Staying Hungry

When I first saw him, he was frantic, trying to escape. I saw him, but couldn’t help him. The row of netting in the vineyard was 12 feet high, secured with stakes and stretched for hundreds of feet in both directions. By the time I lifted a section of net he had flown past me. I quickly grew exhausted trying to help him.

When approached, this bird - and others like him, would fly for 20-30 yards in the open stretches atop the grapes before crashing down into the foliage. Back and forth, up and down. It was like they didn’t want to be saved and saw any attempt on my part to help, as a threat to their perceived situation - as bad as it was.

It was heartbreaking to watch. But I finally realized I couldn’t “save” him until he calmed down and lit in one place and trusted me. Finally, exhausted from his effort to find his own way out, he rested, hanging on the netting, angrily and suspiciously watching me. I took several photos of him while I waited. Then, convinced he wouldn’t fly off again, I slowly and calmly reached out and lifted a couple of feet of netting just down from where he was resting. He looked at me, then at the netting and something seemed to click. In an instant he dove down towards the ground and then swooped up - only inches from my feet, and up into freedom.

It occurred to me today that helping friends, or anyone for that matter, involves pretty much the same process. we have to wait until they stop thrashing and fearing and racing and flying around expending precious energy. All we can do is wait. While this bird “got it” pretty quickly - an hour later there were still others frantically darting from one end of the vineyard to the other, that I couldn’t help.

I’ve been this bird, or known people like him, most of my life. Flying, searching, frantic, scared, wondering how I got into a mess when all I was doing was what came naturally to me (trying to survive). Just as the bird didn’t understand the purpose of the netting or the boundaries the vineyard owner was setting out, I didn’t understand the purpose of boundaries around me - social, financial, societal. None of us raised in dysfunctional families ever seem to understand the most basic, but subtle rules of life. So we spend most of our time doing what this bird did - trying to survive (eat the grapes) but crashing into nets (boundaries) others have erected.

Some of us quickly recognize the netting has a purpose. We eventually learn to respect boundaries and rules and societal standards pretty fast. Others take a little more time to figure it out. And some of us, as the bodies of the dead birds I saw inside the netting - often only inches or feet away from freedom, never “get it.” We thrash and struggle against all boundaries until it kills us - one way or another.

As hard as it is to watch, and harder still to realize, the only birds we can save are the ones who are willing to work with us. If we chase the birds who are determined to escape us - we leave dozens more sitting in the netting waiting for a hand to simply open the door to freedom. If we are the birds - racing frantically to escape our own netting - job, finances or whatever, maybe it’s time to settle, to wrap our fingers into the net and look out and see who’s there wanting to help us get out of the situation we’re in.

By birds trapped in the netting, or people struggling to escape I don’t mean just the dysfunctional either. I mean a spouse who hates their job, a child being bullied at school, a boss who insists on terrorizing his employees or a client who can’t realize the value of having a webpage, let alone using twitter or social media or the internet to drive their business. Maybe you’re thrashing against an invisible net in a relationship or job. Stop. Hang there for awhile and watch. There are people who will help you if you give them a chance. And once you’re outside, looking in - do the same. We’re all in this together. The only thing that changes is sometimes we’re on the inside of the net, sometimes we’re on the outside.

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Google procrastination and you’ll get millions of articles, tips and suggestions on how to overcome it. Why millions? Because none of them work, so people keep posting new thoughts, new tips or rehashing and mashing old ones. Seriously. The tips don’t work. Not really. Because procrastination isn’t a disease or a bad habit. It’s a state of mind. It goes deeper than, “I just don’t feel like doing this right now.”

No. Procrastination has its roots in our childhood, in our fears, in every bad feeling and worry we ever harbored. Procrastination is the “what if?” poster child of failure.

So don’t bother looking for tips on getting past it, or in not doing it. Sure, some of them may work, but most of them won’t, or they’ll work short-term, or sometimes.

Really? Really. The people I’ve talked who NEVER procrastinate come in two flavors - obsessive compulsive with a true chemical or personality trait that won’t allow them to procrastinate - ie, it is as emotionally and mentally painful for them to put something off as it is for the rest of us to start something. Or two, success and failure have never been a nightmare for them. They’ve either never felt humiliated, always or almost always felt supported and loved and are secure in who they are as people, or they’ve learned to feel that way.

