I just finished reading Daniel Pink’s latest book, Drive. He is one of my favorite authors, and if you’ve known me for a little while, I’ve probably already given you a copy of A Whole New Mind. His tagline for this book is “The Surprising Truth about what Motivates Us.” No, really, it’s not all that surprising. He says that basically there are two types of people in the world: Internally Motivated (Type I) and Externally Motivated (Type X). You can find out more about his book and yourself on his website, and you can take a short survey to find out what kind of person you are here.
On the cover of this book is a runner. He calls running the ultimate Intrinsically motivated sport. It is done alone and requires long hours of deliberate practice. Most of the time, unless you have a personal trainer – like my Bad Ass childhood friend Hollie Kenney (yes, she’s the “Fittest Mom” in Austin according to her recent photo shoot), then the only person who keep you running is, well, you. As I’ve documented on this blog before, I signed up for the Miami Beach Half Marathon at the end of October and have taken on running about 5 days a week. My regular run is about 5 miles – and my internal keep-my-ass moving dialog goes something like this.
MILE 1: I hate running. What the Hell am I thinking? I finally have a job where I actually don’t have to get out of bed and I’m out here before 7 a.m. – before the friggin’ sun is up – to run. Seriously? What is wrong with me? I need better music on my running playlist, dammit.
MILE 2: I can do this, I think. Yeah, I’m a bad ass. I can do this. Nobody else is kicking themselves out the door at the crack of ass to do something like this. I’m going to run a friggin’ marathon. I can do this – well, with some better music. How the Hell did Billy Joel end up on this list?
MILE 3: I hate people. Yes, asshole, I’m talking to you. Put down that 800-calorie Latte that you just got from the drive-thru at Dunkin’ Donuts – because actually getting out of your car for a cruller might cause you to have to stop texting or checking Facebook for more than 10 seconds. No, really, I can run around your car as you nose out into the backed up traffic on the highway because – really – letting me go in front of you for 3 seconds might cause you to miss your one and only opportunity this morning and make you late for something. No, really, it has nothing to do with the 25 minutes you spent waiting in your car in line for coffee because you are too lazy to make it at home yourself, it is only if you let me run in front of you that will cause you to be late. Don’t avoid eye contact with me!! And how did Laurie Berkner get on my running playlist? “Cho-co-late in my Pock-o-late!”
MILE 4: I hate myself. Really. Why did I do this to myself? I can’t believe all that I ate/drank/smoke. No, not yesterday – in my 20s, or the 90s, or whenever. How did I get so fat? If I hadn’t eaten/drank/smoked all of that – whatever period of self loathing I am now concerning myself with – I would not have to carry this extra friggin’ weight now. With all the crap that I’ve done – I’m surprised I’m alive some days. You know, this might make a good blog post… And seriously, when did the The Dirty Heads get so freaking mellow? I need friends who can turn me onto to some damn hip-hop. Whatever happened to gangsta rap?
MILE 5: “I can see Russia from my house.” No really, I think I can see my house – just a little further. And what the Eff is wrong with this playlist? Fuck it, one mile to go and I’m switching to Streetlight Manifesto. Should’ve just put them on to start with.
And then I get home, and the kids asked me if “Mommy had a good run.” And yes, yes I did.