Living the life you want Archives

Developing an Every Day Muscle

I’ve always wanted to be more consistent-stone cold, steady—the person who skips all of the fussing, excuses, and mini-dramas. I wished myself to be the guy who shows up, does the work; enough said. Instead, unfortunately, I’d often be the guy with a lengthy explanation of why I couldn’t, didn’t, or won’t. Here’s what changed.

Tiny Habits and Sobriety

At the beginning of COVID, I decided to run a life experiment, inspired by my son Holden and the work of James Clear. Three hundred fifty-seven days and counting, I’m growing an everyday muscle- habit streaking -by running a minimum of one mile every day. 365 here I come!

Atomic Habits, Clear’s book on tiny habits, caught my attention, giving validation to my question, “How can I just do it-stop the fits and starts?” Here are a few core ideas to his work,

+Become 1% better over time, not tomorrow.

+Make the new habit so small you can’t fail.

+Never miss twice.

+Root your new habit or practice in an identity statement, e.g., “I’m an everyday runner.”

Inspired by sobriety

Illuminated when my wife, Leith, counted up the number of days our son Holden remains sober, not drugging and drinking, over 2,000+ and counting. Reflecting on my own life and healthy habits, I felt confident I couldn’t even claim a daily teeth brushing habit streak for 2K+ days.

Alchemy enters. I realize that my everyday muscle was under-developed. I had some growing up to do in the world of action, choice, and purposeful living.

The Big Idea

How might I develop the muscle of consistency, without fail, on a tiny habit or new practice that I want more of in my life? What new momentum might I experience in other aspects of my life from starting small with running 1 mile (insert your desired new habit) by just doing it?

Update: I’m 357 days into my new habit streak, and I’ve become an everyday runner (identity). Catch that- my identity now includes a rooted practice of consistency. Notably, my health and fitness are improving, but even more importantly, I see how becoming 1% better, starting tiny, is a better way forward than fits and stops.

1-mile (so small I can’t fail).
Never miss twice (I use this habit tracker with a friend for accountability).
My identity now includes being an everyday runner, but at first, it was my aspiration.
1% better, I see how my overall fitness has increased, not by a lot, but daily.

How’s your everyday muscle? Maybe a tiny new habit or practice is what you need too?

Keep going-

Aaron

One of my favorite runs, longer than a mile, with friends Justin and Dave on the back side of Pikes Peak, Sentinel Point after the first snow.

Oil Well Flats beyond Canon City, CO stoked by the endless desert canyon-riddled vista.

Alex and Dole helping shake it up a bit with a Chug-N-RUN. Drink a beer, run one mile, repeat. Made for a fun winter microadventure.

Be Who You Are And…

I came across this quote in my friend Katie Arnold’s book, Running Home. I’ve known, heard and even claimed that I’m comfortable in my own skin. I like being me. The bit about “go the whole way” I’ve not done that.

If we embraced all of ourselves, all of our glory and our not-yet-ness, that would change everything.

How might you, might I, go even further today? Go the whole way.

“Be who you are and go the whole way.”
-Lau Tzu

Me at age six or seven in Norwalk, CA on the front porch of my grandparents, Melba and Mike Tarver.

Explorers Manifesto

Thirteen of us just completed our maiden Explorers journey. Our bakers dozen, explored the frontier edges of big questions through a combination of Zoom virtual sessions and an in-person adventure weekend in Colorado. At the conclusion of our shared exploration journey, I shared this manifesto attempting to synthesize the key waypoints we navigated.

Three big questions framing our exploration

Earlier this summer, while hiking the Colorado Trail, three profound yet straightforward questions occupied my heart and mind.

Where am I?
Where am I headed?
Who am I?

“Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given and sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life. ”
-Saint Paul

Explorers Wanted Men wanted. Hazardous conditions. Uncertainty. Pushing into foreign territory. Prioritizing discomfort and questions over answers. Drawing back to see. “To see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel.” Return transformed.

Number one. Taking small actions often proceed our belief and mindset shifts. Behavior first, small steps lead our hearts forward.

Number two. Our attention must be reclaimed from the pings and notifications of our distracted world. The shallows of life-our distracted living– contribute to disconnection from those closest to us. God’s voice exists in the silence and stillness. Impact and intimacy require our attention.

Number three. Building awareness of our reactive tendencies creates more choices in the moment. Exploring the old stories that drive our reactivity empowers us to reclaim that negative energy charge and pivot. Be lucid in the moment. “In this Now Moment, I know where I am.” Be your creative best.

Number four. Adventure creates an escape hatch from the mundane of life. Learning to live outside our comfort zone enlarges and strengthens our identity. Remember David Whyte’s advice, “If we can place our identity at the edge of discovery. Then we have the possibility of a vital life.” Get hungry, get lost, refuse the tyranny of a life of extreme comfort.

Number five. Our lives, vocation, and souls are sacred. Approach your life and work as a tenacious craftsman planting trees transforming the terrain of your domain. Stay on the path laid out for you. Walk with beauty the ground beneath your feet. Remember Jesus’s invitation, “You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.”

