Are You Awesome?

A favorite topic of discussion at my previous job was the topic of “all things awesome.”  It always made for spirited debate in that neverending discussion throughout human history of what is awesome and what is just simply completely NOT awesome.  It could almost stand to be its own branch of philosophical study: awesomeology.  What always make the debate such fun is that there really is no way to create a precise, objective and well-defined explanation of what is truly is.  There is no perfect formula for awesomeness… but if there were, that would clearly be awesome in its own right.  Awesomeness is something you just see and know, in your heart of hearts, that it is something awesome.

One of my favorite thinkers in the realm of awesomeology is Jim Wendler over at EliteFTS.  While you could peruse through an endless number of posts Jim has up at EliteFTS in the Q&A section or his own training log, I think I saw his philosophy on awesome was best put in a recent interview he did.  In describing why he did certain exercises or trained a certain way, he explained he picked those things because they were awesome.  In fact, it was basically his North star when it came to making decision on his training because he would ask himself a simple question: Is doing this awesome?  If so, he’ll do it.  If not, he’ll take a pass.  And for those people who would ask, “Gee, Jim… but how would I know if something is awesome or not?” he had a simple, response (which I will paraphrase): Umm… if you have to ask if something is awesome, then it is decidedly not awesome.

Now how can you argue with that?  Oh, I can see some naysaying about how you sometimes just need to do things to do them and there is truth to that.  Cleaning the bathroom and other sundry household chores are not exactly reeking with awesomeness… but for a lot of other things in life?  Those things that fall into far more discretionary activities?  The awesome standard is really a pretty damn good one.

So for me, Jim’s view on weightlifting and training has shaped a decent chunk of what I do now.  I follow his 5/3/1 training system, I use very fundamental lifts when I exercise (bench, squat, deadlift, military press, cleans, dips, pull-ups, rows, etc.) and I love my Prowler.  To me, there are few things as painful as going to the local gym I have a membership for (a just in-case kind of thing… I have been there maybe 5 times this year) and lifting on machines or sitting on a piece of cardio equipment for 30 to 60 minutes.  Yikes.  It makes my skin crawl to think about it and when I’ve actually gone and tried it a few months back, I felt completely annoyed the entire time I was there.  Not good times and certainly not awesome.

But in a larger view, I began to ponder a bit how much of what I do would fit within the awesome scale, whether my job, my social life, the activities I engage in and so on.  It’s a pretty sobering piece of thinking to undertake because it’s ridiculously easy to fall into patterns of doing things just to do them.  As incredibly brilliant and intelligent as we can be as human beings, we also seem to have a completely uncanny ability to fall into mindless patterns which we may not notice until much later, if at all.  We might eat complete crap because we don’t think much about our diet.  We might plunk down in front of the TV without even knowing if anything is worth watching and surf channels like a lobotomized monkey for 3 hours because… well… we’re not all that sure.

It’s in the sense that mindfulness seems to become more and more important in how I live my own life.  For instance, I have written numerous times about how I will do something, enjoy it and then not get around to doing it again for months to only think “Huh… why did I stop doing that anyway?”  Mindfulness, pure and simple.  I think the awesomeness equation can fall into this same sort of vein: if you are not stopping on occasion to think about whether what you are doing with yourself is actually worthwhile or something you would be proud to tell your grandkids about some day… then why in the hell are you doing it???

Me in full-on awesome mode

So besides this jazzy shirt (which says “Proud To Be Awesome” and you cannot quite read because my pure jacked-ness caused some wrinkling in the fabric), I need to begin my own development of mindfulness reminders.  Perhaps in the way that Notre Dame’s football teams has its sign as you head out of their locker room that says “Play Like A Champion Today” I need the equivalent on my front door at home that says “Be Awesome Today”… except the sign would need fire and dragons and explosions and muscle cars… because that would be AWESOME.

Self-Control: There’s Only So Much To Go ‘Round

I used to be a fairly neat person when it came to how I kept my personal living space.  Nothing was ever left out.  Everything had its place.  I’m not going to say it was to the level of US Army basic training orderly, but it was pretty darn good.  Ahh… those were the days!

