I've been thinking a lot about Batman lately. I realize that's a weird way to start a post on a blog about the educational lessons we've learned from running mud runs, but bear with me for a few minutes. Hopefully, it will all make sense.
So, back to Batman. I'm pretty sure that anyone reading this has at least a passing knowledge of who and what Batman is. If not, here's his deal. He's a rich guy who witnessed his parents get killed when he was a kid. He went a bit crazy and dedicated his life to fighting crime. He dresses up as a bat to scare the criminals. That's usually about the extent of what people know about Batman, but there's an interesting concept that Batman, through his very existence, caused his villains to come into existence. That's not in a "if you dream hard enough, things will happen for you" sort of way. Rather, it is in the "crazy attracts crazy" sort of way. If that's the case, then an argument could be made that the world (at least the comic book world) would be better off if there had never been a Batman.
Anyway, I'm certain that I could go down this rabbit hole all day long, but it's not really why I was thinking about Batman, but it did get me started. I started to wonder what it takes to be motivated to peak performance EVERY day. That's what it takes to be Batman, after all. You definitely can't skip leg day - not even once - if you want to fight alongside Superman with nothing much more than a pair of tights and some gadgets.
I had always thought of Bruce Wayne (as if I have to tell anyone that he is Batman's alter ego) was an intense and driven guy, but pretty much just that. Anytime anyone would tell me that he was legitimately as crazy as any of this nemeses, I would kind of laugh it off. After all, we don't want to think of Batman being as driven by mania as the Joker is. But, the more I think about it, the only way that you could really maintain the kind of physical and mental regiment it takes to be an otherwise human comic book hero is to be broken in some fundamental way. It's not all that hard to keep motivated when you're in your 20s and 30s and the physical exertion is relatively easy, but where is the motivation coming from to maintain that pace into your 40s and 50s when the aches, pains and minor/major injuries start to take their toll? Slowing down is a natural experience. Even witnessing the murder of your parents would eventually fade a bit (not that you'd forget it, but the visceral nature of the event would blur over time) when confronted with your 4th knee surgery and recovery. It's tough to get motivated every day if the only thing driving you is a memory that has lost some of its hard edges. The alternative explanation is that he isn't being driven by that memory as much as the memory is the starting point of his sickness, and the sickness is what's pushing him forward.
What does this all have to do with tough mudders, though? Well, as I approach the second half of my 4th decade on this planet, I am confronted with the inevitability of my slowing down. I'm not planning on retiring anytime soon, and I can easily see myself out there on the course a decade from now. The difference being, at that point I'll have to be happy with a different pace and ability to complete the events. I don't have the same kind of sickness that pushes Bruce Wayne every day, and so I have to become comfortable with the effects of the aging process. I'll check back in a decade, but my guess is that I'll be running fewer races (assuming mud runs are even a thing in a decade) and I'll be moving slower at the races I do run. I'll just have to find a way to be okay with that.
So, back to Batman. I'm pretty sure that anyone reading this has at least a passing knowledge of who and what Batman is. If not, here's his deal. He's a rich guy who witnessed his parents get killed when he was a kid. He went a bit crazy and dedicated his life to fighting crime. He dresses up as a bat to scare the criminals. That's usually about the extent of what people know about Batman, but there's an interesting concept that Batman, through his very existence, caused his villains to come into existence. That's not in a "if you dream hard enough, things will happen for you" sort of way. Rather, it is in the "crazy attracts crazy" sort of way. If that's the case, then an argument could be made that the world (at least the comic book world) would be better off if there had never been a Batman.
Anyway, I'm certain that I could go down this rabbit hole all day long, but it's not really why I was thinking about Batman, but it did get me started. I started to wonder what it takes to be motivated to peak performance EVERY day. That's what it takes to be Batman, after all. You definitely can't skip leg day - not even once - if you want to fight alongside Superman with nothing much more than a pair of tights and some gadgets.
I had always thought of Bruce Wayne (as if I have to tell anyone that he is Batman's alter ego) was an intense and driven guy, but pretty much just that. Anytime anyone would tell me that he was legitimately as crazy as any of this nemeses, I would kind of laugh it off. After all, we don't want to think of Batman being as driven by mania as the Joker is. But, the more I think about it, the only way that you could really maintain the kind of physical and mental regiment it takes to be an otherwise human comic book hero is to be broken in some fundamental way. It's not all that hard to keep motivated when you're in your 20s and 30s and the physical exertion is relatively easy, but where is the motivation coming from to maintain that pace into your 40s and 50s when the aches, pains and minor/major injuries start to take their toll? Slowing down is a natural experience. Even witnessing the murder of your parents would eventually fade a bit (not that you'd forget it, but the visceral nature of the event would blur over time) when confronted with your 4th knee surgery and recovery. It's tough to get motivated every day if the only thing driving you is a memory that has lost some of its hard edges. The alternative explanation is that he isn't being driven by that memory as much as the memory is the starting point of his sickness, and the sickness is what's pushing him forward.
What does this all have to do with tough mudders, though? Well, as I approach the second half of my 4th decade on this planet, I am confronted with the inevitability of my slowing down. I'm not planning on retiring anytime soon, and I can easily see myself out there on the course a decade from now. The difference being, at that point I'll have to be happy with a different pace and ability to complete the events. I don't have the same kind of sickness that pushes Bruce Wayne every day, and so I have to become comfortable with the effects of the aging process. I'll check back in a decade, but my guess is that I'll be running fewer races (assuming mud runs are even a thing in a decade) and I'll be moving slower at the races I do run. I'll just have to find a way to be okay with that.
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