We are forever fighting our nature. We like to think that we were totally in
control of something – if nothing else, than at least in total control of
ourselves. We made those decisions –
they weren’t made for us. The sleeping
moments of our lives are 33%, the waking moments are 66%. But our conscious moments aren’t the same as
our waking moments. Not by a mile. Our waking moments are 66% but are conscious
moments are probably less than 25% of our days.
Most of our conscious moments are dedicated to the pursuit
and refinement of routines that we can do unconsciously. Most of our lucidity is devoted to creating
paradigms for not thinking. We think
hard about getting an income so that we don’t have to think about it. We just get out of bed and take a pre-planned
route to work. We eat at familiar places
and talk about predictable things. We are creatures of habit but by and large
deny it to ourselves – and deny the power of that truth.
Do we inhabit our dreams, the same way we inhabit our other
routines? Or do we just visit them for a
moment, the way that a glimpse at a photograph reminds you of a place from the
past? Dreams must be dragged into the
present. They have to be made real today
– broken down, digested, disassembled.
And then they have to be inhabited – the same way that you inhabit your
commute to work, your choice of television to watch, the foods you like to eat.
Chopping wood and carrying water. Everything that we do is labour of a
kind. Every form of labour to one person
is a labour of love to another. Some
people inhabit the pleasure that comes from sitting in front of a television
for hours on end. To others, the mere
idea of such sedentary recreation is the same as drudgery. Whatever your dreams or desires, the only way
to get better at something, to inhabit a behaviour or routine or way of being
is to make a habit out of it. To make
that shift from something that you choose consciously now to something that you
chose for yourself long ago and merely delude yourself into thinking that you
have some discretion over it now.
For the next 6 weeks, I’m just going to chop wood and carry
water. The choice was already made, all
that’s left is to delight in the choice.
***
There is a difference between a good workout and a great
workout that didn’t really exist before the age of 28. Before 28, a good or great workout was
anything that you did, hard or repeatedly, for anywhere between 1 to 2
hours. Chances are that your body got
stronger and your skill level improved, no matter what it was that you were
doing. Here at 35, that just isn’t
true. A good workout is exhaustive,
draining you of the ability to perform at all.
But this almost always has some consequence the next day that on balance
decreases your quality of life. A great
workout at 35 is about balancing the enthusiasm to push your limits today with
being smart enough to operate at a reasonable capacity even as you recover and
recouperate. Before 28, this was not a
consideration.
I could shoot balls in the morning for an hour and a
half. And I can convince myself that it
will make me a better shooter. But
closing in on shin splints or cramps or the like, this isn’t success. This is failure. This is the worst failure of all, because it
misleads people to thinking that it is success.
You leave exhausted saying that you pushed your limits. When in reality you crossed the line from stress
to strain. Stress can make something
stronger after recuperation. Strain is warping
something a little more each time until that something breaks.
Don’t satisfy yourself with good workouts. Don’t settle for less than a great workout –
the workout that leaves you feeling refreshed for today and optimistic that you’ll
be more tomorrow.
***
Have I gone all this time not knowing how to relax? In the pool, on a court? The amount of effort and tension necessary to
deadlift a weight is considerable. The
amount of effort and tension necessary to shoot a basketball or swim a length
of a pool is very, very small. A ball is
very light. The water buoys your
body. Relax. Follow through with the stroke. Drain the tension from your neck. Like karate, keep the shoulders loose.
The guide hand should pop off aggressively. The shooting elbow should push up like a
handstand. Consider handstand work to
improve the release. And the guide hand
should secure the ball almost backwards towards you. Hold the ball lightly, like tofu.
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