Alexandersmap

    Category: Fitness

    • Expressing Priorities

      “Action expresses priorities.” – Mahatma Gandhi

      We each default to our foundational identity. It’s just who we are, demonstrated in action and prioritization again and again. This is either beneficial to our current and future self or detrimental. To change requires deliberate focus on habit formation and environmental changes like not buying cookies for the pantry or beer for the refrigerator. Sometimes it requires removing ourselves entirely from situations where the circle of friends and family around us are influencing behavior we just don’t want to be engaged in. I once decided I wasn’t going to drink for a month but went out to dinner with friends who goaded me into having a beer with them. It’s just a beer! So much for that resolution.

      This summer I walked an extra 250 miles for a charity. It was time-consuming and frankly inconvenient, but I’d signed up and was in a situation where I’d be letting down others if I didn’t complete the stated goal. I finished with a few extra miles to spare and have only walked once in the seven days since. It wasn’t a part of my identity to walk, it was a part of my identity to honor my commitments to others. I thrived in rowing because I was in a boat full of teammates I didn’t want to let down. Similarly, I work hard in other aspects of my life because I want to honor my commitment to contribution. Knowing this about myself, I can shift tactics to ensure that I remain active and productive.

      When we express priorities through action we’re making a statement about who we are and who we want to be. We are what we repeatedly do, and we telegraph who we are to others through our behavior, not our stated intentions. Action speaks louder than words, as they say. So we must express priorities clearly.

    • The Freedom of Inaction

      “Nature knows no pause in progress and development, and attaches her curse on all inaction.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

      “The human race is a monotonous affair. Most people spend the greatest part of their time working in order to live, and what little freedom remains so fills them with fear that they seek out any and every means to be rid of it.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

      The 28th of August is Goethe’s birthday, so I thought it fitting to reflect on two quotes that, on the face of it, seem to contradict each other. Quotes have a way of expressing what you want them to, without the depth and nuance of the longer work they’re drawn from. We live in a soundbites culture, after all, and the lede is all some people want to read. We know Goethe went far deeper, and owe it to ourselves to jump into the deep end ourselves, don’t we?

      On the one hand, we know it to be true that momentum is sustained by continuous action (Stephen Covey would have said pushing the flywheel), yet on the other know that rest is as essential to our long term wellbeing as action is(Covey’s sharpening the saw). They don’t contradict, they aggregate. As with everything else in life, balance is the key.

      As I close out the final miles of a walking challenge I made for myself this summer, I see the cumulative benefit of it in better fitness even as I feel the soreness from some long walks to close out the goal. We know when we ought to rest more, and ignore it at our peril. This is true in everything. Taking some time off from work last week, I anticipated long walks balanced by long stints on the beach diving into the stack of books I’d been collecting for the occasion. That beach time largely evaporated as I conceded time to projects that simply had to get done. The feeling of watching the week slip away with most of that stack of books unread was akin to feeling like you missed your flight as it departed the gate.

      The thing is, there’s freedom in inaction. Deliberate down time without distraction forces us to sort things out in both body and spirit, and clear the way for the next phase of action to follow. That compulsion to do more instead of embracing essential rest eventually catches up to us. I return from time off feeling there was unfinished business, unlike a few weeks ago when sailing, where plugging in or doing projects simply weren’t options. So it seems the key for relaxation is to eliminate any means to rid ourselves of the freedom of inaction. This shouldn’t be physically removing ourselves from task mania, but instead mentally doing so. Just say no to the task master inside.

      Happy Birthday Johann. I’ll try to relax a bit today in your honor. But there’s work to do before that. You know: no pause in progress and development, and all that.

    • Breaking It Down

      “It’s your road and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you.” — Rumi

      When you break down distances into bite-sized chunks, they don’t seem all that bad. To walk 250 miles over the course of roughly two months I needed to average 35 miles per week, or 5 miles per day. Put another way, That’s roughly 10,000 steps above and beyond the normal 10,000 steps we’re told we need to average in a day. The entire point of the challenge wasn’t to be average, but to stretch my comfort zone.

      Objective well on the way to being achieved, but to what end? What is the “why?” in any new habit we develop? It’s the “what is the why not?” that prompts resistance to accomplishing an otherwise worthy goal. Carrots and sticks, internalized. So what drives us anyway?

      Any habit begins with a compelling why. That why is derived from a commitment to something larger than ourselves and a vision of who we want to be. We cast votes for our identity, as James Clear puts it. I’m walking those steps for a good cause (a worthy charity) and a belief that I’m a person who follows through on my commitments.

      The question is, will the habit stick after the commitment is honored? After all, it’s happened before, once rowing a million meters for a worthy cause and taking time off afterwards that quickly chilled any momentum in the habit. Knowing that, I look at this period of increased activity differently. The trick is to keep doing the habit, even if it’s a greatly reduced workload. Breaking it down is a good starting point. Just keep doing it, but in smaller bites.

