Last night, Zdenek and I went to the gym for a $400 weight lifting session. At least, that's what I estimate those 40 minutes of bench presses, bicep curls, and planks cost us. We pay about $100 each per month for our local gym memberships, and I'm pretty sure we haven't been there in at least two months. Cycling and running are infinitely superior to any class or activity that can be found within the confines of four walls, and I've been happy to keep some upper body strength by doing regular push-ups and core exercises at home. But last night, we decided to pump some iron in the formal sense of the word. I didn't feel horribly weak going into it, but I surprised both Zdenek and myself by cranking out several extra reps on the bench press without much effort. I may have paid a high price for it, but, 24 hours later, I'm still pleased about my effort and the outcome.
Whether I'm trying to maintain a strong pace for the last few miles of a run, or wheezing and burning up a long climb on my little red Giant, I feel at my best when I'm controlling the effort and, in turn, dictating the outcome. Certainly it explains why I was so upset by a dream to which I awoke this morning: I was somewhere in the mountains, enjoying the scenery and wildlife, when I saw two foxes in the distance. As one of them came closer to me and I prepared my camera to take a photo, I suddenly realized that this was no fox at all, but rather a ferocious mountain lion looking for its next meal. From out of nowhere, a hunter fired a shot, at which point I awoke. I wasn't frightened by this dream as much as I was perturbed. I couldn't understand why my brain would do something like that to me. My brain and I had agreed that there was a beautiful fox to admire, and then, without warning, my brain decided to change course on me. I didn't get it. Aren't my brain and me playing for the same team? It was frustrating and annoying to be hijacked in this way.
Indeed, I feel like there are a few things going on in my life at present that, however frustrating or suboptimal, are beyond my control. Perhaps that's why, when I had the opportunity on this morning's ride, I simply did my own thing. For a couple of miles I rode beside Zdenek, and then soon I was out in front. It helps knowing that Zdenek will never have trouble staying on my wheel (the same cannot be said of the inverse scenario), but still, I didn't look back. I didn't want to be paced. I wanted to set my own pace.
Whether I'm trying to maintain a strong pace for the last few miles of a run, or wheezing and burning up a long climb on my little red Giant, I feel at my best when I'm controlling the effort and, in turn, dictating the outcome. Certainly it explains why I was so upset by a dream to which I awoke this morning: I was somewhere in the mountains, enjoying the scenery and wildlife, when I saw two foxes in the distance. As one of them came closer to me and I prepared my camera to take a photo, I suddenly realized that this was no fox at all, but rather a ferocious mountain lion looking for its next meal. From out of nowhere, a hunter fired a shot, at which point I awoke. I wasn't frightened by this dream as much as I was perturbed. I couldn't understand why my brain would do something like that to me. My brain and I had agreed that there was a beautiful fox to admire, and then, without warning, my brain decided to change course on me. I didn't get it. Aren't my brain and me playing for the same team? It was frustrating and annoying to be hijacked in this way.
Indeed, I feel like there are a few things going on in my life at present that, however frustrating or suboptimal, are beyond my control. Perhaps that's why, when I had the opportunity on this morning's ride, I simply did my own thing. For a couple of miles I rode beside Zdenek, and then soon I was out in front. It helps knowing that Zdenek will never have trouble staying on my wheel (the same cannot be said of the inverse scenario), but still, I didn't look back. I didn't want to be paced. I wanted to set my own pace.
I can accept (or at least I think I can accept) that there are many instances in which I need to cede control, and I know that my directions and outcomes may often be hijacked. No matter how hard I will it, there are some things that I simply can't dictate: the actions of those around me; the limits to my own abilities; the basic laws of nature. I know that these things are bigger than me, and that the outcome is certain when it's Jodi vs. them. Perhaps it's because of these facts that I relish those times that I can be in the driver's seat.
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