Just Do It

I'd like to present you with a product review today. No, no sob story today, or rant about obesity, but a glorification of a pair of shoes I hold dear to my heart: the Nike Mayfly.

Introduced in 2003, the Nike Mayfly is one of the lightest running shoes available. The shoe is named after the insect that lives, breeds, and dies all in one day, the mayfly. Creators Sean MacDowell, Jerry Crowley, Kevin Paulk, and Tony Bignell wanted to produce a shoe which lasted runners just long enough to warm-up for, and finish a marathon. The final product was a racing shoe which is manufactured to last 100 kilometers (62 miles).

The only closest relative (in terms of weight) to the Mayfly is the Nike Free (the 3.0 version), which outweighs the Mayfly by a few ounces, and lasts slightly longer. So, I bought the Mayfly a week ago, hearing that Nike had officially discontinued the shoe after 5 years. Honestly, I had no real interest in owning a shoe that was reported to last just 100km. But I'm glad I did, because I've realized that it's shoes like this that make me so fond of Nike.

Why is this? What is good about this shoe that reaffirms my commitment to Nike products?

The reason is that, the same month that Nike released the Mayfly, Adidas released their Adidas 1., a $250 shoe with a 20mhz microprocessor in the midfoot of the shoe. Two shoes, polar opposite. The Mayfly retailed for $40 dollars, with a single piece upper, and a foam injected sole, lasting a mere two marathons worth. The Adidas 1 on the other hand, was unveiled as the most advanced, expensive running shoe to date. This is why I love Nike.

I love Nike because they don't put out the most expensive, or the most cutting edge. They don't have microprocessor shoes that shape to the contour of your foot and running style. They come up with a simple, effective, and cheap shoe that gets the job done. Nike has always been the frontrunner at keeping it simple, keeping it effective, and keeping it stylish. The Nike Free, The Nike MayFly, The Nike LunarRacer, The Nike Zoom Moire, high simplicity, high efficacy.

So, next time you're wondering what shoe to pick up, and the sales clerk presents you with 6 different shoe options, remind yourself, a good athlete is a good athlete, in any shoe.

The Productive Application of WillPower

I was a freshman in highschool when I had my first experience with weightlifting.  Black iron. Rusted bars.  Tattered benches.  20-year-old squat racks.  Smelled like piss and sweat.

The only sport I was enrolled in prior to powerlifting was tennis.  Tennis.  Yes, tennis.  Not back squats and power cleans and bench press, but neon fuzz balls and cotton sweats and Wilson apparel and bus rides sitting next to hot girls.

You see, tennis was the only sport I'd ever played.  Ever.  I don't count little league baseball, because I sucked at that too, and I hated everyone I'd ever play with.  Like, hated them.  Ok, maybe I'll count it, but I'm not going to pretend like that wasn't a big hit to my self esteem.

The first powerlifting practice I went to was early morning.  Did I mention I was in band?  I was in the band.  Morning marching band practice was at 7am everyday, which I thought was early. I committed to 5am three times a week, to lift.  No running, no forehands, no carrying a marching snare drum for an hour.  Here I was, Samuel Nix, former dork, former weakling, former stranger to hard work and heavy objects, actually moving weight.  Actually being productive.  Actually getting stronger.

I attended three weeks of early morning practices, and quit.

I quit, because the first experience I ever had with the back squat was "Sam, we're doing squats. Go heavy.  Bar's over there.  You're with D-bo."  D-bo was black, about 6 weight classes above me, could squat over 400, and held the 15-4A Texas State Record for powerlifting.  I crapped out at 95.  Typical.

Let me give you a little back story here.  I was never terribly athletic.  I was never terribly strong, and if you had of asked me to do something difficult 10 years ago, I would have probably started to whimper and make excuses why I shouldn't be doing it.  

My older sister is tough as nails.  I mean tough.  She had her second kid, sans epidural, in less than 5 minutes as TWO pushes.  You don't mess with a bad bitch like that.  

My older brother powerlifted in high school too.  He probably wasn't as good as I'm imagining, but I swear I have a picture of him somewhere in a powerlifting meet, wearing a singlet and knee wraps.  When he got to college, he somehow found that magic button, and turned into an absolute monster.  I mean 215 7% bodyfat, monster.  There's a story out there of him breaking both collarbones on a kid during a pick-up football game.

My little brother (I say little, he's 4 years younger than me and outweighs me by 25 pounds and is probably 5 inches taller than me), has always been the most athletic of the family.  MVP of everything.  Four sport letterman.  The kid doesn't work out for 6 months and still owns up on everything he does.

Then there's me.  I always hated running, couldn't stand squatting, hated to eat right, loved to eat wrong, loved to lounge around, loved to be lazy.  I shaped up a little when I started college, found out how to work smarter and harder, found what was stupid and what worked for me. Then I found Crossfit.

Allow me to make some comparisons:

Freshman year in highschool/Sophomore year in college/Currently

Squat 95/220/345

Press ??/105/177

Deadlift ??/295/400

C&J ??/135/252

Snatch ??/??/205

Pull-Ups 0/21/52

5K Yeah right/26:52/20:28

Fran (n/a)/9:44/3:48

Helen (n/a)/15:02/7:37

It's not that I changed up too many things.  I don't have a degree in exercise science.  I wasn't a collegiate athlete.  I never weighed over 150 pounds until I was a senior in highschool.

I did decide to suck it up.  I decided that if I wanted something to happen, it was going to, and nothing was going to deter me from that course of action.  Nothing.  Not foolish high school coaches, not deficiency of information, not discouraging teammates, not one damn thing.

And it worked.  

The message I want you to take here today isn't my sob story, not my rant about where I came from, my origin story.  I don't really care if you like me.  I don't really care what you think about me.  But I do care about where you are going.  I do care that you are stooped by a broken leg, or an autoimmune disease, not lack of willpower.  I care that you give every day your absolute best, no matter what that may be.  

There's always going to be someone out there who is better than you.  There's always going to be someone out there who is worse than you.  At the end of the day, it's only about what you can do.  Stop finding reasons not to succeed.  Stop making excuses why you can't.  You can be the most intimidating, powerful, rip-roaring face-melting monster out there, or you can be a weak, miserable, coach-potato fat-ass no-can-do'er.  Decide.  Commit.  Destroy.