Epiphany on the Treadmill

Fly Me to the Hebrides
(Skinner Layne, April 10, 2007)

When tumult seems to come in threes
And there is no shelter from stormy seas
And my mind just wants to convulse and seize
Fly me then to the Hebrides.

Can I not hide my troubles in Fingal's Cave?
Where in such solitude my soul I save?
And watch that cold-crashing Scottish wave?
Or is such a dream the thought of a knave?

Is there an Alchemist there to give me advice
On how to make diamonds from Chinese rice,
Or how to make men out of household mice,
Or how to turn fire into Arctic ice?

Perhaps instead I would meet Plato there,
To ask him if we are even Aware
Of our estate in this pitiful trifling affair
Called Life, ye unfair tearing despair.

Nay, I shall find Elijah in the crag and rock,
His place of refuge (though quite ad hoc)
Where together we'll hide 'til three o'clock
When our escapist defeat Almighty God should mock.

So when next it strikes me to fall to my knees
Or fly to the ends of Earth to find the keys
I should know there are sorrows worse than these,
And never swim the Atlantic to the Hebrides.

------

The gym is a great place to eliminate frustration and difficulty, and to calm both body and mind. Today was no exception, and a great truth was revealed to me metaphorically as I sweat away my anxiety on the treadmill. I was getting a bit winded, and most certainly ready to cease my arduous run, in spite of being only half way through my pre-determined course. Mustering up the will to continue was becoming difficult with every passing second. I continued (stupidly) to look down at the treadmill interface every few seconds to see how much distance I had left, and I found myself running out of steam. So I said to myself, in true motivational spirit "Don't think about how far you have to go, think about how far you've already come."

Although it didn't make my shortness of breath disappear or the fatigue in my legs fade away, I finished my laps in the allotted time, and I reflected on my little motivational diddy that got me through the run. "How remarkably applicable to life," I thought to myself. Whether it is my perfectionism in my professional life, my family life, my personal life, or whatever else, I recognized that when I reflect on how far I have come, and how far those situations have progressed, I cannot even begin to despair or be unhappy that at the moment there are strains.

The lesson, though, would be lost if the analysis ended there. If I had merely looked back on the miles run and said "ah, look at all all I have accomplished, why should I press on any longer? What I have already done is perfectly fine and sufficient," then I wouldn't have had the great accomplishment of finishing my run, or the reward of that accomplishment. The lesson, thus, is that there is a two-fold necessity in being able to finish the run: recognizing all the distance run so far, and knowing that it can be repeated, and then pushing, pressing, straining through those last few miles to finish. That means more pain, not less. But looking backward lets one know that the distance to go is within reach.