5 am.
Not the normal time I’d find myself huffing and puffing down a sidewalk, on an overcast, drizzly morning while the sun was still too drowsy to peep over the horizon.
Well, really, there is no normal time yet for my morning jogs. I’ve yet to establish a dependable schedule for my new-found fitness goals. Which means, sometimes I head out at 7am. More often, I find myself at 10am at my laptop, rehearsing motivational speeches for the next morning. At least I’m trying.
However, having woken up with thoughts running and no return to sleep apparent, I decided the best use of my insomnia was to shake off the excuses and head out to run early, before I could talk myself out of it.
I got dressed as quietly as I could as not to wake my wife, stretched a bit, and headed out the door. My run started out down a straightaway trail that extends alongside a canal, about a block south of my home. Having noticed other joggers taking that road, I had determined it should be one of my chosen routes as well. Mind you, I had taken a similar path before that runs parallel to that trail, but my limited stamina gave out long before I made it all the way down the prospective path. At forty-four, one has to realize you don’t turn into a marathon runner overnight. A 10 min mile at this point would be cause for celebration.
The coolness of the early morning air, the rumble of cars on the side roads as people headed to early shifts, and the faint chorus of crickets were my only companions as I thumped down the road in my grey Converse sneakers. I had never taken this particular trail before, and I was simply estimating the distance in my head. I was a bit worried. I certainly didn’t want this attempt to make it the entire way down the trail to become yet another failure in my stop-and-start-fitness routine.
But something helped a great deal.
After just a few minutes, I started to see the fixed point of the end of the block. Yes, I know. It was actually just over a couple of miles. Nothing that would warrant sending my resume to the Olympic long-distance team. But seeing the end of the road helped me center myself and put a spring in my step. What seemed to be hard became manageable. The worry became a wisp and I just started focusing on the finish line.
This little fitness episode reinforced to me the importance of the fixed point. Everytime I allow my goals to be blurry, undefined, or unclear, I’m basically taking the wind out of my own sails. It’s only when I make my goal clear, defined and visible that I get the energy required to achieve it.
Simple? Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard it before. Set measurable goals, right?
But how often do we do that? That’s up for debate.
I’ll put myself on the list of people who have a lot of undefined goals.
Ideas about making more money? Yes.
How much? Undefined.
Desires for a better marriage relationship? Sure.
What exactly does that look like? Undefined.
Visions for a more effective business? All the time.
The exact point I want to reach? Undefined.
That’s probably not going to get me the results I’m looking for.
So my little reminder to myself is to set my eyes forward on a fixed point. To make sure I’m running with purpose toward something. Not just to run, but to get somewhere.
It doesn’t always feel good in the process, but it sure helps to know where the finish line is.
Share your thoughts: Have you defined your finish line when it comes to your goals? I’d love for you to share what those finish lines look like to you.
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