|
I was sitting on the ground at work when one of my colleagues asked me how I was. Tears started to well in my eyes. She told me to go home. Alexis, I had just found out that your baby brother was measuring 3 weeks larger than he should. The pain in my ribs, or muscles, or whatever it was, was at its worst. I had only been at work for about fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes into my day, I knew that I would have to surrender to the pain. I knew that I wasn’t stronger than it and that annoyed me. I know pain and I know how to overcome pain. I know the pain of moving my body for 64 long, arduous kilometres. I had run marathons in this body. I had recovered from marathons in this body. I had moved this body over 3 mountain tops. I had moved this body from Wrest Point to the top of Mount Wellington on three separate occasions. I was beyond frustrated that my body, the body that I have been in awe of so many times, was letting me down. At 9.15am, I felt weak. My emotions were weak and my body was (and is) weak. I was frustrated that my mind wasn’t stronger to push through, like I had known it to. I was frustrated that my body wasn’t holding together how I thought it would and should. I had expected that I would continue to work until 2 weeks from my due date. And here I was, walking up to my manager and asking to go home at the beginning of an eight hour day. I had decided to admit defeat. I raised my white flag and finally admitted that the pain was not only hindering my body, but also my mind. I have long thought that admitting defeat is a sign of weakness. When I was running and I admitted defeat in my mind, I would give up and walk – despite knowing that I could and should do better. In battles, the army that is defeated is the loser. They were the weakest. They were the ones that couldn’t come together as a team. When I played netball and basketball, there was always a sense of shame whenever I had to tell someone that my team had lost, that the other team was stronger. Despite my frustration, I had to tell my manager that I wasn’t coping. I had to tell her that I couldn’t stay any longer that day. I had to communicate that I didn’t think I would be able to see out the rest of the month, that I may have to go on maternity leave earlier than I had expected. I hated it. I felt like a failure. I had made my plan and I liked my plan. It wasn’t that I was letting anyone else down. It wasn’t anyone else’s plan, it was mine. No-one else was attached to it, just me. When I used to do Bikram Yoga, the instructor would say “just do what your body allows you to do today. Even being here is an achievement.” As I drove home, I remembered her saying that and I thought to myself, “at least I showed up”. I went on a mental journey that weekend and throughout the following week. I thought about admitting defeat and what that meant and looked like. Finally, I realised that maybe, just maybe, I had been wrong about it. I realised that being defeated or admitting defeat isn’t always a sign of weakness. It could also be a sign of strength. Holding up that white flag and letting people know that I wasn’t okay, well, it was actually really brave. All it meant was that I had admitted to other people that I needed some support, a little more support than usual. I had finally admitted that I not only needed it, but I desperately wanted it. 
2 Comments
 I would open the sliding door and sit down across the tracks. My body would be inside, sitting on the carpet, while my legs were stretched outside. My footprints in the gravel attested to the fact that I chose to sit in that spot regularly. I would flick open my packet of Winfield Jets. Holding the chosen one between my lips, I would strike the lighter, inhaling deeply as the cigarette lit up. The first drag was always the best one. Every smoker knows it. Even now, I can almost feel my body yearning for another cigarette. Just one more. For many reasons, a few of them obvious, I won’t. But I remember the feeling; the deep, smoky breath filling my lungs and the wave of relaxation washing through my body. If anyone talked to me about smoking, I would tell them, “I can quit whenever I like”. The truth was that I couldn’t quit, I could stop for a prolonged period of time. I tried to prove to myself that smoking had no hold over me, that I was the one in charge. But, as soon as I was around smokers or cigarettes, I would remember what that first drag felt like. And time and time again, I would fail. I would wait for the optimum moment – the end of a packet, the beginning of the week – because those were the best times to quit. Except they weren’t, no time was the right time to quit. If I quit at the end of a packet, I hated knowing that I didn’t have a safety net, a just-in-case, so I would go and buy another one. On a Monday… well, everyone knows that Monday’s are the hardest days of the week! Why would you quit anything you enjoyed on a Monday? Ludicrous. Choosing the “right” time doesn’t change your mindset. Many people try to change their habits on a