Alexandersmap

    Category: Health

    • Leading Indicators

      I was bragging about a blister yesterday. This wasn’t just any blister, this was a rowing-induced, thousands-of-meters-sweating-and-working blister. I haven’t had one of those in a long time. Partly, this is breaking in a new rowing ergometer with a handle that doesn’t offer the cushioning of the previous rowing ergometer’s handle. But the handle is also angled slightly, putting a subtle pressure change in a new place on my fingers. And so I celebrated the emergence of a blister. Before you click unfollow, bear with me just a bit longer.

      As you surely have guessed, the point was never the blister, but the accumulation of sweat equity that it indicates. A blister is a leading indicator of change. I’m making progress on some fitness goals, one day and one workout at a time. You may hear more about that sometime in the future. For now, there’s incremental progress and the desire to keep it going. A great habit, replacing a bad habit, does a body good.

      Positive habits means checking boxes and building streaks. You check off a mission accomplished that day, then the next, and soon you want to keep that streak alive for as long as possible. When you achieve some momentum with this and then you do miss a day or two, beginning again is all you think about. The trick is to find the things you want to do to establish that positive momentum. The rest is checking boxes.

      Except that it isn’t that simple. Life gets in the way, we get busy, or other things take priority, like that cold beer your closest friends want to have with you. Finding the time anyway is the trick, and when you do that beer tastes a lot better than it might have otherwise. In moderation anyway, for we’ve got more work to do tomorrow.

      This is what momentum does to us. This is what progression towards a goal feels like. Incremental, positive change one workout at a time. That spot where the blister is will become callused eventually, telegraphing something even more significant: long term commitment towards a healthier life.

    • Rounding the Mark on 2023

      The forest is dead quiet in the early morning hours when you walk out into it. At least until the creatures assess you and, seeing no imminent threat, go back about their business. It’s akin to going to a cocktail party and either working the room as the life of the party or receding back a bit and seeing what’s actually happening in the room. You might believe you’re the life of the party in the one case, but you won’t know what’s actually going on around you. It pays to shut up and read the room now and then.

      Sitting quietly in my trusty Adirondack chair, the woods soon erupted into chatter, as various couples expressed distain or encouraged more urgent attention to the nest. A young squirrel chewed through maple branches and hauled them back to the nest, where another squirrel seemed to be dissatisfied with the progress. Nearby, a house wren destroyed the silence with loud chattering birdsong. It’s always the smallest birds that make the most noise. Some might say the same about people. Two ears, one mouth is the ratio I taught my children. Sometimes I even take my own advice.

      There have been precious few mornings like this, just sitting outside listening to the world wake up around me. We’ve arrived at the month of July, and in New Hampshire it doesn’t really feel that’s possible. Blame it on the rain, relentlessly taking control of the month of June in the region. We’d all like to gift the precipitation to places that desperately need it now. Canada, on your big day, please have as much as you’d like. Feast or famine: that’s the climate now. The lawns thrive, the tomatoes and basil are horrified.

      I use that Adirondack chair for more than just listening to wildlife. It’s the place to listen to what’s happening between the ears as well. Assessing where we are, what we’ve done, what was left undone. Sometimes you have to sit still long enough to recognize it wasn’t ever about listening to the squirrels and house wrens or the weather. Assessing moments with people, places seen for the first time or the thousandth time, projects completed, projects put aside for another day. Where did it all get me? How about you?

      We’ve rounded the mark on the year: six months down, six to go. When we look back on the first half of the year, now ended, how do we feel about it? Do we like the view? A good life is represented by stacking our days with memories and small wins, all measured as progress. Sometimes we aren’t progressing at all, but receding and trying to hold it all together as best we can. Sometimes everything slips away and we feel we’re left with nothing. That’s life too. We all know how this ends, but it doesn’t mean we have to let today slip away without a small win. Maybe tomorrow too. String enough wins together and half a year later maybe we actually have something to celebrate. I hope so. But either way, there’s this other half of the year to reckon with, beginning today.

    • Becoming Rich With Memories

      “The business of life is the acquisition of memories. In the end that’s all there is.” — Mr. Carson of Downton Abbey

      “You retire on your memories. When you’re too frail to do much of anything else, you can still look back on the life you’ve lived and experience immense pride, joy, and the bittersweet feeling of nostalgia…. Making deliberate choices about how to spend your money and your time is the essence of making the most of your life energy.” — Bill Perkins, Die With Zero

      We all talk of how the time flies by, but perhaps we ought to focus on how many great memories we accumulate in that span. If we’re living well, experiences are acquired and flipped into memories with the turn of the calendar. We may not become financially wealthy, but surely we might accumulate a lifetime of memories worthy of our time. As the quote above points out, in the end, isn’t that all there is?

