Monday, July 2, 2012

Powerful Asskickery

Where do I go when in need of motivation?

I seek change. I explore. I dig. I mix it up and experiment with new synergies. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred I find that someone has already been there and done them before me. And that is quite alright because the folks that have been there before me are my kind of people, risk takers, adventurers, artists, nomads, gypsies, renegades, rebels and rouges. My motivation is change. Something different. As far from the status quo as I can get. So far outside the box that it vanishes from view. No more cardboard walls to enclose my freedom.

There is no more powerful an emotion than wondering what is going to happen next. In the box, you know, it's the same as it was yesterday, and the day before that. It is, in this context, safe. At least controlled to the point of a false notion of security. Nothing is safe and security is a marketing illusion invented to sell you insurance. You are, and will always be, as safe and secure as your awareness allows. The very nano-second that your awareness begins to wander, you are a walking time bomb. A distracted and disgruntled suicide bomber looking subliminally to take somebody out with you. 

You want motivation? With every ounce of your focus do what must be done, despite the obstacles, hassles, issues, hardships or roadblocks. Seek better. Do something right now to push your highest agenda. Make it hard. Make it ridiculous. But make it happen.

And stay in the moment until it is done. Own your time. Take ownership of your space. Do the absolute best you can with what you have to work with. Consider alternatives, isolate possibilities, engage, flow. This is a dance. There is music, movement and grace in work, the mundane, just as much as there is in running, riding or using the pull buoy. 

Challenge yourself. Do something stupid just so you can reflect after dinner on the accomplishment. We rode three hard indoor hours yesterday at an insane level of intensity, wattage and heart rate. It fucking hurt. As high as I consider my personal tolerance for pain to be, this session was un-chartable. Afterwards, as I rammed as much protein as was available in a twenty mile radius, a strange and familiar sensation began to emerge. My legs were still pinging with spasms, quivering like jello, but as the recovery began to segue to repair and I could actually feel new mitochondria being sworn in, the afterglow of solid effort began to warm my soul like a fire in winter. I was happy, satisfied.  The effort was a keister-kicker. We both survived, stronger in many ways from the drill. 

If it is motivation you seek, try change. Dial it up. Get out of the box and out of the saddle. Do mind-numbingly hard or butt-bustingly long. Wonder what is going to happen next. 

Today, even after another Monday morning hour session of intervals, I feel great. My motivation? Renegade change. Digging up some hard. The rogue challenge. I owe it to the absolute asskicking power of change.  

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