Fast-forward to 2010.  As I gaze across the space that is my condo, those days of borderline military precision are loooooong gone.  It’s not like my place is dirty and grimy – far from it.  But tidy?  Neat?  Umm… no.  No, my friend, it is not.  Oh sure, if friends are coming over, I kick myself into gear and the place is spic-and-span in no time at all.  Hell, that seems reason enough to invite people over to my house, especially my female friends.  Every dude on the planet will go a little bit extra for the women in his life than the men when it comes to the cleaning routine.  It’s just science… err… or something.

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All of this navel-gazing today over my cleaning habits today stems from a pretty interesting piece I read on the Fast Company web site by Dan Heath called “Why Change Is So Hard: Self-Control is Exhaustible“.  The piece is about how in a psychology experiment, 2 groups of students come into a lab where there is a bowl of chocolate chip cookies and a bowl of radishes.  Some students are allowed to eat the cookies, but no radishes.  The other group is allowed to eat radishes, but no cookies.  The researchers then leave the room which is basically an opportunity for Team Radish to sneak some cookies… but none of them do.  Keep this in mind.

A bit later, the two groups are then asked to work on a logic puzzle and seek to solve it.  The catch?  It can’t be solved.  Damn scientists with their game-playing and whatnot.  Figures.

Ahh… but here is the interesting part.  The chocolate chip cookie group?  They gave up on trying the puzzle after 19 minutes.  Not bad right?  The radishes group?  Well, they lasted a mere 8 minutes with about half as many attempts as Team Cookie Deliciousness (and yes, I am making up these names as I go along) at solving the puzzle before throwing in the towel.

The conclusion of the study was simple: Self-control is actually a finite resource.  Team Cookie Deliciousness didn’t have to exercise any self-control prior to the puzzle because… let’s be honest… who’s really fighting an insatiable urge to chomp down on radishes and ignore cookies?  Team Radish did have to exercise it and thus had less resources to persist at the unsolvable puzzle.

The easy thing would be to use all of this as an incredibly convenient excuse to give myself a pass on the pile of clean laundry sitting on the floor just 10 feet away from me, but that’s not my intent.  Instead, I think this study serves as a valuable reminder as as self-check for what you have going on in your own life.  If you find certain things slipping that normally wouldn’t slip, think about why.  If you feel lazier than usual, what’s changed?  What is it that’s taxing upon your own personal reserves and what are you going to do about it?

For me, it’s a stark reminder of the effects of stress in my life.  I run a little more tightly wound than most and that necessitates self-awareness about what is causing my stress and (more importantly) what the heck I plan on doing about it.

So fear not, my friends!  That pile of laundry you continuously neglect to fold and put away?  Or those bills you just seem to keep putting off another day?  Or the cookies you cannot resist?  Perhaps it’s time to consider all of these things anew as something beyond mere failures or weakness in your willpower.  Perhaps they are the signs to stop and consider what thief in your life is sapping that self-control you need to manage yourself each day.

One man’s shortcoming can be turned into your personal guidepost.  Embrace it as such.

Transatlantic Musings: Accents, England and Unexpected Perspective

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It seems I’ve finally found some time to do some blogging on my trip to London… and that’s during my flight back from London.  Funny how that works out.  Actually, I probably did have time a few others points in the trip, but the jetlag decided to open up a full case (and not just a six-pack) of whup-ass on me by the time evening rolled around each day.  I was able to stumble through some Twitter and Facebook posting and that was the extent of my… *ahem*… intelligent discussion and contribution to the social dialogue of the planet.  Go me.

So here at 36,000 feet above the Atlantic Ocean, I find a few moments of respite to think back on my trip while my Boeing 777 chariot whisks me along back to the U.S of A.  What keen, penetrating insights have the gods unveiled to me during this sojourn to the land of tea, crumpets, cricket and tiny cars?  Sit back, relax with a nice cup of Earl Grey and let the magic unfold, my friends.

