Mindset Matters

  Today was another painful Leg Day at the gym. At one particular moment after a set of squats, I looked up at my own reflection in the mirror after re-racking the bar and noticed a large drop of water running down my cheek. I’m 95% sure it was sweat, but the way it was traveling down my face, it looked like it could have also been a tear. I remember thinking, “That last set was painful enough, maybe I am crying!” So, who knows?!? Maybe it was a tear after all. But either way, it was a reminder to me I must be willing to experience both sweat and tears along life’s journey. Both represent vulnerability. You can’t hide your effort when there are sweat beads forming on your brow. Nor can you hide your pain if there are tears running down your checks. Both represent being uncomfortable. Both represent a form of sacrifice. And in a society that celebrates comfort and the avoidance of pain, both sweat and tears will certainly make you stand out. But both are also necessary to li...

  There is a powerlifting routine I employ from time to time known as “German Volume Training,” or simply, “GVT.” With GVT, the focus of a workout is on only one main lift, but a great deal of both time and effort is spent on that one exercise, hence the “volume” part of the name. For example, on squat day, I would do a thorough warm up, work up to a moderately heavy weight (about 75-80% of my max) and then proceed to do 10 sets at that weight. No one set is overwhelmingly difficult, but the accumulation of the workload is brutal. Because of the sustained focus this routine requires, I typically use hashmarks on a piece of paper to track the sets so I don’t have to remember which number I am on. Just one less thing for my brain to have to do while I struggle to remain engaged. Each hash mark is a little victory as I work my way through the 10 sets. However, when I get to my tenth set, I don’t put down the final hashmark. I always stop at nine. I’ve been omitting the final mar...

  There is a phrase you may have heard, “The more you sweat, the luckier you get.” I think there is often a fine line between luck and persistence. Imagine you are a baseball player and every time you are up to bat, you close your eyes and swing for the fences (granted, this is not a great strategy for success, but humor me for a moment). Even though your eyes are closed, if you have enough at-bats, eventually you will connect. So, what do we call it when you finally hit a home run? Yes, in that one at-bat, it sure seems like luck. But if that was your ten thousandth attempt, it begins to feel more like perseverance and persistence. They say Thomas Edison invented the filament that would make his incandescent light bulb possible with his ten thousandth experiment. Was he lucky? I think we can all look at someone like Edison and agree he had perseverance, not luck. He was committed and persistent, yet there still may have been a certain amount of luck in that final experiment. H...

  We are an impatient bunch. We don’t just want the quick fix; we also want the extra mile without walking out that distance. We want to magically end up at the end of the mile. If we could simply teleport to the finish line, that would make us all much happier. We look for the giant leap but overlook the small steps. We seek out the next Big Thing that will turn our life around rather than make the many minute but intentional course corrections to get us going in the right direction.   Progress in life is often scraped together just inches at a time. It is easy to get caught up looking for the next mile, the next yard or even the next foot. But we must not be fixated on uncovering only the solutions that launch us forward the next mile when the inches we need are all around us.

  A couple of days ago I was in a situation that provided me with some very palpable reminders of the loss of a great friend. There was a particular moment that flooded me with emotion and brought me to a place where time stood still. More than standing still, time felt warped. My friend’s passing felt as present as if it was happening all over again. The feelings and reactions I felt three years ago were almost tangible, just like the desk in front of me on which my fingertips were resting. The emotions of that loss pierced my soul like a double-edged sword. Powerful and raw, they were nearly overwhelming. But only one of those edges was pain. Uncomfortable as the hurt was, the other edge the emotion brought with it was joy. Not joy in the loss, but joy stemming from the gratitude that I had something, someone, so precious to lose. I have a good life, a great life, filled with countless blessings. But like all of us, I can get caught up dwelling on the experience of loss. And ...

  Hope is a great feeling. It can be fun and exciting to experience hope. Hope is necessary for a positive outlook in life. Hope is a great subject for Hallmark cards. But hope alone is not enough. Hope without a plan becomes frustrating. It can actually become a burden. An irritant. Hope without a plan can leave us feeling helpless once the initial emotions have subsided because we have an idea of how things could be with no strategy for making it so. That is where vision must come in. Vision is hope married to a plan. Vision is not just imagining how things could be, but also seeing a potential pathway to that desired future. Hope might be the spark, but vision is what keeps the fire burning. Proverbs says that “hope deferred makes the heart sick.” Without it we become depressed. Our actions seem futile. We may lack meaning and purpose. Yes, hope is important. But hope dies in the absence of a plan. Proverbs also says, “where there is no vision, the people perish.” We nee...

  Sometimes the blank page in front of me can be intimidating. When the motivation is fading and the inspiration is fleeting, just the act of beginning can be a huge hurdle. Where do I even start? That feeling can carry over far beyond a literal blank page or empty canvas. In life, we are often faced with a task, a journey, or even a battle and the path ahead is unclear. There is no clear starting line, no preset course, no road map. Not knowing where to begin is overwhelming. What do you do? When we are facing those moments, it is easy to freeze up or even retreat. Maybe we tell ourselves we are waiting for more information, more clarity or more motivation. We say we are holding out until we can determine the best way forward. But life rarely affords us that privilege – identifying the “best” course of action. Often, we must choose a path, and then fully commit. The success or failure of the decision rests not so much in the particular road we chose, but rather in the leve...