Number six. Listen to your life. What can you NOT DO for reasons even you cannot explain? Deepen your resolve to listen intently- all of your life is speaking. Frederich Buechner “Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

Number seven. Our relationships are assets in our wealth management portfolio. The grass grows wherever you water it. The better question- the ones we should ask is not how can I be better, but what is it that they need or want from me? How might I contribute to them thriving? Remember Dave and Sue.

Number eight. Start at the end and work backwards. Write your eulogy. Our eulogy is a window into the desired Future State of our life. You are leaving an impact today, is it for good or not. By working backward from the sunset of our lives, gaps are illuminated in our desired outcomes and today’s priorities, choices, and behaviors. The end is coming. What story are you authoring with your life?

Number nine. Men need friends. Thoreau lamented, “Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Refuse isolation as a mode of travel in this journey of life. Two are better than one. Choose friendships – even occasionally – go deeper past the plastic veneer and puncture together something real.

Number ten. The making of a brave man requires a whole heart – integrated, awake, “fierce with reality.” Exploring your frontier must become your default setting on your operating system. Life – your life – is waiting to be lived, experienced in vibrant intimacy with God and those entrusted to your care. Wake up. Choose an abundant abiding mysterious life.

Keep going. This is good for you. You can do this.

-Aaron

Explorers in the alpine air of Colorado summit crest of Sentinel Point, CO

Navigating a boulder field before we left treeline.

Touching the sun above the frosty clouds below. Explorers engaging our trifecta questions of Where am I? Where am I headed? Who am I?

Our summit block, lesser known Sentinel Point, CO on the back side of Pikes Peak.

The rewards of exploring our frontier?

One guy wrote this summary about his experience, ready to live forward with more vitality.

“I used to be overwhelmed by the tyranny of the urgent.
Now, I’m learning to prioritize what is important over what is urgent,
I used to hide myself, thinking I was small and worthless.
Now I am learning to be myself, and go the whole way.
I used to bury my grief.
I am now learning to deal with it when it arrives, and be not embarrassed by shedding tears.”
-Explorer

Trip Report: Mountain Bike the Colorado Trail (and hike sections you can’t ride)

Hey, y’all! This summer, I finished the 488 mile Colorado Trail (over 562 on a bike). In 2015, I joined a team of dirty dozen, over twelve days to mountain bike The CT from Durango, CO to Denver, CO. This summer, I returned to the Collegiate Peaks wilderness area (CT West loop near Buena Vista) to backpack an unfinished 70-mile section where mountain bikes are not allowed.

Above Camp Hale we discovered unending fields of wildflowers and bluebird skies.

Never heard of The Colorado Trail (CT)?

A few stats to bring you up to speed.

Shorter than the Appalachian Trail (2,190 m) or Pacific Crest Trail (2,650 m) means that you don’t have to quit your job to engage this epic trail.
Most of the trail is above 10,000 feet, the high point of 13,271 feet.
The total elevation gain for a thru-bike/hike is approx 90,000 feet, equivalent to three Mount Everests.
Lots of resupply mountain towns and places for friends to join in, e.g., Silverton, Buena Vista, Breckenridge
The thirty-three segments enable adventurers to bite off a small section or two over a weekend or take on the entire trail over a few weeks.
The mountain bike Fastest Known Time is held by Jakomait, finishing the 562-mile course in a record-breaking 3 Days 20 Hours 46 Minutes. OUCH! (It took us 12 days).
Hikers take 4-5 weeks to thru-hike the CT.

On top of Stony Pass above Silverton, CO was an amazing flowy, alpine playground. In parts, pushing our bikes up steep inclines but rewarded with other-worldly beauty.

Why did you do it?

Moving to Colorado in 1994, the allure of the CT pulled on me. I want to see every corner of Colorado, and I knew this was the grand tour. Secondly, our buddy Gill McCormick had cooked up this trip of the decades-each member representing a decade of life. One member of our party, Jim, was in his 60’s (fantastic guy who had a Mary Poppins like Camelback that produced anything you needed), multiple guys in their 50’s, 40’s, Alex in his 30’s Connor (20), and Grant (17). The story was the hook for me. The dirty dozen, spanning six decades, two CT veterans, and a support vehicle to shuttle our gear between camping spots (Thanks Skyler). I was in.

The team at the beginning. The Dirty Dozen beginning the Colorado Trail 500+ mile ride.

What was the hardest part?

“Yesterday was the only easy day” is the quote I remember replaying in my head. I don’t recall any part being easy, but I think the most significant mental challenge was the day we carried our bikes for 8+ miles through the Lost Creek Wilderness. It is illegal to ride your bike within Wilderness Areas, and we were at a fork in the road. We had two options 1) to ride 75 miles around “wilderness detour” or 2) to hike 8+ miles carrying our bikes attached with bungee cords to our Camelbacks 😜. We chose option 2.

We were 8-9 days into the epic adventure, and everyone was exhausted already. Before the hike-your-steed section, required a tough 25-mile ride to access the Wilderness Boundary. Dismount. Disassemble and jury-rigged, we began the bike carry (sufferfest). Across the trek one guy lost a linchpin bike part, which would have rendered his bike unrideable. Miraculously another guy picked it up in the forest. We remount bikes and rode 20+ more miles to find camp.

