Be honest...

You're busting out burpees at the gym. You're on the 4th round, you're sucking in air but it feels more like you're breathing under water. You consider cutting out the pushups because you're convinced your shoulders will cave in on the next one. The jump? It's a calf-raise at best, with what appears to be a half-assed attempt at 'the wave' thrown in.

Do you quit? Steal a quick second to catch your breath and move on? Steal a long minute to recover? Fake an injury? Suddenly remember you have to leave early because of a big meeting at work to discuss the shortage of coffee stirrers in the break room?

As someone who has stolen those seconds and minutes before… correction… someone who steals those seconds and sometimes minutes I can relate to the thought process and the excuses that go with it. You begin to question yourself, 'Did I select too much weight?', 'Can I maintain this pace?', 'I wonder if anyone has thrown up in class before.', 'If I don't slow down I won't finish. Gotta pace myself right?', 'Is anyone else having as hard a time or am I doing this wrong?', 'I think I am going to be the first person to puke in class', 'How many rounds left?', 'Will Kevin notice if I drop to a lighter weight?', 'Will it be worse if I get sick on the floor or the chalk bucket, cuz if I run for bathroom I'll probably pass out too.'

I'd like to believe the excuses and musings that eat away at my focus have diminished over time. I'd also like to believe they are fueled by logic and reason as opposed to panic or my inner wuss who's cloaked in my denial. (The word 'cloak' evokes images that suggest my inner wuss dresses like a Hobbit. So my inner wuss is also a dork apparently, therefore, I will name him Bentley.)

When I have pushed myself beyond what I thought I could do, not only did I survive, but I felt exhilarated by it. 3 days of muscle pain notwithstanding. (that was for you, Kevin) No vomiting, no death, no passing out on top of unsuspecting classmates. (which I did in 9th grade during gym class by the way) It's as if there is this point where your body decides it can't convince you to quit so it might as well chip in and stop you from dying. It's like pulling off a band-aid. You tug at it, it pulls at the skin and hair, it hurts, you tug, it hurts some more. Then finally you just yank it off. Sure there's some pain (and less hair) but it's not as intense as it was, it's bearable and you move on.

Years ago, when I ran regularly I noticed this 'band-aid effect' at about the first mile or so. Lactic acid builds up in the legs, the chest burns with each breath and the damn ear buds keep popping out! (Probably not related to this but a pain in the ass anyway) Then your body gets on board and decides to fuel your muscles and get your blood pumping to push you through the next couple miles (I never said I ran distance). There's probably some scientific name for it, it's probably endorphins or some other chemical that flushes the lactic acid out, but to me, it's just time for the band-aid to get ripped off.

When training with full-body, functional workouts, the dynamic nature of the intervals as well as the type of exercises makes it difficult to identify the 'band-aid' point. You're constantly changing the load, the movement and the intensity during your workout. The mental game lasts longer. How do you push through it? Where does your mental toughness come from? Seriously... I don't have an answer for you.

For some people it is part of their character, genetics or some freakish mutant pain threshold. They refuse to give in.. ever. Just look at ultramarathon runners or guys that still wear their Members Only jacket from 1986. Others of us have no idea what our limits are and have either habitually underestimated them or we are too afraid to find out how far we can go.

This has a 'real men of genius' song waiting for it...

"Some guys would have given up when it hit 1990, but not you Mr. Members Only Jacket guy, you said 'Hey, I'm not giving up until I'm the only member!' (background singers - "I think you aaa-are!") So here's to you..."

I believe mental toughness can be learned. It's human nature to stay within a certain comfort zone, to stay with what we know, what is familiar. Sticking to what is familiar got me overweight, lazy, self-conscious and unmotivated. It's only through pushing through the pain, but more importantly through the doubt, that I found the limits were self-imposed and underestimated. That's not to say I don't still place limits on myself or that I have achieved some lofty plane of fitness. Far from it. All I am saying is that I am beginning to recognize the circumstances where I have placed the barriers in front me. What I am working on is how to overcome each barrier, work to the next, then bust it out of the way too. To be honest with myself about what's holding me back.

I wish I could offer you some mental gimmick or mantra to get you through whatever circumstance you find yourself in that requires some extra resolve. I got nothing, but I imagine it's different for everyone. You've got to find it and make it work for you.

For me that inner voice has become rather sarcastic and condescending lately. Now when I think 'I can't do this anymore.' Bentley chides me with the tone of an older sibling, 'Really? You can't? You don't have another one in you huh? Well, I guess we know why mom loves me more than you now don't we?' Ok, so that's not it exactly, the dialogue is a little simpler and more encouraging than that. But it's there.

We don't always have a coach or classmates rooting us on, we have to be accountable only to ourselves. It's always easier to give up when no one is looking. Convince yourself you have a little more left in the tank and step on the gas. You'll thank yourself for it later.