Practicing Discomfort

My friend, Brendan Leonard (by “my friend” I mean “this guy I’ve never met in real life but who I follow online and whose work I really admire”), has a t-shirt in his shop that says “I HATE RUNNING” but the “A” in “hate” is actually a heart. 

I think most people who have ever made running a part of their lives can relate to this.

I know I do.

At some point during my radiation treatments last year, my trail runs turned into run-walks, and then just walks in the woods.

Which is fine.

I like walking in the woods and it felt good and kept me moving and it got me outside into nature, which my heart really needed. 

But as I’m finally feeling the side-effects of treatment receding and my energy levels are climbing once more to my norm, I’ve had the itch to get back to running. I’ve even started looking for a trail marathon for the fall to add to the fun.

So this morning I went for a run.

Okay, anyone would be hard-put to call it an actual run. It was more like a lot of shuffling and heavy breathing and feeling like I might die at any moment punctuated by some walking at a snail’s pace. 

It was uuuuuuugly, y’all. 

Truth? 

Every second that I was “running” felt like a torture that I wanted to make stop immediately. 

I hated it. I felt heavy and plodding and I couldn’t breath and my knees hurt and this seemed like a big, stupid, waste of time.

Calling it “discomfort” feels like a gigantic understatement.

But here’s the thing.

I know that all that pain and all that discomfort is temporary. 

Temporary in the sense that in 30 minutes I would arrive back at my car and be finished.

Temporary in the sense that if I hang with it, in a few weeks it won’t be so hard.

Temporary in the grand, esoteric way the Buddhists mean, as in “all of life is suffering and all suffering is temporary.”

For me, running is a perfect place to practice what I want for the rest of my life: a willingness to endure discomfort in order to connect with what matters to me.

Does the running itself really matter? Nope. Not at all, arguably.

But what I’ve learned over and over is that most worthwhile pursuits in my life have required some discomfort (and often some serious, painful discomfort).

My relationships, both with loved ones and with myself.

My work and business.

My health- physical, mental, and emotional.

These have all required the endurance of some serious discomfort in order to grow and thrive.

Learning to stay with our discomfort, even when everything in us wants to make it stop, might be one of the most useful tools we ever put into our "life toolboxes.”

Hanging in there just a little longer, not giving in to the often visceral urge to quit, is where magic lies.

This is where we stretch.

This is where we grow.

This is the same “muscle” we call on to pursue dreams even when we’re scared.

The same one we use when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and open to receive love.

The one we rely on to trust our own voice and instincts despite what others might think or say.

Wanna hear some fantastic news? 

It’s also one that gets stronger through practice.

Let me say that again, because this is huge:

We can learn to stay with discomfort by practicing.

That means that no matter where we find ourselves in this moment, we can learn to stay with whatever discomfort comes with our growth.

That we can get a little stronger in this each day. A little more comfortable with being uncomfortable each time we practice.

This is true for every single one of us.

How do we practice?

Maybe it means “unplugging” for whatever length of time pushes your limits…whether it’s 15 minutes on your lunch break or 15 hours on a Saturday.

Maybe it means trying a restaurant whose food is unfamiliar to you and where you aren’t entirely sure of the proper protocol.

Maybe it means learning a new skill that you find challenging, and maybe even frustrating, but working at patience with yourself as you learn.

Maybe it means sitting in traffic and breathing through the waiting and your impatience, or even learning to embrace the unplanned pause in your day.

There are infinite opportunities in our daily life to practice staying with our discomfort, to build our resilience, our tolerance for our growing pains.

This morning I practiced in the woods as over and over I tried to hang on for just a little longer and a little longer before I paused to walk, to begin again before I felt entirely ready.

Because I want to stay with my life, for the good and the bad, the easy and the hard. I want to be present for all of it, no matter what it might bring.

So I practiced.

Tell me- how do you practice this? Where in your daily life do you find these little windows to practice staying with things even when they’re uncomfortable?

Stay curious out there!