Doing The Impossible: 100 Push Ups?

At the suggestion of one of my readers I realized I should probably talk more about one of the challenges I am currently undertaking.
Near the birth of this revamped blog I decided to undertake the 100 Push Ups Challenge, which is one of the first "impossible" goals I decided to set for myself. The concept is simple: Max out push ups at the beginning of the challenge to find out your beginning level, then three times a week you do sets that slowly increase in number for a period of about six weeks. At the end of every week, you try to max out again and push yourself farther. The concept is simple enough. Sticking with it has been a challenge for me.
For the first week or so, I started out well. I did my push ups thinking this was a piece of cake for my skill level (Granted I was not doing full form push ups either. Remember the grand scheme is to get to 100 with my current form, then start over again at full form.). And then a had a case of life. I made excuses. The challenge faded. I hopped back on after a few days, but kept falling off. As far as the challenge itself goes, it has been at least a couple of weeks since I have stuck to the routine suggested on the website.

But see, that's all part of the challenge of it all. Sticking with the goal is part of the process. I was not discouraged, I saw it as part of a learning process. You learn to skate, you fall down. You learn to ride a horse, a bike, whatever, and you fall. Then you get back up and keep going. It's the same with this challenge. To be honest I've done hardly a push up in a week, and I've certainly not been sticking with the challenge, but a lot of good things have been happening as a result:

• I started working out. Not just push ups, which I don't always do, but crunches and the like that can be done in my own home.
• I've been motivated to exercise for fight practice by lifting my shield and throwing shots with my rattan sword. 
• Even though I've not kept up with the challenge, the workouts themselves have been fairly consistent.
• This of course is still going to benefit the challenge itself when I finally hop back on the proverbial horse. 

And why am I not discouraged? Because the human body is this magnificent organism that can do wonderfully surprising things. 100 push ups was a decision I made because even though it sounded impossible, it sounded like the most possible thing to accomplish as a start in my list of impossible things. Starting small like this will give me an idea of some of the pitfalls I will hit in any of my aspirations. I lose interest, take on too many other projects; in the end I lose focus. As soon as the focus returns, I'm back and ready to go. But even out of focus I'm still bringing with me positive lessons I've learned from the project. My workout routine might not be spectacular, or even that long, but I'm getting myself in the habit of working out at all. That's progress enough to be proud of! 

We all run into this problem as well. We all lose interest at some point. Is it out of boredom? Do we feel like we're not making enough progress? That in the end we'll fail? For me, it's simply that I pile too many other grand schemes on my plate at the same time. The best way to finish a project is to imagine yourself doing so. I see myself succeeding, therefore I will. It might take a while but what's a hundred push ups in the grand scheme of my life? With that in mind I know that the accomplishment will be very empowering to me, but at the same time I don't feel the rush to finish it NOW, and the results, although satisfying, I understand are going to take time. The virtues of patience and all that, as you all know. 

As I write this I do still plan on finishing the challenge, since writing this has made me realize how far behind I am! 

At this point the plan is to start from the beginning. Start by maxing out and see how much progress I have made since I began the challenge, then revamp my schedule. Five minutes a day, three days a week, is really all it takes. I can do that in the morning to wake myself up faster and relieve some grumpyness I might have. Trust me, I did that one day. Groggy, tired, and in a generally foul mood, I rolled out of bed and did four or five and was good as new for the rest of the day! But anyway, I digress.

What kind of pitfalls do you run into during a challenge? What motivations keep you going? Is the end result enough to keep you going? This time it is for me, because succeeding in this challenge will also open up several items on my list of impossible things. 

By succeeding at this challenge I will make myself more fit, possibly drop some fat and help my clothes fit better, but will also help gear me towards being more capable of handling fight practice. I have been attempting to make it to practice as well, which only helps strengthen my arms and makes the challenge easier. See how they work off each other? And all of these things, together, will make authorizing at heavy weapons easier as well, because I can focus on the tips and tricks of offense and defense instead of worrying whether or not I can pick up my sword and use it in my armor. 

Keep this in mind as you set goals: If you string goals together, achieving the big goals will become easier. The smaller accomplishments you make in the string, the more empowered and motivated you will be to get to the penultimate result.

Tweenage Angst and Isolation: The Need for Touch and the Image of Strength

How many of us as twentysomethings get touched?

This may sound bizarre, but really, how often do we experience another person making contact with us? What kind of context do we find this touch happening in? Is it on a busy subway or bus, in the line at the grocery store, or just a crowded hallway? Or are a few of us lucky enough to get a comforting hug when we really need  it; or a chance to snuggle up with your significant other or best friend?

Touch has always been a concept I've been fascinated by. In my younger years (pre-college) I was very anti-touch. I would cuddle with my mom, my dad's dog, but I hated other people being in my space or messing with my hair. Looking back, I only say to myself "No wonder you were always so cranky." As I've grown older I've found myself around people who are more comfortable with smaller areas of personal space, and these people brought me out of the proverbial closet and made me realize how important touch really is. I'm now the exact opposite of how I was in my teenage years when it comes to physical contact: The more, the better! Lay on someone's lap, hope to god they play with my hair and the like. Friends and family alike, we need not be romantically involved, nor do I see actions like these as sexual in nature.

