Injury, Infirmity, and Age as a Teacher

Identifying primarily with your physical self is a game we can’t win.  Sounds a bit funny in a health and fitness blog, right? Well, the road to this realization was a bit bumpy. We have both been ultra-competitive athletes and have experienced closely identifying ourselves with our physical prowess. Despite the nagging reality floating around our minds that our time on this planet is limited–and we will age, get weaker, and eventually expire–we were all in when it came to our physical selves. 

Then along came the triumvirate of injury, infirmity, and age to teach us what we’re really made of. Whether it’s a heart attack (Scott), a ruptured Achilles tendon (Lennart), or the less intense, but equally effective teacher of aging–these experiences continue to resonate with meaning in our lives. When you identify so much with your physical self (and it’s hard not to as a human) it really takes the wind out of your sails to suddenly not be able to do the physical things that you’re used to doing. A lot of things go through your mind when you’ve been stopped in your tracks: Who am I if I’m not this strong/capable/healthy person? Do I have any worth? Will I ever recover fully? Is life just like this now?  

Through the fog of these incessant questions, a glorious sun can emerge: I am something more than my physical self. In the extreme, many people with terminal conditions find themselves in a stronger spiritual place than they have ever experienced as a healthy person. The final chapter of their lives are filled with new meaning and new discoveries. Injury, infirmity, and age have become their teachers. Regardless of how the lessons are being delivered, the curriculum is the same: The uncomfortable transition from human doing to human be-ing. 

With a new focus on how we’re being in the world, rather than the physical things we’re accomplishing–our relationships flourish, including our relationship with ourselves. We’ve all seen the “List of Regrets” lists of people on their deathbeds, and those lists never include “I wish I ran a faster 5K,” “I wish I had deadlifted more weight,” or “I wished I worked more, made more money, and bought more things.” Instead, they are universally about spending more time with loved ones, improved relationships with others, and the wish of an improved relationship with themselves.

Don’t take this the wrong way–we believe in training–and we both have worked hard to rehabilitate ourselves from our challenging situations. It really becomes about the shift from “living to train” to “training to live.” Instead of regaining our former glory, it has become about finding a new balance in life. It has become about distilling our training down to the minimum effective dose, so that we have time for family, friends, and our own spiritual development. Our human do-ings are in service to our human beings. We want to stay strong and capable, and yet we accept that these things will fade with time. Ideally, as our physical selves weaken, our spiritual selves gain in strength. This has become our ideal of a life well lived. 

So, if you find yourself in a tough spot with your physical self–ask the question, “What is this here to teach me? It’s a tough question to ask, and it can be a slow question to get answered–but more will be revealed, as it always is. 

Until next time

Scott and Lennart