“In the instant Joy comes to us. Instant moments. We risk missing out on joy if we are too busy chasing the extraordinary.” ~Brené Brown
A few months ago I went to my local gym and got ready for a hard hike.
The gym is a small place on a quiet street in the middle of a small town. There are no flashy accommodations or classes to lead instructors. There’s no shower or even a locker to store my bags.
There are some treadmills, free weights, weight machines, and regulars who can lift really heavy weights.
Now I’m not the person you usually find at the gym. Let’s put this in context: My lowest grade in school was physical education. I quickly grasped the long division and read complicated stories, but perhaps I probably couldn’t put volleyball on the net.
As you can imagine, the gym wasn’t a fun place for me.
I imagined that everyone was quietly judging me. I was worried about what I was going to wear. I was so clumsy on my nerves that I had a hard time opening the gym door.
The patrons were mostly male, and looked huge and intimidating. I felt small and weak.
I stayed on the square treadmill for 6 weeks. Headphones on. Bow your head. Repeatedly in my mind: “I don’t belong.”
Getting out of the car every time I visited was a battle with myself, but somehow I found the courage to reach the treadmill. When I finally reached the top of the mountain, I imagined the joy I felt.
Finally, after running a long six weeks, my husband and I flew across the country to complete the hike. It was the longest distance and highest elevation (and the fastest descent) I’ve ever experienced.
Honestly, I didn’t think I was going to make it in some parts. I had to sit twice to avoid fainting.
My muscles cried out. I panted, moaned, sweated. But we climbed.
And we climbed.
And when we thought we had reached the top… unfortunately we had to climb a little more.
Finally, a few hours later we reached the end of the trail. The summit opened up around us and I quickly forgot about fatigue. I felt that every struggle of the struggle was worth it for what was standing before us.
It was a bright, sunny day, with miles of rocky peaks visible. A sparkling blue lake below. The sun reflected off a small glacier to my right. Everything was still and it was incredibly quiet, even with the other hikers around.
My husband and I whispered as we ate our peanut butter sandwich.
If I’m really honest with myself, I’m looking for something extraordinary forever.
I know I’m not the only one. Many of us find that many highly regarded perfectionists are often frustrated. We don’t just want to have an extraordinary experience. I also want to be extraordinary. We have an innate desire to live a life of contribution and meaning.
We often feel like we’re not doing enough. I feel like I should do more. I think we need to be there rather than celebrate where we are in this moment. And even if we accomplish something, it often feels like it’s not enough for a long time. Our constant efforts reinforce the belief that we ourselves are not sufficient unless we achieve great things.
This desire helps us. We are individuals known for our ability to get things done and influence the people around us. But we are focused so positively that we can feel normal now, as we are overwhelming and lacking better words.
Recently I have held these beliefs under the microscope and actually held me. What is extraordinary in the moment? For now, do I really need a product that makes sense, a summit? How many people should I clash with before my life?
I discovered that extraordinary moments were like the peak of my hike. It’s not long before your shins kill you when you make a sudden descent. Extraordinary moments are mere memories, and sometimes they don’t last long for beautiful photos.
I recognize that perhaps extraordinary things need not be confined to the peak. Perhaps it can be found on hiking as well. Maybe it was the moment I let out a breather. Maybe it was even a mundane gym session that I completed in the weeks leading up to my hike.
Those moments pushed me out of my comfort zone and allowed me to become stronger. Those gym sessions prepared me, so I was able to show up at the hiking moments that got really tough. Isn’t that pretty extraordinary in itself?
I went back to my local gym. Only now, I moved out of the corner treadmill.
Now, several times a week, you will find me with a barbell in my hand. You will see me celebrate progressive growth – maybe just celebrating the fact that I have appeared today despite some extra rep, a little more weight, or my fear.
In a way, the quest for extraordinary things has led me to appreciate these ordinary moments. I find myself appreciated consistency and routine. I have found myself appreciated progressive progress more than big profits.
That doesn’t mean I’m not chasing the extraordinary yet. In fact, I’m planning a trip within a few weeks and traveling to push myself in new ways to find scenery I’ve never seen before. I’m sure it will be extraordinary.
But I am also beginning to find joy in my small everyday work. I am beginning to see the meaning and purpose that is injected into every action. I am now exploring to understand how extraordinary normal is.
About Olivia W. Hall
Olivia W. Hall is passionate about exploring the meaning of living a meaningful life. A former award-winning educator, Olivia is currently promoting learning and leadership development as an organizational development professional. When she isn’t writing, coaching, or teaching, you can find her relaxing with her husband in a shed she built by the river, cuddles with her two puppies, or working towards her goal of visiting US national parks slowly.