YOU are the one with the funny accent. As an American, it’s always great to get out of the country and spend a bit of time letting your ear adjust to the accents of people from other countries.  The work conference I was at had people from England, France, South Africa, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Spain, Russia, Poland, Sweden, Slovenia and I’m sure other countries that are now completing slipping my mind.  Usually if you go to a foreign land, you can adjust generally to the accents of the people within a day or so because it will be a (generally) uniform set of accents.  This conference was different in that I was with accents, sentence pacing and colloquialisms from a wide range of places.  I never got the chance to let my ear settle in with a single accent… and, quite frankly, I enjoyed that.   It also makes you realize that most of the people at the conference likely looked at me and my other American colleagues as the ones with the funny accents.

I love the fact that international travel (or even domestic travel to different areas of the country) forces a little extra open-mindedness on me.  Perspective, people… its good for the soul.

England is a place of dramatic, yet understated, surprises.  If that’s even possible. Due to its rather cozy size, but incredibly rich history, I’ve always found England to be the kind of place where you can suddenly happen upon really cool stuff.  OK, I was hoping to come up with a more creative, inspired and dramatic word than “stuff”, but honestly, isn’t stuff a perfectly good word too?

Anyway, I digress, yet again.  So last night I went out to dinner in… umm… truth be told, I have no idea what town it was.  I think it was actually technically parts of London.  I sometimes think of London like Boston – lots of different areas that are considered part of the greater city, but you’ve never quite sure when you are in the city proper.  As we head out to dinner and get out of cab, BOOM!  Right there looming behind the restaurant was Windsor Castle.  Like THE Windsor Castle.  Home of the Queen and such.  It just struck me a bit how we just happened upon it in almost the same manner you would seemingly run across a Starbucks in the States… just with more royalty, less condescending baristas and less completely useless drink size names (Venti?  Really?  I mean… that’s what we’re going with?  I think I’m asking for a Venti Gulp the next time I hit up 7-11).  Unless they put a Starbucks in Windsor Castle… which would blow my mind.

That being said, it’s that kind of unexpected moments of “Wow” that I love about England.  You get it in New York City as well, actually.  You are just randomly walking down a street, look up and BOOM!  World famous landmark right there in front of you.  It’s a little humbling and can make you feel a little bit small, but I never find it to happen to me in a bad way – it tends to be more of a way to appreciate what you encounter a little more deeply.  For instance, it’s a bit hard to be too self-involved when you have moments like this happen and Lord knows I really need moments like that.  Hell, I think we all do.

When I’m on the shelf, I am TOTALLY on the shelf. Before I left on this trip, I had decided I was putting myself on the shelf to stop all lifting and exercising while allowing the anti-inflammatory steroids I’ve been taking to do their job and to let my neck heal.  I wrote about all of that right here.  The only exercises I’ve really been doing are neck retractions and a lot of focus on having dramatically better posture.  The combination of the steroids, rest and the exercises are really doing an excellent job of making my neck feel just so much better.  Happy Kev.  But there is a dramatically ugly side of this break period and it’s not the first time I’ve noticed it when I’ve been on an off-week or break.  See, when I put myself on the shelf, I go at it full tilt.  How so?  Well, let’s just say that when I’m not lifting, pushing my Prowler, swinging the sledgehammer and all of the other magical tomfoolery that is part of my training arsenal, I’m also eating a ton crappier than I normally would.  A logical person might think, “Well geez, Kev… just because you’re not training doesn’t mean you should let ALL good health habits go to waste.”  To that logical person I say, “Technically true… but here’s the thing… bite me, hoser.”  And yes, I just channeled my inner Mackenzie Brothers there, so take off, eh.

I have a good enough sense of self-awareness to know the truth said that said logical (and totally wet blanket) person speaks, but it doesn’t change the fact that I seem to go full on or full off.  It’s what one of my favorite authors on training and powerlifting, Dave Tate from EliteFTS, describes as “Blast” and “Dust”.  He approaches a lot of things in his life with the notion that he is either going to do it with complete gusto and passion or not at all.  I can well appreciate that fact since I tend to be the same way.  I am shooting for a better middle ground with some balance, but I am mostly wired in an all-or-nothing mindset for many things.

