Day 29: One More Breath

Enjoyed a few profound thoughts on my run last night, which was an effort to complete, and I only went 9.5 km, dropping the last loop in the park that would have brought it to 10. My thought was: I'd like to get home alive. It was a hard run, hotter in the evening heat than I'm used to, and I had to use meditative techniques to distract my mind from the discomfort, and to try to keep my gaze down, since I tend to scrunch my shoulders and look up in all physical activities (grrrr ... this is causing serious neck and back pain right now).

My thought du jour was this: every run, every swim, every yoga class, every bike ride is its own little journey, a miniature version of the struggles we go through every day and over the sweep of a lifetime, and that is why it is hard to keep a regular exercise schedule going--hard because it requires mental fitness and toughness, but also exciting, because it is a safe struggle, different each time, with a (reasonably) predictable end: you will get home. But it takes a certain amount of mental fortitude to push through the hardest parts of the journey, it takes genuine strength and courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other when the idea pops into your head that it would be easier to stop--that you want to stop, that you need to stop, that you'd like to quit. I was thinking that people who succeed, who finish projects, who accomplish goals are not people who find the task easy, or people who are naturally gifted or skilled; rather, they are people who understand that the desire to stop/quit isn't the same thing as actually needing to stop/quit. Just because you feel down in a moment doesn't mean the next moment you won't find the strength to go on just a little bit further. Also, you must not conceive of your goal as this mammoth task to be accomplished all in one go--that's impossible and not how it works in real life. You get through mammoth tasks the same way you get through anything that's difficult--bit by bit, step by step, breath by breath. That's really all you need to have in your mind as you're heading forward: the next breath.

What helped during the run yesterday was to count my breaths (for a little while, till I noticed that I was counting them as "two hundred thirty-twelve, two hundred thirty-thirteen"; what's wrong with this number?, my brain asked in its stupor). I also thought about the privilege of getting to breathe that particular breath in time, to be right there physically able to do this task, however hard.

I'm not sure that practicing things that are difficult actually make the next difficult thing any easier to get through. But it does teach your mind to think differently about difficulty. To seize it as a challenge rather than be crushed beneath it. I write in the same way as I run: with patience, daily effort, and a long long view.

This morning, I got up early and swam with a friend. It's hot, and I was grateful for the cool water of the pool. It took me at least half an hour, perhaps a bit more, but I swam 1000 metres, or 1 kilometre!!! The stroke felt simpler by the end of the session, stroke and breath and rhythm. I think I will sign up for the stroke enhancement swim class rather than the beginner swim class. I'm getting more comfortable with goggles and eyes open underwater, too. That's going to be my exercise for the day, along with the bike rides to and from the pool (two in one day, which will add up to a rather paltry 8km). Tonight, I'm going out with friends for a drink. Balance. It's all about finding the balance. Life is to be enjoyed. I am not an ascetic.