I Now Have a Passion

In the last six months or so I have developed an interest that has become a passion. How do I know it’s a passion? Well there are a couple of things that make this activity show itself as a passion. 1) Despite the inherently boring nature of this activity, I find myself talking about it with others. Kind of like how the anime crowd continue to talk about anime to me even as they must surely see my eyes glazing over. 2) The compulsion to engage in the activity almost always trounces the thoughts not to engage in it. For almost every other hobby I have ever engaged in during my lifetime, there has always been a voice in my head telling me not to do it. A voice that I have had to battle against in order to practise my hobby. It’s the voice of procrastination and fear and judgement. The voice of will I ever actually get any good at this. The voice of am I just wasting my time.

The only voice I hear with regards to my passion is a voice telling me to do it. I’ve been aware of this voice for a while. But now I have a greater awareness of it. It’s almost like I have an awareness of the awareness of this voice.

I did warn you that my passion is inherently dull. I’ve mentioned my passion in a previous blog. It’s an activity that lends itself to my inherent introversion. I do it alone (no it’s not that!). I could dress it up and make it sound more exciting than it really is. I could call it something fancy like calisthenics. But really, it’s just one aspect of calisthenics. It’s pullups.

The simplicity of pullups is what makes them so amazing. Just you against the bar. Or is it you with the bar. The feel of the metal in your grip. The difficulty, the challenge. The slow progress that somehow makes it feel more not less.

Earlier I mentioned the voice in my head that tries to persuade me not to engage in my hobbies. It’s the voice that holds me back, that acts as an anchor. It’s the voice that sucks the enjoyment out of the things I enjoy doing. I think that voice is ultimately, judgement. The question of, what if I don’t perform today. What will others think of me. With pullups, there’s no-one there. I’m alone in a park. There might be a distant dog or a passerby casting a glance. But I don’t notice them. I notice the bar. I run through some cues in my head. I think of nothing else. Ultimately it’s just me and the bar. The bar, my enemy, my ally, my silent judge, my greatest supporter.

Every single other hobby I have done has had some sort of barrier to entry. I’ve always had to persuade myself to do them. I’ve had to push myself and motivate myself. With pullups it’s the opposite. I have to hold myself back. Often I find myself pulling my chin over the bar, despite vowing to rest my aching shoulders or that nagging discomfort in my elbow. I know I should rest. But the compulsion to do pullups is overriding my common sense.

Of course there are what might be described as external benefits to doing pullups. You develop muscle and strength. Maybe you even impress a dog passing by in the park. But ultimately I do them because I love doing them.