      What are memories but the realization of deliberate action? As much as I love a good spreadsheet, I know deep down that working in them isn’t creating memories that will last a week, let alone a lifetime. But I may just remember the conversation I have with someone important in my world a lot longer. I may recall the thrill of peering over a cliff at an angry ocean in Portugal and smile someday when I’m too old for such things. I expect I’ll still smile at the recollection of my kids realizing the amusement park ride they insisted on going on was going to be a lot scarier than they’d bargained on when they begged to go on it. This is the accumulated wealth of memories.

      Perkins’ book challenges us to stop accumulating savings and start spending our money while we’re healthy and fit enough to actually do the things we promise ourselves we’ll eventually do, someday, when we retire. As if we can do at 65 what we might do at 25 or 35. Do it now. There is no tomorrow, and if there is, we won’t be able to pull off some of the things we believe our bodies and minds will be capable of someday when.

      I’ve watched too many people in my life hear the news that they won’t make it to retirement. Cancer seems to be the most common thief of dreams, but maybe an accident or a heart attack steals everything you’ve ever planned for “someday when” away from you. Your life is now: accumulate the memories that will make you richer then. It’s the best return on investment we can have with today.

    • The Way of Rain

      You have been forced to enter empty time.
      The desire that drove you has relinquished.
      There is nothing else to do now but rest
      And patiently learn to receive the self
      You have forsaken for the race of days.

      At first your thinking will darken
      And sadness take over like listless weather.
      The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

      You have traveled too fast over false ground;
      Now your soul has come to take you back.

      Take refuge in your senses, open up
      To all the small miracles you rushed through.

      Become inclined to watch the way of rain
      When it falls slow and free.
      — John O’Donohue, For One Who is Exhausted, A Blessing

      I might go weeks without reading poetry. I may feel victorious in my efficiency and productive use of time. I can sometimes grind through my days in hopeful work, forgetting to walk outside to greet the day. These are days of emptying the bucket while filling the ledger with checked tasks. Empty buckets make a hollow sound. They demand to be filled.

      It’s not lost on me that I’m posting about taking time to rest at the beginning of another work week. When we go, go go! for weeks at a time, sometimes things like weekends disappear in a flash. We forget to see the small miracles we rush through in our mad pursuit of getting things done.

      Slow down. Step away. Find that which is calling you from outside yourself. The work will always be there, awaiting your return. Or maybe it was never your work at all. How can you know if you never take the time to listen?

      The days and the seasons roll on by, like waves to the beach. We only have so many days. Only so many seasons. We must learn to slow down and celebrate the one we’re in.

    • Observations From a 20K Day

      Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest, and I’d planned to do just that. There shall be no hiking or waterfall chasing for you, I told myself. But when you believe that we aren’t built to be sedentary beings, eventually those rigid thoughts of who we ought to be evolve into action. I wrapped my mind around 20,000 steps as a goal for the day, no matter what. What is the first rule with any goal? Putting ourselves in the best position to achieve that goal.

      The path to a 20K day really began a few years back, when I decided I was going to buy a push mower and walk the lawn instead of driving around on it. Would it be nice to sit on a cushy seat with a cup holder? Of course! But my work has me sitting entirely too much already. Mowing, trimming and leaf blowing the yard easily knocks off 4000 steps in roughly an hour. Is that the equivalent of hiking a 4000 foot mountain? Of course not, but it’s a starting point for an active lifestyle, and a head-start towards my activity goal for the day.

      I’ve hit 20K just doing yard work, but a change of scenery was in order. On a beautiful Sunday afternoon there were many choices available, but I opted for the local rail trail. As with beaches, I favor the rail trail when few people venture onto it, during snow or light rain, in the early morning or dead of winter. The rail trail in the middle of the day during peak season is an entirely different experience.

      A rail trail is popular because you’re safely removed from automobile traffic, but there are other hazards to consider. As on a highway, one must skate one’s lane and be predictable to avoid collisions. Hoards of cyclists, joggers and walkers descend on the trail, making it near impossible to be on a spot where there isn’t someone in your line of sight. e-bike Andretti’s zip past at breakneck speed, and clumps of independent teenagers on bicycles ride towards you shoulder-to-shoulder leaving you the choice of standing your ground or stepping aside (there’s magic in the moment they realize that you’ve—responsibly—put the choice back on them).

      In the off-season on this rail trail, I would immerse myself in the nature around me. There’s surely a lot more to witness when sharing the path with hundreds of people on a long walk. Inevitably, you begin to people watch. Humans are quirky. Fashion on the path runs from traditional breathable fabrics to bold statements of individuality. Of all the travelers, the e-bikers seemed to be the most outlandish, fully kitted with fishing poles or picnic baskets, small dogs poking out of backpacks, and fat tires announcing they’re about to pass you from 100 meters away. It was an impressive display, and reminded me of the parade of custom golf carts seen at 55 plus developments and campgrounds around the country. But I was here for walking, not powered transportation. There’s relative simplicity on a rail trail: you walk one direction for as long as you want, then you turn around and walk back.

