The radical difference between Pain and Discomfort

#39 - How losing 100 lbs taught me not to sit on nails

I wish for a world where everyone understands that discomfort is the price of legendary. And fear is just growth coming to get you.

—Robin S. Sharma

“The Tree Of Life” in Kalaloch, WA. Shot by Dirt Rodgers

Grab some popcorn and slather it with ghee, my friends. It’s story time, and we’re getting personal.

I used to be fat. My weight was something I struggled with from childhood up until my early 30s.

Back in 2019 I was one year into working for myself and my weight ballooned up to slightly under 300 lbs.

Not only did I constantly worry about how others perceived me, but I judged myself with brutal force without ever expending any conscious effort to improve myself.

I was a living definition of insanity. I ate terribly, drank lots of sugary beer, was lazy about exercise, yet I still wished to have the body of an Olympian.

I remember how my heart sank in my chest the day I stepped onto a scale and saw the number "285" looking back at me. It was the most I had ever weighed, and not only did I feel the growing rolls around my waist, I felt truly disgusted with how I had let myself go.

I remember crying as I looked into the mirror after stepping off the scale that day. My plump face was red with grief, and my extra chin asserted itself as I stared into my glassy vacant eyes.

"Something's gotta give, dude", I whimpered to my reflection as the walls pushed closer. "How could you have let it get to this point?"

Shame fueled my actions for months after that experience. I was disgusted with myself and sought comfortable escape by continuing to eat poorly, and by drinking 6-packs of heavy IPAs in order to put my racing mind to sleep each night.

The only times I exercised were brief walks with my sluggish 14 year old dog, so my weight continued to increase, yet I continually avoided stepping onto a scale again because I didn't want to face the impact of my own poor habits.

In early June of 2019, I went to a Sprint Car Race with a friend and he snapped a few photos of me in the parking lot. I was drinking a beer I had gotten from the Lagunitas Brewery, and was spitting it out.

6.2019 - Somewhere close to 300lbs. I stopped checking the scale at 285.

Shame consumed me yet again when I saw that photo. I knew I was fatter than I had ever been because I felt the constant tug of my doughy weight jiggling as I walked. But I had never seen myself looking that obese from a third person view before, and when I did it crushed me.

For about a month after seeing that photo for the first time, I continued my downward spiral until I found myself in conversation with a random man at a local bar one evening.

We were chatting over a round of beers when he told me a story.

A man moves to a new town after accepting a new job.

Every day he walks to work, and as he passes his neighbor's house, he sees a dog sitting in the yard barking relentlessly.

For two weeks he passes the house every day to find the dog out in the yard barking.

"I wonder why that dog won't stop barking", he asks himself as he passes by. "What is going on with him?"

Then one day as the man walks by, he sees the owner of the house watering her lawn, so he stops to talk with her for a moment.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I walk by your house on the way to work every day, and your dog is always in the yard barking. What's going on with him? Why doesn't he ever stop?"

The woman replies, "Oh him? He's sitting on a nail."

With a bewildered look on his face, the man responds, "He's been sitting on a nail this whole time? That's gotta hurt. Why doesn't he stand up?"

"Well, I guess it doesn't hurt enough yet", says the woman.

The story that man told me rang through my body and vibrated every drunken cell back to life in an instant. The breath of his words rekindled a dormant fire within me and my soul blazed with inspiration.

"I am done living like this", I thought to myself between sips of beer. "I am going to do what I need to do once and for all."

The next day I decided to take a break from alcohol to instead focus my energy on the one form of exercise I always loved.

I bought a new bicycle from a shop I used to work at, and started riding every single day with that man’s story burning in the back of my mind as fuel.

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When I began cycling again, it was very uncomfortable. I was constantly winded, and I woke up each morning with sore legs from the day before. But I told myself I was not going to quit, and I was going to lose the weight no matter how many grueling hours in the saddle it took.

I understood the feelings of physical discomfort I experienced as signals indicating I was heading in the direction I wanted to go.

Over the next several months I stayed consistent in my new routine. I would walk the dog down to the beach each morning, and then I'd go home to work for a few hours.

