But being the between-the-lines kinda guy that I am, I wanted to answer the question not with three answers, but with one. And so naturally, my answer was “CrossFit.”

Now, I never would have answered that question with any other fitness/exercise/sport that I’ve done (except maybe Nomadics), and I’ve done tons: intercollegiate rowing, yoga (bikram’s, ashtanga, hatha), triathlons, tai chi, full-contact martial arts, bodybuilding, you name it. Why?

Because you’ve got to embrace the suck.

Jon Gilson of Again Faster says it excellently in this must-read article:

When the knurling scrapes your shins, and your traps bunch into knots, you’ll make a decision, one that will affect every aspect of your life. Give in to the agony, and you will always give in. Cave to demands that crush you, and you’ll always cave. Roll to the floor, and you’ll always exist beneath those who choose to stand.

In order to make it through gruesome ordeals, you have to find a place in yourself that wants to overcome. Rising up to meet a challenge, toughing it out when high tide comes your way, and gritting your teeth and not giving up are the price of admission to success.

When you dig deep and muster up a performance that you weren’t sure you had in you, that teaches you something. It teaches you that you are strong, that you can withstand Shakespeare’s “slings and arrows”, and that your character, being what it is, is sufficient to the task.

“Embracing the suck,” then, is the hallmark of a champion. If you can look at a challenge, know it’s going to bite you in the ass, and still get yourself up to the starting line, then you’re playing the game for real.

You may not like it, but it’s true.

I know this may not sit well in today’s personal growth culture, where you can’t take a strong stance without the words compassion! and empathy! being hissed at you like you’re a demonic drill sergeant, just waiting to pound anything soft within range into cold, hard submission.

Now, before you write me off as a heartless bastard, know that I fully understand the roles of compassion, empathy, and proper timing. Too much, too fast, and you’ll burn out your engine, whether it’s your physical engine or your spiritual one. There are times when pushing means pushing too hard, and you do need to back off and give yourself a break.

But if you’re always giving yourself a break, and don’t have a mechanism in place that will take you past your comfort zones, you’ll never grow. And in my estimation, that would be worse than having never pushed too far.

It doesn’t have to be CrossFit, of course.

I’m not saying CrossFit is the only way. I’m not saying the path of the heart doesn’t have a thousand manifestations. And I’m not saying that there’s any one way to truth.

I am saying, though, that you have to find a way to go beyond who you’ve been. And in the rounded-corner world that most of us live in, there are precious few opportunities to see the kind of person you are, and forge yourself into something more.

And personally, I happen to love physical exercise. I love the movement of muscle and bone, the expression of intention through physical activity, and the grace and poise that athletics can bring to its devotees. Maybe it’s because I grew up overweight and sedentary for so many years that I’ve come to appreciate the joy of feeling my body do what it can. I don’t need to ruminate on it anymore, honestly, trying to find a concise “why”; it’s a joyous, happy part of my life, one that I’m immensely grateful for.

Again, from Jon Gilson’s article,

Remember that the walls of the gym are nothing more than physical barriers, meant only to separate us from the elements. What you do within those walls will echo in your daily life, and you would do well to choose your actions wisely.

And that’s just it, isn’t it?

What you do in one area of your life echoes through the rest of it, doesn’t it? You can’t compartmentalize anything. It all plays together, it all makes a difference, and it all matters.

How you rest is how you eat is how you work is how you dream is how you love. What you bring to one, you bring to another.

Image by Malingering.

© Adam for Adam Kayce, 2009. | Permalink | 5 comments

Not really. It means I’m smart. Yay for me. But it also means I’m a perfectionist out the wazoo, so all these great ideas I have? All the amazing connections I see between things? All the creative impulses I have? They ride on the backs of turtles, past huge guardians of Quality Control, on their slow march towards freedom. It’s a wonder you’re even reading this. But who knows, you might not – I might edit this before I publish it.

I’m not alone, I know this.

You’re probably a perfectionist, too. And if you aren’t, you’ve probably got enough of an internal censor to grasp what I’m saying, even though you may not be bleeding in the trenches with the rest of us. If that’s you, well, good on ya; pass the gauze, will you?

Perfectionism, in its most beautiful out-picturing, is a valiant effort to maintain a degree of quality that you feel the world deserves. It’s a beautiful place, this world of ours, and dadgum, if you’re going to contribute something to it, it should be as beautiful as the rest, right? “Quality is job #1″, and all that. What a wonderful intention!

Perfectionism, unfortunately, also has a downside. When it’s ugly, it’s really not much more than fear of judgment projected outwards. You fear judgment, so you edit and polish and edit some more until either the thing shines, or withers away to nothingness, with no more substance than those dry, crackly vanilla wafer cookie things they sell at Quickie-Marts.

The bummer, then, is that all too often, your brilliance never gets shared with others. It stays hidden, behind the censors of your fear and doubt, until it dies of loneliness and boredom.

The bigger bummer is that the stuff that does go out tends to have two (okay, three) kinds of reception:

1. Either people love it… which makes your censors now tell you you have an even higher level of quality to live up to, or
2. People love it, but they miss the humanity in it. Because you’ve done them the unfortunate disservice of removing so much of you, so much of your process from it, that they miss out on the learning of what you, as a human being, actually went through to create it. Which, most likely, is 90% of what they’re thirsty for.
3. People hate it. But y’know what? Everybody hates something, and somebody hates everything. You can’t win ‘em all; you can only die trying. If somebody hates it, move on. If you use failure to beat yourself up, you’re only helping the censors.

I’m perfectly aware that this post may be loved. And if it is, great. That’s not why I’m writing it, but great. I’m writing it to help, in case there are others like me out there.

And, you may also think it sucks cheese. If you do, go ahead, unsubscribe, click away, or act like a troll in the comment box. It’ll only save me the pressure of feeling I have to perform better next time.

Because whether you like it or not, I’m here to stay.

And that’s what you need to tell your censors, too. You’re here to stay. The part of you that wants to share, to connect, to help, to give — it’s not going away based on the judgments of others, nor because of the rude comments your censors make. You’ve got a voice, and by god, you’re going to use it (no pressure, mind you).

So do it, whatever it is: Write it. Play it. Create it. Design it. Sing it. Build it. Get it out there. Sound that barbaric yawp of yours to the world, brothers and sisters.

Why? Because we need it. We need it so we can shut our own censors up long enough for us to give what we’ve got to give. Because the gems of greatness exist within us, but they need practice to develop, and room to breathe. Because when it comes down to it, even the stuff that most people would call semi-decent can be the catalyst for one person’s dramatic, life-changing epiphany.

So be the example of bravery for someone else. Create, so someone else will, too.

Image by Infinity Rain.

© Adam for Adam Kayce, 2009. | Permalink | 22 comments