Liar liar pants on fire

I reposted this image on Facebook this morning...I unfortunately don't know the original source so I can't credit it, but I think it's both fabulous and potentially problematic. Discuss!

Well, okay, it's a blog, so I'll explain both sides as I see them, all by myself. ;)

The obvious interpretation of this "motivational poster" is that while training, most of us have a hard time getting ourselves past the point where things are easy or moderately hard. I've listened to countless clients talk about this threshold where they have to find some reason, gimmick, or mantra to get them over to the place where the most difficult (and often rewarding) work can happen. They often cite how helpful it is to have committed to doing X number of miles that day, working out with a partner, or having a trainer there encouraging them as ways to aid and abet that transition. But why is it so hard to do hard work? Where does that little voice come from? And is it always safe not to heed it? In other words, is that little voice in your head sometimes not a liar, and if so, how the heck can you tell the difference?! My theory on where the voice comes from is kind of a cheat, because I think there's actually TWO little voices in most of us, and they come from different places. One is rooted in past experience, patterns, and emotion, and the other is rooted in present sensations and gut instincts.

The first voice is the one that the photo above is calling out...it speaks about fear, insecurity, and often a desire to appear strong to others (and therefore not run until you're gasping like a fish). This voice is a self-fulfilling prophecy because heeding it too often can help reinforce an image of yourself that "can't" do certain things or cross certain barriers. I decided long ago that I just wasn't a runner. I had run before and hadn't liked it, and I wasn't naturally fabulous at running distances longer than a mile. I avoided activities that required running, and would make excuses about it to myself and others, like saying, "I'm all fast-twitch, so I hate cardio," or "I can get my heart rate up by dancing or doing martial arts...running is just so boooooring." But the reality was that the little voice in my head was telling me that I shouldn't run because it was hard and I wouldn't be "great" at it right away. Eventually I decided to confront that voice, and gradually built up my stamina so that I can now run more than a mile without stopping, and have committed this year to running 365 miles in 365 days. I figure with that goal, at the end of the year I'll finally have to consider myself (among other things) to be a runner, and I can quietly tell that little voice to stop bothering me.

The second voice, however, the one tied to the moment you're experiencing and what your gut tells you, is not a liar. That voice is giving you real information about the state your body is currently in. Even though I want to prove to myself that I can run, I listen for the signs my body is giving me that say it's time to slow down, like when I start being unable to catch my breath. That means that my heart rate is getting dangerously high (heart problems run in my family) and I need to calm it down a little or risk harming myself. That little voice tells me not to do the last few deadlifts in the set, because it's noticed that I'm not using the right muscles to support myself anymore and I need to take a break and tune in again. I listen to that voice with my clients, too...when they're pushing themselves and start unconsciously start touching their shoulder in between exercises, I know to stop them and find out what's going on, and to persist when they tell me it's no big deal. This voice can keep you from getting seriously injured, and listening to it can give you tremendous faith in your own ability to keep yourself safe!

It can be difficult to tell these voices apart, though, so I'm going to use an example from one of my favorite books, " The Gift of Fear." In this book, Gavin de Becker highlights the difference between worry and fear in many contexts. One of his main points is that worry can cause a woman to walk to and from her car with her keys in her hand "in case" there's someone in the parking lot that wants to cause her harm. That worry (and the actions it leads her to take) can actually cloud her senses and make her slow to react when a real threat materializes. Fear, he explains, is an adrenaline reaction to a dangerous situation, a compelling "Run! Now!" message that we want to obey without even fully thinking it through. Heeding that voice can save your life, whereas giving too much headroom to the "worry" voice can delay action or, even worse, cause you to put a real threat into the category where you have to think about it before you act on it. So say you're in a yoga class and the teacher is inviting you to deepen your backbend a little bit more. You might hear a voice that says, "Danger." That's it...just, "danger." Not "I dunno...this feels pretty hard already...I think I'll just hang out here." But a clear signal, noninflected by emotion, that tells you to stop. That voice is the one tied to the moment (and the one that should be heeded) while the other is basically propaganda from your ego. Even more dangerous is when the other voice says, "Oh come on, you were able to do this pose really well last class, I'm sure you're fine," and you push through and herniate your lower back. If a thought is coming through clearly and strongly, listen. If it's tied to anger, frustration, or sounds condemning in any way, you can hear it and then let it go. It's worth looking at where those thoughts come from (the root causes, I mean) but not in the moment.

Don't let the bastards get ya down. ;)