Around Noon I would take the dog to Fort Funston for a walk with the Ravens, and then after that it was time to cycle.

Some days I did not feel like riding. I would tell myself stories like, "it hurts", or "it's too windy today". But each time those limited stories entered my mind I chose to collapse them and saddled up anyway.

I would get on the bicycle to start pedaling and as my legs burned while pushing up the first hill of the day, I would talk to myself out loud.

"I love this. This burn is the best feeling ever. Right now I am using fat as jet fuel and by cranking my pedals, my engine burns the fat."

Each day I rode and spoke strength into myself. The days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months of progression in my quest, and the pounds rapidly dropped from my waist.

Within 4 months, I was down about 50 lbs, and people constantly told me I was looking better than I had in years. While I could feel my own progression, the others could see it and their feedback stoked my internal fire to new heights.

A feeling of self-sustaining momentum was built through my daily practice and carried me through my rides. And the positive reinforcement from others motivated me to keep going when I felt tired.

When the dog died in September, instead of diving back into brown tinted bottles, I started riding farther each day. I started pushing myself even harder physically to cope with his loss, and it helped tremendously.

I continually got stronger and the discomfort I once felt while riding transformed into pleasure. Riding my bike was no longer simply a fun way to lose weight. It became a daily necessity. And if I didn't go riding, I didn't feel right mentally.

One day while out in the San Francisco Presidio, I was pushing up a steep off-road hill and felt a surge of pain in my right knee. Since I was less than 10 miles into my ride, I decided to keep going.

As I continued to push, the pain sharpened. My instincts told me it was not just a kink in a ligament to work through, and that I would need to rest to avoid injuring myself further.

I wanted nothing more than to keep riding, but instead I returned home to attempt to walk the pain off.

With my dog on the floor next to me I stretched the tension in my knee and hoped it would subside by the next day. As we took our evening walk my joint felt fine with no palpable discomfort.

But as I saddled up the next day, the pain instantly returned. I was frustrated and decided to ride through it to see what would happen.

As I pushed my way up the first hill from the beach in Golden Gate Park, the pain sharpened further. Every time I rotated my pedals, it flared up and increased in intensity as I exerted downward force.

Upset with my lingering injury, I decided to return home in worse shape than I had started in. Learning that I had strained my knee and had made the strain worse by riding when I should have rested frustrated me more.

"I just want to ride my bike", I quietly lamented to the Spirit of my dog. "This sucks."

But a feeling within me spoke and simply said, “it is time to rest now.”

The first week off crawled by at a snails pace, and my mind spun in place of my legs. My riding had become a core part of my identity and I no longer knew who I was without it.

Each day I would jump on my bike to ride around the block, and each day the pain chirped to remind me I had not fully healed yet.

During the second week of daily deep stretching I realized the angry story I kept telling myself was doing me no good at all.

I was not a victim of any sort. I was just a guy who did not listen to the pain signal my body was sending me, and I had received the natural re-action of my ignorant mindset.

That experience bloomed a new understanding within me. It taught me there is a radical difference between pain and discomfort.

Pain is an indicator that your form needs to be adjusted so you don't further set yourself back.

Discomfort means you are moving in the right direction through new experience which fosters your growth.

The original nail I sat on was one of painful inaction. I stood up off of that nail to willingly experience the discomfort that comes with growth.

Through the growth process I encountered more pain but I did not make the necessary adjustments, so I experienced the worsening of that pain which temporarily hindered my progress.

Once the lesson was learned, I felt relieved and decided my best plan of action was to rest with a quiet mind, to use a hot compress, and to continue stretching each day.

It took close to three weeks to recover, and when my body was ready to ride again I was overjoyed.

After making a few fit adjustments to my bike to avoid injuring myself again, I was finally able to get back to clocking in 30 to 40 miles per day.

My riding practice paid off and ultimately gave me the confidence to embark on a cross-country bicycle tour when my world collapsed as the covid pandemic hit.

9.2020 - Riding on a rail trail the day after drunkenly melting a BBQ in Ottawa, IL

Being uncomfortable became a daily experience during that tour, and I used my feelings of discomfort to reassure myself I was growing again.