    • Catching Days

      “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.” ― Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

      The days fly by, don’t they? We fill our hours with chaos and whim or reason and order, and so goes our life. Structure thus becomes a means to a more fulfilling lifespan. That doesn’t infer rigidly-defined productivity at the expense of joyful experience, but rather using our time strategically to make the most of the what’s available to us.

      Just imagine: Imagine what we can do with our lives should we add a bit of informed structure to our driving purpose. Imagine the places we might see, the people we might influence. Imagine the ripple set across time with just a bit more focus on catching days. Imagine following through on that quiet commitment you made to yourself to do the work that speaks to you.

      We know that focusing means saying no to the parade of other options that flood our senses. No to watching that amazing episode of The Office for the nth time, no to diving into that trendy new hobby that friends are doing, no to all kinds of potential fun that we may say yes to this other thing. But that’s the rub: to do anything well we must do most everything else less well, or not at all.

      “Living life to the fullest requires settling. You must settle, in a relatively enduring way, upon something that will be the object of your striving, in order for that striving to count as striving.” — Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks

      So are we striving for something or simply going through the motions? We choose how we react to the world as it’s presented to us, and in that reaction is our opportunity to fill our moments with something more meaningful than the other options on the table. In the heat of the moment life can feel frenzied and limited. We can’t possibly do everything.

      When we think of life in terms of time buckets or seasons, it can help bring clarity to what is essential now, versus then, and allow us to prioritize accordingly. What is most essential right now? Life would be boring with blinders on the entire time—to live fully we must open ourselves up to the world around us—but that doesn’t let us off the hook. We must carve out time for what is essential lest the time slip away forever.

    • Then Agains

      “Mortality makes it impossible to ignore the absurdity of living solely for the future.”
      ― Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals

      “We’ve been granted the mental capacities to make almost infinitely ambitious plans, yet practically no time at all to put them into action.”
      ― Oliver Burkeman, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals

      “We all have at least the potential to make more money in the future, we can never go back and recapture time that is now gone. So it makes no sense to let opportunities pass us by for fear of squandering our money. Squandering our lives should be a much greater worry.”
      ― Bill Perkins, Die with Zero: Getting All You Can from Your Money and Your Life

      This blog may feel like a one hit wonder, dancing around the twin themes of memento mori and carpe diem. This is a reminder to myself, blogging steadily along through the living years, to “not squander Time; for that’s the Stuff Life is made of” (as Ben Franklin put it). Stuffing a blog post chock full of quotes is no way to write though, is it? ChatGBT could probably summarize all of my posts into one grand idea, and perhaps one day soon I’ll accept that challenge. But for now you’ve got the single content of a guy finding his way in the world, just as you are and everyone else is, even those people who say they have it all figured out (don’t ever believe them).

      I’m pondering that elusive re-design of the blog, finally implementing the things I’d envisioned all along, finally re-introducing email subscriptions and a more elegant reader experience. Then again, I’m pondering finally pulling that novel out of forever draft form and doing something with it (the Muse gave up on this project long ago). Then again, I’m thinking about doubling down on work and really making the next five years something special. And then again, I’m thinking about just renting a cabin in a remote corner of Labrador and watching the Northern Lights all winter (at least until the polar bears eat me). Such is the thing with then agains: they keep on coming up.

      Then again, and at the very least, fill this particular time bucket with the stuff that makes the most sense for now. Make something special out of the work that resonates for you, or get off your complacent behind and go find work that feels special. Then again, go use the body your blessed with in this moment for all that you can get out of it. If we’re lucky our minds will be with us until the end, but our health could go at any time.

      Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
      Tell me, what is it you plan to do
      with your one wild and precious life?
      —Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

      This is the season. It’s not or never for some of those essential experiences. Go dance with life, and make it a song you really love. I’ll do the same. Carpe diem and all that. Let me remind myself and you if you care to listen: some day we’ll run out of thens, so once again, seize the day.

    • Push and Pull

      “Pull the string and it will follow wherever you wish. Push it, and it will go nowhere at all.” — Dwight D. Eisenhower

      Motivation is a pull. It is something that is internal that fuels you, that drives you.” — Julie Gurner, Dr. Julie Gurner (Part 1): Caring Deeply, Challenging Directly [The Knowledge Project Ep. #169]

      Lately I’ve been pushing myself to finish a few projects that have been mocking me for not completing them. Mountains to hike, work projects to finish, customers to meet with. I find in each case that the self talk isn’t supportive encouragement but sternly disciplinarian: “Do it already!” instead of “Isn’t this a great time to finish?” And shockingly, I find the mountains aren’t being hiked, the projects are stalled, and certain customers aren’t getting the face time they need. The push isn’t working all that well.

