Why Did I Think I Could Do 100?

For most of my life, I’ve been pretty good about working out. I started at a relatively young age, for reason I can’t remember, and from there exercise quickly became a part of my daily routine. Though I do enjoy it to a degree, it has also always felt somewhat like a chore or just something I was supposed to do, and thus there has always been the need for additional motivation. This motivation has widely varied throughout the years. Long ago, I genuinely cared about my strength and conditioning. However, for many years now, I’ve been pushed by a mixture guilt and vanity with the dual focus of counterbalancing all my vices and preserving the shape I’d become accustomed to over a decade ago.

Though perhaps misguided, this motivation pushes me to work out an average of five or six days a week. However, what constitutes a work out typically changes by the month. Sometimes I’ll get into lifting weights for a stretch and at other times I will develop a running kick and not step foot in a gym for months. During this past winter, I got into a routine that was based solely on “body weight” exercises which didn’t involve any weights. My routine consisted of push-ups, pull-ups, dips, reverse pull-ups and sit-ups and I did various sets and reps of each. The most push-ups I ever did at one time within the work out was at the beginning, when I started off with 3 sets of 20 push-ups. From there the number of reps would go down, as would the rest period in between sets and, blah, blah, etc. After about two or three months of this routine, it occurred to me that I didn’t know my “max” in terms of the number of push-ups I could do at one time. I knew that throughout my life I could do 50 or 60 without completely killing myself and that was when I was just lifting weights. I figured that since I was now only doing push-ups in my routine, I could surely do more than that. The number I had in my head was 100. I liked the sound of it, or at least the concept of it. For some reason, being able to do 100 push-ups represented a certain status I wanted to have. It would be a boost to my confidence at a time when it was greatly needed. Thus, I decide to “max-out” on push-ups to see what I was capable of.

For about a week I mentally prepared for the big day. In reality, I wasn’t going to be doing anything monumental. I was going to go to the gym like any normal weeknight and simply try to max out in push-ups prior to my normal workout. On the big day, I was a little excited and a bit nervous as I arrived at the gym. I changed in the annoyingly crowded locker room and went through my normal, brief warm up. I then went off into the “stretching” room and readied myself. I took a few deep breaths, got into position and began. 10, 20, 30, 40 was a little difficult, 50, 51, 52, 53 and I was tapped out. 53? I only got 53? How could that be possible? 53 is pretty pedestrian. I remember being drunk at a party and getting 65 to win a bet. How in the hell could I only do 53?

I was puzzled for the next hour while I finished my workout. I felt defeated and silly, even though no one else had any idea what I’d done. However, on my drive home I reviewed the situation from a different angle. For starters, I was now 29 and rarely lifted weights. Needless to say, I wasn’t as strong as when I was a 22-year old gym rat. Also, the most push-ups I did in my regular work out was when I would do 3 sets of 20. I wasn’t pushing myself in order to see how many I could do each set. I was just doing 3 sets of 20 as fast as possible. I wasn’t preparing myself do to an increased number in each set, but rather I was decreasing the time it took me to do it. The more I thought about it, it was foolish for me to think I could do 100 push-ups. Or at least it was foolish to be upset that I couldn’t. My actions over the past few months had not been focused in the direction of the new, arbitrary goal I wanted to accomplish. A more realistic goal would be doing 10 consecutive sets of 20. That was something more in line with the way I had been working. A sprinter who had been working out to improve his time in the 100 meter wouldn’t be expected to post a good time in a half-marathon. Why did I think I could do 100?

This realization made me think of other instances where I had misinterpreted the logical results of my previous actions. Had my actions been appropriate for the results I wanted to achieve? I thought about certain jobs I had pursued in the past year. What had I done to put myself inline to get that job? Had it been appropriate? What personal goals had I set that were still tangling in the back of my mind, still unaccomplished? Was I expecting to get specific results out when I had been putting the wrong actions in?

During my job search, I had met with more than 60 people in my field of interest. Those meetings had ranged from pointless and awkward to positive and productive. But after each meeting, what had I done? Yes, I had followed up with the people who indicated that there could be a possible opening in the future, but, how much had I followed up? Was I trying to find and send them information that could be useful to them? Was I doing anything to remain relevant, but also meaningful, in their eyes? These were busy people, with 10 guys just like me asking them for a job on a monthly basis. What was I doing to deserve the next opening? A meeting and a thank you note wasn’t enough. I realized that in the majority of these situations, I wasn’t performing the appropriate actions necessary to achieve the results I desired. Simply put, why did I think I could do 100?