Marshall Ramsey

I wore shorts on a windy, 35-degree morning. My legs were nearly as blue as my shirt. But I did it for a reason.

I wanted to feel as much discomfort as I could today.

Don’t get me wrong, the coaches are very capable of bringing plenty of pain. But I wanted a little bit more. I wanted to remind myself what it felt like to suffer. And I wanted to push past it.

See, I’m training for more than just a physical goal. I’m pushing my brain, too. I need to learn to keep pushing when logic tells me to quit. I am learning the ability to shut my mind downs when it screams “quit.”

I’m learning resilience.

So I was cold. But it didn’t last long. Paul LaCoste (who was with us this morning) made sure of that. We did a four-corner drill (running laps around the field with quick-foot ladders, burpees, mountain climbers, thirty yards of bear crawls, 60 push-ups and squat jacks. Then we went to Paul and did motion drills (sprinting backwards and cutting one direction or the other.) We then went into the weight room and then back on the field (and out into the cold) and an up and down the football field. By the time the hour was up, I wasn’t cold any more.

I had accomplished another workout. I had pushed through my discomfort.

Look on either side of you. The person next to you is going through tough times. If you’re not, you will, too.

I froze for an hour. I can handle anything else the next 23 hours throws out at me.

We are the product of the stories we tell ourselves.

If you say, “I can’t,” you’re right. If you say, “I suck,” you’re right.

I know. The voice in my head was telling me today would be a great day to sleep in. Look, I’ll be honest: I am exhausted. I drove 800 hundred miles this weekend. I sat in an emotional meeting. Heck, the whole thing was emotionally exhausting. The alarm went off after my six hours of sleep and I thought, “One more hour. I am so tired.”

Then I changed my story. I though, “If not today, when? If I quit today, I’ll quit tomorrow. You’ve got this Marshall. Put your feet on the ground now. Then take it one step at the time.”

Even if they are very fast steps.

We started with an Indian Run. Line One’s version of an Indian Run is a sprint then you sprint even faster. I heard some people call out for the line to slow down. But I wanted it to go faster. I kept telling myself, “Keep pushing. This is how you get faster.”

We are the product of the stories we tell ourselves.

There were several times when I thought to myself, “I can’t.” But I quickly pushed it out of my mind. I told a different story. When Clark was killing us during a core workout, I kept saying, “I AM GETTING STRONGER.”

This is a skill-set that translates to the other 23 hours of my day. Change your story and change your life.

Because we are truly the stories we tell ourselves.

It’s a little after 7 a.m. and I’m still looking for the truck that hit me. Not sure why today was a rough workout for me, but it was. To Coach Clark’s credit, the coaches threw everything but the kitchen sink at us today. And if they had, I’m sure we would have had to carry it over our head.

My shoulders are baked. Tired. Wiped out.

We started off with a mini Super-circuit — a series of exercises that pretty much work the whole body. One minute I was pushing a board, the next I was jumping rope. It was 25 minutes of high heart rate activity. We then ran quick-foot ladders and then went into the weight room (where we did intense shoulder workouts). The last session was starting at the goal line and making out way to the other goal line. In between was crab crawls, inch worms (with a push-up), sit-ups, leg lifts, bear crawls and a plank at the end.

I had run out of steam. There just are days when you’re going to have a bad day. And I was having one of them. But I kept pushing. And pushing. And pushing.

Why? It’s more important to push when you’re ready to quit. When you’re tired. Because that’s the training you need for life. It’s called perfect practice. You gut out the hard time so the field so you can in life.

I’m exhausted. But I do have the satisfaction of knowing that I have enough will to fight through wanting to quit.

It’s the bad days that define who we are. They’re the ones that shape us and keep us moving forward.

Now to look for that $%^ truck that hit me.

5 a.m.

I’m standing on the 45-yard line on Madison Central’s football field. It’s 45 degrees with a 13 mph wind that makes the 45 degrees on the thermometer a lie. I’m wearing shorts.

No one ever said I was smart. Or warm.

My bed was warm, though. I almost needed an oyster shucker to get out of it this morning. But I did. It takes 21 days to creates new habit. We’re six days into this one. My feet overrode my brain and hit the floor at 3:58.

Improvement requires action.

We start our warm-ups. High knees, inch worms, over and under the fence. With it being cold, my muscles need to be warm. I look at my Line 1 teammates. They’re great athletes. My goal is to be as great as they are.

I focus on each exercise. Coach Trahan has us running game through the cones. Coach Clark fries our shoulder muscles with hand weights. I feel the burn. That burn means I’m getting stronger.

After an hour, I wasn’t cold anymore. My heart rate was up and so were my spirits.

It was 6 a.m. My day was on the right track.