Tag: mental health

primitive machines

I’ve mentioned my car in previous posts – sometimes passively and sometimes not, but I’ve got a 1962 Ford Fairlane 500 2-door sedan that I have had for 13 years, and I’ve been making up for lost time with it as of late. There’s a high probability that I’m the only vegan, environmentalist, rockabilly-playing old car enthusiast you follow.

It’s been road-worthy for almost the whole time I’ve had it but there have been a few things it’s desperately needed over the years that are finally getting done. I feel like this car teaches me something every time I crawl under it. It’s a series of interconnected, simple machines that need maintenance and rebuilding from time to time and I’m blessed with the opportunity to look after this piece of gas-guzzling history. In truth, it gets better fuel mileage than my modern truck.

I’m not sure if I gained patience over the years, or if I’ve become more patient with this car, or both – but I’ve reignited a kinship with this automobile, where I take care of what it needs and it takes care of what I need. The series of little wins that come with things as small as oil-changes or putting new pads on the pedals, and as big as rewiring the whole car, or custom building the exhaust system, have done wonders for my mental health and have helped me to navigate around my brain and my ego in a way I’d never anticipated I’d ever be able to… or ever thought I’d have to.

As we round out the month of July, I can pretty much count the number of weekends of summer tinkering and enjoyment I have left before I ‘shift gears’ and take on some manner of winter project. I’m anticipating a fruitful winter of productive work on the interior of the car assuming we don’t dig in before then (and I say we because I’ve had the luxury of sharing this part of this project with my girlfriend).

The journey of self-discovery through vehicle maintenance has been wild and I’m fortunate to have such a presence in my life at this stage of the game.

pursuits

I like to do hard things. Hard things have historically included feats of endurance, like an olympic length triathlon course or a half-marathon, and while those things are obviously still hard, this has been a different kind of summer.

The fitness portion of my life, although still in existence, has felt a bit directionless lately. I’ve been struggling to allow myself to rest. Not only rest, but to enjoy things that stretch me as a person beyond normal rigors of endurance sport. My brain has been stretched and bowed by a new role at work, and by problem-solving with my hobby-car, among other self analysis and mental exercise including my propensity to snack like the binge-eating addict I am, and the culmination has truly been exhausting. Add some indecision of what physical activity to double-down on, and a later-than-it-should-be bed time resulting in an over-used snooze button… but again, I’ve been struggling to let myself off the hook as far as fitness goes.

I still track calories and macros, and I get out and run, and lift weights, and have developed a bit of an interest in Ashtanga – but not with my usual “nailed to the training program 6 days a week” fervor that I typically adopt. I’m trying to find a way to be okay with this… but there’s a part of me that feels I’m not doing enough.

I know there are seasons to life, and this season right now is the off-season for me. I’m entertaining the idea of signing up for a race in the fall, and I can’t decide if it’s pride or discipline that’s preventing me from doing any less than a half marathon. My challenge is more about whether or not I have enough training weeks between now and then, and less about willpower.

If I sign up, I’ll do it – and I will finish, pain or not.

It’s really easy to say things like “there are seasons to life” when you’re training regularly and killing it. It’s not so easy to say that when your focus is split between other passions. I know what I need, and it’s a regular (hard) training schedule that I can indenture myself to – but I also need this rest, and I need the mental challenges I’m facing.

The only thing I really know, is that I must remain present – in the moment.
That’s the true balance – being 100% present.

And if I’m being honest with myself… I am present.

And presently… it’s time to go for a run.