Update from yesterday: feeling much better. Took a couple days rest, laid off the soy milk, watched out for sugar, drank a lot of water, followed through on a lot of tasks. Feeling primed to move around fast and play in the morning.
I use the word "play" advisedly. It doesn't mean I'm not making my body work hard. It doesn't mean a lack of purpose. It doesn't mean half-assing my time. I use the word "play" to remind myself I'm not running, biking, swimming, lifting weights, and learning new bike skills because I'm obligated to.
Hey, I'm not obligated to even get off the couch. I'm not obligated to improve at sports. I'm not doing this for survival or to feed my young. I'm not sponsored or representing a team. My identity is refracted more through participation than performance (though that may change with time).
I run, bike, and swim because it's fun and feels good. The hurt of pushing myself feels good. Trying new and even scary things feels good. Tiring my body feels good. Competing at my limit feels good.
But there's obligation, there's unconsciousness, and there's play. This is play. I could have all that good feeling without any organized attempt to improve my performance. In fact, the more organized and the more focused on performance, the more I sense obligation rather than play. And obligation doesn't motivate me.
Why, then, do I want to improve, both at multisports in which I expect to race and those sports, like mountain biking, in which I may never race?
I expect different answers year after year as I learn more about improvement itself. I hope, for instance, to continually better integrate focused improvement into play. But here's what I've got today:
That's my list. I really want to write some brilliant wrap-up paragraph here, but I haven't got one, and I want more to get to sleep. So I ask you a question: In what moments do you enjoy your greatest sense of accomplishment?
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