      The thing about goal-setting is that we know the obstacles before we begin, but we don’t always account for them in our bold declaration that we’re going to do this thing. The only things that get in the way of completing a good goal are available time, resources (like health) and willpower. Hitting fitness goals usually comes down to simply beginning and not stopping until we’ve met our objective. On a day of rest I decided to hit 20K, not exactly a bold number but high enough that it required my time and attention. It also served as a reminder that I’m not ready to retire to an e-bike and backpack dog just yet. There’s still so much to do.

    • Breaking Free to Go Be

      I want to break free, I want to break free
      I want to break free from your lies
      You’re so self-satisfied I don’t need you
      I’ve got to break free
      God knows, God knows I want to break free
      — Queen, I Want to Break Free

      When does a great habit ground another habit before it can take off? Are habits mutually exclusive in this way, or can we stack them together into a meaningful routine? There’s no reason why we can’t have the kind of life we desire. We just have to break free of ourselves first.

      Meaningful routines develop from saying no to the things that steal our time away, and instead using that time for something better. I write almost every morning, no matter where I am in the world, and click publish before the world forces me to decide whether to say yes or no. In this way I’ve gained momentum and an overwhelming desire to keep the streak alive. When I’m sick or traveling or my day is otherwise upside down from the norm I still find a way to publish something. On those days, checking the box may not lead to my best writing, but it’s still one more vote for the type of person I want to become, as James Clear puts it. That’s a win.

      We know when we’re in a bad routine. Our lives feel unproductive and lack direction. We might have obligations we can’t say no to that are holding us back. The only way to break through that wall is with momentum. Small habits strung together and repeated regularly are the building blocks of better.

      We often imprison ourselves with self-limiting beliefs. Breaking free of these beliefs is essential to living a meaningful life. Nelson Mandela spent years in prison, doing manual labor during the day. His cell was barely big enough to move in, and yet he developed a routine that would keep him fit and focused for decades:

      “He’d begin with running on the spot for 45 minutes, followed by 100 fingertip push-ups, 200 sit-ups, 50 deep knee-bends and calisthenic exercises learnt from his gym training (in those days, and even today, this would include star jumps and ‘burpees’ – where you start upright, move down into a squat position, kick your feet back, return to squat and stand up). Mandela would do this Mondays to Thursdays, and then rest for three days.”. — Gavin Evans, The Conversation, How Mandela stayed fit: from his ‘matchbox’ Soweto home to a prison cell

      Environment plays a big part in the meaningful routines we create. For years I didn’t write, until I created the environment for myself to do the work. It’s the same with exercise and flossing and productive work as it is for binge eating or drinking or immersing ourselves in distraction: the environment we create for ourselves matters a great deal. If we want to fly, we must clear the damn runway.

      So how do we clear the runway? Designing a meaningful routine begins with asking ourselves, just who do we want to be? What does a perfect day look like for us anyway? Where do we wake up every morning? What does our first interaction with the world look like? Are we grabbing our phones and checking social media or are we jumping right into our first great habit? Those first moments matter a great deal, for they set the table for our day, and our days.

      When we look at someone like Nelson Mandela following through on his promise to himself despite the conditions he was living in, who are we to accept our own excuses and distractions? We’ve got to break free of our stories and get on the path to what we might become. It’s now or never friend.

    • To Be Joyful and Full of Love

      The longer I live, the more
      deeply I learn that love —
      whether we call it
      friendship or family or
      romance — is the work of
      mirroring and magnifying
      each other’s light.
      — James Baldwin

      We’re in the business of amplification, you and I. Our life’s work is accretive in nature. The longer we’re actively engaged in this world, the more we can contribute of ourselves to the greater good. But we must be engaged.

      Our children are a product of our presence or absence their lives, just as we are a product of our own parents engagement with us. This ripple extends to family and friends and those who become more than just friends. We’re each muting or amplifying the best and worst of each other.

      The last few years, I’ve seen some people change in profound ways. Maybe it was the pandemic, or maybe it’s their stage of life, or it’s the sum of everything the world dumps on us piling up inside. I remind them that we do have agency. We either shed ourselves of the bile or let it sink into our pores. Of course, we do the same with love. The question is, what do we mirror and magnify?

      When I find myself becoming angry and more cynical I find that person repulsive and force that tide of darkness to recede back inward. We all have reason to be angry in this maddening world, but we also have reason to be joyful and loving. Whoever we are will surely be reflected back to us. Choose wisely.

