Laziness and effort

This first year of triathlon training has taught me quite a few thing about myself, most of which are indefinable and the gains of which are difficult to ascertain but when I look back I find a black hole of effort, that magnificent vortex sucking calories into the three disciplines of triathlon. Everyone says there is a 4th discipline, the mental aspect, but I’d like to add another, the stress management discipline. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but the stress levels I occasionally encounter on this long road destroy my morale, tackle my motivation and fuel the endless excuses not to take that first step down the path. Every day starts with that first step away from comfort, from mediocrity and subsistence. Perhaps because this triathlon represents my first true venture into the realm of competitive individual sporting, and because I have no anticipation of the reward, no inkling of what lies in store for me as the fruit of this enormous tree I’m watering. I’m lacking that extra motivation, and stress has filled its oddly sized vacuum.

Yesterday a battle raged at noon when I donned my war robes and tried to move my bicycle from stop to go. I begin my training best when I’ve already eliminated as many excuses as possible for not training before I have to make the critical choice of whether to exit the door or not. Over the course of the last two decades I developed and coaxed from my mental vocabulary the ability to procrastinate and discover in the slightest details a reason to abort a training mission. I deal with this by prepping my plan and waking up as early as near to 5am as possible (my active hour) in order to leave without fuss before I realize what the hell I’m doing and how crazy it would be not to fall back asleep next to my beautiful girlfriend in a wonderfully comfortable bed. Most of the time I’ve failed in the past, yet recently I find myself more and more successful, waking up, falling back asleep, then waking up again shortly later to berate myself and slowly, achingly, wearily drag myself from solace to torture. Urgency has become the mother of my determination, with my Ironman bearing down on me with the full force of its Herculian requirements stirring me to leave lazy behind.

And yet I still feel lazy, still feel as if I could do more everyday, and I probably could, I could get in that evening run, and skip that second helping, swim that extra lap and push myself to another interval. I can do it, but still, more often than not, I do not. For this reason I still feel lazy, when macroscopically, I shouldn’t, not when I’m on average; racking up 200+ miles on my bicycle, 10000 + yards swimming and 15-30 miles running, every week. A person shouldn’t feel lazy with those numbers breathing down their neck. Next year I’ll stop being lazy. Next year as in October, when we start it all up again.

Coming up: The winter training plan

Truth in vision

Perhaps you need a little more experience to find the true analogies, the ones which universally relate to all, or most people, or enough people to support the analogy’s foundation… When does wisdom flower its tender buds. Perhaps once the major decisions have been made and the only remaining projects extract so little energy as to allow reflection on all the inordinately stupendous analogies the world has to offer.

I like ocean, mountains, people energy, beautiful lines and a strong community, street cafes and small roads... You know the thing America truly fails at? Its art and beauty and life, they all exist in brief spurts of vibrant flame and esoteric beauty, but these centers of light and life are always separated by vast spaces of mundane. I feel as if the mundane and the acceptance of mundane are the bane of spirit and adventure, life and energy. It devours these havens and nibbles away until the Starbucks and the Walmarts have control and the mundane can redeclare its presence and dominance.

Yet, perhaps its not any one generation’s fault and is not so simple a problem to solve that we can point to and command people to proclaim their individuality and adorn the garments of uniqueness. Perhaps we can only ask each generation to submit a few creative candidates to the test of time, to decorate the city in small doses of spirit and energy until a finally the buildup of these talents burn through mediocrity to create a nest of spirit.

In truth, perhaps the lesson lies in the combination of the two principles set above, wisdom and beauty derive from the coalescence over time of small nuggets of creativity and spirit. After an indeterminate critical mass gathers we may safely regard that conscious city or mind with the respect garnered by its lifetime of accumulation.

Small creative steps over time. The mundane fills the multitude, but given enough time, small creative steps overcome.