Slowly Is the Fastest Way To Get Where You Want To Be
How forcing myself to run slower gave me perspective on rushing through life.
My wife always judged the way I ran. Almost every time we went to the gym together, she would look at me panting on a treadmill and say, “It’s as if you don’t love yourself. You’re torturing yourself.” Then she’d get into a hot tub, letting out a relaxing sigh, followed by a meditative swim in the Olympic-sized pool. She seemed so relaxed, in control, and different from the neurotic-never-giving-up me. I watched her through the glass windows of the gym that revealed the pool as I pushed myself through chest pain, leg pain — and generally, pain — feeling like my lungs were about to explode, wanting to throw in the towel, but telling myself instead to “shut up and keep going.”
At first, I didn’t understand what she meant by that word — torture. To me, it seemed obvious to have a hard time working out. That’s what working out is, isn’t it? It’s all about making your best. Pushing yourself past the pain and exhaustion, eventually hitting the goal (in my case, of running 10K per day), and building a better body. To me, working out was supposed to be torture. If it wasn’t, it felt like a cop-out. The phrase “love yourself” and the concept of working out seemed complete opposites.
