Breathe and swing. Breathe and swing.
Jason, just breathe and swing.
As I turned into the last 100 or so meters of my final 800 meter sprint, the whispers that began during my warmup were full on yells: stop. STOP. STOP THAT RIGHT NOW.
After a 1.5 mile sprint, I was set to end the day with sprints for 400m, 400m, 800m with 60 seconds of rest between each, before repeating the same three distances again. Long before that final 800 m, I felt I needed to stop, yet Jason knew he had to keep going.
Roughly 50% of you will not be able to replicate this process.
For the past eight weeks, I have been training for a 10k. Until these last two weeks, my training was focused on distance: 8, 10, 12, even 14 kilometers runs to accumulate mileage in anticipation of my race.
However, as the race date draws closer, my coach has shifted from distance to speed: a shift that parallels my life.
With the semester drawing to a close, a retreat I help lead on the horizon, my first season as lacrosse head coach about to start, and the decision rag-doll myself into this blog, I am no longer focused on slow and steady, but quick and fluid.
Gone are the slow, zone 2, runs that forced me to pause, take a breath, and bring heart rate down to a controlled, methodical rhythm. Gone is the the cold morning air to fill my lungs, the pink and purple collage in the sky as the sun broke through. Now, I am going from class, to meeting, to the track, to class, to practice, home, and to my newest book or blog.
In all areas, life is a sprint.
Yet as the pace of our lives quicken, it is easy to feel the chest tighten, the breath get shallow, and the mind tell you "I cant do this... this is too much".
Breathe and swing. Breathe and swing. Jason, just breathe and swing.
On the track. On the job. All alone. Surrounded by people. We have all have heard our mind kick in to tell us we can’t do this: we need to stop and rest.
Forget all the training. Forget all the preparing. Forget the list of moments that were way harder than this one: I can’t do it.
Life will provide these moments.
However, it is in this moment that 50% of people will stop, not finish, and rest. They not stop to consider their preparation and resume of accomplishments they have logged. To no fault of their own, they will quit.
For the rest of us who have an inner monologue, I will teach you a trick that will keep you pushing through barriers to finish the job and rest in your accomplishment.
How?
Talk yourself through the moment.
I am not saying talk to yourself, but I am saying remove yourself from the moment: stop looking from the first person and objectively look from the third.
Don’t speak to the feelings, but speak to the person.
Though I may feel like my lungs are going to collapse or that my legs cannot go anymore, Jason sees that the distance is not much farther. Because Jason has trained for distance, 100 meters is not much more. All Jason needs to do is breathe consistently and swing his arms.
Though I may feel overwhelmed, my chest tight, my mind unable to focus, Jason knows after a year of teaching an extra class, finishing a masters degree, and coaching both seasons at 6:00 am, all Jason needs to do is make a to-do list, and knock out the biggest item first.
Easier Said Than Done.
For those blessed with an internal monologue, these conversations are guided by our thoughts: an automatic, relatively uncontrolled, flow of words, phrases, and ideas that interpret the world and situations around us. We feel, we think, we do based on a reaction to what it is we believe to be true.
Yet, in moments of struggle and discomfort, the moments where we need to push, the I cannot see, feel, think, or do beyond what is perceived to be.
We listen to what we feel in a moment instead of speaking of what we have known to be true for years.
Stop.
If you respond to the panic, you will respond in panic.
Instead, I becomes Jason, and Jason removes himself from the heat of the action to assess the situation.
I may be tired, but
Jason is going to finish this workout and have an amazing next class because Jason has run much longer than this and the bell is going to ring soon, so he has to hurry up.
I may be uncomfortable and want to stop, but
Jason knows all he has to do to finish is control his breath, bring his heart rate down, and swing his arms because he spent weeks training just that.
Yes, I actually said both of these sentences to myself today.
That's the secret.
Its not an affirmation in the "I am powerful, happy, skilled, or the best", but it is an objective assessment, of your situation, removed from your thoughts, feelings, and emotions. Its taking a moment to reflect on who you are, who you believe yourself to be. It choice to recognize what you have done, and what you are capable of.
Now of course, there will be moments where you do come to the conclusion something is too much and you need to stop, but let that decision be done not because I feel like this needs to happen. Instead, be sure you take a moment and look from above. Check to see what is really going on. Imagine you, struggling in this moment, were someone else, what would you tell yourself? Speak to yourself as you would speak to them. Call yourself by name. Rely not on your feelings, but on who you believe yourself to be.
It is time to make the decision to stop listening and start speaking: to stand up for yourself and who you know yourself to be.
I may think this is corny, but Jason did it today, after a class, and a meeting. Jason finished his workout, lead a productive analysis of Macbeth, pushed his lacrosse team further, and wrote this blog post. Had I caved to the voice in my head, Jason would not have continued to grow.
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