Thankfully, I am going to be going back at it on the bright tomorrow morning as I get back to eating right and totally rocking the Prowler for some fun.  Parking lots of Connecticut, beware… I got some steel with your name all over it.  And anyone who wants to join me is totally welcome… just remember… this is not a spectator sport.  You show up, you push.

So those are some of the thoughts I noticed in one of my favorite countries besides my own – jolly old England.  Thank you, Britannia, for the time to grow a bit, stretch my mind a little bit more and gain a little better insight into myself and the world through which I travel.  May I put it to good use every day.

Your Pathetic Little Box

It’s a place each of us knows to one extent or another.  Maybe you have been there your whole life, always struggling to peek out and hoping to find a moment to break free.  Maybe you have broken free, only to return to its dispiriting, but oddly comforting enclosure.  Or maybe you have freed yourself from it and only look back on it as a constant reminder of where you will never stay.

That place?  The place I’m thinking of is that box of expectations people try to place you in and keep you in.  You know the box I mean.  The one where your boss expects you to play the dutiful toadie, when deep-down you know you have ideas that can make a difference.  The box that your parents tucked you into when they told you that girls don’t play tough sports or get sweaty.  The box that your high school English teacher steered you into (maybe with only the best of intentions) to pursue a career in some safe, generic career that you wake up to each day, staring at the ceiling and thinking, “My God… do I really have to go in there today?”

Your all too comfortable, but still pathetic, little box

To one extent or another, most people will spend some amount of time in their lives in that box.  It’s pretty hard not to.  Very few people are completely comfortable with living 100% outside of the expectations of other people – it’s pretty much human nature.  Sure, it may be on small things such as not wearing your Marilyn Manson “Antichrist Superstar” t-shirt to Christmas dinner because, as much as you love the alter-ego of super-nerd Brian Warner, it makes Mom horribly uncomfortable and she just wants to have a nice holiday.  But that is a small concession for the greater good of family unity.

What I’m thinking of are the greater concessions… the ones that nag and claw at your conscience… the ones that, when you give into them, you feel beaten, broken, used or just flat-out fake.  The concessions to the views of others when, even if those expectations come from a good place, you personally know they are not right for you… and you still go along with them.

I hate that box… and as I sit here typing this post and looking back on all of the “you’s” I just used… that could just as easily be replaced with “I” in many of those spots.  I do it – I know I do it… but I don’t like it.

So that’s where my little epiphany came from.  It’s not exactly Jonas Salk and the polio vaccine, but this one is mine and I think it might be handy, so take it down a few notches, people.

I am going to find a cardboard box and slap my name on it with a Sharpie and then write all over it.  What will I be writing?  All of the things that other’s seek to impose upon me as their expectations that, truth be told, I either just don’t believe in or just don’t want.  The purpose of this box is twofold: (1) I want to get out in a tangible medium all of those errant expectations and (2) I find I need physical/visual reminders of things I am trying to stay mindful of.  I tend to fall a little too easily into the trap of having a good idea and maybe even writing it down, but not having it in a place of seeing it all the time to keep me on track so it becomes habit.

The 2nd step after getting the box all ready is one that can vary by person, but it’s too display the box in the most prominent place you use when you need a moment to break out of expectations.  For someone aspiring to be a writer instead of an accountant, maybe the box is at home next to the spot where she writes her short stories.  For me, it’s my home gym because I am such a firm believer in transformation of yourself in mind and spirit through pushing your body.  I want to see it to remind me all the time of the things I am looking to work past and leave very much in the dust.  Hell, I may even give that stupid box a swift kick across the room every time I set a PR.

