Lets face it. Failure is an ugly word. Nothing good ever comes from Failure. How many times have the kids come home with a big fat red F and you said "Congratulations! Lets go get ice cream!"? I'm guessing not too often. In fact, I'm really not a fan of the Letter F. It's the beginning to a plethora of not-so-good words: Fat, Fracture, Feeble, Frumpy, Foliculitis, Fart, Felony... Sure I guess if you are going to be picky there's a couple good words (fabulous being one of them) but overall I am just not a fan. P isn't one of my favorite letters either, but that's another story.
Anyway, back to Failure. Failure usually denotes a breakdown, malfunction, or collapse. I just came home from my workout with Scott. I love working out at Focus Fitness, and I love having Scott as my trainer - he's very encouraging without being overbearing - but there is one thing I hate and that is when he tells me to "go to failure". That means lift until my muscles fail me. I can't stand that. I need something to set my sights on. Something that says "if you do this many reps you are ok." I need a goal. It doesn't matter what number he gives me. He can tell me to do 15 curls or 50 and I'll do as many as he tells me to do, but when he tells me to "go to failure" I can usually only do half the number he thinks I should be able to do.
Why is that? I'm sure it is some sort of personality flaw (there's another not-good F word). I continually need to be reassured that I am doing well, that I'm worthy. Worthy of what though? His time? My own time? God's time? When I was working at Schnucks my boss told me once about another pharmacist that drove him nuts because she always needed reassurance that she was doing a good job. His philosophy was that if you didn't hear from him you were doing ok. I think I'm like that other pharmacist. I like to be patted on the back. I like to be needed and valued. I like to know that I'm worth your time.
Well I went to Failure today. Afterward I could barely raise my arms to shampoo my hair in the shower, to answer the phone, and even typing this seems like harder work for my biceps than my brain. Maybe I should give Going to Failure another shot.