Tag: streak

500

I placed my palms down on the floor, a little more than shoulder-width apart. I let my legs slide backwards until only the balls of my feet touched the ground.

I took a deep breath, with my torso suspended a foot or so in the air. Then I let my body sink toward the ground, my elbows bowing outward to make room.

Just as my nose was about to hit the floor, I straightened out my arms. I felt the pressure move from my forearms to my shoulders as my torso rose upward to its original position.

I’d just completed a push up.

That wasn’t so bad, I thought to myself. I could do a few more of these.

So, I did. I kept sinking to the ground and lifting myself back up. Over and over again.

10 repetitions became 20. 20 reps became 30. But around rep 31, I started to feel a burning sensation in my arms.

The force of all that movement had caught up with me. My body felt tired and heavy. I could no longer make it through without discomfort.

I struggled my way to the 40th push up. Then I stopped.

It turns out time does take its toll.

Half of success is just showing up.

I’ve heard that phrase plenty. And it’s led me to scratch my head.

You see, I’ve always considered showing up to be table stakes. After all, it’s hard to seize opportunities without being present for them.

How could something foundational be worth half of the jackpot? It shouldn’t be.

So, in an era of participation medals and self-indulgence, I’ve kept my nose to the grindstone. I’ve focused on my execution and tried to keep the spotlight off my effort.

Being there has meant nothing to me. What I do in the moment has meant everything.

Recently though, I’ve found myself re-evaluating my point of view.

For it turns out that showing up is trickier than it might seem.

Sure, it’s simple enough to be present on day one, day two, or even day ten. We’re fresh. We’re eager. We’re determined.

But eventually the weight of all our expended energy catches up with us. We get worn down. And our will to persist wanes.

This is why the 31st pushup is harder than the first. And it’s why the 31st day of any venture is more challenging than the 11th.

It takes something special to power through. Stubbornness. Determination. Sacrifice.

It’s uncommon to see such traits in action, day after day. And when they are on display, the least we could do is recognize them.

Showing up might not be precisely half of success. But it matters.

Nearly a decade ago, I took a plunge into the unknown.

I’d been considering sharing my writing online for some time, in the form of an online publication. I had a lot of stories to tell, and I was eager to share my thoughts with the world. But I was terrified that my venture would fall into the abyss of online content out there.

How can I break through? I thought to myself. How can I avoid the curse of irrelevance?

As I pondered these questions, I thought about my favorite thought leaders on the Internet.  The personalities I followed back then showed up repeatedly and reliably. A daily blog post. A weekly YouTube video. A monthly newsletter.

It kept me engaged as an audience member. And it kept me accountable.

Perhaps I could try the same thing with my nebulous audience.

So, I made a commitment. I would share something fresh, original, and substantive each week. And in doing so, I’d give readers something to come back for, time and again.

This pledge didn’t seem overly daunting at the time. After all, I had lots of stories in my head that were yearning for the light. Sharing one a week would be relatively simple.

So, I set up my web domain, drafted my first article, and hit Publish. Then I did it again. And again. And again.

500 times, to be exact.

Yes, this is the 500th consecutive weekly article to appear on Ember Trace. There hasn’t been a single hiatus since the publication came to life.

Technically, I’ve only relied on three items to keep this streak alive — a word processor, a website, and a stable Internet connection. But this whole venture has demanded  far more of me.

I’ve become relentlessly creative, judicious with time-management, and determined to make writing a priority. I’ve made this venture a focal point of my life.

All to repeat the trick of hitting Publish 500 times over.

That’s nothing to sneeze at.

Several years back, I met with a physical therapist who specialized in treating runners.

I was close to the peak of my running career at that point, with the physique and the medal haul to match. But I’d also picked up a couple of injuries that had knocked me out of some races. And I worried that my gait was to blame.

The physical therapist looked on as I ran on a specialized treadmill. Then he showed me some video clips of my form.

Sure enough, my right foot was freelancing. It would oscillate with each stride – oftentimes landing behind my left heel. This wild motion led my torso to twist, putting strain on my right hip, knee and ankle.

I looked on, defeated. It seemed that I was going to need to relearn how to run.

But the physical therapist had other ideas.

He gave me a litany of exercises to practice at the gym. Mobility drills. Strength training. Balance tasks.

I was to run through that circuit several times a week, paying close attention to detail. But when I went for a run, I was ordered to pay my form no mind.

Confusion washed over my face. Why wouldn’t fixing my form be the number one priority?

The physical therapist explained the gait doesn’t define success for runners. In fact, many with unusual strides have gone on to achieve great things. Their bodies adapted to the unbalanced movements, and they created a new equilibrium.

I think about this often when I’m drafting a new article for Ember Trace.

The stories in my mind are no longer abundant, and article topics no longer flow freely. Indeed, I feel far more like I’m on my 31st push up than my first. Such are the challenges of doing something 500 times over.

