The Down Side to Achievement Part II

What do we do about the self-defeating side of achievement? 

How do we keep ourselves from sliding completely into an abyss of self-loathing, or, worse, becoming so goal-obsessed that we disregard all other things in pursuit of perfection? 

Here are three ways, of course, because bloggers love lists!

Through hardship to the stars, by Tom & Carol who sponsored my leg in the Spinx 1/2 last year.

1) Identify YOUR levels.

Take some time to say, “this is the dream level.” – for me, this is regular 10 mile runs, marathons, seriously crazy runner-freak stuff.

The Down Side of Achievement

The problem with being a continuous-improvement-junky is achievement. I know, that seems counter-intuitive. We want to achieve, right? We want to get better. I do. Every day I do.

Six miles? No problem!

But once I’ve achieved something it becomes a standard. So today, as I huffed and puffed through 4 miles, reminding myself that running is a habit and I’ve been slack in the habit for months, I kept thinking, “I run 6 miles. Minimum.”

Yep.

Like when I swim. I swim 3000 yards. Period. No less.

How does this happen? High jumpers don’t take a month off in December, gorge themselves on Christmas cookies and eggnog and come back to the bar at 6 feet high. So why should I?

Fiction Location

Hi ya! Just wanted some new visitors to know I post my fiction on a different blog:

http://kasiewhitener.naiwe.com

I've just put up a revision of a short story. Take a look if you get a few minutes.

Glad to meet ya! Be sure to leave a note in the comments introducing yourself!

Hey Man, You're an All Star

Get your game on. Go play. This is for the GUTGAA meet & greet.  

Welcome, new friends! Be sure to leave a comment so I know you've been here!

-Where do you write?

At home, Columbia, S.C. in the "little house" which is the apartment we're staying in while our house is being built. I usually sit at the desk but sometimes I sit on the couch. Boring, right? I also write on bar napkins and scraps of paper, in the pages of books I'm reading and in a red leather journal I carry everywhere. 

-Quick. Go to your writing space, sit down and look to your left. What is the first thing you see?

A window. Dirty blinds and a parking lot beyond. Some empty spaces, a few pine trees, my own CRV "Brando" waiting for me to come and take him somewhere.

-Favorite time to write?

Morning. Early.

-Drink of choice while writing?

Coffee. Preferably iced. It's flippin hot in Columbia.

-When writing , do you listen to music or do you need complete silence?

Music. Lyrics are inspiring. But classical helps me focus.

-What was your inspiration for your latest manuscript and where did you find it?

Gleaming the Cube. '80s skater movie with Christian Slater. Seriously. Main character: Brian. Skateboarder. Punk. Trying-to-be-a-grown-up. Best friend commits suicide. a la The Big Chill. Only I didn't get to see that movie until much later.

-What's your most valuable writing tip?

Revise. Revise. Revise. I've had four versions of Brian's story and am working on the 5th. As he grows, I grow. And when he's done with me, I'll know. 

Writers, Check out GUTGAA. Everyone else, bear with me. Contests are contests ;-)

Feel inspired to answer one of the questions? Do it! You're an All Star, too!

A Difficult Reflection on Courage

I couldn’t even look at it.

I followed the link through a tweet. I knew what it would be. Just one look would make me cry. I closed the window before it began.

It’s the Faces of the Dead slideshow and it has pictures of the first 2000 service members killed in Iraq and Afghanistan who have been identified and whose families have been alerted. 

That’s 2000 families whose lives are forever changed by the irrevocable sacrifice of their fallen soldier.

And my cowardly self cannot even view their pictures.

Perspective

Lately I’ve been pretty wrapped up in the personal drama playing itself out in my small world. I have been in the water, as David Foster Wallace might say. I have been convinced of the hardship of my own experience.

 

But I am really good at changing perspectives. Like removing colored filters from theatre lights, I can adjust the temperature and shade of the scene I’m in. 

