Tuesday, July 2, 2013

I haven't reached 10,000 hours yet...

...or maybe I have, but I'm still a schmuck.

I've been intrigued by Malcolm Gladwell's hypothesis that it takes 10,000 hours of work to actually become good at something -- a sport, a subject area, a musical instrument, a concept, etc. One must practice and devote oneself for 10,000 hours before one can say, "Hey, I've got expertise in this."

I did the math yesterday after feeling like a lethargic hippopotamus while running. I was like, "Dang it, Bryan, you must have run at least 10,000 hours in your life." But then I did the math. Assuming I ran an hour every day since I was 16, that is only slightly over 9,000 hours. Factor in I didn't run everyday and that takes away from that number, but then add in my 20s where I ran 2 hours every day and that brings it back up. My point is that I'm not at 10,000 hours of running in my life, but I still suck at life.

Want to know why I suck at life?

Well, because yesterday I was on mile 5 yesterday when a black car came running through a red light and nearly killed me. I flew into some bushes to save my life and, luckily, came out with a only a few scratches. Normally I'm in peace mode while running (a Zen-Buddhist thing), but this pissed me off. I dusted the leaves and thorns from my arms and flipped the car off. In fact, I actually cussed at the car . I hate rude drivers and I was angry.  ##$$^$#@@!

It was then, however, that I realized there were several cars running the red light and they all had their headlights on.

Yep. It was a funeral procession and the lead car with the casket was the one that knocked me off the road. I totally cussed out a casket-carrying vehicle and all the cars that followed saw me in action (and with absolute incivility).

That is when I ran back into the bushes and hid.

10,000 hours and I haven't learned a thing except for the fact that some things will never change.

Bryan will always be Bryan.

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