      Life is about building momentum. We see this in our careers and work, in our health and fitness, and surely, we see it in our relationships. When we are consistently present and offering love, we build deep relationships with others that carry us through the challenging times and amplify the good times. So reflect on this: we are the sum of our active engagement with others, and when we live well, that sum will resonate long after we’ve left the room. How do we live well? By choosing to be joyful and full of love.

    • Juggling Less

      “Work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. The other four balls—family, health, friends, integrity—are made of glass. If you drop one of these, it will be irrevocably scuffed, nicked, perhaps even shattered.” ― Gary Keller, The One Thing: The Surprisingly Simple Truth Behind Extraordinary Results

      We all juggle so much in our days, and prioritize the things that feel most urgent in the moment. Sometimes these are the most important things too, but often they’re simply the most urgent. Living in a state of urgency is no way to go through life. Sooner or later we’ll drop the ball on something central to our core. Deep down, we know what we’re losing our grip on while we try to juggle everything else.

      Coming back to the central questions helps: what is our why? Why are we here? What is the point of our being, here and now? What are we building towards—what are we becoming? And in the process of becoming, what are receding from? For we simply cannot stretch in every direction, we must choose what to move towards and what to move away from.

      Taking the time to reflect on these things is a lens that clarifies what to prioritize. When we see what is most essential to us it makes our daily choices obvious. The chorus of urgent will always try to steal our time, our momentum, our health and our identity. We have to prioritize our essential. The answer may be less juggling.

    • What Can We Live Without?

      Our life is frittered away by detail. An honest man has hardly need to count more than his ten fingers, or in extreme cases he may add his ten toes, and lump the rest. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity! I say, let your affairs be as two or three, and not a hundred or a thousand; instead of a million count half a dozen, and keep your accounts on your thumb-nail. In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify. Instead of three meals a day, if it be necessary eat but one; instead of a hundred dishes, five; and reduce other things in proportion. — Henry David Thoreau, Walden

      Now and then I dabble in intermittent fasting. I can’t always control where I am and whether I can exercise, but I can control what I eat and drink. Fasts range from 13 hours up to 24 in general, but mostly I seem to do two or three per week of either 16 or 18 hours. My longest fast ever was about 48 hours. I’ve heard of some people doing seven days. You won’t find me pushing that kind of limit. Simply put, I like to eat, and skipping a meal or two is a good way to remind myself to ease off on the eating thing a bit. There are health benefits to intermittent fasting, ranging from healthy weight loss to long term resistance to degenerative diseases (I’m told). But mostly, I do it to control the conversation in my own head about when and what to eat.

      The question to ask of ourselves is, what can we live without? We soften ourselves with abundance: food, entertainment, friends of convenience, information… the list goes on. Removing most of this noise offers an opportunity to find that which is most essential to us in our lives. Food becomes fuel and not filler. Entertainment elevates to a highlight moment instead of background noise. True friends are true sounding boards and not frivolous back-slapping small-talkers. Information leads to a deeper understanding, not a sound bite with no substance. You get the idea.

      If there’s an irony to Thoreau, it’s his tendency to jamb a hundred words into a sentence just to get everything out of his head and on paper. For a man that preaches simplicity, we sometimes have to wade through a lot of word soup to get to the key message. But Thoreau lived a short life, and there was so very much to put out there in the world before he left us. We all ought to feel that urgency.

      A bit of temperance is good for us. A bit of solitude with our thoughts brings the truth to the surface. Life in the din isn’t all its cracked up to be, for we rapidly run out of time to find out who we really are. With a little less input, what might we put out there in the world? The more we say no to some things, the more we amplify our yes to other things. Choose wisely.

    • The Chill Lane

      “Those whom God wishes to destroy, he first makes angry.” — Euripides

      Commuting was never my thing, but sometimes you’ve just gotta do what you’ve gotta do. When I was not very much younger, I used to grow angry at the neat rows of brake lights in front of me. Likewise, a red light when there was nobody else at the intersection would drive me crazy. My bride rolls her eyes when I detour a different way to avoid some particular egregious traffic lights. I still have a deeply engrained habit of active avoidance of traffic lights, and have stated I’ll move out of the town I live in the moment they install them. I may just be posturing, but still, there’s a grain of truth in every jest.

      Really, it’s a control thing. Traffic and traffic lights are mostly out of my control, which hints at the deeper truth that most of life is out of our control. So what’s the solution? Amor fati — Love of fate. Simply put, focus on the things that you can control, accept the rest, and stay in the chill lane.

      Anger is weakness, displayed. It will be our undoing if we let it be. So don’t let it be. As we learn and grow we come to see the world differently, and see the folly of the angry life. To reach our potential in this life we must remain clear on our purpose and avoid the petty distractions some bad commute or bad civil engineering might stir up. It’s all relative, of course, and none of this matters when we look at the bigger picture. Amor fati, friend.