Performing is Different

It is. Live performing brings out adrenaline. Because, even though you may know the act, you never know the performance. The act is what's planned. For the artist: it is the set list; for the athlete it is the practiced shots or culmination of workouts; for the skilled test taker it is the note taking and endless hours of study.

Performing keeps us alive, though. Because for all that we can control, for all of our work ethic and practice, we can't control the questions asked, the conditions of the course or the audience and stage we'll be performing at.

How cool is it to not know?

The key to being our best (and at the same time, the very counter intuitive part) is focus. It is easy to get swept up in the perceived pressure of performing. If you're a runner who races, you can't help but notice the hundreds if not thousands of other competitors. Not to mention, all the tents, the race clock, the line for the porta potty, the pre-race and post-race chatter, etc. etc. How do you stick to your act? How do you not go out too fast? Your practiced miles and trials?

Focus.

And focus on you.

And focus on the act that you have practiced.

The winner of the race, just like the doctor, just like the Broadway actress, just like the polished comedian was made a long time ago. On muddy trails. In libraries. In evening acting classes and endless summer camps. In dirty clubs with little to no sound systems and even smaller audiences.

I look at performing as a result of a culmination of work. The one who can focus back on the work the best is the one who performs the best. But sometimes we get caught up in the moment. The crowd is too much, the environment is difficult, the pressure is overwhelming.

But take away the competitive aspect. Better yet, take away all the shit you cannot control.

In the end, you're only competing against yourself. Screw others and the circumstances. The coolest thing about performing is discovering self. It's amazing, and it will trump winning a god-damn trophy any day. And when self-discovery is your big picture, you're mind automatically focuses on self and doesn't get caught up in all the hoopla of the performance. It's a bit weird, but true. When you change your end goal to self, embrace the moment for what it is, indirectly, you will become a better competitor. You'll rise above your competition without trying. Why? Because your competition is so focused on what you and the rest are doing. They get sidetracked by the same crap you wanted to but were too disciplined to fall for.

I once knew a coach who looked at a cross country team who won a major cross country meet. After the meet, he took the trophy the team won, and in front of them, threw the trophy in a river. The team beat all the other teams, but they won based on talent, not on performance. They're performance was lack-luster and if thrown into a different arena, maybe the other teams would have kicked their ass. That didn't matter -- the level of competition. It was good enough compared to the others in the same field, but not to the standard they had set for themselves.

This isn't to knock the idea of competition. It's healthy and necessary. However, competition should mostly be saved for the practice range. It's healthy for game-planning, strategy, research.

It is only when performing that one can get in "the zone." The Zone is the zone of one's self, not of me and another performer. So my thoughts: find something you enjoy and start to schedule performances. Feel the adrenaline, the nerves, and the fear that underlies it. Work your butt off to get better when you perform. But always perform. And never worry about your rank. That's all crap anyway. Let self-satisfaction and decency be your guide.

U2 Where The Streets Have No Name: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GpVbLm4TN3g

Running for Perspective - Madoff, Cramer, Stewart

In a week featuring swindler Bernie Madoff, a somewhat sane Jim Cramer, and a sobering and serious Jon Stewart, I found my running a good place to discover my own reality. My runs, well not all but some, had this sort of guy-standing-sedately-as-a-tornado-chaotically-swirled-around-him feel to it. Kind of like some of those Zack Braff scenes from the movie "Garden State"--like when the airplane experiences turbulence, people go crazy, and he sits mildly, staring blankly.

Some of the runs I do are boring, a struggle to just keep performing the act. These didn't have that feel. No performance and no act. Instead, they felt like an escape to normalcy, where the legs just move and the arms sway and the last thing I'm thinking about is what I'm doing.

My decisions to run this week were instinctive and the time spent was alone, as if I am someone famous and had to have my "Justin Time." On a side note, whenever someone places their name followed by the word "Time," there is a decent chance he or she may take themselves way too serious (or at the very least, publish a blog).

Occasionally, my mind slipped into the week's top news events. On Friday's run, I recalled the Stewart-Cramer interview. I'm usually not defensive of people who screw others for personal gain, which was Stewart's overt inference to Cramer. Still, I couldn't help but feel a little remorse for Cramer. My feelings dissipated, both at the time I watched the berating and in retrospect at effortless mile 4 when I thought about one line, "This is not a fucking game."
http://rawstory.com/news/2008/Stewart_to_Cramer_Its_not_fking_0313.html

Immediately, my mind recalled the American traditionalists who I know. My grandfather--the long-time Ford employee; two of my friends--Merrill Lynch employees; my dad--a banker...people who put much of their stock, both personally and financially, in security. All of them suffering in one way or another from a massive financial storm that occurred in a blink, and without warning. Like the aforementioned tornado.

"So what now," I thought, as a light sweat maintained itself somewhere around mile 6. The truth of the matter is I don't feel like someone who truly knows much about the economy or the collapse itself. I'm just now starting to figure out how to manage my own money (albeit, I am a bit of an entrepreneur).

On Saturday's run, a relatively short 4.7 miler (that's a pretty good estimate) with nearly perfect Santa Monica weather, the running conversation (pun intended) arose yet again in my head. This time I came to, not an answer, but a resolution. Having not looked up the actual definition of an answer or a resolution, I decided an answer means that one feels absolutely right when they come up with an "answer." When one "resolves," however, the absolutism isn't there. In my head, when I resolve, it's like this is what I'm choosing to believe or this is what I'm going to do, whether it is right or wrong this is the best I can come up with.

I resolved in the "value of work." Another phrase brought up by Stewart, I resolved that "the value of work" trumps it all. With all the visions of vanity that lead us to fast money, quick cars, the country club life, and whatever else that may be over the rainbow, the value of work in the least, seems to just make sense. Find something you have passion for, then you'll work really hard at it, and the money will come because you're producing a high-quality product that people will pay good money for. And when the money comes, and it will, you'll have a better idea of what to do with it since you knew what you had to do to get it. Pretty simple.

The sport of running itself is simple. But it's not easy. What gets you furthest in running? Running. Not breathing techniques, stretch routines, plyometrics, training techniques. Those things make a difference, and sometimes a significant difference. But simply running. That's what gets you the furthest in running. Logging miles. Putting in the time and effort. Working. And so to it is our job, our relationships, our passions.

Off to run to a clear day and a clearer mind.

Good Song Coming to Mind: "Keep It Loose, Keep It Light," Amos Lee
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmQFwIKsU1U

Justin