1 SIMPLE IDEA: Do what you can, when you can, while you can

There will always be reasons to wait. Attempt that hard thing — your 'Misogi' — while it's not too late.

At the Panathenaic Stadium in Athens, home to the first modern Olympic Games.

Warmup

This Friday, I’ll toe the starting line in Sparta, Greece, with racers from 75 countries. We’ll convene on these historic grounds to compete in the 2024 Spartan Race Trifecta World Championship for obstacle course racing.

3 days of racing.

Day 1 (4.3 miles) + Day 2 (7 miles) + Day 3 (14.5 miles) = almost a marathon.

75-80 obstacles.

A lot of people have wished me luck. (Thank you. I definitely need some of that.)

But even more have asked me this question: “Are you ready?”

Always, I pause.

And then, I offer my best answer, which is also a chapter title in my book NOT TOO LATE.

I’m doing what I can, when I can, while I can.

Post

What does ready mean in midlife? What does ready mean for any of us who work a full-time job and have loads of middle-age responsibilities. What does ready mean in a 53-year-old body that only learned to compete in its fifth decade?

If we wait for “ready” — in the sense that we’re fully-optimized, aligned, trained, settled — we might never tackle any big, hard thing.

Are we ever fully ready to do anything where the odds of failing run neck-and-neck with our odds of succeeding?

In work? In love? In sports?

There’s something called the Misogi. It’s the act of taking on a challenge that you have a 50/50 shot of accomplishing in order to expand your capabilities. Hat tip here to last week’s Not Too Late newsletter collaborator, Michael Easter, for his deep dive on the Misogi. He puts it this way:

“Once a year, go out into nature and do something really hard. The point is to mimic the ancient challenges that humans used to face.”

This weekend might have been my Misogi — in the modern sense — on those ancient grounds of Sparta. (Actual Misogi rules below; you’ll see why I say “might have been.”)

We’ll carry really heavy things. Concrete blocks. Buckets of rocks. Chains. We’ll run long distances. We’ll climb. We’ll carry our body weight up and down 17-foot ropes, across rings and bars. We’ll sweat. And we’ll hurt.

I’m only 50% sure that I’ll finish all three races. No, I haven’t exhausted myself recently foraging for food. But …

My modern day list of reasons NOT to fly almost 5,000 miles and compete in what will be a grueling stretch of 72 hours lined up recently like tourists waiting to see the Acropolis.

Part of the Acropolis in Athens as seen on Sunday.

You know the drill. Insert your [life list] here:

• I worked 15-hour days up until I got on the plane to Greece. There’s an election happening in the United States. That = “news.” And I work in the news business.

• Five days before I boarded my plane, I got sick and was in bed for 48 hours.

• Three days before I boarded my plane, I performed a 13-city satellite media tour about the spread of misinformation in our country — one of the most un-American acts I can think of. I almost lost my voice by the end.

• 24 hours before I got on the plane, my dog started vomiting.

• Then a faucet in the bathroom wouldn’t stop dripping.

• Because of my dog, I couldn’t pack until 12 hours before I left. I also couldn’t work out.

• I worried about not being here for the election. I worried about my dog. I worried about my leaky faucet. I worried about my country. I worried because I’d been so busy that I wasn’t in shape to tackle this race. I worried I wouldn’t finish. I worried …

But I got on the plane.

And 9 hours later, here I am. With a big bottle of Advil in my suitcase.

Michael’s Misogi rules are simple.

1. Make it hard.

2. Don’t die.

I think I’ve got that part covered. This weekend will be hard. And I certainly plan on not dying.

There are also two guidelines, according to Michael:

1. Make it quirky.

2. Keep it private (Do the Misogi because you will hold yourself accountable to you alone.)

I’m breaking Guideline #2 here in this post in order to expand upon my theme and introduce others to the Misogi concept. And I accept this will void my experience as a true “Misogi.” When that happens, you’ll never hear about it.

People often say, “It’s now or never.” I don’t actually know if that’s true about this weekend.

How can I?

But I do know that it’s now. And that I made it here. And that I can try.

To do what I can, when I can, while I can.

Cooldown

There’s no perfect moment to do that thing you’ve always wanted to do.

The journey. The big idea. The competition. The move. The pursuit of X.

Motivation, in fact, often comes after we just act. And sometimes we have to act even when we don’t feel like it. Or the stars aren’t aligned.

We have to act because we still can.

One of the biggest lies we tell ourselves is: “There’s always next year.”

Maybe.

But maybe not.

50/50, perhaps.

What’s your Misogi? What’s your hard thing that you might not finish but will hold yourself accountable to try? What is the thing you want to do while you still can?

I’m about to find out.

You can too.

See you in a week.

Wendy