      I used to go to the dentist anticipating the lecture about flossing more. One day I decided to add it to my habit tracker as a box to fill in each day of every month, and thus forever. I’ve found that I haven’t missed a day since then, and my dentist is a lot happier with me as a result. Is this a push, not missing a day, or a pull? I think the latter. I’m drawn to streaks, and make it a point to mark as many days as possible before missing one. Flossing is an easy habit, writing is more time-consuming, yet I write this blog every day no matter what. Some days it may be a small post, and on some particularly challenging days it may likely be a post not fully fleshed out yet, but damn it there’s a blog post sitting here every day. When I miss the morning it calls to me every moment until I finish it. That’s a pull.

      Eisenhower was a great leader because he believed in leading from the front. You pull your team up and over obstacles and challenges, you don’t get great long term results when you push them. Lead by example. The old adage “do as I say, not as I do” rings true because we all quickly see the fallacy of trying to follow someone pushing from behind. It’s the same with bosses and coaches as it is with generals. Show you’re invested and we’ll follow you anywhere.

      Another old adage, “follow your passion”, is often dismissed as unrealistic in a world where the bills need to be paid and there are only so many passion jobs to go around. Yet it rings true. We do our best work when we’re drawn to it. We go through the motions when we feel it a chore. Flossing was a chore until it became a game of never breaking the streak. Writing was an unfulfilled dream until it became a daily mission. You probably have a few things that pull you equally hard, saying, “This is the way.”

      It’s not in our best interest to be frivolous with all that attracts us—there are habits and behaviors that clearly shouldn’t be followed at all. But the underlying draw ought to be examined. Why are we drawn this way? What is the root positive within this pull that will help in my development? Put another way, is this a good habit worth following, or a bad habit that feels good in the moment? Choose wisely and check the right boxes. Forget the push; seek the pull.

    • Upsetting the Apple Cart

      They say that habits are made to be broken. But who wants to break positive habits? Still, every now and then our routines are disrupted by forces out of our control. Sometimes people or events occur that upset the apple cart. Sometimes [gasp] even the very things that define our identity are disrupted.

      This summer has been a stack of disruptions that are taking their toll on my systems and routines. A home remodeling project, great and much-needed time with family and friends, and soon, a new puppy in the family all conspire to disrupt the very routines established to improve my health, fitness and intelligence. These are all worthwhile disruptions, so the trick isn’t to eliminate pattern disruptors, but to modify my habits to account for them. We can’t do everything, but we must continue to do the really important things.

      Our systems and routines help structure our days, allowing us to think about other things while the things we ought to be doing get done on autopilot. When that autopilot fails us, we must revert back to deliberate action. Doing things out of order is confusing, missing a day entirely is frustrating, but giving up on a positive habit should be out of the question. Start anew, with renewed vigor and focus. Most importantly, check the box and stabilize that apple cart again. For we still have much work to do in our days.

    • A Walk Around the Timeless Kenoza Lake

      Kenoza! O’er no sweeter lake
      Shall morning break, or moon-cloud sail,
      No lighter wave than thine shall take
      The sunset’s golden veil.
      — John Greenleaf Whittier, Kenoza

      Whittier wrote this poem for the dedication for a beautiful lake in Haverhill, Massachusetts that was to be named Kenoza Lake. Kenoza means “lake of the pickerel” in the native Algonquian language, and in 1859 the locals formalized the name. There is irony in Native American place names living on when the people who’s language was being used for those names were swept away, but that’s everywhere in the world. The names always betray the past if you dig deeply enough.

      Whittier was an abolitionist, and likely saw the plight of the Native Americans who once lived here with a sympathetic eye. He once lived just a couple of miles away from Kenoza Lake in a quiet farmhouse. His farm looks very much the same today as it did then. Importantly, Kenoza itself also remains pristine, today a protected reservoir that supplies drinking water to the City of Haverhill. That lends a timelessness to the lake and surrounding land that’s impossible not to feel as you walk the grounds.

      The land has transformed over time. It was once deep forest, became farmland (like so much of America in colonial times) and eventually returned to forest again. That the land wasn’t developed required some luck. Dr. James R. Nichols, a wealthy scientist who made his fortune developing chemical fertilizers, acquired the farmland and set about building a castle for himself on top of a hill with views of three states. He called the place “Winnekenni”, which means “very beautiful” in Algonquian. Walking the property, today maintained by the City of Haverhill as parkland and a natural buffer for the reservoir, feels like you’ve been transported back to another time.

