One Thing I Learned About Resistance

"The path of least resistance leads to crooked rivers and crooked men."

-- Henry David Thoreau

I have a reputation.

All of my life I've been known in my circles as "the one with the willpower."

"I wish I had your discipline," they'd say.

I'm the guy that has always risen early. Army PT, work, whatever. Set your clock to it.

I'm the guy who stops after one scoop of ice cream. "I just wanted the taste. I've had enough."

I don't miss workouts. I just don't. I may have to do it later or earlier than planned. I may have to do it at home instead of in class. But I do it.

And for over 3 years now, I've written almost every day.

My secret? I take Resistance with me wherever I go. Well, more like she follows me. I've tried to shake her, but she's always there. But I know she's there, and always will be, so I plan on this.

We're attached at the hip, and despite what family and friends think of my iron willpower, sometimes she does win. Sometimes I wolf down a bowl of ice cream. Once a month I do hit the Snooze button. Workouts have been skipped, and writing days have too.

But I've won many more times than she has, because I learned something a long time ago.

Momentum matters.

Resistance uses it too. It's a jump ball, and we both want it. Me, to do good. Her, evil.

Everyday is a jump ball against Resistance.
By Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (Flickr: 05) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

If a few days click by and I haven't had any ice cream within my reach, I forget about it. I lose interest.

If I stick to my workout schedule, a rhythm develops. Instead of dreading the effort, I'm hopped up and can't wait for my next session.

And writing. Man, you want to talk about something people hate doing? Guess what. Writers don't always feel like bellying up to the keyboard either. But string a few days in a row together and it starts to get, (dare I say it and provoke her?)

FUN.

But it only gets that way with momentum. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow all have to happen. I have to show up with my hard hat and lunch pail and boots laced up. I have to work the line. I punch in, and I don't punch out until the whistle blows. That's the secret, though it's not a trick. It's just one foot in front of the other type-stuff.

But I don't get cocky. I don't look over my shoulder and laugh at her. I have too much respect for Resistance. She's jumping for that ball everyday too, and she could fill every seat in Madison Square Garden with all the tricks she'll use to win. Nothing is off limits to her. She'll throw things at me like the weather, family, work, grocery shopping, a cold, a flu, friends who want to get out for a beer...all that, and more. They are veiled as "good reasons."

Watch out.

If I (foolishly) reason with Resistance, watch how fast the tide turns on me. One day skips to the next, and now Resistance has me down on the mat. She's covering me in full guard, and I have to squirm like hell to fight my way out and get back my working rhythm.

It looks exactly like this:

Cold water on the face. Today's the day. Get back into it. Start my new streak. Day 1 (again). Write today. Write tomorrow. I don't feel like it. This is hard. Work out today. Work out tomorrow. Keep going. Back on track. 

So I keep wearing her down. Everyday. I don't wait for "when I feel like it." I don't wait for "inspiration." Inspiration is for the amateur. That's someone else, not me.

My writing could be crap. My body could be tired and crapped out. That's fine. But I'd rather do my thing crappy, than not do it at all. Crappy still says I win. And I'm not too proud to win that way.

So I string those days together because momentum gives me a shot, a blessed shot, at beating Resistance.