Growing up playing football I’ve heard amazing quotes from Vince Lombardi, the legendary football coach born in Brooklyn, New York. He started out as an assistant coach for St. Cecilia High School in Englewood, New Jersey, and went on to a prestigious, 31-year career, winning five NFL Championships. There is a quote from Coach Lombardi that kept me pushing forward, while sweat blinded my eyes under my helmet, and exhaustion and self-doubt beat on me under the blazing lights during high school football practices that ran at least an hour longer than any of us thought we could endure…
“Fatigue makes cowards of us all”
Fast forward about 30 years. I’m running late, impatient (with myself), trying to get out of the car and put on my trail running shoes at the same time (never a good idea). I have a run planned with a friend of mine – the friend who is now watching me as I do my best impression of a rock star tumbling out of his limo the morning after a concert. I’m irritable. My sleep was less than perfect the night before, and I did not need Sherlock Holmes to decipher that my choices to down a burger and fries at 11pm last night, then crawl into my bed around midnight might play a large role in my present mental state. My running companion assured me that my being ‘off’ after such a night was normal and not to worry about it. I know this is true, but, of course, my fogged brain translated this as sarcasm. I feel my friend’s patience wearing thin, and if I don’t get a grip soon, my crappy mood will be like an emotional anchor around both of us. Just about this time, that good old Lombardi quote finds its way into my grey matter, but it’s slightly different now than it was thirty years ago:
“Fatigue makes cowards of us all… Why?”
When I was younger I think it took a great deal more to fatigue me, so I could afford to forget that my body and mind fall under the same natural laws as everything else on God’s green earth. The ability of my brain to ‘use’ instead of ‘be used’ by the emotional information that my 5 senses feed me has a great deal to do whether I stay mindful of taking care of myself physically and mentally. The ‘thoughtful choices’ that allow me to take care of myself also give me the greatest amount of energy for the longest amount of time.
Great. Well, right now these choices aren’t available. The burger and fries cannot be uneaten, and I don’t see a way to sleep and run at the same time (I would if I could). Therefore, my brain remains fogged over with fatigue, reassurances sound like sarcasm, and my general outlook is poor because of the choices I made…
But isn’t there something to be said for ‘knowing’ this?
I believe the cowardice Lombardi referred to may be defined as the fear anyone feels when a harmful emotional state inhabits us and we dread that we may feel this way forever. I may not be able to reason with my mind at the moment, but I do have the ability, even in the midst of my discomfort, to ‘know’ what is going on. The ability to trust that if I just stop speaking, tie my shoes, and get running, I will be able to get to that next moment where I can’t help but to be in a different mental emotional place. I do this not just because my fatigue and fear has held me and my running partner emotional hostage long enough, but because I KNOW feelings don’t last. I trust it. My emotions are ever changing, and whether in a minute, an hour, or when I wake up the next day, I know I will feel differently.
My shoes are a knotted mess now, but I assure my friend that I’m ready to go. I am pulling the emotional anchor back up onto the ship and we’re going to run. Because, if I can just hang in there for 15-20 minutes of running in the discomfort of my present circumstances, I know it is very likely that my emotions will change, and I will feel very differently about pretty much everything! Coach Lombardi understood this too… I just didn’t know I was being taught mindfulness under those long practices under the lights.