Human beings are motivated - as are most creatures, by pain or pleasure. Those are the only two variables you have to manipulate to create change or movement. So if you’re trying to overcome procrastination - the solution is simple. Make the outcome or “payoff” outweigh the pain of why you procrastinate in the first place …I mean TRULY outweigh the pain and your problem is solved.

I’m not being flippant. I’m actually advising you to simply love yourself more and pursue self-growth. The procrastination is simply a symptom of what’s happening inside us. It is not us, and it is not something to be “cured.” It is something to simply pay attention to.

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“Each new effort brings you closer to the one that might really work.
The key is to stick with it until you achieve your weight and health goals–that’s my definition of a true success story.”
—Bob Greene, Oprah Winfrey’s fitness trainer

A friend sent me a link to a video of  a kid learning to walk with the admonition - “Remember where we all started.” We all say that, but seeing it really brings it home, don’t you think? I started weight lifting last week and although I lifted regularly in college, it’s been hard to get back in the groove 30 years later. I’ve also been starting and stopping blog after blog, never really quite sure “where I wanted my thoughts to live,” as I told a friend of mine.  And while Bob is talking about health and weight goals, I think he makes a good point about any goal - stick with it. Each effort brings you closer to the one that might really work. If it takes more time? Then it takes more time. At 53 I don’t have the energy or brain power I had at 23. I have other things - wisdom, insight, perception and more tools. But - time is still a fixed factor. It may take me longer, I’ve reasoned, but it will be richer in the end. How about you? Are you learning to walk? Are you embracing each fall?

Watch \"Learning to Walk\" by clicking here

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The closest I’ve ever come to the Tour de France is 30 minutes of coverage on ESPN when nothing else was on television. I’m sorry about that now. I just read about what goes into the individual effort and was amazed. You can’t see it. You have to know about it, or have experienced it.  Fortunately a rider wrote about it:

The race kicked-off with a 8 KM prologue around our capital. This translated into around 10-minutes of lung-busting effort for the riders, where they ride the latest twitchy, carbon-fibre, wind-tunnel tested bikes on tyres less than one-inch wide. The riders studied the course beforehand learning the twists and turns, using their powers of imagery to see themselves taking the fastest lines through the apex of the corners and accelerating out the other side. They will run through this a dozen or so times during their warm-up – which last for one-hour on their bike as it is held stationary on rollers. During their warm-up they will vary their effort using not just their perception of how their body feels, but also through heart-rate monitors across their chest and power meters attached to their cranks.

For eight minutes the riders are on the limit, when every bit of their body’s screaming at them to slow and make it more comfortable.

The riders who ride well, need not only a fine physique, trained body and peak shape, but the right mental approach too. Unlike the others, they will not dread the pain and discomfort that is a given, but instead use this as signs that they are at the right level. They acknowledge that the pain is temporary, are willing to experience it. Use their body’s reactions as a sign that they are ready. They’ll soak up the atmosphere and excitement. Enjoy the attention. In short, they will use each element of the day to their advantage.

The Prologue is used to seed the riders, to give an indication to the world of their form, to show who is in condition, a contender. Perhaps more than that, it is the only opportunity for the short time trial specialists to wear the coveted Maillot Jaune – the Yellow Jersey – the symbol of the leader on the Tour, a career highlight for all who are talented enough to wear it.

The next day is Stage One, the first of three weeks of mostly long road stages. In contrast to the prologue’s 8 KM, this stage lasts 203 KM - over five-hours of racing. Some riders will try to breakaway from the peleton trying to get some glory on the road, before being swallowed up by the peleton. Most will choose the most efficient strategy: to ride conservatively, not burning up too much energy so they will arrive within the main group at the end of the stage. Concentration skills will be tested as riders are rarely more than a foot from another bike or rider, often within a few inches, sometimes making contact and occasionally getting caught-up in a crash. Hitting the road at up to 40 miles per hour with only a single layer of lycra or naked flesh is always going to hurt. Crashes happen, bones break, skin is lost. Professional cyclists accept this risk and need to be able to ride relaxed but altert. For the first week of the Tour the peleton is twitchy, crashes happen most days, sometimes several times in a day – especially if there is wet and windy weather.