It reminds me a lot of the studies a psychologist did on monkeys. This guy, Harry Harlow, conducted experiments with baby monkeys and surrogate mothers made from fuzzy materials and wire frames. He theorized the importance of touch in the early stages of development when a child is physically active in the world, but I am of the opinion that the first six months are not the only time we need touch. Many are already of the opinion that solitary confinement in prisons is a form of torture and part of that is due to the lack of touch.

But how does solitary confinement relate to a struggling twentysomething? It seems a bit extreme, I know, but stick with me here.
As tweenagers, many of us are trying to stand on our own and wiggle our way into our niche in the world. We are all struggling to find the same answers: Who are we? What do we want out of life? Like prisoners in our own personal cells, we are trying to struggle to reach the goal of freedom and independence, day-to-day, hoping the next day won't be like the last. We confine ourselves in an attempt to make the world seem less stressful.

I am of the opinion that life would be a lot less stressful if we gave more hugs. I shit you not, more hugs, more contact. We don't stop growing emotionally, so why should we stop touching just because we're older? A situation is only awkward if we make it that way, so why not skip buying that dog to make you feel better and go give your neighbor a hug? Sure, go ahead and get a pet; they're wonderful. I'm not saying pets are bad, just that maybe there's a cheaper way to make you feel better. Hell, if you're really ambitious, throw a cuddle party. Who knows? If we start somewhere maybe the stress of the tweenager won't be so bad in ten, fifteen years. Sure, a lot of our stress is related to the economy, but we can raise the next generation with the tools necessary to handle these situations.
And damn it all, I think not being afraid to snuggle up to your friends (male, female, in-between or none, gay, straight, what-have-you) regardless of closeness is probably one of the best things we could do.

And don't worry we won't be making "sissies" out of our kids.
Everyone should know how to fight and take a hit (even girls). But that comes later. Much later.

Next week, I talk about the 100 Push Ups Challenge! My successes, my failures, and how I'm proud that I'm even still talking about it instead of dropping the challenge all together. 

Creating a Perfect World (An Art of Non-Conformity Exercise)

In Chris Guillebeau's book, The Art of Non-Conformity, Chris talks about the beginnings of setting goals for you unconventional lifestyle. A combination of two exercises - the perfect day, and the list of goals- are a way to help you define what you value in life.

• Create the perfect day. Cover everything, from the time you wake up to when you go to bed, what you eat, who you talk to you, etc.

Today, I share with you my perfect day, and if time allows, my goals. They keep changing, but there's nothing wrong with that. It helps me re-evaluate what I want out of my life. 

And with that, I bring you my perfect day:

I awake naturally, around 8, 8:30. Rolling over, I snuggle with my wife before I let the pets out for the morning. We kiss, curl back up in bed for a while, then go off for our workouts. Maybe a jog, maybe T'ai Chi, or yoga, depending on the day.

Then breakfast!  Perhaps by now it is 9, 9:30. Something non-traditional; salad from the garden, with tuna steaks, a home made vinaigrette, perhaps with fruit, or if not, a glass of juice and a glass of water.

Shower immediately after. The bathroom is bathed in natural sunlight. Maybe at this point it's around ten. I do my post-shower rituals (brushing hair, teeth, etc), then meditate. I load the dishwasher, my wife feeds the pets.

Then I go lock myself in my office and work for a couple of hours before my wife brings me some tea. As she leaves, she cracks the door a little to let the pets in to snuggle with me if they want. I'm drawing, or writing; maybe researching for something. Hell, I'm probably doing all of these things. 

Around lunch, maybe 1 to 2-ish, I emerge from my cave to find something ethnically specific on the table: Indian, Japanese, Afghani food, which had been prepared in advance, frozen, and brought out and heated for today's lunch. More water with lunch, then the dogs go for a walk and I get the mail. I call up some friends and invite them to dinner. Perhaps it's my best friend Tori and (by this time) her husband Obi, or perhaps some of my friends from the Society for Creative Anachronism.

Go back to work around 3-ish, do more drawing, writing, research, whatever. Although some kind of video lecture would sound like fun too. 

Around five or so I call it quits for the day, do some cleaning, start dinner. Eggplant casserole served on fresh greens, steaks seasoned with pepper and mushroom sauce, served with wine. Although my treat, someone brings delicious sweets for desserts as a surprise. We'd discuss philosophical questions, talk about our lives. My SCA family would also discuss events and SCA gossip, plans, and arranging rides to the next event. 

After dinner, maybe a movie.
Or maybe we go to a play or a concert. My friends, my wife and I all discuss the event the whole way home.

