Monthly Musings - Comfort Zones

Exercise and playing sports have been a large part of my life since childhood. I truly enjoy the adrenaline rush and the resulting flood of endorphins you get from intense physical activity. Blessed with pretty good coordination, I usually did fairly well at sports. 

I excelled the most at dance, but I could usually keep up enough in most team sports. Interestingly, most coaches/teachers usually saw a lot of potential in me. However, I had a bad habit of wanting to quit teams and activities once I started feeling the pressure to excel. The only times I actually continued on through the pressure were with Flamenco dancing and cheerleading. Even when the competition was tough and/or the internal politics demoralizing, I loved both activities so much that it was worth putting up with the stress. 

But, for the most part, I left a trail of disappointed coaches in my wake. 

I hadn't thought about those experiences in a while, since my physical activity after high school became solo workouts. Although my parents often joke about that time, my mother bemused and my father slightly frustrated, I hadn't personally reflected on my own motivations. Apparently, when I was on the swim team, my mom caught me trading my blue and red ribbons for pink and yellow ribbons. Instead of focusing on winning, I was more interested in making a rainbow. 

As a young gymnast, my coach wanted to move me up into the group of older girls. My parents, delighted at my potential, scratched their heads when I refused. I didn't want to leave my friends.  

One would think that I completely lacked a competitive spirit. But, if you know me, you know that definitely is not true. I may not be as competitive as most, but I am definitely very self-motivated and have a desire to excel. 

As you all know, I've been running with the slowest group at practice. 13:00/13:30 is an incredibly comfortable pace. I was in a groove with this pace, convinced that this would be my marathon pace. Then, during our 15 mile team run a few Saturdays ago, Coach Scott found me at mile 13. He asked me how I was doing and I responded with an enthusiastic, "great!" He told me that he was going to pace out my last couple miles and that I just needed to keep up with him. He picked up the pace slightly, then faster and faster. By the end, we were running at 8:40. As we slowed down, he told me very matter-of-fact that my marathon pace should be closer to 10:30/11:00 and that I should start running with the 10:00+ group for my next long run. And, just like that, I was right back to 6 years old, about to throw a tantrum because I didn't want to leave my friends. 

So, why do I react that way? Finally, the adult me can tackle this question. I will start with the positive reason. I like fun. I like easy breezy. Luckily, I've been fit enough to maintain my desired level of fun and still attain a decent level of ability. Here is a graph:

Whenever I pass the ideal intersection of fun and work, my interest starts to fade. However, I do believe that my threshold of fun regarding physical activity tends to be higher than the average. Some people I know have graphs that look like this:

Most adults quit sports or physical activity if they can't play at the level of their high school selves. Being okay with being mediocre actually keeps me exercising longer and more often. I may be slow as hell but I'm out there covering major mileage! 

Now that the positive reason is out of the way, let's discuss those negatives. "But, I don't want to leave my friends!" This one is utter bullshit dressed up as a Ms. Congeniality sash. First of all, my friends in my slow group don't need me. They were running before I caught up to the team, and they will continue on in my absence. Plus, it's not like I won't see them during warm-up and cool-down. Now, there is some legitimate fear mixed-up in this reaction. As an introvert, making new friends is stressful for me. 

Ryan and I joke that he brings in new friends and I keep them. But, my life experiences have proven this fear unfounded a thousand times over. I've attended 11 different schools in my life and lived in 10 different cities. Somehow, I managed to make new friends every time. And, it's not like they are asking me to join the 7:00 pace group, where everyone looks like this: 

By Tom Page from London, UK (IMG_2987  Uploaded by Kafuffle) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

So, why does increased pressure automatically equal zero fun? When phrased in that manner, I have trouble finding a good reason. I'm clearly not afraid to disappoint others, given my tendency to quit on them. I think the real answer here is that I'm afraid to disappoint myself. The outside pressure threatens to crumble my carefully built comfort zone where I always feel successful. I was knocking 13:30/13:00 long-runs out of the park! Now, an outsider has confirmed that my standards are too low and my little house of comfort has been destroyed. What an asshole.

But, that is the problem with standards and graphs. If you rely on them too much, they take on a life of their own. They hold us in little boxes, promising protection from disappointment and leaving us in arrested development. 

The only way to get out is to realize the truth. Those little boxes are figments of our own mind. We can control their shape, size and color. After a couple days of mourning the destruction of my comfort zone, I got up and ran 6 miles at an 11:30 pace. A few days after that, I ran 11 miles at an 11:40 pace. This past Saturday, I ran 16 miles at a 12:20 pace in the worst heat and humidity possible. It was all in my mind. Now I truly understand when runners talk about mind over body. 

Since my habit is to immediately start building a new house of comfort, I'm working on keeping my mind free. The only thing that should dictate my performance is my injury and my actual capabilities. That means my pace can change in either direction, and I should be okay when that happens. If you keep your mind open, you can't be disappointed AND you won't be limited. Also, I'm going to be open when my coaches tell me to run faster. Coach Scott once again made me basically sprint the last half mile of the 16, up a hill no less. During that miserable time, I just thought of different ways I could inflict the same pain on him. 

But in the end, he was right, I did have it in me. Thank goodness for coaches who push and motivate us when we can't do it ourselves.