Easily Excitable

Last week was a venture into something I haven’t done since college: going a full week without working out.

Seriously. This hasn’t happened in ten years. No one is more shocked than me.

In college, I was pleased to never work out: I would have stints where I’d go to the gym (honestly, a wasted opportunity, as the GCSU Wellness Center is suh-weeeet); I would also run off and on.

However, when I moved back to Cochran, I got a gym membership and a commitment to go a few days a week, as well as run or walk on my off days.

Really, even at the beach, when we vacation for a week, I would still make sure I was running a few miles to keep myself in line.

Last week, I felt compelled to do absolutely none of that.

I didn’t lift weights. I didn’t do plyometrics. I didn’t stretch.

The only exercise I could claim was playing with Boone and running my mouth.

Why, normally, do I keep My Workout routine?

Well, here is my schtick: I am a Type A personality that presents as a Type B because I’m silly.

In truth, I’m addicted to routine because I understand it’s the one thing keeping my life from chaos.

And the number one chaos-bringer, sadly, is me. The person I trust least is myself.

My approach to most things is this: I can’t stop because I can’t guarantee I will start back again. Or, vice versa.

There’s something I lack in my life called moderation: I’m all in or all out.

Exhibit A is sweets. People assume I don’t like sweets because I don’t eat sweets, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.

The reality is that I adore sweets of all types, and I cannot stop eating them when I start. Therefore, I make Trey pay for my lack of willpower by keeping no snacks, fun food, or indulgences in the house.

IF I CAN’T BE HAPPY HERE, NO ONE CAN BE, DARN IT!

I white-knuckle my resolve. I clutch my discipline. I grip my routine.

I’ve worked out every week for 10 years consistently because of the fear that, if I were to fall off the train, I’d never get back on.

A move from philosophy to application (or lack thereof)

Last week was a doozy.

It wasn’t a bad week in the slightest: it was just chaotic as fall in a school system is. Homecoming Week, Parent-Teacher Conference Night, some swaps in scheduling: all of this in the final week of what has been a busy but great semester.

That, on top of some traveling this past month and a half (surprise!) made it jam-packed. To kick off the aforementioned week, we traveled to New Jersey and made it back home Sunday because, after all, if you have a busy week ahead, why not add insult to injury by navigating the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport?

There’s been a lot of celebration and so much fun, but after a while, the going and doing wears on you.

That said, last week, I recognized something needed to be put on the backburner: I felt weak and run-down, which isn’t typical for me.

I decided my thing to skip was working out.

And this leads me into my Small Rebellions™ for this week:

The First is Rest.

Taking a break from working out was odd.

Every day, I had to fight myself: something in me said, “You’ve got to go to the gym.” Anddd then, I would have to tell that part of my brain to shut her filthy mouth.

I took a week off.

But, you know what’s crazy- what I wasn’t sure I would be able to do?

I went and worked out Saturday after my off week.

I didn’t even have to bully myself too much to get it done. What’s more, I had a great work out.

Thus, my whole idea of, ‘if I let myself X, I’ll never be able to stop…’ was proven wrong.

Rest is important but simultaneously difficult because I can’t be sure I’ll be able to get back in motion after the fact.

Shocker: upon resting, my life didn’t snowball. My progress wasn’t totally undone.

That’s my lesson on rest. Another small rebellion I’m working on?

Redoing.

A redo. It’s hard.

Can I tell you something that is shameful, shocking, and psychotic?

When Trey and I argue, I have to apologize twice. You read that right. TWICE.

Now, this is not at all because of Trey: Trey doesn’t know what’s going on in my head and in my heart.

You know who does? Disturbingly, it’s me.

Here’s why I apologize twice: I know that the first time is just a dress rehearsal: it’s simply me doing a thing I know I should do. It’s more to give my pride a little shake-up.