Day after day, cycling for up to six hours of at 60-95 % of maximum heart rate is tough. After a few days the body yearns for rest. It is stiff and tired – but the daily sports massage can only rub away so much of the fatigue. The body is constantly hungry and it is usually impossible to ingest the thousands of calories required to maintain body weight and power. Eating becomes almost a full-time job.

Mental fatigue can set in: the repetitive nature of riding, feeding, listening to team talks on strategy or other matters, sleeping with an aching body and in a different town each night is difficult to absorb. It’s certainly not a touring holiday.

Then there is the weather: the heat in southern France and the massif central, coastal winds, and thunderstorms to contend with.

Most riders must ride for other members of their team, for all or most of the race. Some will support their team leader to help his chance of winning the Tour overall. Others will help shelter and then drive forward their team mate until they are within the last hundred metres of the finishing banner where their teammate can be released to sprint for the stage win.

The vast majority of riders don’t have the luxury of riding for themselves in the Tour, or even at any stage in the Tour. This self-sacrifice and suffering for someone else is tough. How many of us could be so selfless and do so with grace under such punishing conditions?

Every now and then there is a time trial, similar to the Prologue but longer, sometimes lasting over an hour, after days of long stages, when the body is no longer fresh. The riders focus now needs to be on maintaining a high level of effort, an aerodynamic position, the right gear ratio and best speed to turn the pedals, cornering fast, but not overcooking it and ending up in the barriers. All this happens while your manager chases you around the course in a team car shouting at you through your earpiece.

Each year it almost seems a surprise, that the vast majority of the riders - mostly those who avoided a major crash – will finish the Tour in the traditional finish, on Paris’ beautiful Champs-Elysees. Each rider is given a finishers medal and the right be a sporting hero.

Of course, what struck me the most was realizing that the team rides for their leader. In the world of professional sports, ego is so prevelant - the push to be “the star,” and the center of attention. I wonder - who are these people? And why do they do it? Is it a desire to someday be the leader? Who do you support in this way? Would you endure this suffering so another could triumph? It’s a sports story I’d certainly like to hear more about.

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I knew they were good friends by the way they argued. With her frail arms waving, gesturing and pointing at the produce as excitedly as they were, and him just nodding and examining the produce, they had to have known each other forever. Indeed, they had, she said laughing, an avocado in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.

“Since high school, what? 60 years ago?” she asked him.

He nodded, a smile on his face as he watched her. He loved to hear her laugh. I could tell by the tear in his eyes. I pointed that out and he shook his head.

“It’s the onions,” he jibed - poking his partner gently in her side with an arthritic finger. She clutched his arm and stared into his eyes, hers watering too.

“I know,” she said softly.

“They got me too.”

They stood like that for several minutes, looking at each other until he reached out with one hand and pulled her close, her gray hair crushed against his wool coat as he kissed the top of her head.

“We’ll get them both,” he said, picking up two different types of avacodo.

They turned back around to me.

“We’ll get out of your way now,” they said, both reaching for their shopping cart.

“No, no, you’re not in the way,” I said.

“But tell me, what was the um….discussion about?”

They laughed again, he coughing, her wiping her eyes.

“I like the small black avocados, he likes the big green California ones,” she said.

“Differences keep things spicy,” she winked.

As they shuffled off  to the fresh fruit and I grabbed my own avocado, I thought about that, about how often I let my own preferences remain unspoken - afraid to speak out, or reluctant to - in order to keep the peace. Once I got home I had an email from a friend. She liked the short story I’d written, but asked if the character wasn’t a little too cold and distant.

“It makes me not want to like him much,” she said. I thought about the couple I’d just seen and wrote her back.

“He’s supposed to be a little unlikable,” I explained. “He gets redeemed in the end and has to have someone to grow into. And besides,” I paused.

“Differences keep things a little spicy.”

What has this story got to do with grit and determination? More than you think. It’s the differences in our lives, the small debates, the push and pull, the expression and testing of ideas and desires, of preferences and possibilities that keeps our dreams alive, that keep us engaged. The differences are the spices - not the dampers. So enjoy the diversity, the differences, the things that both separate and bring us together. And don’t be afraid to speak up for what you want. Those who love you will understand and accept it. Those who don’t? Don’t matter.