I am doing all this because with each passing year, I have a restlessness that only increases about tolerating that damn box and I want that box nearby so I never, ever forget.  Does this all mean I am somehow getting braver? Hmm.  Not too sure… but I am definitely getting more defiant about who I am and what I want to be and the notion of not being authentic to how I truly see myself is just becoming more and more unacceptable.  I can’t be fake about who I am and I can’t just let it slide when someone is looking to force me into being something I’m not.

So I will create my box and I will set it where I will always see it.  This may work great.  This may be hokey as hell… but then again, anyone else finding this hokey is trying to put me back in that damn box… so I just don’t care anyway.

On The Shelf, None Too Happy… But Possibly Maturing

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What you see above is the reason for the title of this post… because I will be up on the shelf for the next few weeks as I finally decided to do the smart/mature/wussy thing and take a little time off from lifting.  Why oh why am I doing such a thing?  Above are the results from my MRI this morning on my neck.  On the left are some of the scans from the profile for my neck and above is the cross-section view.  The two I have my fingers on are shots of the area around my C5 and C6 vertebrae.  It seems I have a delightful double-whammy of bone spurs on my C6 vertebrae (which, oddly enough are not really causing my current issue) and a slight bulge with the disc between C5 and C6 that is narrowing the nerve canal on the left-hand side.

And what does all of that get you… err… me?  Pain, tingling on my left forearm and hand and a loss of strength in my left arm.  Woo-freakin-hoo.

But you know something?  2 things occur to me:

  1. In the grand scheme of things, this is not the end of the world and totally pales in comparison to the kinds of health battles I’ve seen several people close to me have to endure.  I think of those fighting leukemia and getting stem cell transplants and going through seemingly endless liver surgeries.  Me?  My neck has some pain and with steroids, physical therapy, rest and a dose of smarts, I will be just fine.
  2. On the smarts notion… I am a little surprised I am exercising them.  Seriously.  I tend to get irrationally stubborn, at times, with pushing myself through situations where I really shouldn’t.  Somehow, I didn’t do that this time and I’m shutting down my lifting for all of this week and all of next.  I hate it, but I’m doing it.

Maybe this will mean more consistent blogging for a chunk of time… and wouldn’t you, oh favored reader of mine, be just so lucky for that?  Umm.. right?  Maybe?  Ok, take a few to think it over.  The blog will still be here when you get back.  Don’t forget me… I love you.  Umm.. too desperate?  That was too desperate, right?  Damn it…

 

Changes in Latitudes

Ahh.  Vacation day.  I’ve spent a chunk of the past week in Bradenton, Florida for work and decided to take today as a vacation day with a flight back home tomorrow… but not before going to check out this spot:

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If there is one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that Jim Morrison (kind of) had it right when he sang, “There’s only four ways to get unraveled, One is to sleep and the other is travel.”

So I got some good rest last night and I’ve noticed that despite being slammed busy the last few days, I feel a lot more relaxed than I have in several weeks.  Why is that?  Well, in my case I find that whenever I get a chance to travel, I do tend to unravel.  I’ve noticed that if I take a week of vacation and spend it at home (I refuse to use the term “staycation”… that just makes me nuts), I never truly relax.  I think just being around the house and being in the same surroundings keeps me in the same state of mind.  And that state of mind may very well be too stressed for my own good (since I tend to be wired a little that way).

To that end, I think environment can have a very big impact on your overall mental outlook and it’s something I’ve written about before on this blog (notably here).  Your work environment from a physical standpoint, I believe, certainly affects your mind.  Or perhaps the space where you engage in your own personal exercise routine.  There is a huge difference between training in a gym full of mirror-gazing punks in overly tight tank tops as opposed to being in a private garage gym with heavy metal blaring, a bunch of people pushing each other to do better and not one iota of pretentiousness to be found.  You tell me where you think you will get better results.

My advice is to get out of your typical space and see something different… be somewhere different… and in the end?  You are going to feel something different.  Heck, you might even relax a tad bit.  The stay-at-home vacation or the stay-at-home weekend can be fine, but if you are truly in a rut or just feeling like a densely packed ball of stress and anguish… don’t you think you need to do some different?  I know I do.

