“Hey, aren’t you the guy that’s always at Rodeo?” the stranger asked.
This wasn’t the way one aspires to be recognized.
Rodeo was a bar in Murray Hill a few blocks away from my apartment. I was currently standing at a completely different bar in a completely different neighborhood (Niagra, in the East Village, if you must know) being recognized as the same guy from a not-so-neighboring bar.
Back then I used to go to Rodeo three to four nights per week and get three to four drinks each time. You could double that on my better nights.
These days I probably have three to four drinks per year.
But, don’t worry. This isn’t a lecture about the dangers of alcohol addiction or even a breakdown of how alcohol provides calories with no nutritional benefit, is very disruptive to sleep and is quite hard on your organs.
I won’t even mention the more-than-questionable claim that red wine is somehow “good for you”.
No, what I want to talk about is identity. Or maybe, more directly, what “taking breaks” can do to your identity.
There is something in the study of rhetoric and debate that is called the inoculation effect. It’s essentially when you pre-plant an argument in a small, benign way in order to get your audience to accept the premise before dramatically ramping up your case in order to prove your point.
And you usually don’t say “hey, I’m warming you up to this idea” during your debate (just like you don’t say, “hey, I’m going to give you a little bit of measles in this shot so you don’t get the measles”) but I’m going to blow my cover here and tell you that’s what I’ve done with my opening story.
The stranger at the bar identified me as a guy who probably lives in bars. And now I never go to bars.
“You changed your identity to something much more healthy. Good for you, Dan!” you are likely saying as you nod at your phone screen while making others on the subway slightly uncomfortable.
And now you are probably thinking that this whole piece is going to be about how you can change your identity from someone who has bad habits (like drinking) to someone who has good habits (like going to the gym).
And that would be nice and make sense and fit into a little comfortable box but what I really want to discuss, because it’s a much more nuanced and much more common issue, is how taking a break from your identity - particularly the positive aspects of your identity - is a trap.
(Now that I think about it, maybe I used less “innoculation effect” and more of the plain old “switcheroo”. My rhetoric professor would not be pleased.)
But, before we get to that, how about we pause for a song.
“Give me a break, give me a break. Break me off a piece of that…”
Now, if you are deep Gen X like me or even an older millennial you immediately finished that line with “Kit Kat bar” and will now have that jingle stuck in your head for the rest of the day.
You are welcome.
Taking a break has become a much desired aspect of our lives.
We want a break from the day-to-day on weekends and vacations. We’ve been given a break room where we eat our lunches and gossip about our fellow employees. We even tuned into our TV’s on Friday nights to watch “Gimme A Break” starring Nell Carter (there’s another one for my Gen X people out there!). Even our chocolate bars provide us a much needed break.
We need a break. We deserve a break. If only I can get to my next break!
Don’t worry. This isn’t about to turn into a piece on hustle culture and how you need to grind in order to be successful.
But when you do take breaks from things that you value, particularly if those things require effort or are challenging, you are putting yourself at risk of no longer having those positive things be part of your identity.
There will be times when you take natural breaks from training. But when that version of you stops showing up for long enough, other people stop seeing you that way. And, eventually, so do you.
And that’s great if you, like me, no longer want to identify as the guy who goes to bars or is the champion at “all you can eat ribs” night. But it’s not so great when it comes to the things that you value or miss about yourself.
But let me deliver some good news.
If you’ve been on a break for longer than maybe you should have, you don’t have to wait until you feel like that person again before you come back.
You come back first.
You put on your shoes. You walk through the door. You pick up something heavy. You do a little less than you used to. You get a little more tired than you remember. And then you come back and do it again.
And, slowly, something familiar starts to happen.
You stop feeling like someone who used to train.
You start feeling like someone who trains.
Maybe you’ve been gone for two weeks. Maybe six months. Maybe it’s been years and you barely recognize the version of yourself who used to do this.
But that version of you didn’t disappear.
Because the weights are still there.
The squat rack is still there.
The gym is still there.
Waiting for you to come back.
And, maybe, waiting for you to recognize yourself again.