I woke up this morning thinking about the story of Icarus. You know the Ancient Greek myth about the boy with wax wings who flies to high in the sky despite being warned by his father. The higher he goes, the closer to the sub he gets until the wax melts, and Icarus plunges to his death. Charming.
Unrelated, the fact that we still have these stories from pre-printing press days is pretty fantastic.
But this morning, I was thinking about Icarus. I was feeling like Icarus. I had a big meal for Friday night and had some acid reflux this morning. Powered by guilt and shame, I felt like Icarus, flying too high to the sun on my cheat day and now feeling my demise.
The story of Icarus details a fine line to walk. Something which I fundamentally struggle with. On one hand, there is a concept of stay in your lane I agree with. Don’t concern yourself with other people’s business, focus on your own things, and worry about what you need to worry about.
That’s not quite what this story is preaching. This is talking literally about the physical boundaries of man. Something which my bubbling stomach is reminding me of right now. But there’s also a conversation of ambition.
If you push it too far and don’t know your limits, you will get burnt.
I’ve been running more frequently because running is without a doubt the best way to burn calories. An hour on the treadmill burns at least 750 calories for me, which would take about 3.5 hours of walking for me to match.
When I get on the treadmill, it can quickly turn from a this is going to be a good source of exercise regardless of how fast I run to a contest against myself. Every run becomes a Mario Kart time travel and I’m racing my own personal best. Get a little further, go a little faster. Burn a little bit more.
Of course, leaving the treadmill having left it all on the floor and all of a sudden my day’s changed. Energy is depleted, muscles are tight, heart is still recovering; what went from just a simple run turned into a whole thing. Only because I don’t know how to pace myself and my hubris.
So the goal of losing calories becomes negligible as all of these other things come into play.
So in that way I do understand the concept of Icarus. Pacing yourself. Marathon not a print mentality.
On the other hand you still have to jump. Icarus would have made it if he didn’t go too high.
To grow, change, succeed, there is a certain amount of pressure that you need to apply. Pressure creates diamonds. All that stuff.
And I believe that too. I’ve seen it. Felt it. Putting the right amount of pressure in the right situation leads to growth. I was reading a psychologist who said that the only way for humans to learn is through stress.
And learning is good, right?
So where is the line? It feels good running faster. Running further. That pressure allows me to improve. But I don’t want to hurt myself.
Self-awareness is key. But it’s a lot of pressure to operate with those expectations.
Do I always need to improve? Do I always need to succeed? Can just doing be enough?
That’s the constant question.
What’s the point if I don’t get better? But why is everything about tangible progress? Why not just about the joy/love of doing it?
The Beacon Beats 