day.
• I'm never hungover. I don't have to wait for a headache to go away before I can go about my day. I don't have to compromise on activities or exercise because my body feels drained. I can focus more at work.
• I save money.
• I save on calories! One of the greatest perks has been my increased calorie budget. I've been eating more real food. In fact, I "have" to eat ice cream often just to make sure I get enough calories in a day! Maintaining my weight is a lot easier now.
• I no longer feel the pressure to drink with friends or at dinner. Everyone knows that I'm sober. Even when I was drinking, there would be times when I'd want to drink less, either because I had drank too much the previous night or didn't have the calories in my budget. And then I would go out with some friends and drink anyway. Never again.
• I no longer have to worry about making bad decisions when my faculties are compromised. I can drive anytime without risking breaking the law or hurting someone. I can spend time with people without worrying about behaving stupidly or inappropriately. I can go out without worrying about what kind of condition I'll be returning home in. I can make plans for early the next day and know that I'll be able to keep them.
• My physical, mental, and emotional health have all been lastingly improved. I may still be reasonably young, but I have the ease of mind knowing that I will have fewer mind and body issues as I grow older.

Cons:

• None.

Today, on the 4th of July, is the perfect day to be celebrating my freedom. I feel truly free. Thank-you, bless you, and have an amazing 4th of July!

The weather couldn't be more perfect today!