Something you should know about me: I have a strength of will that can be, most of the time, unmovable.
It is drive and desire that fuck it up.
It’s when the drive and desire gets muddled in the course of living from minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day that the will is able to get knocked a bit.
I know exactly what needs to be done, know pretty much how it needs to be done – but there are those times when I am incapable of getting anything accomplished.
This became clear on Saturday, as I neared the last checkpoint during an orienteering course. I strayed off course and needed to traverse a ravine to get back to the final checkpoint. As I started to climb back out, I hit an 11-foot cliff. It was either go around and find a slot – or do a little bouldering.
The wall was lava rock, bumpy and filled with handholds.
I climbed the face; scrambled right up like I was 12 again.
I swung over the lip and started to laugh.
In October, I wouldn’t have done it. I couldn’t have done it.
Fear – and fat – would have prevented my even being out on course.
Since Oct. 13, 2006, I have lost 46 pounds.
Initially, some weight came off with stress of a divorce.
But then I adjusted my life. I started doing what my will wanted – mountain biking, hiking, backpacking, swimming, Nordic walking, kayaking and orienteering.
The weight continued to come off.
People began to notice. To comment – and compliment.
“Good to see you tonight... pays to show up at even the tiniest of get-togethers. BTW.... we all commented after you exited how good you looked.”
Then – without even realizing it – I was given such a fantastic and wonderful gift in Wyoming: A bigger base of fitness on which to hang everything I want to become.
Enter – and - finish a mountain bike race.
Accept an invite to be part of an adventure racing development team.
Have my will to be healthy and happy not be derailed by anything. Not even my own insecurities and failings.
(I am 15 pounds from my stated weight loss goal; I now know I have a lot more work ahead to build on my fitness base and fuck the scale.)
And so I spent the two weeks post-Wyoming (where I lost five pounds by the scale, but put muscle on my legs), not doing enough to keep the gift – or build onto it.
You get home after another bad day at work – where everyone is tense and anxious and they all want to pour it out on you – fully expecting to go on a ride or a long Nordic walk and life starts to happen. A new magazine comes in the mail; the phone rings; bills to pay, chores that need to be done (because you stopped to look around).
Next thing you know, the sun is going down and you’ve not fed your body – and mind – what you know it craves.
Fucking motivational dyslexia.
I promise myself to be better – the solid will portion of myself – but there’s always a detour. Another something to get in the way.
There has to be a balance.
And that’s the mission ahead of me.
It feels too good not to strike this balance.
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