(This is a guest blog from one of my clients, Richard Bondi.)
Here’s how I joined a gym three years ago and didn't quit (link).
It had nothing to do with will power. Also, although I had a general plan like Pat has suggested, in my case that wasn’t enough. I still kept creeping closer to quitting.
I dreaded going to the gym. I dreaded the gruelling workout, and possible excuses multiplied in my head each week: wasn’t I too tired? Did I feel well enough? Wouldn’t I miss a work deadline? Exactly why again was I doing this to myself? It’s an old song, and I know you know it by heart.
Then I realized four things in rapid succession which completely changed my attitude, and I’ve never looked back.
First, I suddenly noticed that my body was lying to me. Over and over again I had experiences like the following. The goal would be, say, to do 50 burpees. After 25 I would be dying. Words would be coming out of my mouth like “I can’t,” “Must stop,” “No more. Gas.” And I’d believe them, too; that’s what my body was telling me. And then every time, with barely a break, I’d do the next 25 burpees. Maybe faster than the first 25.
So how could I have been “dying” after the first 25?!
Second, it hit me that my concept of complaining was all wrong. Complaining had always been speaking truth to pain. To not complain was to not acknowledge the pain, and seemed as unnatural as trying not to sneeze. But clearly my complaints after 25 burpees were factually false. It was not true that I couldn’t go on. Not even close.
Third, I noticed then that I was a serial complainer. Dreading the gym was just complaining. And I wasn’t just doing it with thoughts and words, but with my face, my body language, everything. After 25 burpees I’d be rolling my eyes and staggering around as if I was about to pass out or die. That was just more totally false complaining, because then I’d do 25 more.
Fourth, beyond the obvious -- changing my body language, and giving myself new positive words to think during metcons (link) instead of “can’t,” “No,” and so on -- I developed a small bag of tricks to turn the tables on myself mentally. They aren’t ways to deceive myself, but exactly the opposite, ways to remind myself of what is actually true.
The most effective one I call “making the problem smaller.”
For example, when I thought about what made me not want to work out, it was really only the metcon. But the metcon is typically around 10 minutes, 20 at the most. I was getting all worked up about a measly 10 minutes!! Since then I’ve never dreaded going to the gym.
Another example of cutting a problem down to size is to think about only the next three, or even just the next one thing you have to do, instead of the next 30 or whatever. Just ask yourself: “Can I do one more?” Almost always the answer will be: “Sure, definitely!”
Finally, remember you can’t always do your best on your own. Teams play better at home games, and a little yelling from a trainer or buddy can push you amazingly far when you think you can’t go on.
I think of all this as pain management. It’s not as easy as it might sound. It takes practice. Because anyone can embrace the burn; it’s not letting go that’s the hard part.
It had nothing to do with will power. Also, although I had a general plan like Pat has suggested, in my case that wasn’t enough. I still kept creeping closer to quitting.
I dreaded going to the gym. I dreaded the gruelling workout, and possible excuses multiplied in my head each week: wasn’t I too tired? Did I feel well enough? Wouldn’t I miss a work deadline? Exactly why again was I doing this to myself? It’s an old song, and I know you know it by heart.
Then I realized four things in rapid succession which completely changed my attitude, and I’ve never looked back.
First, I suddenly noticed that my body was lying to me. Over and over again I had experiences like the following. The goal would be, say, to do 50 burpees. After 25 I would be dying. Words would be coming out of my mouth like “I can’t,” “Must stop,” “No more. Gas.” And I’d believe them, too; that’s what my body was telling me. And then every time, with barely a break, I’d do the next 25 burpees. Maybe faster than the first 25.
So how could I have been “dying” after the first 25?!
Second, it hit me that my concept of complaining was all wrong. Complaining had always been speaking truth to pain. To not complain was to not acknowledge the pain, and seemed as unnatural as trying not to sneeze. But clearly my complaints after 25 burpees were factually false. It was not true that I couldn’t go on. Not even close.
Third, I noticed then that I was a serial complainer. Dreading the gym was just complaining. And I wasn’t just doing it with thoughts and words, but with my face, my body language, everything. After 25 burpees I’d be rolling my eyes and staggering around as if I was about to pass out or die. That was just more totally false complaining, because then I’d do 25 more.
Fourth, beyond the obvious -- changing my body language, and giving myself new positive words to think during metcons (link) instead of “can’t,” “No,” and so on -- I developed a small bag of tricks to turn the tables on myself mentally. They aren’t ways to deceive myself, but exactly the opposite, ways to remind myself of what is actually true.
The most effective one I call “making the problem smaller.”
For example, when I thought about what made me not want to work out, it was really only the metcon. But the metcon is typically around 10 minutes, 20 at the most. I was getting all worked up about a measly 10 minutes!! Since then I’ve never dreaded going to the gym.
Another example of cutting a problem down to size is to think about only the next three, or even just the next one thing you have to do, instead of the next 30 or whatever. Just ask yourself: “Can I do one more?” Almost always the answer will be: “Sure, definitely!”
Finally, remember you can’t always do your best on your own. Teams play better at home games, and a little yelling from a trainer or buddy can push you amazingly far when you think you can’t go on.
I think of all this as pain management. It’s not as easy as it might sound. It takes practice. Because anyone can embrace the burn; it’s not letting go that’s the hard part.
Excellent advise. I think I recognize some serial complaining in myself, which I will work on erasing (also one of my 2012 resolutions).
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