45 minutes

I listened to Episode 439 of the Tim Ferriss Show today while picking up a Facebook Marketplace purchase. Tim Ferriss has been my rock through the uncertainties of the lockdown. His massively important interviews have reminded me of the necessity to respond instead of emotionally react in challenging situations. This episode featured excerpts from his bestselling book I’ve yet to read, Tools of Titans, now available on audible.

The excerpt featured was Derek Sivers’ profile. Sivers founded CDBaby and Hostbaby and is a successful music producer, among other things. But the thing that struck me was his story about 45 minutes.

He likes to bike and this one trail near his home was the go-to spot. As American capitalism teaches, when he hit the trail he went max effort. He pedaled fast, was red in the face, and finished, exhausted, in about 43 minutes. After months of this practice, he began dreading the trail because it meant pain and misery.

But one day he decided to relax, to pedal slow and enjoy the view. He noticed trees and vistas he never saw before. The ride was easy and fun, and he felt energized the entire time. He rediscovered his love for biking, his enthusiasm for the trail. As he finished, he looked down at his watch: 45 minutes.

All of that extra effort, exhaustion, and misery for a two minute faster ride.

So many hard lessons came flooding back to me. I’ve been there before and I’ve done that before. I love running but recently it’s felt like a chore. It’s been difficult to stay motivated and tough to finish a run without extended stops along the way. But after hearing Sivers’ story, I put the theory to test.

I went out for a run and said I would run for an hour without looking at my pace. I ran for exactly an hour. 8.07 miles. 7:26 mile/minute pace, only 6 seconds slower than when I’ve been running all-out and stopping every mile and a half.

Sometimes, going slow is going fast. Sometimes fast is overrated and enjoying the run is more important than the pace.

This time I won’t forget. 45 minutes. Slow. Down. Thanks, Sivers.

Running Schedule

Last month I chose to train for a marathon. Today I made a running schedule for the next 4 weeks and I’ve made a vow to stick to it.

The schedule is simple: run three days in a row, take a day off, repeat. I’ll also be lifting and doing yoga, but the running part will be most of my energy expenditure.

I’ve tried committing to schedules before and it never really works. So have you. This time I decided to make a vow to myself, a deep and intentional promise that I will not break. Exceptions are not welcome.

I want to finally become a man of my word. I want to set out on a mission and complete it, not just design it. Consistency and grit will be my guiding stars. I’m going to treat this like I treated my Division 1 athletic career – I ran whether I felt like it or not.

I’m getting back on the horse. This running schedule will become second nature, and soon I’ll be the runner I always dreamed I could be.

Or I’ll fail. In that case, I’ll get back up and keep going.

The quarantine classroom

Here’s the understatement of the year: quarantine has changed a lot. It’s kept most of us at home, sparing essential trips, walks around the block, and, for the brave, runs across the township. For many, the greatest change has been the quarantine classroom.

I am the brave, and I just finished my first ever 30 mile week. The transition from sprinter to distance runner has been smooth so far. I enjoy it. My sanity needs the fresh air and open space.

Most collegiate distance runners I know don’t listen to music while running. I never cared for it, either. But since I’m not driving, my podcast consumption has plummeted. When I’m not feeding my psyche with positivity and new perspectives I tend to get stuck.

So now I run and listen to podcasts or audiobooks. Right now I’m listening to the great Zig Ziglar’s Secrets to Closing the Sale. Zig turns a narrow Douglass Township road into an open classroom discussion. His stories teach me more than most of my classes, and his wisdom makes me look differently at the people I run past.

The world can be your quarantine classroom if you want it to be. If you want it to be. If you want it to be…

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The second half

Every run has a second half. Today, I set out to run for 9 miles (for some reason I decided to train for a marathon).

I felt pretty horrible at minute 25. I took a moment to walk and collect myself. Then I started up again, but I told myself I wouldn’t take the short way home. I made a commitment to finish the loop I planned, or at least do as much as physically possible.

As much as physically possible.

The second half of the run (minute 26-64) was the best I’ve felt running in a while. I was cooking. I was coasting. People talk about catching a second wind. I’ve caught it before and I caught it today. I finished the run strong, averaging about a 7:15 mile for almost 9 miles.

The second half was better than the first.

A lot of people think they’re ready to call it quits, ready to give up. But life is long (and, on average, much longer if you take care of yourself). If you’re 50 years old, that’s FIFTY, you just starting the second half. If the first half sucked, things can still turn around if you want them to.

Now, imagine if you’re 22 and about to graduate college. Think about how much life you have left to live. You’re probably not close to halfway, so make the second half count.

If you want it to count.