March 6, 2023
Oh, how we make plans…and then the universe laughs at our plans.
Last week I had a good week at the gym, in the sense that I enjoyed my workouts and can tell that I’m starting to get stronger. As recently as last week I reminded myself that I am still in discovery mode (meaning that I am still learning what works and doesn’t work, in terms of an exercise routine) and not optimization mode (meaning that I’m not trying to perfect said routine). And yet, exiting last week I unconsciously started assuming that I had found the workout routine that worked, and that I just needed to repeat it week after week until I got into shape like I want.
And then. I didn’t feel particularly well by the end of last week. I was lethargic all weekend. I struggled with heartburn the last few days, which is usually a sign that something is wrong with my diet. And heartburn makes me feel anxious and jittery, which is…not how I want to be spending this time off (if I wanted to be anxious and jittery, I would go back to work and at least be earning a salary!).
Originally I assumed that I had just pushed a little too hard last week, and that by Monday (today) I’d be ready to hit the gym hard again. This morning I felt a little better, but still not great. I decided to go back to the yoga class from three weeks ago. That class served as a bitter reminder just how inflexible I am, and that I might even be less flexible than I was three weeks ago. Put differently, my workouts might be making me stronger, but they might also be putting me on a path to inflexibility and therefore injury.
I intended to lift weights today, but decided against. I spent extra time in the sauna, where I used the heat facilitate stretching. A sad truth: I’ve never been able to cross my legs, or at least not not properly. So while in the sauna I sat cross-legged (or as close to cross-legged as I could) for ten minutes. The pain was agonizing. Fortunately I was alone, because I was practically yelling out in pain as my muscles released tension built up over decades.
Did I make the right decision to skip the lifting session? Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe I should have done a light workout. Maybe I should have pushed through. Or maybe I did the right thing.
I tell this story because it reminds me that I am still learning to pay attention to my body. We’ve talked about how you and I share a temptation to overthink, and ignore our emotions and spiritual needs. I should add bodies to that list. Our bodies are constantly giving us feedback and information. I am starting to appreciate that our bodies, when we pay attention to them, can illuminate wisdom that we would otherwise overlook. And yet recently, despite my best efforts, I have fallen prey to focusing too much on my rational thoughts, and not enough on my body. My rational mind convinced me that I had found my workout routine. It glossed over the fact that I hadn’t actually made a conscious choice that this was my routine. It hid the fact that I was rushing to make a routine because experimentation is cognitively and energetically expensive (having a routine is a much, much easier mental load). And of course it conveniently forgot that I was already inflexible, and that an exercise routing devoid of stretching is likely to lead to injury; my rational mind overlooked my inflexibility precisely because it knows how painful it will be to overcome.
But the inflexibility serves as a stark reminder that stretching is precisely where I need to be focused. And the heartburn from this weekend serves as a reminder that I need to revisit my diet: I haven’t been eating particularly poorly, but I decided to focus on exercise first, with the understanding that I would later refine my diet. This weekend’s heartburn merely speeds up the timeline with regards to diet. My point is that our difficulties sometimes highlight where we need to focus and overcome the temptation to neglect. And sometimes our bodies highlight those difficulties much more effectively than our rational minds.
I’ll admit: today was hard. As your dad, I try to be strong, to know what I’m doing, and to guide you thoughtfully. I try to do that even in these writings. Today, however, I find myself exposing you to my struggle, in the hopes that you can learn from my mistakes, but also in the hopes that if you ever find yourself lost, maybe my struggles will help you navigate your own.
I love you,
Dad
Letters to Leland 