Litany of the Moment

Last night I suffered my first true glycogen crash during exercise. The evening started normally. I planned to do a mini triathlon, but not in the preordained order of swim, bike, run. I was to start with a 10K appetizer (about 6.2 miles to those not down with the lingo). The main course was going to be a half mile swim. It’s in a 25 meter pool, so that is a lot of laps, but swimming at night is a true avenue to peace and relaxation and I encourage you to indulge if you have not experienced it. The workout was to be topped off with a luscious dessert; a twenty mile bike ride beneath the light of the moon. Something happened, and things did not go as planned. The 10K became 10 miles….the half mile swim became a full mile….the bike….well, my sugar crashed and I could hardly walk let alone peddle after only two miles. It was a frightening experience, but fascinating at the same time. My legs turned to jello and I had brutal shakes throughout my body. I imagine marathon runners and triathletes have all experienced this in one form or another. Only I am neither a marathoner nor a triathlete. In fact, I am not training for any particular race at all...

Fast forward to the following day. I had my midyear review this morning with my boss. It started as they always do with him asking about my evening. I told him a variation of the history written above. He laughed and said I was crazy. I assured him I was not crazy, and tried to explain why I push myself. I have written the 'why' in a previous post, but he interrupted and was not so interested in why, but how. I am not a world class athlete. I am not going to win any medals or find myself on the side of a Wheaties box. I don’t know the first thing about how true professional runners, swimmers, etc. mentally prepare themselves for their races. But I do know that I have not worn a watch in almost ten years, and it is that simple fact that allows me to push myself unto the brink.

I have had an ‘on again, off again’ relationship with serious exercise for years. I will ramp up my running and lifting for two or three months, and then fall off the wagon. Overtraining almost always the loose railroad tie that knocked the fitness train off the tracks. I would not ease into the fitness regiment. I would come out of the gates at a sprint. When I would lift or run I would try mind games to push myself harder and faster; an internal conversation that was meant as a personal challenge.

“If you quit, you fail…not just at this run, but at everything. Are you weak? Do you want to fail? Are you that pathetic? If you don’t keep going everyone will leave you. If you stop now, everyone will hate you! If you don’t finish this rep you don’t deserve to be happy. Everyone is watching Brandon, you can quit, but everyone will see and they will know you were not strong enough...you were not good enough. Go ahead and quit…you're no wolf, your just another sheep!"

This type of “self-motivation” did far more damage than good. Sure, I would finish my long runs and heavy lifts, but I would return mentally and emotionally exhausted. Sometimes I would not be able to get that last repetition, and would feel terrible as a result. Did the threats of my prodding mind ever come to pass? Of course not, but the damage was done, and within a few short months I would need to step away. Mentally, emotionally and physically abused and exhausted.

Everything changed this spring when I attacked physical training yet again. I took a different approach this time. I started from a new angle: sleep and food. I took time each night to find peace in preparing a healthy meal, enjoying it, and getting a full night’s sleep. Not surprisingly my energy increased and after a few weeks I had to return to intense exercise just to burn off the excess fuel. Returning to the gym is always a humiliating experience. You are slower, weaker, less toned and less confident than you were the last time you were serious. So much has been lost you wonder how you will ever get back to where you were. It is very easy to get disheartened at this point and quit. But I kept at it with the cooking and sleeping, I added in some meditation and stretching to maintain peace and focus, and the strength and cardio rapidly returned to a comfortable position. But I wanted to go further, to push harder, and without the psychological abuse I would put myself through in the past.

Enter ‘The Litany of the Moment.’ I don’t know when I started to repeat this simple mantra to myself, but once I did, I quite literally found my 'happy place.' A center, a driving core that could run further, swim longer, lift more, than I ever had previously. It takes a while to set in. The first few exercises, or miles in a run are always a struggle. But the voice within won’t let me think about things like, ‘God my legs hurt. I can’t get enough air. My arms are tightening up. I should just stop. I didn’t eat enough for lunch, and I didn't sleep enough.’ These 'quitting statements' are drowned out by a commanding voice that asks the same question again and again.

Where are you?

At first I ignore it. Or at least I try to. I try to focus on the pain, the surroundings, the music in my headphones…

Where are you?

I can hear my feet hitting the ground. I can smell the iron of the gym. I can taste salt as the sweat from my brow passes the corner of my lips….

Where are you?

I am at the gym. I am outside. I am running on this path…what do you mean where am I?

Where are you?

I’m here.

The first stage is complete. I have let go of my surroundings, I have let go of the presence of the road or the gym or the water. I am simply ‘here.’ But the voice continues….and it is relentless.

What time is it?

I don’t know. I don’t wear a watch.

What time is it?

It’s before dawn…It’s almost midnight….It’s almost time for dinner….

What time is it?

Now?....Yes, it is now.

Stage two is complete. It’s tough to explain the sensation that comes with this, but I stop feeling pain. I stop thinking about the weights or the road or much of anything. It is almost as if I am simply existing in empty space. I am here…it is now…there is nothing else. But I am still moving…

Where are you going?

There.

Where is there?

One step beyond here.

How do you get there?

By moving forward. I must keep moving forward!

I stop feeling time at this point. I stop seeing much of my surroundings or hearing the birds or the people or much of anything. I can hear my breath. I can hear my heartbeat. I can feel heat on my skin, but I am here. I am now. I am moving forward from here to there.

What are you?

I am strong. I am a man. I am Brandon…

What are you?

I am me. I am I. I am alive…

What are you?

Clear…present….focused…one with this moment.

The run passes. The swim passes. The bike…well the bike reminds me that I am human and no matter the number of mind games I play on myself I still need to better prepare for such a long workout. I still need to eat more food and get a bit more rest. However, sitting on the sidewalk, unable to walk and shaking with plummeting blood sugar, I can only sit and marvel at the power of the mind over the body. I was one. I was calm. I was present. I was moving through space, leaping, striding, walking from one moment to the next. There was no past, there was no future. There was only here, now and the step that will take me into the next moment.

I am going on seven months now of intense exercise six days a week. This is far beyond anything I ever dreamed of in my many attempts at fitness. I am not exhausted. Quite the contrary in fact. I am more at peace and have found an inner harmony hitherto unimagined. When my boss asked, ‘How do you do it? Is it discipline or just masochistic tendencies?’ I told him, ‘It’s the Litany of the Moment.’ What’s that? ‘I’m not sure I can explain it right now, but it drives me to excel, it encourages me to succeed, and it helps me keep moving forward. One foot in front of the other…again….and again….and again….’