And in keeping with the musical theme that seems to be developing in this post, Mr. Buffet said it so very, very well… changes in latitude, changes in attitude.


The Soothing Balm of Nostaliga

Yesterday (and today too, quite frankly) was a completely beautiful day here in the Nutmeg State with bright sunshine, a little blustery and it looks like it is only going to get nicer.  These are the days that, when I was younger, I would look forward taking a trip to one of my favorite places in the world: The Eagle’s Nest.  The Eagle’s Nest was a small little store nestled in Old Avon Village that could only fit about 5 or 6 people inside at any given time and they sold coins and sports cards.  A quick run through Google seems to suggest it still exists in some form or another in Avon, but I know it’s not in the same little building it once occupied as they’ve completely redone that quaint shopping area.

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Ahh, but those Saturdays!  I would take whatever amount of allowance money I had cobbled together and head over with my brother, Jason, and some of our friends.  Those were the days of the rock hard chewing gum that was dusted with enough powdered sugar to inevitably make you choke when you tried chewing more than 2 pieces at one time… which, of course, we always did.  Dumb crap like that is half the fun of being a kid.

Sometime during college is when I really got away from baseball cards and all of that kind of stuff.  I ended up selling several pretty valuable cards (Jordan rookie card from Fleer, anyone?) because I wanted to have a little extra pocket money and I sort of thought of myself as mostly being beyond all that stuff from when I was a kid.  I did, however, keep a lot of the baseball cards I had bought over time.

Yesterday I decided to go to the local hobby store and snap up some baseball cards for myself.  I’m not sure if was a desire to recapture a bit of that feeling of days gone by that will never return again, but off I went anyway.

The first thing I noticed about the entire process is how much different it is in a few key ways.  First, I think a lot of card shops end up catering more to things like the various battle card games out there (like Magic: The Gathering, Yu-Gi-Oh, Pokemon, etc.).  In fact, the place I went yesterday (Omni Cards & Comics) mostly had people interested in getting together for some kind of gaming tournament whereas I just needed my baseball fix.

A second difference (and something that began when I was still collecting) was how much more expensive all of this has become.  The box you see in the photo is the 2010 set from Bowman (owned by Topps, the most venerable of all card companies) was $85 for a box of 24 packs of 10 cards.  The crazy thing is the larger box goes for $159.  Why so expensive?  Because a lot of work has been put into creating a more exclusive market for cards.  There are special inserts that show up in maybe 1 in every 1,000 packs and card with actual autographs and even cards that have a swatch of a game worn jersey in them.

All of this is designed to make the cards purposefully a lot more valuable.  I guess this is kind of cool in one sense, but it’s really something that’s meant to make all fo this more investment focused and less on just having the cards to have them, trade them, collect them and so on.

In the end… did my experiment work?  Did I recapture a few moments of youth passed?  Actually, I think I did in some way… but in many ways, I think I just rediscovered something I always liked anyway.  It became less about wishing I was back in a different time in my life and just enjoying the fact that even after all these years, I still like my baseball cards.  Feels good to revel in that nerdom all over again.

The lesson in all of this is that joy can be a fairly simple thing and should never be something that you let pass you by because that which brings the joy is “for kids” or doesn’t fit with some externally driven notion of what is OK to do or enjoy.  So, you like role-playing games?  Do it.  Enjoy the nerdery of a sci-fi convention?  Soak it up, young Jedi.  Maybe enjoy collecting a card or two?  Game on.  Don’t let the outside distractions of what other people tell you is OK take away from that which you enjoy, especially if it’s the kind of thing that someone will say, “Isn’t that just for kids?”

Because you know what?  Kids are good at finding joy.  Maybe we should be paying attention to that a little more often.

 

Cutting Against Your Own Grain

The company for which I work has a shutdown period that occurs between Christmas and New Year’s every year.  Truth be told, it’s a pretty darn nice benefit, especially given the fact that it’s a time of where I would be looking to take that time off regardless.  I have spent that time doing a variety of activities, depending on the year.  Sometimes I will chuck in a week of vacation right before it starts and I will end up being out of the office like 17 straight days.  Needless to say… it was freakin’ awesome.