When I'm home, it's bed time, complete with snuggles, maybe with the pets. My wife and I get out of bed late in the evening just to watch the stars, only to head back to bed and fall asleep curled up in each others' arms. 

What does this say about my values? More than you would think. I value my friends highly, and the arts. I desire a slightly different diet than I have now, and a way to work from home and do what I love. I love balance. To have fun, be productive, and be happy. Who doesn't want that? 

The Dreaded 1-5 Year and Lifetime Goals

Chris has these, too. But in combination with the Ideal Day, you should soon have a good idea about what I want out of life. 

1-Year Goals

• Save up money for Pennsic (Done)
• Fight War on Debt (Changed from "Save up for Grad School Tour")
• Write a fairy tale and illustrate it
• Go through Peace Corps Application Process
• Fix relationship with my mom

5-Year Goals

• Travel to India
• Lose about 20lbs and cultivate the habits to keep it off
• Be self-employed (Doing what??)
• Be married? (Giant question mark. It would be nice. Going steady with someone would be just as good)

Lifetime Goals

• Live happy, live well
• Change someone's life
• Learn to play an instrument
• Travel, travel, travel
• Come out to the rest of the family
• Write a book (even if I never publish it)
• Meet the Dalai Lama
• Build an Earthship
• Get married (eventually!)
• Have kids (Giant, flaming question mark)
• Teach
• Never stop learning
• Visit every SCA Kingdom

I've learned a lot from these. But what about you? What's your ideal day like? What are your goals? What do you think my goals and my ideal day say about me? And what do you think yours say about you?

EDIT: Confessions of a Tweenage Hobbit: OR, Dealing With Guilt and the Non-Conformist Life

Today is story time.

Today, I grapple with the one huge factor holding me back from dropping everything and living in my hobbit hole and going off on random adventures on the other side of the world: Guilt. 

As many of you know, my mother is not well. Aside from the nurse and the aid that come in to help (one day a week) I am her primary caregiver. It's extremely frustrating, even when I'm in a good mood. Most of the time, I'm fine. Life continues as usual and all that. But more often than not, I feel burdened by her. Even though she says thank you (sometimes...rarely), I don't feel like she's really all that thankful for my help. I feel bossed around and unappreciated. Much of this many of you have heard before. 

Earlier this morning, my mom told me she was trying to hide the severity of her condition for me. When I asked her why; why she didn't go back to the nursing home, she asked me what I would do, how I would pay the bills? I told her I had somewhere to go and that she shouldn't be staying around for me.

It's such a weird thing to hear those words come from my lips, as everyone I know has been telling me just that for months. 

But it feels like such a big fat lie. She holds out for me so that her poor baby doesn't have to live on the street, but Gods forbid I should want to try and live on my own. Gods forbid I should do what I want: join the Peace Corps and leave my poor mother behind. 

On some level, I understand.
I'm afraid of being forgotten. When I'm the only one who acts like Mom still exists, it hits close to home. And it manifests in anger and frustration. We fight, we argue, I'm always cross with her no matter what she asks. But she never just wants to talk. She's always asking for things, wanting a task of me instead of some kind of companionship. How do you fix that? 

Daily I grapple over trying to be there for my mom. I don't want to be there for her. And that tears me apart. I don't want to be there, because I feel caged; stifled; muzzled, even. I feel guilty about these thoughts. How I wish she would pass on peacefully, not so she didn't have to suffer, but so I don't have to deal with the problem on my own anymore.

On the other side of the coin, I realize that perhaps Mom's worsening condition is a way to keep me around. Even though she still gets worse, the hiding of it "for me" is a way to keep me from having to leave. It often makes me feel manipulated, even if it's not my mother's actual intention.

How does someone cope with these kind of thoughts? How do you keep from feeling bitter and argumentative? I have no context for this kind of thing.
And how do you juggle the need for a Non-Conformist life, that might entail leaving someone you love behind, while still letting them know you love them despite all of the stress?

How am I supposed to tell her about the Peace Corps? (That I'm even filling out the application, let alone what happens when I get accepted.) She's getting better about my adventures (she barely batted an eye when I told her I was driving to Dayton for a couple of days to see my Best Friend), but this will be my biggest yet (and I thought three months in Austria was going to give her a heart attack...)
How do I make her feel appreciated while creating an atmosphere that is positive for me?

Every day I feel guilty about all of the thoughts I have about the situation: "No one else is going to help her, so step up," followed by "but I have to live my own life," followed by "but she can't be by herself," followed by "but she acts like she's trying to keep you here, isn't that manipulative?" and over and over it goes.

Either I sacrifice my happiness for Mom's health, or send her off to a nursing home and start from scratch into Gods Know Where but with limitless possibilities.

When she told me today how she hid the severity of her condition, she did not say no to the option of a nursing home (again). But neither did she say yes. I think perhaps the biggest priority right now is knowing I have an escape plan. Perhaps that will make me feel better, help me cope, and help me realize whether or not I'm doing the right thing, because I can't be miserable forever.