Unassigned
I am not a stellar athlete.
I mean, I like to be active, I love breaking a sweat and I was a gymnast and soccer player growing up. But in no uncertain terms do I possess any sort of outstanding athletic prowess.
Let’s just say that my parents mantel isn’t overflowing with blue ribbons and trophies.
Perhaps this is why I have such a hard time getting myself in the gym on a consistent basis. It’s not like I don’t enjoy sweatin’ to the oldies and workin’ on my fitness; in fact, once I’m in those doors, I love being there.
It’s getting there that’s tricky. (You wouldn’t believe the bait and switch methods I play on myself to get there…so I’m not going to tell you.)
The problem really comes when I spend my 1-2 weekly gym visits trying to run like a 3-6 weekly gym visitor. It is not pretty.
But what I realized the other day is that more than the struggle for endurance or the aching joints, what I struggle with the most is breathing.
I will be running/flailing on the treadmill and realize that I haven’t breathed in a while. Seriously. It’s like I am concentrating so hard on the task at hand that I am forgetting to do the most vital and natural thing there is.
And, shocker among shockers, I see this as a metaphor to life.
Because I always forget to breathe. When I get bad news, when there is a setback, when I am told “no.”
My instinct is to do what I do when I am being a mediocre runner – plow through and sweat it out. When if I’d just relax enough to breathe in and out, I wouldn’t get such a side ache.
It’s funny that I overlook such an instinctual thing, but when it comes to stress, turmoil or heartache, that’s exactly what we do.
So breathe. And that doesn’t mean you stop moving forward. It doesn’t mean you stop sweating and working and enduring. It just means breathe. Amidst all of it, just breathe.
Not only will you go further, but you also might manage to enjoy the journey.
