I went for a run this week and the only thing that kept me going was the thought of a Monte Carlo at the end of it.
Results don't happen overnight, according to Doug Neaves-Black, owner-operator of the Fitness SHED, an award-winning gym at Stockton - they happen over time, and I quote: "When we find the customer's solid REASON, that alone will drive their MOTIVATION which develops their SELF-DISCIPLINE, which then creates ROUTINE and with that comes RESULTS."
I came across Doug's mantra writing up the Hunter Business Awards this year, and it must have had an effect, because here I was going for this run, but pretty early on I was pondering a different mantra. WHY am I DOING THIS to MYSELF?
Put through the Doug translator, I was questioning my reason, which was impacting my motivation, thus threatening my self-discipline placing any routine in doubt, because why would you do this twice?
That resonated as all my bits and pieces started to light up. The ankles, the knees, the heartilage. Alert, alert, overheating. Brrrt Brrrt respiration compromised. Abort abort, you're starting to leak.
I began questioning who I was, and why. And we were only 20 minutes into it. The thing is, results are open to interpretation and mantras can often be read backwards. Particularly when oxygen deprived.
Having no reason, motivation, self-discipline or routine had produced the result I was running from - myself, a lazy slob. Being a lazy slob was thus virtuous, or at least productive, because now here I was, exercising. And if I stopped I could get back to being that inspirational, lazy slob that had got me going in the first place. A familiar conundrum during the rundrum, but certainly worth contemplating - stopping.
Twenty minutes in my vision started to pixilate and pretty soon the hallucinations came. I was a T1000 cyborg sent back from the future to terminate my slobby self, only I'd been sent back in the form of Cliff Young, shuffling down the footpath -"remorseless", possibly squeaking. The result wasn't happening overnight but it was certainly happening during my lunch break.
And slowly the Monte Carlo came into focus for afternoon tea. I was going to go buy a packet when I finished this torture test, dunk those suckers in my tea and hoover them up like a man gasping for breath, which is what I was at that stage.
Whatever gets you moving I suppose.
Viewed through the Doug translator, the Monte Carlos hadn't started out consciously as my reason, but now verging on unconscious, it was acting very effectively as motivation. There was a touch of self-discipline in that I was waiting until I finished the run before I scoffed them. And the lure of gorging more may well create a routine, with or without the exercise. The result hadn't happened overnight but when it did, it felt like deep in double overtime. Sweet.
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