This past year I decided I wanted to get myself going on a blog that I would consistently update and I wanted it to have a much more professional look and feel.  As I was reading something from the absolutely sublime Pamela Slim, I saw her mention an offer from this guy named Johnny B. Truant to set up a WordPress blog for you at a pretty reasonable cost.  Intrigued, I meandered on over to his site and was immediately hooked by his tag line of “The Internet made awesome.”  Plus he dropped a lot of amusing f-bombs in his posts that made me chuckle.  Have I mentioned before I often have the emotional maturity of an 11 year old?  Hmm.  Maybe that’s why youth baseball coaching appeals to me… I can relate.

Fast forward to today (a whole 4 and a half months) and I was perusing the blogs I enjoy.  I came across a post from Johnny entitled “Revolution and Evolution (part 1)“.  Seems the good Mr. Johnny has had a rough go of things over the last few years and despite never having ink in his entire life, he is going to get tattoos on both his arms.  He writes in that post:

I want a tattoo because I’ve encountered some adversity over the past few years and have fought successfully through it. That adversity left scars — very cool, very large scars with a story behind them. Only, they’re scars you can’t see. I kind of want the tattoos because I want people to be able to see those scars — and to be able to see them myself, so I’ll always remember what I’ve learned.

David Beckham

That really struck me.  See, I’m not exactly a wild child.  I’m basically a classic middle child – a bit of an overachiever, looking to please everyone and trying really, really hard to be nice all the time.  While I am definitely a complete goofball, I am also a little bit conservative in the sense I am not out there bungee jumping, wrestling bonobos or even getting tattoos.  Hell, I had an earring in college for 24 hours (almost to the exact minute) and then ditched it because I just didn’t think it was me.  I had it long enough to call my Mom and freak her out (which was very satisfying in its own right… sorry Mom!).

But I ain’t the guy that is living a super wild life in most sense of the word… and yet… I totally understand where Johnny is coming from and I have become more and more intrigued with the idea of getting a tattoo.  Seriously.

“Why, oh, WHY???” you may ask (at least almost everyone in my family would ask).  Good question.

I’ve never been opposed to the idea of getting a tattoo.  My problem has always been that if I am going to get something placed on my body for the rest of my damn life, it sure as hell better be something that speaks to core of who I am as a human being and who I aspire to be.  Anything less is absolutely unacceptable and I would never get a tattoo unless that firm requirement was met with a little room to spare.

Ahh, but I haven’t answered the paramount question of “Why?”  Like Johnny, I’ve had a few rough patches over the last few years and I have come through (well, mostly come through) on the other side a little nicked up and rough around the edges, but unbowed and I think I’m a better man because of all of it.  Plus, I am the sort of person who believes that in order to have a successful and fulfilling life, it’s important to have a set of principles on which to ground yourself.  I think that’s a lot of what helped me through some of my rougher times – that foundation of knowing who I was and who I wanted to be.

I want to be the guy who treats people the way I want to be treated… even if that other person is a douchebag.  I want to live with honor.  I want to live with integrity.  I want to live with determination.  I want to never be afraid to risk getting my heart broken because if I hold back, I’ll never get the chance at experiencing great love.  I want to live in balance (this one is hard for me).  I want to never forget how much of this life is a gift and I should never, ever, EVER take that for granted… because I’ve seen how life can jump up and kick some amazing people in the teeth without any provocation or sense of it being deserved.  Anyone can suffer that fate… so embrace the good and the opportunities you see now.

So I think I would get one to mark what I feel represents who I am and where I belong in this world.  I am slowly settled on a design in my head which I plan on keeping to myself.  I also think that if I end up going through with all of this, I would place it in a fairly discrete spot because I would be getting it as a reminder for myself and no one else.

Is any of this in character for me?  I want to say no and that’s why I entitled this post what I did… but as I sit and ponder, maybe it’s not that crazy and not all that strange.  Sometimes you have to take that big risk to get that big reward.  Time to get my butt up off the sidelines and into the game.  God help me.