Some days I became so frustrated and scared I wanted to quit, but I kept pushing using my previous experience as my motivator. I told myself over and again, “the only way out is through”, and I believed those words completely.

When I made it to New York, I had dropped another 20 lbs and was feeling better than ever. The feelings of success I earned gave me a new confidence that I had never known before.

What I was not prepared for though, was how difficult it would be to come off of the road after the tour was over. My life was so simply perfect during that experience—the only thing that mattered each day was completing my miles without dying, getting something to eat, and finding a safe place to sleep.

I languished in a lack of purpose for months after coming off the road. I had broken my rear wheel on the New Jersey Turnpike on the last day of the ride so I was without the bike for over 2 months as I waited for parts.

I began eating my feelings again during the Winter months, and my weight climbed back up to 235 lbs over a short period of time.

Then, after months of moving around the country through different living situations and a tough break up, I ultimately decided to settle down in South Dakota in June of 2021.

Renting a house, I finally had the personal space I needed to properly decompress. It had been over a year since I had been truly alone, and I needed solitude to rebuild myself.

In August of 2021 I purchased a gym membership at the local University and began going 5 to 6 days per week.

For 2 to 3 hours per day, nothing else mattered as I stretched and lifted weights. I ate clean and finally found a way to create the same feelings of physical accomplishment I felt on tour.

The pounds started rapidly dropping again, and my body felt sore after every workout. Lifting weights initially brought its own form of discomfort, but I welcomed the challenge.

"I've been here before", I told myself as I lifted through it. "And I am accomplishing my goal one day at a time. Nothing is going to stop me now. The old me is dead and I shall not mourn him for a moment."

I pumped my muscles and experienced euphoric feelings between sets as my brain bathed in serotonin. I pulled big mile sessions on the rowing machine and left my sweaty fear on the seat. I projected my insecurities onto a heavy bag and beat them into submission.

And from time to time I would experience the pain of improper movement when I first tried a new exercise. However, using my experience of the past, I instantly made the needed adjustments to my form in order to avoid injuring myself.

Within 4 months of weight lifting, cardio, and a rock solid diet, I had done it. I stepped onto the scale and saw "185" for the first time in my adult life.

When I realized I had lost over 100 lbs, I began to cry right there in the gym locker room.

My heart bloomed like a spring flower and warm tears of joy streamed down my face as I stared at the scale.

I felt a form of peace that can only be understood through persistent effort. A relief which only embraces those who relentlessly push to accomplish their goals.

Since that day I have kept the weight off, and continue in daily efforts to increase my strength. The arms that once looked like wet noodles now have defined muscles on them.

And as I continue the practice of strengthening my body, my will hardens and my mind sharpens along with it.

My ongoing experience teaches me to instantly recognize when I am sitting on a nail.

And since I am a continual work in progress, each time I find myself seated on a new nail, I stand up again to embrace the discomfort that leads me beyond the pain.

10.2022 - Maybe I’m part duck. Cuz I be lookin’ like a quack head here.

This week's practice:

Observe your life to find a nail you are seated on. It is a painful experience, right?

When you recognize your own nail, be confident that you already know what to do.

Modern day society fills your head with stories that lead you to believe some external force is coming to save you from your pain.

And at the same time it prescribes you profitable low effort solutions to increase your short-term comfort without actually solving your long-term pain.

The only person who can save you from your pain is you. You are the only one who can make the adjustments needed to free yourself from it. Or you can tell yourself it’s not possible and suffer the consequences of that mindset.

Recognize now that your growth will not always be comfortable, but through persistent action, your discomfort will transform to pleasure.

Pick a pain that ails you and get to work this week. There has never been a better time than right now.

And please know that if you need a cheerleader to support you on whatever journey you decide to take, you’ve got me in your corner without any sort of judgement whatsoever.

One of my greatest desires is to see you win. I want to feel the fire of your energy exploding from your presence.

And I want to see you pass your victorious feelings to the next person who needs a little help from a friend when you are able to.

If you want to know what I ate and what I gave up eating to drop 100 lbs + how I work out, you can respond to this email to start a conversation. I am happy to share what works for me with you.

Have fun getting uncomfortable this week, my friends. You can do whatever you set your mind to.