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What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a buffalo in
the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in
the sunset. - Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator, 1890

Has life as we know it really changed much since the 1800’s when Crowfoot wrote this? No. Life is short. And, as they used to tell me in college, “This is it. It’s not a dress rehearsal. Get out there and start doing something with your life.”

This quote reminded me of Lucy Freeman, a woman I went to college with back in the 70’s. Lucy never wore shoes and she hunted squirrels for meat. She talked with an East Tennessee twang and laughed about it. Her hair was shoulder length, straight, rarely styled, and she never wore make-up. She wasn’t poor. She came from a “good family,” and was as smart as anyone I’ve ever known. And she was a talented artist who fell in love with clay and became a potter. She graduated with a BFA in ceramics I think. When I was lying in a hospital bed, paralyzed from the waist down from a wrestling accident, she brought me a mug she’d made. I used it to drink Dr. Pepper from and every time I used it I thought about her.

Lucy’s thin cotton dresses were knee-length or longer and swirled around her in soft faded pastels. There was almost always a smear of clay or paint on them somewhere and her unshaven legs were always tanned dark brown. And - she was always barefooted. It didn’t matter if it was winter, summer, raining or hot. Lucy didn’t wear shoes.

“I just don’t like ‘em,” she told me when I asked. There were times when she did clomp into my room in boots - usually on her way to hunt, or somewhere where footwear wasn’t optional - like to dinner with her father, or hunting in a particularly thorny patch of woods.

I admired her. Not just for being barefoot, but for knowing what she wanted out of life and for going for it. She wanted to be a potter, her father wanted her to “get a real degree.” The world expected her to wear shoes, she was barefoot. She shaved her legs if and when she wanted to, ate, slept, worked and did what she wanted to. She may have been my first inspiration and realization that we can all do that. And we can. The world didn’t end because Lucy didn’t wear shoes.  She got some laughs, some looks, some snide comments, but Lucy’s feet were happy and so was Lucy. She never lacked for friends - even when she was serving squirrel for dinner. I’ve wondered what happened to her, if she ever wore shoes after she graduated. Did she get a job or create one for herself. Either way - she inspired me to look at my own life and see if I was dancing in tight shoes. I have - and it’s no fun. What about you?

Are you dancing in tight shoes?

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If you need encouragement, praise, pats on the back from everybody,
then you make everybody your judge.

~ Fritz Perls

“The superior man is distressed by the limitations of his ability;
he is not distressed by the fact that men do not recognize the ability that he has.”

-Confucious

None of us can resist an honest, authentic and heart-felt pat on the back or word of praise. And we shouldn’t. But there’s a difference between NEEDING encouragement, and NEEDING praise or pats on the back, and simply enjoying them.  When our self-worth depends on what others think of us or say about us, then our self-worth and self-esteem may soar or crash depending on the whims, moods or even the agenda of others.

When you have a solid core belief and love for yourself, who you are, what you believe, what matters to you - only YOU control your destiny. You will make choices based on what is best for YOU and your future, not on pleasing others. You’ll be able to distance yourself from the rude and painful attacks of jealous co-workers, neighbors or even family members.

If you’re trying to please everyone you’re pleasing no one and your chances of being able to focus, change and improve your lot in life -the things life has placed on your plate - you’ll fail.  So fire your judges. Enjoy the encouragement, the kudos, the praise, but don’t depend on it and don’t need it. Look to your own core self and to your higher power or faith for nourishment and support.

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What are your regrets? Do you have any? Most of us do. Oddly enough, we regret the things we didn’t do more than the things we did do. Of course there are the regrets for the bad decisions we’ve made, like “I wish I hadn’t borrowed the car without asking first, or I wish I hadn’t gotten into the car with a drunk driver,” but our really heartfelt regrets are usually around relationships and risk.

“I wish I’d asked her to marry me sooner. I wish I’d taken that job in another state. I wish I’d tried out for the basketball team in high school. I wish I’d gone to college.”