Embrace the Team

Throughout my life, I’ve been on a wide variety of teams.  As a kid, they pretty much involved sports of one kind or another, from a formal Little League team to whatever teams we would cobble together to play pick-up football, baseball, Wiffleball, street hockey, basketball or the always classic “war” (which involves 10 year old boys running around with pretend guns blasting the bejeezus outta each other).

I’ve always loved the team environment, which is a bit interesting because I am an introvert at heart.  Some people recharge their batteries hanging out with big groups of people whereas I need some quiet time by myself to decompress properly.

But still, the dynamics of the team (especially one that works well together) has always resonated with me in a deeply satisfying way.  These days I end up on teams in the workplace to a degree, but I maintain most of my outlet for teaming in a competitive sports venue with soccer.  I play on two teams, one of which as just a player and the other as the captain (see our handsomeness from a few season ago here):

Best looking team around

Admittedly being the captain is sometimes akin to being a glorified secretary and babysitter (yeah… that’s right… babysitter… stuns me to think the extent to which I have to shoo along people in their late 20’s and up to get them to the damn games), but I do love it.

So why all this team talk?

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to opening up my home gym to anyone else who wants to come and train.  It’s been a bit of an interest process of contemplation for a lot of reasons.

  1. Who would I open it up to?  Friends?  Complete strangers, but people who are as committed to training as I am?
  2. How would it work?  This is at my house, so what if I was unable to train one day.  What would the other people end up doing if they came to rely on my gym as their sole training spot?
  3. What happens if it’s not a good fit and I get people who are not nearly as focused as I am or are just complete douchebags?
Legendary bodybuilding training partners, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Franco Columbu

In the end, I can’t help but think what I am missing out on by training solo.  Don’t get me wrong – I have seen a helluvalot more benefits to training at home versus a commercial gym.  I can do any lift I want, play any music I want, be as loud as I want and do so without any… umm… “distractions” (that would be the fairer sex whom I love to pieces, but can completely throw any rational guy out of his rhythm in the gym… that’s just science.  But I would definitely have women as training partners – no doubt).

And getting beyond just thinking about the team as a means to measurable results, I think there is just a ton to be said for the relationships forged as part of a group striving for a common (or at least very similar) goal and being there to push your teammates along the way.  I miss that camaraderie to a big extent, so I might be looking for a few good men and women to join in the quest to do a little better, be a little stronger, push a little harder and go a little farther than any of us thought possible.  Isn’t that one of the great joys in life anyway

So who’s with me?

Explain, But Don’t Excuse

I was hanging out with a very good friend of mine not too long ago and we were chatting about a mutual friend who has recently been through some rough patches. The problem is that while they are going through these patches, their behavior towards others (certainly me) has not exactly been ideal.

As my friend and I chatted, I gave my personal view on the why’s and whatnot’s of that other friend’s situation. But the more I did that, the more the friend I was hanging out with seemed to get agitated with me and eventually said, “You really shouldn’t make excuses for what they’re doing.”

My response was something I’ve said to myself many times, but I’m not sure I’ve often said it to anyone else… “I may explain, but I don’t excuse.”

I tend to be a rather empathetic sort of soul. I can see and feel what others are going through somewhat well and I try to be mindful of that when viewing someone else’s actions… but to be clear, if you’re just being a jackass, there’s really nothing acceptable about that. I will try to show some extra patience or give you space or seek to listen to your woes, but the point at which your ire inexplicably turns on me is when my explaining stops flat out. Otherwise, you’re just a doormat.

So remember to try and see through the eyes of another, especially during their troubled times. They will return the favor for you if they are a real friend. And if they don’t? Well, at least your Christmas card list got a little shorter.

Just don’t make excuses for them because while we all faces life’s myriad of challenges, we always, always, ALWAYS control how we respond to them.

I just happen to respond to them with overwhelming amounts of personal awesome, so don’t be hatin’.