      There is a network of trails throughout the the park, and you can manage a great step count by doing the entire loop around the lake. They range from gravel roads to single track paths squeezed on both sides by abundant undergrowth(including, alas, poison ivy). The trails are well-marked and it’s very difficult to get lost, as you always have the lake to show you your progress. We encountered plenty of walkers, horseback riders and mountain bikers on the trek around the lake, but never felt it was overcrowded. Indeed, on the single track we saw only one other person, a trail runner who quickly distanced himself from us.

      Reservoirs, like graveyards, are time machines back to the days they were established. The lay of the land remains largely as it was then, and offers an opportunity to hear the whispers of history. It’s relatively easy to imagine how this place looked for Dr. Nichols or John Greenleaf Whittier because it’s largely that same place today: timeless, and beautiful.

      Kenoza Lake
      Winnekenni Castle
      The lake is almost always in view
      Local resident
      Very large Bondarzewiaceae fungi enjoying the wet summer
      Single track trail
      One of several memorials in the park

    • This is Bliss

      “I believe that happiness is, it’s really a default state. It’s what’s there when you remove the sense that something is missing in your life. We are highly judgmental, survival, and replication machines. We are constantly walking around thinking I need this, I need that, trapped in the web of desires. Happiness is that state when nothing is missing. When nothing is missing, your mind shuts down and your mind stops running into the future or running into the past to regret something or to plan something. In that absence for a moment, you have internal silence. When you have internal silence, then you are content and you are happy.” — Naval Ravikant, Naval Ravikant: The Angel Philosopher (2017) [The Knowledge Project Ep. #171]

      I have people in my life who believe that I’m not happy deep down inside because I’m not out there chasing my professed dreams in the world. I contend that I’m just as happy taking a walk around the block as I am visiting some faraway place I’ve had on some bucket list. Happiness is a state we are either in or not in, based entirely on how we view the moment. My default, thankfully, is a state of happiness. That doesn’t mean I don’t stray into the desire for more—we all do that on occasion (and some of us dare to write about it). That desire for more disrupts our current state, upsetting the apple cart of happiness. Sometimes that’s necessary for growth, and sometimes it’s nothing but a distraction from the moment. Either way it’s a state change.

      I’ve been chasing a state change all of my life. Maybe you have as well. But nowadays I’m less into chasing and more into embracing the current state. Writing and creative output bring me to the moment very quickly. I walk and row more, which each lend themselves to being present for the next step or stroke, respectively. I’m equally present in the garden: when I’m dead-heading the geraniums or pulling weeds I’m very much in the moment. This is a state of presence the arrival in the internal silence Naval speaks of. This is bliss.

      The thing is, when we’re declaring our desire to travel or experience something outside of the moment we’re in, we’ve noticed something missing. In doing so, we’re missing the moment. If comparison is the thief of joy, then comparing our current state against some future or past state where we are somewhere else is a happiness remover. Sometimes we might need that kick in the ass: I’m moving more because I was unhappy being lazy and inactive. By being active again I’ve rediscovered a level of happiness that wasn’t there before. But if I start comparing my active body of today against that active body of peak fitness at 22, I may find my happiness knocked down a notch. All that really matters is the next step, the next stroke, and knowing this is the path for us now.

      Direction matters a great deal in reaching bliss, but it doesn’t infer we’ve reached our destination, only that we’re progressing there. We must remember that “there” is just a compass heading. Here is where living happens.

    • Facing the Storm

      There’s a metaphor that’s easy to find on the Internet if you Google it about the difference between cows and bison. When a storm is approaching, cows huddle together and run away from the storm. The problem with this is they end up running with the storm, thus prolonging their discomfort. A bison, on the other hand, runs into the storm, facing the discomfort of it head-on, and in doing so, the storm soon passes over them and shortens the duration of their discomfort. The lesson, of course, is to face the storm.

      One of the leaders of the company I work for told this story to a couple of us, and it fit his personality perfectly. When it comes to the tumultuous change needed to grow our company, not only is he facing it head-on and charging, he’s asking everyone around him to be a bison instead of a cow. In our moments of discomfort we must choose whether to face it or try to retreat from it.

      It’s likely most people don’t change because they don’t like the feeling of discomfort associated with beginning—of facing the storm. I’m currently walking around with an abundance of lactic acid and a reawakened creaky ankle, all from the combination of beginning to walk longer distances again and rowing much more than I had been. This state change has created discomfort that will eventually fade as my body adapts. We’ve all felt this, and we know where it leads if we stay on track. Most people retreat from discomfort instead of pushing through. Be the bison instead.

      It’s fair to ask ourselves just what it is that we’re charging into. Is this a storm we want to face? But we know deep down that change is coming either way. Pay me now or pay me later: this is true with everything we do in our lives, whether getting in shape, getting ahead in our career or managing our relationships. You can’t just hide from storms, you’ve got to face them head-on and get through them. To do otherwise is to prolong the discomfort. So get to it already.