The other day, which would be Sunday, Corey and I stood there staring at each other as sweat poured down our faces. The sun was hot, the weight was heavy, and my heart was racing. My lungs were on fire and I could have stopped right there. We stood there laughing at ourselves because we were the only two other there, busting our asses. And in that few moments of wiping away dirty sweat from my face, I realized that these type of moments define who we are.
Sounds silly. It sounds like I’m making myself a better person because I work out. No, that’s absolutely not what I mean. We all have things we love to do, and we love to share and talk about them. Mine happens to be torturing myself. Others: studying, learning, working, creating, speaking, teaching..etc. I like to push, shove, torture, pull, jump, run, swim, etc. I love physical pain. I love sweating and bleeding and feeling mentally and physically spent, exhausted and abused. I love pushing past my doubt, my fears, my worries, my anger. It’s my outlet. I recreate myself in these times. People have many ways of defining themselves, this is mine. This sweet spot of blood, sweat and tears is my own. Nothing, absolutely nothing can compare to flipping a 450lb tire and feeling your muscles ache, your legs twinge, your back flex, and your mind telling you every reason to stop, but you don’t. You know, deep in your heart that this will bring you from point A to point B. Even though it takes so long and consistent hard work, these actions make you better by breaking down your negativity and your doubt and building new bridges over them.
These moments don’t always happen, but when they do, it teaches me over and over, what kind of person I am.
Tomorrows Spartan Race is just the beginning.