There’s a building being, well, built next to my office at work. On the skeletal frame, there are these staircases that lead to open air below. Turns out they are part of these elevators that ring the frame allowing workers to put up the facade of the building. But as someone afraid of heights and afraid of my brain, the thought of a stairway to suspended in the air terrifies me.
Operation #allin continues. Missed my first workout yesterday as I’ve not been sleeping much lately and I had a concert to go to last night. Excuses, excuses. I don’t know if it was the missed workout or the lack of sleep or the bruxism or what but I was in a pretty foul mood last night. But aside from that, things have been going really well. Nothing to complain about 1. And then there is the fact that I am letting myself be… myself. I don’t do well with moderation (I have a bit of an addictive personality). It is sometimes difficult to differentiate from the things I enjoy doing and the things I am addicted to (which is reason #2 that I don’t do drugs).
Joanna has told me multiple times that no matter how I try to play it off, I’m intense (about triathlons). And that my trying to seem not intense was a coping mechanism. And I suppose it’s true to some extent; I’m so scared that if I dedicate myself to something, I’ll fail miserably and other people will judge me for that failure2. But I also don’t want to be defined as a type-A triathlete asshole (see the Slowtwitch Forums to see them in their natural habitat3). I don’t want to even try to go pro (though Steve says I have #talent, I don’t think I have that much talent). So I guess my definition of intense is being dedicated to becoming really good, to putting that talent to work, to wanting to win. And in doing so, I’ve set some pretty lofty goals for myself. And now I feel like I’m standing on one of those staircases. I’m frightened and thrilled and focused.
Winning the race is not the finish line. Happiness is the finish line.