Monday, the start of the month or some other memorable time. They’re searching for the perfect moment – the perfect moment to start running, quit smoking, try a new diet, take up a new hobby. I’m unsure of the origin of this idea but, somehow, we’ve all been tricked into believing that there is a right moment to change our habits, to change our lives. But there isn’t. Alexis, New Year’s Eve 2019 was one of my favourites. You seemed to really understand the concept of the year changing. You don’t know about resolutions yet. But you’ll learn soon enough. A shame, really. t’s a shame that the calendar ticking over to the 1st of January is often viewed as a magical event. A perfect day when we say “goodbye” to the old and “hello” to the new. It’s not magical. There is no such thing as “New Year, New You” – despite what marketing campaigns tell us. The same you, the one from the old year, walks into the new year. The same you wakes up every morning, no matter what the date is. Even on a Monday, you’re still you. The freshness of a new year can make you feel inspired, but that inspiration tends to fade. Each new year often leads to the failure of our new year’s resolutions. And when we fail, when should we start again? Do we have to take another trip around the sun before we can try again? Or do we wait for a new moment during the year that seems to be the right time? The truth is that while inspiration may fade, good discipline endures. Alexis, the last time that I stopped smoking was in the middle of the day. I sat down at the sliding door as normal and halfway through my cigarette, I thought, “I have to stop”. And, I did. I gave the rest of my packet to a colleague and I haven’t bought another packet since. I have still smoked a few cigarettes when I was drinking or with close friends but, since that day, I haven’t considered myself to be a smoker. I don’t know the time, the date or the day. It wasn’t a significant day; it held no meaning to me at all. It was just the day that I decided to quit. The same thing happened when I started running. I don’t know when it was that I decided to take up running; it just happened. I didn’t wait for a Monday or for a certain date. It was just an average day. I just put my shoes on and ran. Both events required a change of mindset rather than a change of date. And the thing is, although I was aiming for a certain achievement, it became more about the changes that occurred in my mind. The change of mindset meant more to me than what I could (or couldn’t) do. And, maybe that’s the thing about New Year’s Eve – people focus on fixing themselves and achieving something, rather than their development and growth. Maybe our resolutions should be more about changing who we are, rather than what we do. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t set goals. Set the goals and aim to do what seems impossible. But whatever your goal is, start right then and there. You don’t need to wait! And, keep in mind, it’s not about what you can do, it’s about who you are becoming. It’s not about losing weight – it’s about learning to love your body and what it can do. It’s not about learning to run a marathon – it’s about discipline and getting out of your head. It’s not about being a more attentive parent – it’s about adjusting your priorities. Running was never about being achieving an ideal weight or level of fitness. I took up running because I knew that “exercise gives you endorphins, and endorphins make you happy” (thanks Elle Woods from Legally Blonde). Through running, I learnt about the strength of my body, I learnt how far I could push myself, and I learnt so much about the strength of my mind. Quitting smoking was about not wanting to die early, but it was much more than that too. It was about respecting myself and those around me. It was about making a conscious choice to live in a way that would keep me around for longer. One of the reasons that I had smoked for so long was because I knew it was destroying my body. After I chose not to kill myself, I liked the idea that I was still choosing to die, in a less deliberate way. Do you see the difference? The difference between “this year, I’m going to lose 15kg” and “this year, I’m going to learn to love and respect my body and I’m going to start by treating it better”. I don’t think that your actual goal should be your goal, IYKWIM? I think your actual goal should be about shifting who you are and how you see yourself. I think you should focus on your journey and what you’re learning along the way. We should be evolving, learning and trying to better ourselves, and we shouldn’t need to wait for a certain time or date to do so. Today is the perfect day, so is tomorrow. Start as soon as you feel that inspiration. Don’t wait. Don’t wait for another trip around the sun, for the start of a new month or a new week. Don’t wait for sunny weather or a better bank balance. Most importantly, don’t wait for the universe to give you a sign. There is no perfect time or moment. Start now.  2019 fireworks |
Archives
May 2025
|
RSS Feed
