I can’t take myself so seriously that I’m not open to changes of plan, stupid suggestions, and horrible wastes of time and energy. I believe in the value of all those things, even as they derail my carefully cultivated habits and high priority projects.

For example, Project 200 is underway, maybe even in its crucial phase by the time you read this. My instinct is to put all my eggs in that basket, to closely guard my energy and recovery. But my buddy just got a new mountain bike, and he wants to ride. My kid might suddenly ask me to take him to the trails. My wife will want to go paddle boarding, or just for a walk.

The 60/40 rule demands that I sabotage my (not very) carefully laid plans in favor of honoring my relationships with the people I love. I don’t want to be the guy who passes up riding bikes because I have a big run project going.

I don’t want to be the guy who doesn’t eat what the family is eating, because it’s not the optimal fuel for whatever stupidity I’ve dreamed up.

Remember kids! A SlimJim is lean protein. A RedBull will solve a hard bonk like few other products. Does Slurpee sponsor any athletes? Sorry all my money is wet. I digress.

This month I’ve torched a couple rest days with mountain bike rides. I’ve walked when my guts churned with the need to run. I’ve eaten well, but also shoveled a fair bit of garbage in the old pie hole. I’m a directed and driven athlete, but I’m also a bozo.

That’s a role I need to invest in, because, when you total up all the miles I run, or look at my times, or the bike races I’ve raced, or the mountains I’ve climbed, there are a million people who have done more, higher, faster, better. There’s nothing in my athletic makeup that suggests I should take myself very seriously, so periodically, and without planning it, I like to spray some kerosene around and light myself on fire.