Malibu, CA @ 1:52 P.M.
After spending time in the Sierra-Nevada Mountains this weekend with my dad, I am pausing to reflect on some moments of endurance and pain over the last several years. I think of “pain” and “suffering” and “endurance” as good things. Of course, in the moment of said “pain” I don’t think “good things” but in general, I think pain, suffering, endurance, etc. are meant to hone and shape us.
Here are the five hardest physical things I’ve ever done. Note: to all women who’ve been pregnant, given birth, cared for an infant . . . all of these combined are not as tough as what you’ve endured. You rock. You have all my respect!
Part of the reason I’m writing about this is so that I’ll continue to do more things and that my list will look different in 10 years. Because, as it is with the spiritual life, training is more important than trying hard.
In order . . .
5. Yosemite Falls. We hiked this weekend to the 5th highest waterfall in the world. It took 3 hours to hike up. Almost straight up. I crawled in a few places. It was grueling, difficult, and tiresome. But . . . it was so worth it. Once we got to the top, we ate our lunch together and enjoyed one of the better landscapes North America has to offer.
4.Detroit Triathlon. In 2008, I did a triathlon in Detroit. Swimming the Detroit River was one of the most memorable things I’ve ever done. The running/biking portion wasn’t too bad but the swimming was pure chaos. Hundreds of men, all jumping in a fast-moving river (a river that was about 55 degrees) . . . it was sheer pandemonium. Sharing this experience with my twin made it doubly fun. Yes, I beat him. And he hates that I just wrote my victory!
3. Rochester College full season-men’s basketball. Workouts began in August and the season lasted through a national tournament in March. The season was long, brutal, grinding. But, it was also one of–if not the most–formative experiences of my life. I made some of my best friends, grew up in a lot areas, and treasure my time at RC as precious space. P.S. I played in the game in which Coach Pleasant won his 500th. What a day that was.
2. Motor City Marathon. In 2005, I ran the Motor City Marathon. You can read my thoughts on that HERE. Andy Harrison, long-time friend and mentor (one of the most devout disciples I know) challenged me to train and run with him. Andy was/is much faster than me but he graciously coached me through the entire training process (including early morning 20 mile runs in the rain). I learned so much about life and discipline from him. The first 20 miles weren’t too bad but the final six took everything I had. Had it not been for the love of some fellow runners urging me on, I would have been tempted to quit. I hope to do another marathon sometime in the next three years.
1. Pike’s Peak Climb/Hike. I don’t want to say any more than I’ve said HERE in this post. We were lucky. We could have died. We didn’t. I’ll never be that stupid again. Well, hopefully.
I read Deep Survival on the flight from Nashville to California. You need to read this book. Here’s an example of why you need to read this book.
“When you learn something complex, such as flying, snowboarding or playing tennis or golf [or studying karate], at first you must think through each move. That is called explicit learning, and it’s stored in explicit memory, the kind you can talk about, the kind that allows you to remember a recipe for lasagna. But as you gain more experience, you begin to do the task less consciously. You develop flow, touch, timing–a feel for it. It becomes second nature, a think of beauty. That’s known as implicit learning. The two neurological systems of explicit and implicit learning are quite separate. Implicit memories are unconscious. Implicit learning is like a natural smile: It comes by way of a different neural pathway from the one that carries explicit memory. LeDoux reports that his mother, who has Alzheimer’s disease, cannot remember ordinary events but can still play the accordion, because although her hippocampus is likely damaged by the disease, the memory of how to play accordion comes from an as yet undamaged part of the brain. Implicit memories are not stored in or necessarily even available to the analytical, reasoning part of the brain.
In a normal person and under just the right conditions of stress–perhaps you’re tired, perhaps you’re getting cold, perhaps you’re going through a divorce–that implicit system can break down. Then you’re left with the explicit system, thinking through each motion like a rank beginner. Malcolm Gladwell, writing in the New Yorker, put it succinctly: “Choking is about thinking too much. Panic is about thinking too little.”
– p.67
Gonzales, Laurence, Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies, and Why, New York NY: W.W. Norton and Company, 2004.