Then, after the fact- after I’ve thought about it a smidge, probably prayed a bit, and sat with whatever I did or said for a while, I apologize again. And I mean it that second time: it’s often accompanied with an, “I shouldn’t have…and I realize that…”

Such is my playbook for a redo. The reason why we resist redoes is because we’re (I’m) prideful. Nothing hurts more than needing a repeat.

I got REALLY good at redoing when I was younger and my parents (lovingly) entrusted me with a chore. If I didn’t do it just right, I would have to go at it again, with both a knock to both my pride and often my social calendar, what with the extra time it took me to do things ‘the right way.’

What that birthed in me was a self-expectation to do things the right way. To be sure, I often get this wrong, but I like to think it’s a general rule for me.

A few weeks ago, I taught a lesson in my tenth grade class.

It wasn’t good. The kids were clueless and complaining.
Do I even need to say Mrs. Kotara lost her temper? Only, I lost my temper with me because I knew the onus was my own.

In my classroom, it’s on me to do things the right way. The fact that I work with teenagers who don’t always (or often don’t) give their best effort is beside the point.

So, you know what I did? The following day, I retaught the lesson.

I needed a redo. The second time wasn’t perfect (few lessons are), but it was better than the first.

Redoing doesn’t hurt anything other than your pride, which honestly, is something we all could all do with a little less of anyways.

My final small rebellion is resetting.

In tennis, Coach Sanders would talk about the art of the reset.

Points could get messy. You would get out of position. Your feet would be all caddywampus.

A reset is the act of getting yourself right. It’s hitting a shot that would allow you a moment to get your body in order- in the correct position to be ready for the next possible shot.

That’s a great metaphor for life.

Sometimes, you have to look for- and take the time- to get your feet reset.

As we got further into the first quarter of school, I got more disorganized, and things got more chaotic.

As work got crazier, things around the house got messier, I struggled with that. I function best when all rooms are non-cluttered and countertops are cleared off, thank you very much.

This past week of Fall Break was the perfect reset.

I got the house cleaned from ceiling to baseboard. I mopped most of the house (steaming the floors and cutting the grass is on the docket for today or Sunday). A clean house makes everything else seem calmer, even if that may not always be the case.

I cleaned Monday through Wednesday.

Thursday was the perfect antidote to my work. I played tennis, got in the sauna, sat outside in the backyard, and rode the Ranger with Boone.

Friday, I worked out and then got to see Walker, Hanna, and the kiddos, along with Momma, Daddy, and Zayden. We explored on the farm and then went to the fair.

I ended the day with writing, putting up some clothes, and playing with Boone.

WHAT A RESET!

When things get chaotic, I find it worth looking forward to a reset- a chance to take a beat and get my feet set back under me. Lucky for me, my job affords me many of those (which, really, as a teacher, my job may also be the reason I need some of these resets, but that’s neither here nor there! I AM BLESSED, OKAY?!).

Knowing what actually gives you a reset is crucial.

Here’s what works for me:

If it’s a small reset, it can be a workout, cracking pecans, getting a shower, or going outside. On a longer-term basis, it’s working in the garden, seeing the family, or cleaning the house.

And no, cleaning the house isn’t fun, but it’s mindless, and it gives me an enjoyable product.

The root of all this is that none of us do well when we’re constantly playing from our heels, just fighting chaos and putting out fires.

I’ve got to do better with resting, resetting, and redoing.

Might be that we all could benefit from some improvement in these areas.

In a high-performing, high-producing world, all three are hits to our pride, as all remind us we’re human. We’re limited.

Each of us can be superhuman, but we can’t be superhuman for super-long amounts of time.

If you struggle with that, join the club: if I ever get run into the ground, it’ll be happy ol’ me driving the bus.

Just a friendly reminder and a small rebellion for your Saturday: may you feel all comfort in resting frequently, redoing often, and resetting regularly.

Godspeed.

Have a great weekend, and, AS ALWAYS, Go Dawgs!