When I was 22 years old, I was living in McDonough, Georgia, training as a professional wrestler. I was newly relocated to the area and living in a beautiful apartment with absolutely no furnishings except for my bed—not peachy. Late one Saturday night, I was inspired to join the rest of civilization and made the trek to the new hot spot in town for all your furniture, accoutrement, and comestible needs: Super Walmart. Twenty minutes later, I was headed home with a futon and a smile. I may have also purchased a steak.
I distinctly remember releasing the sofa from the giant cardboard sarcophagus it was cocooned in; but before it could be metamorphosed into my regal palanquin of slumber, to my dismay, it’s giant metal frame and luxurious cushion were accompanied by some friends. At least a hundred of them. Screws, washers, nuts, bolts, and an assortment of items from Home Depot aisles 1-99 were strewn across my living room floor.
At that time in my life, other than having two hands, I was the furthest thing from a handyman. I also had a strong aversion to following directions, especially those which implied it would take upwards of 90 minutes to complete said task. “How hard could it be to screw some clunks of metal together?” I postulated as I set myself to work.
An hour later, I proudly sat back and viewed my creation. The monstrosity that glared back at me made Charlie Brown’s sad, sappy Christmas tree look like the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree spectacular. I was exhausted, but there would be no rest for the weary, mostly because I didn’t have a sofa to rest on. I would have to try again.
This time I decided to consult the directions. The deceptively small, folded instructional sheet opened like a road map until it covered a section of the floor seemingly larger than the footprint of the futon itself. It may as well have been written in Chinese and the pictures hieroglyphics because just trying to decipher it for two minutes gave me a headache. Maybe a couch isn’t for me.
As impatience and defeat started spreading like a wildfire throughout my body, a sudden thought hit me. If someone was smart enough to figure out how to design a futon, package it, and create instructions that one could follow in the comfort of his own home, then surely I was smart enough to adhere to those instructions and have the tenacity and resolve to see it through. My pride would fuel my next attempt.
How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. I sat down and slowly followed the instructional manual, step by step. I didn’t freestyle; I didn’t modify; I didn’t jump ahead. I numerically followed what was presented and only proceeded to the next step after I was sure I had completed the current one.
90 minutes later, I sat across from a futon. It might as well have had a halo because, to me, it was heavenly. I felt an immense sense of accomplishment. The combination of guidance, hard work, determination, and patience gave me the result I wanted.
Obviously, this allegory is going to tie in to training and nutrition. When I hear people complaining that they’re “doing everything” and just not getting the results they want, I envision myself on my living room floor, kneeling in a pile of futon pieces, frustration seeping out of my ears, lamenting why I wasn’t getting what I wanted.
Putting a futon together looks simple; but unless you have experience doing so or you design them, it’s not. If you’ve been trying to achieve a result and have had no luck so-fa, it shouldn’t be sofa-king confusing. Accept that your intuition isn’t going to trump the system. Take a deep breath, follow the directions, and give it time. Provided you have the proper directions, you’ll get your futon. Otherwise, settle with just having a bed. You already made it; now go lie it.
About the author
Chris Rombola
Chris is the owner of Fit House. He's run the training departments at several commercial gyms, and after years of seeing how awful those environments were for his clients, he opened his own studio. He is devoted to getting people strong, lean, and healthy.
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