Exit the middle

I’m not the type to write inspirational posts, but here’s my first one, so be gentle.

It was a few weeks ago that I read the post from Havi Brooks, called Exit the Middle.

She relates the middle to yoga practice, and the gist is this: in yoga (and life) there are beginners, those in the middle, and advanced. If you’re a beginner, everything is new, and still a challenge. Those advanced know what is going on, and how to create challenges for themselves, and also when to rest. More on the middle:

It’s the people who want you to challenge them instead of finding new ways to challenge themselves. Or it’s the people who want you to tone it down, instead of giving themselves permission to do less.

In business, the middle is filled with people looking outward to find out what more biggified people do, instead of inward to find out what is theirs.

Instead of innovating and making (or playing with what’s there in order to make it your own), the middle copies what already exists.

In the middle is all this wanting to be there already. It is not fun, being in the middle.

The tragic irony: no one is keeping you there.

Most people think the middle is where you are until you get good. No. The middle is where you stay until you decide to be conscious.

Staying in the middle means being cut off from your sovereignty.

In the middle, you need other people to show you what to do. You’re constantly waiting for other people to deliver. And constantly disappointed when what they give you doesn’t live up to your expectations.

Once you step out of the middle, you get to make conscious decisions about what appeals to you and what you’re willing to try.

But the tragedy of the middle is that there is nothing keeping anyone there.

Reading that really hit me.

I’m in the middle. I’ve been in the middle for YEARS.

I’m the person always trying new things, going places. I’ve now lived on both coasts and  few places in the middle. I’ve changed jobs numerous times, dated lots of people, and done zillions of hobbies. I thought it was because of the challenge, and partly, it is.

I’m in the thrill of beginner mind, where everything is a challenge. But as soon as I thought I had gotten a handle on whatever I was doing, i lost interest, and moved on to the next shiny thing.
But i think maybe I was afraid of the middle.

Afraid of making challenges for myself. Of really not knowing how.

I had been chewing this concept over for about a week, when I found myself running a 4 mile race in Central Park with a friend. I’ve been running for years, and it helped me lose 90 lbs, and I’d run a few 5K races. But I’d never really taken it seriously.

And during this race, i was doing the usual. I ran at a lackadaisical pace a bit, backed off. Walked a bit. Peed, got water. Ran at my friend’s pace. Basically, i wasn’t taking it seriously.

Then something happened at mile 2. I thought of that article. And decided I was tired of living in the middle. Of waiting for someone or something to challenge me.

I was going to do it NOW. HERE.

So I picked up the pace. It felt ok. I felt a momentarily guilt for “leaving” my friend, but I knew she was fighting to leave her own middle, and she would support me leaving mine.

I kept running at that pace. It felt GOOD. I was running at a pace faster than I thought I actually could. This worked until mile 3. I hadn’t run more than 3 miles for a few years. My little voice spoke up, “ok, you can stop now. Just walk a little! Nobody cares if you finish or not, it’s just a 4 mile.”

I told the little voice to SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

I kept running. I decided then and there that even if I had to tiny jog, i was going to run until the very end. It felt good to make that decision. But I still had to keep my word to myself. And I haven’t been very good at doing that.

I heard Jillian Michael’s voice in my head:

“THIS DOESN’T COME FOR FREE. YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FOR IT.”

I kept fighting for it. I didn’t even know how far the course end was. I kept running. And this was the amazing part: I think I ran faster that last mile than I’d done the whole race. I just kept going.

In my head I thought:

IF I CAN DO THIS, I CAN GET ANY JOB I WANT.

IF I CAN DO THIS, I CAN HAVE A GOOD RELATIONSHIP.

IF I CAN DO THIS, I CAN DO ANYTHING.

It HURT towards the end. but I was finally KEEPING A COMMITMENT TO MYSELF!

I finally rounded the corner of the race on 72nd street. My little lazy voice was still in there, but it was literally shocked into submission.

I was GOING TO DO IT and there wasn’t a damn thing it could say.

There was cheering! Those lovely people at the race who are strangers but they cheer you anyway!

I was pumping my fists over my head in a ridiculous way but I didn’t care!

I passed the finish line at 52:04 for four miles (minus 5 minutes for a pee break!)

I thought I was going to pass out, but I got my two glasses of gatorade, and pretzels, and made my way over to a bench.

and promptly started to cry.

I was SO DAMN PROUD of myself.

It was just a race, but it was literally the first time in my life that i FOUGHT for something so hard. That I pushed myself into doing more than I thought I could do. I was so happy but at the same time sad that I’m 42 years old and this is the first time I’ve done that.

But, as they say, it’s only too late if you don’t start now.