But with God’s grace, I’m still out here. I’m still writing, still publishing, still making a miniscule mark on this world every seven days.

I’m proud of that feat. And I’m honored to keep it going.

Here’s to 500. And to all that’s still to come.

400

Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

Lou Gehrig uttered those words into a microphone on July 4, 1939.

The New York Yankees captain wasn’t reveling in his title. He’d last played an inning of baseball more than two months prior.

Nor was he expressing his patriotism. Gehrig was an embodiment of the American dream,

but that’s not what this day was about.

Gehrig, you see, was retiring. Forced out of the game by a debilitating disease, he was saying goodbye to an adoring Yankee Stadium crowd.

Such a ceremony was unheard of in those days. But so was Gehrig.

Yes, before his disease chased him from baseball, Gehrig had played in 2,130 consecutive games. For the better part of 14 years, he took the field every single day — earning himself the nickname of The Iron Horse.

That might not sound like much at first. But think about how many times you’ve called in sick or taken a vacation day. Gehrig never did, until his deteriorating body forced his hand.

It was a remarkable achievement. One that has only been surpassed by one baseball player — Cal Ripken, Jr. – in the near-century since. And one that might never be surpassed again.

They just don’t make ‘em like The Iron Horse anymore.

Consistency is hard to do.

What are the consistent traits of your life?

Eating? Sleeping? Walking around?

These seem like natural answers. But I know there are days and nights when I haven’t done one or more of these things.

This is not meant to glorify the all-nighter or the all-day fast. It’s more to highlight that doing anything consistently is hard.

This context makes Gehrig and Ripken’s feats even more notable. They fought through the inevitable speed bumps to get the improbable done.

Doing what so many cannot helped to make these baseball stars incomparable. Both Gehrig and Ripken are enshrined in the Baseball Hall of Fame.

But consistency did not bestow superhuman powers upon them. Ripken’s performance on the field declined somewhat in the late years of his streak. The disease that forced Gehrig out of the lineup ultimately claimed his life.

Yes, consistency is firmly within the grasp of humanity. We all have the ability to do the improbable.

And you’re reading one such example.

This is article 400 of Words of the West.

For 400 consecutive weeks, I’ve shared a fresh thought, opinion, or reflection with you, dear reader. That’s every week, without fail, for almost eight years.

Some of these articles were deep and personal. Some were more banal. Some were a tad preachy.

But no matter the tenor of the content, one new article has appeared here each week for 400 consecutive weeks.

Now, at first glance, this shouldn’t be noteworthy. After all, the first rule of any publication is Find a schedule and stick to it.

I heeded this edict, committing to sharing weekly musings before I ever hit Publish. But if we’re being honest, I never thought I’d be able to keep the streak alive this long.

How could I?

Think of other markers of longevity.

American football teams play between 10 and 17 weekly games as part of their regular slates. International football — or soccer — teams play 34 to 38 matches each year. Television series generally contain 22 new episodes a season.

And all of them have off weeks built into the schedule.

Yes, when exercising our abilities — of mind, body, and soul — there is a limit to our continued exertion. We need a break from our routine now and then. So much so, that it’s often mandated.

Even Gehrig and Ripken had a respite from the grind. While both donned a uniform and took the field every day throughout the summer heat, they had the winters off to recharge.

Year-round consistency is within the realm of human possibility. But it’s harder to find.

And year-over-year consistency? Rarer still.

Indeed, there are relatively few examples of people taking on feats like this without interruption or assistance. Marketing guru Seth Godin has famously added a new blog post each day for more than a decade. Some runners have taken to the streets each day for years.

But those are the exceptions to the rule. And in a way, what I’m doing here is an exception too.

You see, just about everything in my life has changed since I first hit Publish on Words of the West.

Where I live. What I do. How I interact with others. How I critique myself.

Both through circumstance and through choice, I’ve had to break with so many routines throughout this time. I’ve had to sacrifice sacred cows, lean into the unknown, and embrace novelty.

Yet through it all, the weekly articles here have remained a constant. The one steady rock amidst shifting seas.

It’s kept me grounded. It’s kept me honest.

And I thank God for that.

Ripken and Gehrig ended their streaks on their own accord.

Each man walked into the manager’s office and asked for a day off.

Circumstances were different. Eras were different. But the final act was the same.

What will be the final act of this streak? When will the stream of articles cease?

I don’t profess to know. And I don’t want to find out anytime soon.

When looking ahead, the only constant is uncertainty.

Years ago, when I started this publication, I would never have dreamed that my life would be as it now is. I would never have imagined that my writing would become what it has.

The void ahead of me was vast. And I knew better than to peer into its infinite depth.

I feel the same way today.

Yes, I have hopes and dreams for the future. But I harbor no illusions of manifesting them into reality. Much remains beyond my control.

What I can do is keep plugging away. Keep writing and publishing. One article at a time.

And that’s what I will continue to do. Until I can’t — or won’t.

So, let’s not focus on the destination. Let’s cherish the journey.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.