Running's my fitness white whale. It's long since dominated my thoughts because I've always sucked at it.

But that's on me. I never called myself a “runner” so I never ran.

Today I want to share some thoughts on fitness, identity, and testing new versions of yourself.

"Signed you up for a 10km, btw"

The Sanur Bali International Half Marathon was happening. Alison signed me up. When we picked up my bib it said “40+ Masters”. The nickname that she gave me was “turtle power”.

Which is hilarious.

10km might not be a big deal for you. But it was for me.

Alison and I before the race. Despite it being 5am, it was still 28 degrees celsius (82 fahrenheit for all you Americans and your made up temperature scale.)

I’ve been consistent in the gym for 25 years.

Done a greased-up photoshoot, kettlebell comp, powerlifting, and everything in between.

But never running.

Because I always said “I am not a runner.” So I never ran.

Language matters.

I've always admired runners

To tie up a pair of shoes and pop out wherever you are. Gulp down fresh air. Listen to Californication by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

It's always seemed fun and free. But I never got around to it.

That's because I was stuck in a routine.

Not a bad routine, mind you. I've always been active and fit.

But a routine. And routines trap us because we allow them to by wrapping our self-identity up in them.

"I am not a runner. I lift weights." That's always been me.

The longer we stay in one place and do the same thing, the stronger the habits that form, tighter the routine constricts us, and harder it becomes to explore.

As I say in Unhinged Habits,

Routines. Patterns. Habits. They’re the invisible architects of our lives. Some serve us well. Others trap us in downward cycles we don’t even recognize we’re caught in.

Is it time to challenge your identity?

Perhaps the biggest benefit of travel is that it allows you to test out being somebody new.

In a new place surrounded by new people, you're unknown. Any expectation of who you are or how you act is nothing more than an illusion of your own making.

When we came to Indonesia, I decided that I was going to (finally) explore what it felt like to be a runner.

I'd just dropped off kids at school. Another Dad was there. Ben. He's the founder of Boppo - a screen free tablet for kids. Fabulous guy.

Small talk. I ask him where he's headed.

He says he's going for a run. I'm already in my workout gear about to head to the gym.

"Do you run fast or slow?" I ask.

"Slow." He says.

"Great, can I come? I've been meaning to run."

Ben's a runner. He's run marathons. I didn't know this until we ran together.

We set off. I had to walk twice. When we got back, I asked him how far we went. He looked at this watch. It's got the strava app on it. Like I said, Ben is a runner. "4.4 miles", he said.

I told him I'd never run that far. Never run with anybody else. And never measured the distance of how far I'd ever run.

Ben didn't know any of this. He didn't know me at all. We high-fived, and started to run together a few mornings a week.

To Ben, I'm just another dad. Not the personal trainer guy. Not the habits book guy. An unknown. Which meant I could safely reinvent myself however I damn well pleased. And that was when I decided that, finally, I'm going to be a runner. It's time to try on that hat.

Hats, Haircuts, and tattoos

Hats are decisions we can move quickly between.

Haircuts you’re stuck with for a bit.

Tattoos are hard to reverse out of.

Committing to running 10km is a hat. Most decisions are hats.

As I say in the book,

"Most experiences you say yes to are merely hats to try on, yet you treat them like permanent tattoos––methodically overcompensating with a decision-making and fear-feeling process that’s too slow, too deliberate, and too choosy."

Photo Credit: Unhinged Habits: A Counterintuitive Guide for Humans to Have More by Doing Less

I read an essay by a seventy-eight-year-old man a while back

Wish I remembered his name. Here’s a line I wrote down from it:

“The lesson I learned is that it really pays to say yes, unless you’ve got a really solid reason to say no. As I got older and lived longer, I didn’t really say no. I agreed to do things. It wasn’t all fun, all the time, but it often led to something interesting.”

I like that.

Did I enjoy being a runner?

Nah, not really.

But I’m happy to have tried on that identity.

-Jon