By Christopher Cudworth

The long and short of it is that all our efforts add up in the end.

You know how Sundays go. In your mind there seems to be so much time to do everything you want (or need) to do. So you dreamily, on a Saturday night, occupy your thoughts with plans for a little yardwork, then maybe a run or a ride when time allows, and maybe enjoy a beer late afternoon.

It seldom works out that way.

Like yesterday. It started out great. I did get home in time from church to go for a sweet little 4-miler in the sun and strong spring breeze. The legs felt a bit tired because the 40 mile bike ride the previous day had turned into a thighjello effort over the last 10 miles when my riding buddy started hauling ass up hills after 30 miles. He does that. I should have known that. And yet I deceive myself into the thinking the first 30 miles counted for something.

It all adds up

You’re glad for the effort when you’re through. But while you’re in it, the misery is sometimes daunting. Yesterday by the time I’d done the run, walked the dog and cleaned up the house it was time for lunch and a beer. And then I remembered that my father’s lawn needed mowing. Desperately.

Changing horses in the middle of a stream

The kid I’d hired to mow the lawn for my father’s place this summer could not start for another week. But dad’s lawn was already 7″ long and looking really ragged. Last summer when my wife was so sick with cancer treatments and it was hard to find time to check on my dad’s place, the city had actually come over to check on him. The neighbors had expressed concern about how the house looked with its bushes overgrowing despite the fact that the lawn was cut. So I was forced to buzz over there on a Sunday and tear into the trimming of trees and overall cleanup. The day was made tougher by the fact that I had ridden 50 miles on Saturday and 40 miles on Sunday morning, so by the time the yard work was done there was very little energy left in my body. I went home and collapsed. Told the dog to go walk himself, for all I cared. But then took him for a slow, short walk that brought a sheen of sweat to my body. You know when you’ve hit your limit sometimes.

Beating back ugly

Knowing that it could not be left to get that ugly, I resolved to head up there yesterday and catch up before real weeds took over the lawn.

Packing the Honda lawnmower into the back of my Toyota Matrix was easy enough, but the mower is a little heavy and it reminded me that I’d broken my collarbone last fall and needed to do more upper body work. No matter how old or young you are, recovering from injury requires early and constant rehab if you want normal function.

Then it was lifting the mower back out and starting into mowing the lawn. The grass was so thick the mower would just stop. That meant picking away at sections that were too tall for normal passage. The effort was difficult and tiring. My shoulders felt tired from the previous day’s ride because I’ve pushed my bike saddle back a bit to allow for a lower perch on the bike and my arms and shoulder have not yet adapted fully to the new position.

Mowed over 

Slowly my body tired while mowing chunks of that lawn. There was a lot of heaving, turning and even lifting the mower. The longer it went, the more it became evident how much more strength work was needed for my upper body. Even my core muscles got tested as I leaned far into the effort of mowing on a side hill. Trying to keep the mower in line was as good an exercise as those darn “planks” done each morning.

At least you could see the results of your work. Nothing could have been clearer. An overgrown lawn is one of the most frustrating things to fix and yet, when you’ve gotten through the grass clogs and gone back over the spots where the grass pops back up you can at least say to yourself, “That’s better.”

There didn’t used to be so many things in life where progress is so clear. Mowing the lawn was an organic test of our will to make progress.

That’s all changing these days. We use analytics and metrics in business to track our return on investment. We tap into a satellite to measure the pace, elevation change and length of our runs and rides. We can even compare our efforts to people that have gone before.

Round and round we go. 

If you mow your own lawn, you probably follow some kind of pattern to get the job done. Maybe you vary it a little week to week, changing direction in order to avoid carving ruts in the soil with your mower tires. If you’re like most people who mow your own lawn, you probably have a certain way of doing things that makes sense to you.

That all changes when the lawn is overgrown and you wade into tall grass behind a mower. Then you have to take what the lawn will give you, and measure your efforts carefully. Thoughtlessness only breeds more work. The mower clogs. You sweat and fret and curse. Why can’t this be easier?

Parallel universes

Or the wind blows from an odd direction on a day when you’ve got a 50 mile bike ride planned. It become obvious you’d have to ride 20 miles straight back into the gale if you ride your regular route. Do you change it up? Ride in the opposite direction? Dump your plan and start another route?

Same goes for running. So many runs start out great only to run into trouble. The sun gets hot too quick. You forget water or the faucet you normally trust for a drink is covered in a black plastic bag when you arrive, slapped with a sign that says, “Faucet under repair.”

Life is unexpectedly long grass and changing winds and faucets that don’t work. It’s how you deal with these obstacles that counts. There is probably no better paradigm for dealing with difficulties than becoming a runner or a rider. You learn to improvise as you go along. And accept the lessons and the extra training you get when pushing a mower through tall grass. There is no simpler allegory for perseverance. It makes no difference whether you push or pull, it all adds up to worthwhile effort in the end.