There were a lot of expletives gurgling in those woods. Still today, we refer to that carry-your-bike as the “Chernobyl Meltdown.” It wasn’t glamorous. Afterwards, forgiveness needed extending between a few of us, and like every low point, we’re either better or bitter from it. Everyone expanded their capacity to dig deeper that day.

A picture is worth 1,000 words. Look at our faces and imagine if you were with us.

What was your favorite memory?

Alex and I shared a tent for two weeks. Rain, snow, sunshine, snoring, and twelve-hour grueling days together deepened our friendship. Our friendships among many of us deepened from the shared transformation and joy we experienced on the CT.

The infamous high point of The Colorado Trail 13,271 ft which is amazingly high altitude to be riding your bike. After this section, we were met with a punishing twenty+ miles of tundra-talus-shale.

What was your favorite part of the trail?

It was foggy, rocky, and steep to the summit of this 12-13,000 foot peak. The dozen of us strewn like pearls on a necklace across the spiny alpine swatch, I knew that moment was special.

Early in our ride optimism was high and everyone still feeling great and happy to be on this big adventure.

What did you learn about yourself?

How to keep going at a new level. My suffer meter maximum moved forward a lot. Previously competing in endurance events like Ironman triathlon defined my one-day effort threshold. Substantial efforts no doubt, and at the end of the day, I went home and slept in a warm bed after a nice hot shower. The CT demanded that I expend a similar level of endurance effort today, and then do it again tomorrow and the next day. Holy crap! My boundary limits transformed in the cauldron of the CT. “Hard” now has many levels.

The combination of duct tape and Hello Kitty bandaids to help reduce the friction on my back where my Camelback rubbed daily.

Why did you go back to backpack the Collegiate West section?

In 2015, each time we encountered a wilderness boundary, we would “ride around” via the bicycle detour and rejoin the official CT again once bikes were allowed. There are five bicycle detours in total. We rode three, bike carried one 🙂 and accepted a ride for #5.

Watching from the truck’s passenger seat, for me, that 70+ mile Collegiate pristine wilderness section always felt unfinished. In the moment, I was too tired to deny the transport. Years later, like a developing ulcer, skipping that section ate at me, and I wanted to touch every mile I could officially. My solution? I did a five-day solo hike from Tennessee Pass south to Cottonwood Pass and celebrated with ice cream from K’s Dairy Delight in BV.

I believe just beyond Bear Lakes on my first night solo effort to complete the CT. Amazing beauty, no motorized vehicles, very few people and untamed wilderness for miles.

What advice do you have for anyone considering the CT?

Know your Why
With a trail this long and arduous, you will need to know, “WHY am I doing this?” before you start. Decide what style you want to define your experience
-Slow, steady to fast?
-A section at a time over many years or all at once?
-Supported by friends bringing you supplies or self-supported?

I’m aware of the importance of defining your style and not attempting to repeat another person’s adventure. I met a few folks along the trail that depict the saying, “Run your own race.”

A guy in his 50’s that said he’s 0-for-5 starting from Denver ejecting for different personal & professional reasons. We gave him a ride into town, aborting his 5th attempt.
The previous fastest known time on a mountain bike was four+ days. I hear that he has permanent nerve damage in his hand and ankle.
In the Collegiate Peaks sections, one guy passed me flying by. Later I learned that he was speed hiking 48 miles into his 58 for that day. Most people hike between 13-20 x day. I bet he’s one of the Avengers.
A young woman just finished grad school and was ten days into a four to five-week hike. She was craving fresh fruit. Her East Coast mother, who doesn’t camp, texts her nightly on her Garmin InReach to confirm bears hadn’t eaten her.
A couple seasoned in age helped each other across a creek—half-way into their 488-mile trek. I can only imagine their kid’s phone calls, “Have you heard from Mom and Dad? What are they thinking?!”

Our Dirty Dozen in 2015, atop Fooses Creek nearing Monarch Ski area, working our way towards 1/2 way to Denver.

What hard lessons did you learn?

Two stand out. Saddle sores are real and check for the latest maps before you go.
Saddle sores: By far, the most significant source of pain our mountain bike crew experienced was from saddle sores. Yep precisely what you think of. Sores on your undercarriage resulting from twelve-hours of daily friction. Some guys needed to dial back their daily ride time to accommodate for their pain. It was no joke.

I don’t recall which pass this was early in our ride leaving Durango. As we pushed our bikes, we learned carrying them on our back was more effective.

Latest maps: Returning five years later to hike the Collegiate West section, I assumed that my old data book was reliable. I pulled together two additional supporting maps from my library and felt a pause in my gut. “Maybe I should swing by the gear store in BV (The Trailhead-love these guys) and grab a map?” The moment of truth and reconciliation unfolded while crossing Cottonwood Pass, out of water, at 12,000 feet and chased by a thunderstorm “What? Where am I?” It turns out that sections of the CT are now rerouted to share the Continental Divide Trail (missing on my older maps). Glad I stopped for the new map.