Though sometimes I find myself dangling from the rafters, high above the stage and sometimes I forget mine is not the only stage in town, I can usually do the psychological work necessary to put things in perspective.

Adding Shadows

I am fiercely patriotic. Not in the way that I think there’s nothing wrong with the U.S.A. or in that Dixie-Chick-hating-fervor way that mistakes loyalty to one as hatred of all “other.” I am patriotic in the way that I really believe I would do anything for my country.

Ever since September 11^th and even more so since we went to war, the National Anthem has brought me to tears. Not just small drips of pride but sobs.

I cry for the soldiers on that slide show. For their families. For the great loves of their lives. For the loss of what else they could become.

I didn’t join the military. I didn’t sign up and put myself in harm’s way to defend our freedoms. I believed I could serve my country by making it a better place to live.

Get Busy

And what have I done, to that end?

I have been teaching English to people who want to improve their lives through higher education. I coach and mentor young girls interested in running. Book clubs and writing clubs and running clubs and YMCAs. I have the activity-suggests-a-life-filled-with-purpose approach.

I care for my family, obey the law, and write.

Define "hero"

I am lucky enough to experience the “quandary of self-actualization” as my friend Lynn wrote. In my playhouse, I adjust the setting, the actors, and the lights. I move the plot along.

But I need to remember mine is only one such playhouse. There are countless other stages upon which significant personal dramas are occurring.

When I write about perspective I expect to be helping others step away from their immediate circumstances. Think about those other stages, those other playhouses, those other dramas of which they may not be fully aware.

Hide from nothing

It’s a tremendous gift to have the means by which to ponder such things and the security in which to do so. I am grateful for those whose physical courage has given me the freedom to exercise my psychological courage.

Experience and exposure are the shaping agents of our immortal souls. To open oneself to both is to try to live one’s fullest possible life.

I’m going to watch the slide show now.

What personal reflection have you avoided because it would challenge you? Is it your career? Your family? Your fitness?  How did you overcome that fear?

I will never regret this

As Brando raced down I-20 toward Florence I thought, “I will never regret this.”

Brando is our blue CRV. HB rode in Brando’s back seat. Five-point-harnessed, the wild curls of a doll’s red hair tangled around her fingers, an abandoned half-empty bag of fruit loops wedged between her leg and the seat, she whined, “I don’t want to go to Nana’s.”

“Someday,” I said, “when your Mama is old, you will pack up your own little girl and carry her to visit Mama. And your daughter will wail, ‘I don’t wanna go,’ and you’ll say this: It’s important.”

“I don’t wanna go,” she said again.

“It’s important,” I said.

It isn’t often that while I’m doing something I acknowledge, “I will never regret this.” On the contrary, I have frequently acknowledged the opposite while continuing ahead on an ill-fated path.


I regret exiting the dirt track at Lowe’s Motor Speedway by climbing the 20-ft fence. I regret letting a good friendship sour in one reckless, thoughtless weekend. Ancient and unaffiliated events; both fueled by too much alcohol.

Winning a Free Year

In the early days of the internet my sister once clicked on one of those flashing banner ads that said “You’re a Winner!” She called the number, immediately, to claim her prize. The person who answered the phone couldn’t believe Kristen had received the message she described.

“Wow!” the operator said, perfectly rehearsed, “let me ask my manager about that one.”

It was one of the rare ads that would send Kristen on an all-expenses-paid trip around the world. They only had a few of them. How had she found it?

“You’re so lucky!” the operator gushed.

What's under the bridge?
Leigh Johnson Reed Photography, June 2012

After surrendering her personal information, enough to allow them to hack her identify and get to anything electronic they considered of value, they told her she would receive her voucher in the mail.

“Congratulations again,” the manager said before hanging up the phone.

It was the blinking banner that drew Kristen in. She couldn’t believe she’d actually won something. The fact that she hadn’t made a lot more sense. It was a scam. No vouchers ever arrived and she’s never been around the world on an all-expenses-paid anything.