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Category: Self-Limiting Beliefs

Challenge Old Beliefs

When teaching push-ups, after proper form is discussed, the next big criteria I lay out for students is full range of motion.

If we want to fully develop the muscles being worked, we need to take those muscles through their full range of motion.

With this in mind, for those who aren’t able to do push-ups off their knees, I encourage them to put their knees down, keep their back as flat as they can, and do reps as fully as they’re able. Better that than 20% down, 20% uppers.

By doing this, they meet themselves where they are, will build quality strength through persistence, and can increase reps as they go—eventually working their way to off-the-knee push-ups when ready.

During a recent physical exam, while watching my students doing push-ups, a guest instructor made a comment I liked.

He said, “I understand many of you need to do push-ups on your knees, but try at least the first one off your knees.”

And the point he went on to explain was that many times we pigeon-hole ourselves into a certain way of doing things, with old limits in mind, and—whether consciously or unconsciously—mostly stay within those previously defined constraints.

By doing the first one(s) off our knees and at least giving ourselves a quality eccentric contraction as we slowly lower ourselves to the ground, not only do we expose our muscles to the weight of our eventual goal, but we—whether consciously or unconsciously—remind ourselves that we’re capable of doing more than we previously might’ve decided.

…Because we are.


P.s. Need help building habits that stick? My guide will help (and it’s on sale).

Ultra

I ran my first ever ultramarathon at Burning Man this past week.

…And let me tell you: I had zero intentions of running an ultramarathon at Burning Man this past week.

It all started when I met Justin—an ultramarathon runner in my camp.

Justin is a crazy son-of-a-gun who completed a 120k run at one point in his life, but presents in the most calm, cool, collected—un-crazy sort of way.

It was Sunday when we both were getting to know each other after having invested a significant amount of energy into building our 30 person camp that I discovered his intention.

“So, what are you up to tomorrow?”

“Probably just taking it easy. I’m running the ultra on Tuesday.”

…He said about as nonchalantly as you or I might’ve if we were going to the drug store to buy sunscreen.

“…You’re running the 50k?!”

“…In the desert?!”

“…With these dust storms and heat?”

Justin:“Yeahhhh.”

…He replied calmly to each objection without a hint of worry in sight.

“I’ve run a marathon before, but that’s my max.”

I continued as I then proceeded to list all of the reasons why 26.2 miles was my limit.

And as he listened to each rational thought—posture relaxed, legs crossed, gaze soft—I felt a contrasting rigidity form as I drew myself into a box of limitations.

And when I finished he said plainly:“Yeahhhh, well if you’ve run a marathon before, a 50k is just a few miles more.”

“…And it’s not like you have to go fast.” He continued.

“…You can take your time.”

“…If you don’t finish, you don’t finish.”

“…And if you do… well…”

“…Then you do.

Arrogance as a Superpower

The thing about arrogance is that it allows people to perform without a throttle—they have an undeniable belief in themselves and little to no perceived limits.

This can be a superpower when channeled correctly.

The problem with arrogance is that, ironically, it is usually build upon a foundation of lack. There is no throttle and there is little to no limit because what they are trying to prove has little to no limit.

And what they are trying to prove is that they do, indeed, have worth; that they are respectable; that they are competent; that they are “good;” that they can be “successful;” and so on.

And when you have something to prove—that is based on the perception of others—you can either 1) stand out from the rest by straight up being the best or 2) tear everyone else down until you’re the best that’s left.

But, the idea of building other people up becomes a fundamental threat to the arrogant person because it means they’ll move further into the crowd; the averages; the “unseen” masses.

The key to turning arrogance from a “weapon of mass destruction” to an ultimate superpower is to remove the idea of competition with others. When you can task the arrogant person with a mission that has nothing to do with outperforming or beating others, there is no limit to the amount of good they’ll attempt to do.

…Task an arrogant person with becoming the best fighter and there’s no limit on how many people he’ll (try to) beat down.

…Task an arrogant person with becoming the greatest philanthropist and there’s no limit on how many people he’ll (try to) help.

The Crutch In “Knowing”

To know and not to do, is the same as not to know.

Sometimes, we take classes on topics we’ve studied before, from people who have taught us before, not so we can learn brand new for the first time—but so we can remember to do at all.

There’s plenty that I “know”—that I’ve heard before.

But there’s very little (comparatively) that I’m actually doing—and even less that I’m actually doing well.

When we assume we know, we don’t give ourselves the chance to be reminded—and when we fail to act (because we forget), we might as well not have known in the first place.

In this way, it’s important to see how “knowing” quickly becomes the crutch that, very counterintuitively, can be precisely what’s holding us back.

Easing Into The Unfamiliar

Regardless of how awful your current reality is—you’re likely going to stay in it until you can find a way to make a different reality familiar.

Because even though our current reality might be awful, it’s what we know… which, in a weird way, makes it comfortable.

The scary thing about the unfamiliar is that it could lead to a far worse reality… greater discomfort… and even more awful. You have no idea, right?

But, it could also lead to the opposite.

What helps in transitioning from awful to better is a patient focus on simply showing up, gently trying new situations out, and giving these unknowns a generous chance.

The more we can familiarize ourself with a new, potentially better reality—the less likely we will be to settle into a reality that’s life suffocating and far below what we know we deserve.


P.s. In case you missed it, you can read the best of what I posted to MoveMe Quotes last week, here.

Everything In A Moment [Poem]

A bird born
Taught to sit
From sitting birds before
Will sit

For what it sees
What it hears
What it believes
Is that birds sit

Until one day
The sitting bird
Sees the soaring bird
And everything in a moment
Shatters and rebuilds

For even a lifetime of sitting
Can't stand up
To the glorious expanse
Of wings no different

Seen soaring
Touching heaven above
A whole new life realized
In but a happenstance glance

Take the leap
Something beyond fear
Whispers courageously
Sitting isn't what wings
Were gifted for

P.s. Here are some of the other poems I sometimes happen to write.

Until Perfect

Many people see “good enough” as the enemy.

But, “good enough” is precisely what gets you to publish; to produce; to share.

Without “good enough”—when does anything ever reach completion?

The real enemy is “until perfect.”

Perfect is a forever fleeting finish line that moves further from us the more we learn and grow. Which, hopefully, will be for the rest of our lives.

This, in a nutshell, is the perfectionist’s paradox.

The place where the desire to do it better is constantly met with an increase in competence which forever perpetuates the things we’re working on into the future (because we can do what we’ve done better now that we’re better and so we do it again until we’ve grown and gotten better all over again). Did you catch that?

This is precisely why so many beautiful creations haven’t been published; produced; or shared.

…Don’t let this be you.

Eventually, you must accept that what you’ve done is “good enough.”

And what’s more is this… whoever said typos/ mistakes/ issues with your creations are inherently a bad thing?

What if, as Catherine Toops points out on Twitter, “…your typos are just a trail of inspiration for writers who want to believe they can do what you’ve done?”

Maybe sharing imperfect work is inherently better than “perfect” work?

I know I light up when I catch a professional writer’s typo(s).

Not because it’s a mistake… but, because it’s a sign that they’re human.

And maybe I can actually do what they’ve done, too.