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Persistence Alone

My grandfather grew up in a small apartment in Lawrence, Massachusetts with fourteen older brothers and sisters. His mother stayed at home to watch after the family, and his father worked in a dry goods store.

His parents came from Italy to Ellis Island with no money. He grew up poor.

When he was ten or so he began to work at the dry goods store as well. His job was mainly to run into the rat infested basement and get tins of spaghetti to bring upstairs. He was allowed to keep a portion of the money, but most of it went to his parents.

Pain, and the Interpretation of Pain


Saturday was hectic -- my partner in a company and quite a few projects was going home for a few weeks, so we wanted to hang and wrap up a lot of stuff. Before that, we were sitting to negotiate out a project on the last possible day he could be there early in the morning, and on the other side of town.

I only had about 30 minutes total before I had to head out the door, and I was aggravated I was going to likely miss my workout that day. I said, "Well, what the heck, let's get something in" -- and I sprinted up and down the stairs a few times. I wasn't counting exactly, but I think I did 40 stories up, and 40 stories down?

I did some quick bodyweight exercises after that including air squats, and headed out the door. We then walked a lot...

Next two days, my legs are killin' me. Bad. My calves got a workout they almost never get from lightly striking the stair and moving quickly to the next one, and my quads likewise took a beating.

For the next couple days, if I ran my fingers over the muscles, that little jolt of pain rang out. And yet, paradoxically, when I did so I felt great. I felt immense satisfaction and pleasure.

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