A thought about a conversation between two friends

"Where there was no way, you kept your composure and you made a way. Our strength is at our disposal to do what no one else can imagine."

Web Smith in "A quick conversation between friends".

Whoa.

"...at our disposal to do what no one else can imagine."

Breaking down what caught my attention even further?

"at our disposal"
"do"
"imagine"

Finally, a point of focus to where my thoughts went with this:

do what no one else can (or did/will) imagine.

Others will work for a goal.
Others will practice for a certain thing.
Others will focus on improving to a certain point.

Don't practice to 'their' place, title, or expectation.
Don't work to get to their 'there'.

Dare to imagine above and beyond that.
Dare to do, your do.
Dare to dig deep into what is at your disposal.
Dare to work, and will, and wonder (imagine) to get there.
No one else can imagine it.. but you.
Not Web..
Not Rich..
Not your best friend..
Not your boss.
You.

Mind. Body. Heart. Soul.
Fact: You'll need all four.

No wonder? No wonder you'll never get there.

(Thanks for sharing your conversation, Web, it's appreciated.)

Heads or Tales from the lunchroom

Lunchtime is my time.

It is a time to breath, to eat, to refuel, to read, to learn, to sharpen, and to revitalize.

It is not a crammed sandwich to quiet a stomach.

I often eat by myself.

(By myself... but not alone.)

Today I found the window of time, and opportunity, to leave the building and venture down to the cafeteria down the street. Good lunch, healthy choices, good book, and a good continuation of the creative flow from the morning. Finished up my meal, saw that I had a few more minutes to read and digest in peace, and ...

// Brakes Screeching //

"...saw the empty seats, mind if I join you?"

I did not know this gentleman. I did not plan on having someone sit at my small table. But I also didn't mind learning about someone new in here, so I went with it. "Please do! Come on down..."

He had a sharpness to his appearance as I noticed the crisp tie knot, oh, and cuff links with distinction. Well put together and presentable; definitely not one of the usual flavor here.

His meal began, and my answers followed to the rhythm of his questions between bites. Attention to detail - not fluff or blank-eyed generic hot air I usually get around social media, digital marketing, innovation, or what I do in a place that doesn't (yet).

There could be an entire post split off from this one about the subject matter, but with all fairness and respect to that moment we shared, I'm keeping that to myself for now. As I mentioned before, it was sharp, it was probing, there was depth and meaning to the responses, and the follow-up questions had the meat of the matter with them. It was refreshing to say the very least.

The gentleman finished his meal. He thanked me for the engaging conversation, for the company, and asked for my name. I gave him my personal business card. I'd love to tell you that I gave him my business card from my business, but business isn't the logo on the card, the big building you work in, or the job title under your name. My card was my card that I share with trusted connections, and I was glad to share it.

We shook hands.

We went our separate ways.

Ends up that "the stranger" was a C-level member of our leadership team in the U.S.

His title didn't matter.

The conversation did.

30. 40. 50. 60. 70. (0...)

Early morning.

Cold.

(Really cold.)

White board.

(( Whoa ))

In front of you are big numbers to achieve today.

(Huge numbers.)

You wonder how.

You wonder, wow...

The clock ticks down.

Go time.

Go.

30 of this. 40 of that. 50 of that one. 60 of those. 70 at the end.

You're used to 5.

You're used to 10.

You do.

You go.

You wonder how you'll get to next 15 of the 40.

The 50 feels like 2 at a time.

You hear those numbers screaming in the back of your head.

You stop.

0.

0.

0.

Then it hits you..

0 is a worse number than 70.

0 is worse than 10.

0 is worse than 1.

Get one.

Get one more.

Keep going.

Fail. (Twice)

I learned more in those ten minutes under the bar than I have in the past ten months.

Out of five times, I failed twice. I did not end on a "high note" or on a positive result. I did not get a sixth chance to go home happy. Five times. Five tries. Two failures.

This is  not a post about CrossFit, about working out, about fitness, about Guerrilla Fitness in Montclair, about lifting weights, or about sports. This is about failure. This is about the unique flavor that failure tastes like to each and every single one of us. This is about me tasting it for the first time in a while. Tasting it, smelling it, and feeling all 180-plus pounds of it on my shoulders while driving me straight into the ground below it. This is me, shaken, but not hurt. This is me, hungry to wrap my head around, inside, and through the sensation of why it happened - how it happened - and when I'll face it again. This isn't about me wanting to do it immediately, or tomorrow; no, this is about me wanting to face it again and be ready for it, then. This is about me letting go that other people witnessed me crushed under those weights. This is me not wanting to give one excuse as I might have in the past. This is about embracing the fact that we need to learn to fail more often. This is me, learning. This is me, failing. This is me, and will be me, more often.

Once a month we have a "PR Week" where personal records are attempted, worked toward, and often gained. One pound more? PR. Fifty pounds more? PR. What is lost in the shuffle of my failures is that I reached a PR today. What is important to share is that the sensation of the failures meant more to me as they were lessons for tomorrow, and not reflections of yesterday's results and hard work.

It might be work, it might be an assignment for a client, it might be a special project you're working on, or it might be CrossFit during PR week at Guerrilla Fitness... no matter. The lesson is there. The taste is there. The need to rest, recover, and regroup is there. The day will come when I face those weights again. I will face them. I will work at being able to lift them. I will remember the taste of failure.

I am not a failure.

I will face my failures.

I will stand, again.