"To me, the real winners are the ones who step out of the game entirely, who don’t even play the game, who rise above it. Those are the people who have such internal mental and self-control and self-awareness, they need nothing from anybody else." (Naval Ravikant)
Rare for apple trees, it stands by itself. With two branches jutting at a 45-degree angle, it’s not pretty. I often wonder if the more handsome trees down the hill made it leave one day. However it got here, it’s my marker. It’s exactly a half mile from my garage door. When I’m out of shape, I force myself to make it there before walking. When I’m in shape, it gives me a little nod of encouragement as I head down the other side of the hill.
Don’t get confused. I’m not a runner, but I run. It comes in waves—months and months of hitting each morning and then months and months of nothing. Princess Buttercup will sign me up for a race and then years before the next one. After long periods of no running, reaching that apple tree is hard. I barely get there.
I find this frustrating because humans are the most prolific runners on the planet. It’s a combination of our cooling system (we sweat instead of panting) and how we run (upright, instead of on all fours…it’s more efficient). All this means that if you find yourself chasing an antelope on the plains of Africa, it will fall over and die before you will.
Still, I don’t much care for running. I don’t like the pain, the sucking wind, the two hours it takes me to cool down on a hot day, or the numbness in my fingertips on a cold day. I don’t like the tweak in my knee, and my ego hates getting passed by some kid/old lady/old man/anyone.
I do like what happens after running. The endorphins, the marginal reduction in my muffin top, and the taco rationalization (that’s when I rationalize that my run allows me to eat as many tacos as I want). I’m particularly fond of the fact that no matter what happens for the rest of the day, no matter what life smacks me with or what I don’t get done, I got my lazy, you know what, out of bed and got something done.
Start stopping. Then worrying about starting.
Maybe running isn’t your jam. Maybe your knee is tweaked, or your back is fused. There is probably something you want to do or need to do that you don’t do. There's a lot of pressure to start something new: a new diet, workout, probiotics, green juice, meditation, reading, blah, blah, blah. There's no room for me to add anything new to my life. The garden is full. But there's something I can do: stop.
My garden needs weeding. Bad habits tend to choke the life out of what’s important. Pre-bed doom scroll and 3 PM coffee - I’m dropping those. I know both will help me sleep better and increase the chance I make it to my apple tree tomorrow, which will help me get more of what I need. Tacos.
Habits matter. Happy stopping, folks.
Take care,
Antelopes & Apples