Both my brains
During a run this week my brain was doing its utmost to derail me. For the record, not all my brain, I have a pretty good relationship with most of it, just that part.
“I thought we were eating healthy this week?”
“Shut it, these are the spicy ones we like. We’re in a Doritos state of mind.”
That part of my brain had decided doing the hard things was pointless. It was looking for a day off. To lull me onto a soft pillow of sensibility, followed by a right hook of regret and self loathing.
We’ve all been there. The gym kit next to the bed, the healthy shopping list, the sales calls to make. Best intentions, one by one removed from the to-do list by the wretched voice, with other plans.
“It’s like 100º out here buddy, don’t even start me on what the heat index must be.”
“You’ve got a bad knee remember?”
“Walking burns calories too dummy.”
“Oooh, did you just feel pain in your ankle?”
One by one they came. Reasons why I should stop running and start to walk. Why I should think twice before going out when it’s hot, and why doing less was better than doing more.
I recognized the strategy. Devious bastard. A war of attrition, not daring to tell me outright to give up, just chipping away piece by piece. A sprinkle of doubt here, a pinch there.
How did I get to the place where my brain was trying to talk me out of something that my brain had decided it wanted?
The truth is I’d left the preparation door ajar and failure was looking for an in. It was the first run for two weeks, after a hard gym session, nearing noon in August, and I’m running alongside a main road in Florida.
These factors weren’t insurmountable though. Not in the slightest.
As fortune would have it, some distance down the road, fellow runners approached. Now the voice changed, the urge to stop gone, the mocking nowhere to be found. Now it’s all…
“Hey, they look like they’re going at a good lick, straighten up your head, let’s lift the pace.”
“Ok, if you just put 20 seconds in here and get behind them they’ll never know we’re struggling.”
“Seriously! Calm the breathing, let’s get some rhythm going here.”
The runners came and went. Brief eye contact and quick nod of the head, the runners acknowledgement of being in it together and now speeding away at (a combined) 14 mph.
The run ended shortly after that. The physical body awash with sweat, drenched clothing peeled away. The brains though—they were quiet.
There was a faint murmur of something in there. I’m pretty sure it was the part of the brain I get along with, singing a lullaby to the monster that gets out from time to time.
The monster who’ll tag along next time. No doubt.
