Yesterday's blog set off a handful of comments, the gist of which was, who is this blog for?  The consensus was that it's a "general fitness" site than a "hardcore" site, and I agree; I mentioned in my response that I think of my mother-in-law when I post.  She works out consistently and has a layman's interest in fitness, but she's no Dana Torres.  She's not even a me.  Like a lot of people, she's trying to figure out how to squeeze fitness into a busy life.  My goal is to open up her world just a little, make her see a few more options, as well as to get more serious fitness enthusiasts to think critically but open-mindedly about the deluge of fitness information that's out there.

But in the final analysis, I'm just plain selfish:  I write about what interests me, and hope that others are interested too.  They're frankly not paying me enough to do otherwise.  Because I'm ADD about fitness, I might be called to look at a study on fat-loss supplementation one day and an article about training the elderly another.  It all may be shown to be hogwash a few months on, but I don't care!  It's all a glorious and fascinating mess to me. 

Here's something that I think applies to just about everyone that almost never gets any ink (or, er, electrons?):  the power of metaphor as motivator.  I was running some errands with my wife this afternoon (an extremely hot date for us), and she told me she'd recently read about a 76-year-old Catholic nun who's a multiple Ironman finisher.

Now, that's a nice piece of inspiration right there:  nuns are busy and impecunious, and at age 76, most of us are slowing down physically, not breaking records in endurance races.  So on one hand, we could just file this under "What's your excuse?" and leave it at that. 

But I'm even more interested in some of the things she says about what motivates her:

[Sister Madonna] never considered competing until she received news of a family member battling alcoholism. She immediately thought of Christ, who died on the cross so that his grace would be transferred to mankind. At that point Buder decided she would run the 8.2-mile Bloomsday Race held in Spokane so that her "will to overcome would be transferred" to her family member in need. The training was so intense at times she felt that running the race would be physically impossible. At the lowest point in her training she recalls hearing a voice telling her that she must have faith. She accepted this and saw the race as her cross to bear. Buder completed the race, and from then on she was hooked.

(Don't worry--I'm not going to take up a collection.)

I'm just going to say that this metaphorical aspect of exercise, the part of us that 'dedicates' our fitness 'practice' to someone or something, is present in just about everyone I know who really cares about exercise.  I'd even venture--tentatively--that it may be vital to a successful exercise program. 

Our acceptance of this idea is evident in the way we don't question the extremely tenuous connection between marathon-running and, say, raising money for people with terminal illness.

Let me pose a question.  An earnest, athletic-looking young person arrives at your doorstep with a clipboard.  Which of the following requests would seem out of the ordinary?

a.  "Hi, I'm Joel.  I'm running a 10K to help kids with ALS!"
b.  "Hi, I'm Kirsten.  I'm going skydiving to raise money for the victims of genocide."
c.  "Hi, I'm Justin.  Next July I'll be playing a round of water polo to benefit the homeless."
d.  "Hi, I'm Hung-Hwa.  There's still time to donate to my trip to the local swimming hole to benefit wrongfully convicted felons."
e.    None of the above; someone came by my house / apartment / dorm / prison cell just yesterday with similar requests and I gave them a tenner / a fiver / an invite to a kegger / a pack of cigarettes because it sounded like a worthy cause!

Correct answer:  e.]

But isn't it a little weird that someone would ask for money from a stranger so that they can go off and do something that's good for them and will probably be a hell of a lot of fun?  I mean, if wrongfully convicted felons are really your bag, why not write your congressman?  Why not do almost anything except go outside and do something healthy and recreational for several hundred hours with a handful of your best friends?

It is weird--but it also makes perfect intuitive sense, and that's why organizations like Team In Training do so well.  We ALL exercise for a higher purpose.  Running a marathon is tough, and the best way to complete something tough, as we all know from the simple act of being alive, is to draw strength from something really matters to us, just like Sister Madonna does. 

Who among us hasn't been underneath a maximal load, or pushing for a new PR in the 5K, and pictured the face of Jesus or Buddha or Jimi Hendrix or maybe just our baby daughter or the waitress who glanced at us at IHOP yesterday morning, and found the strength to get the job done? 

Far more than just sets and reps, or punches and kicks, or intervals and long, slow distances, exercise at its best is a metaphor for how we'd like to live our lives:  focused.  On our edge.  Poised in the face of adversity. 

Cliche?  Yup.  True?  Double yup. 

I'm past worrying about getting huge, and I'm still young enough to be oblivious to issues of longevity.  Pressed to the wall, I'd say this is why I exercise:  to revisit for awhile the guy I'm capable of being, and maybe inch closer to the one I'm capable of becoming.