Most of us could sit around and play the “Could’a, should’a, would’a” game for hours if we let ourselves. But don’t. If you must play it, then put a different twist on it. Instead of wallowing in regret - turn it around. Instead of “I should’ve gone to college,” say, “I can start taking classes now at the local college.”

Instead of, “I could write a book about all I’ve done,” why not, “I’m going to write a book about all I’ve done.”

Instead of, “I wish I’d learned to dance, or traveled the U.S. with my kids when they were young, or gone whitewater rafting,” turn it around. Make plans. It’s never too late to do most of what we’ve missed. And if your loss involves the loss or death of a loved one, vow to never do it again and start building the love and memories with who you still DO have.”

The only thing standing between you and “Could’a, should’a, would’a” is a decision - your decision. It’s not a race. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Just decide and do it.

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As a journalist I’ve had the opportunity to talk to people from all walks of life. I’ve interviewed Presidents and rock stars, singers, songwriters, authors, editors, heroes and killers. ALL of them have expressed two things - possibilities and excuses. Sometimes they’re uttered in the same breath - “I could have, but….”  As in, “I could have been in rock star X’s band, but I was too busy working and had a family. If I had of, look where I’d be now.”  Or politicians - “I could be mayor/governor/congressman but the politics around here are slanted towards X.”

Infinite possibilities and infinite excuses - even among those we consider highly successful! I’ve seen and interviewed a lot of extremely talented people, people “on their way up,” or “being groomed for success.” They too have the possibility/excuse thing down too. We all do. After all, it’s easier to say, “Well Barney and Seasame Street have the kid’s educational entertainment angle covered,” than to say, “I think there’s probably a real market for a curious, brave and adventuresome little girl who travels around the world exploring stuff.”  Gee….like “Dora the explorer” maybe? The point is, a market can appear to be totally locked down with no other possibilities until someone comes along and focuses on the possibilities and not the excuses.

It’s easy to come up with excuses for why things can’t or won’t or don’t get done. It’s harder to come up with ways to make things happen. So what if, for the next  30 days, you make a conscious effort to eliminate the excuses and focus on possibilites?

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The only reason I didn’t come in dead last in the first 5K I ever ran was because a very obese woman and her five-year-old son took pity on me and stopped so I could cross what was the finish line, ahead of them. The cones, tape, crowds and everyone but the timekeeper had left by the time I arrived. He grabbed the bottom of my number, ripped off the stub and looked pissed that I had taken so long to finish. It was the first and last official race I ever ran. The camera guy - the guy who takes photos of all the runners for souvenirs (and sells them) was long gone. He didn’t hang around to get my photo - although I would have bought it. Like I said, except for the woman and her son who finished behind me - I was alone, but happy.

It was a very cold March Day in Virginia Beach at the Shamrock Run. But I didn’t run to win. I ran to finish. And that’s what counted to me. No  one else was impressed. No one else was there to see me finish, or hug me. It didn’t matter. I had finished!

Life’s like that. A lot of us start and finish alone. We raise kids alone. We work and come home to an empty apartment alone. We start a business alone. We run alone. No one cheers, but we finish anyway. The thing is - as painful as it can be sometimes, alone is a good place to be. It re-enforces the fact that we can do things without a cheering section. We can get through the dip and we can do it alone. And while it’s nice to have friends and family there to share and encourage - you don’t need them because alone is not a bad place to be.

I thought about that today because I was the only one in the gym working out who was not body-beautiful. Fat people, or even just out-of-shape people, aren’t really welcomed in gyms. Society assumes you’re stupid, lazy and dumb if you’re fat. Once you lose the weight, get fit and look great - they all want to be first in line to shake your hand and praise your grit and determination. They forget how they treated you, and how they will treat the next fat person they meet.

I know that. So it doesn’t bother me to be alone. It’s not about the crowds, or the pats on the back.It’s about the finish.

Motivation has to come from inside. And you have to be alone to get in touch with that. Looking around me in between sets, I remembered how it felt to finish that race - and took heart. When you’re alone you can focus on YOU. You can meditate on your vision, visualize your path, see your success, feel the process. Instead of dreading it, come to embrace it. Being alone on the path to anything - education, a successful business, a race, weight loss - it’s your time. Enjoy it. Celebrate it.

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