Author Archives: Michael Arce

Train

I have a love-hate relationship with working out: I love it when I do it, I hate it when I don’t. For last eight years, I have gone no more than two weeks straight without some sort of workout or training session. So it’s definitely been coded in my blood to just… go.

And I’m very proud about that aspect about myself. I’ve been on the receiving end of unnecessary fat jokes and comments from friends, family, and strangers for two decades. And it really sucks, by the way. I’ve been able to look back and laugh about those moments now, but trust me when I say that it took some blood, several tears, and a whole lot of sweat to get to that point of acceptance. And, if my calculations are correct, if I averaged a safe bet of four workouts a week for the last eight years (416 weeks), that amounts to 1,664 workouts.

And after 1,664 workouts you would be easily led to believe that I am some chiseled out monster that eats dumbbells for breakfast, flosses with jump rope and lifts cars with my eye lashes. If you do, thank you for the wonderful compliment.

But I’m not. While I have lost a lot of weight, I’m not where I want to be (yet). The problem I’ve always had is that I plateau, quite honestly more than anyone I know. I have hit wall after wall after wall, I lose focus and I find myself taking steps back for several weeks and/or months. I’ll buy one too many Cadbury Eggs bags at Target post-Easter sale, add three too many cheat meals during the week because I feel I deserved another, visited my parents and ate too much of that oh-so-good comfort Filipino food, or had myself too many packs of peanut M&Ms, thinking that eleven burpees would burn it all off.

True story – it takes eleven burpees to burn off ONE peanut M&M. The moral: chose portion control, or suffer the consequences.

Then there’s that crazy thing called life, too. Sometimes it just sucks you dry, and other times you’re having just too much fun. Either way, too much booze is involved, and that’s where you can blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.

You may also believe that I am knowledgeable about everything health and fitness. I am not this, either. I have many close and successful friends in that field, and I’ve picked their brain for years learning and understanding what works and what doesn’t. I have not earned one certification, and never will I consider myself an expert. But I understand what I need, what works for me, and what it’s going to take – for me. And recently, I have gained a much better understanding of when to slow down. You can’t always go pedal to the metal. You get hurt (as I have plenty of times), and you are shelved for days or weeks, and all the momentum goes out the window.

That’s where the wall appears. Then, boom. Right to your chin. The wall’s in the car, you on the ground, tryin’ to figure what the f%$# just happened.

And I did run into that wall last week. The good thing is, it didn’t knock me backwards. I couldn’t get over that 5AM alarm, but I eventually got something in later in the day. While feeling like you’re staying put is not the greatest thing, there is a win in holding your ground. Once you can weather the storm, you can move forward once more and continue to chase that burn.

And when you start naming your workouts, that’s when you know you’re having fun and you’re on board the right train. Take today’s session, which I aptly titled The ABC’s:

A. 3:14 minute cardio warm up (row machine)
B. Shoulder stretch routine with broomstick
C. Hip rotations and warm up
D. 21 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
E. 1 minute plank
F. 50 crunches
G. 18 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
H. 1 minute plank
I. 50 reverse crunches
J. 15 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
K. 1 minute plank
L. 50 scissor kicks
M. 12 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
N. 1 minute plank
O. 50 bicycle kicks
P. 9 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
Q. 1 minute plank
R. 50 oblique crunches (left)
S. 6 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
T. 1 minute plank
U. 50 oblique crunches (right)
V. 3 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
W. 1 minute plank
X. 50 hip bridges
Y. Cool down
Z. Leave no doubt: take a photo to prove you’ve done your ABC’s

One last thing – how many Jamie Foxx references did you catch in this post?

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Traffic

In the beginning of this year of 2014, I ushered in not only a new job, but a new city of work – Palo Alto, California.  Prior to this move I worked in San Francisco for over eight years, and currently living in San Francisco (over two years now) and other neighboring cities prior to, my commute to work was never a concern for me.  San Francisco’s public transportation – compared to other US cities, at least – is good.  I Caltrained, I BARTed, I MUNIed.  Palo Alto’s public transportation, unfortunately, is a complete joke.  In fact it’s damn near non-existent.  And I understood that, prior to accepting the gig, I am required to increase my driving time and shoot my miles through the roof to get to work.

While I do have genuine concerns about the oil crisis and gas prices and our overall environmental well-being, I was okay with the commute ahead of me then.  And I still am now.  I did well for over two months, close to three, from January to mid-March.  I was out my door by 6:30 AM – 6:48 AM to avoid the morning freeway congestion, which allowed me to leave work just before everyone else in Silicon Valley did.  It is unfortunate that I eventually fell off the wagon; my nights became longer, and getting out the door by 6:48 AM became a rarity.  7:00 AM became more common, then came 7:15, then 8:00, to as late as 9:30 AM out the door.  And from this tardiness I was introduced to the very popular traffic on the US 101 that many, if not all Bay Area commuters cringed about.

Traffic – you learn to get used to it, but only if you allow yourself to.  Some days are worse than others.  In April, I suffered a car accident on the freeway that left my beloved truck of thirteen years totaled (and I thankfully walked away without a scratch).  And being fully immersed in traffic with thousands of commuters for the better part of these last four months have brought about one simple, yet powerful question:

What moves you?

And “work” is the surface answer.  You make ends meet to survive.  You get from A to B, earn a paycheck, then go from B to A and do it all over again.  It’s America.  It’s what you have to do to make America continue to happen and exist in it.  If you earn enough paychecks you get to pay your rent, buy a shirt, maybe some pants, and have a beer and a cookie on the weekend, too.

For the record, I don’t exactly promote the visuals of being butt naked from the waist down on your front lawn while munching on a cookie and washing it down with a Coors Light on a Sunday afternoon.  It’s just, you know, an example.  But hey, if that floats your boat, by all means please quote me.

But it’s the other kind of move that I mean.  I can only hope that most people do understand and recognize the differences between surviving, and living.  We work in order to survive.  Simple, right?  So what do you do to live?  With that in mind, what moves you then?

It horrified me that I couldn’t answer with any conviction.  And I think my problem by going about thinking of an answer was that, I was looking for specific answers, and when I did that I always came to a conclusion that it was “too easy.”  Passion projects, travelling, learning, and the overall pursuit of happiness – we all know this shit already.  Even further than that, how many times have you – for example – travelled and seen a new place and left unfulfilled?  Unmoved?  I know I have, and I can at least conclude for myself that those “answers” that are “too easy” can completely miss the mark, too.

Am I a man doomed to walk this earth not knowing what moves me?  Fortunately, no.  Because it did dawn on me the other day what moves me on a day-to-day basis.  It’s so simple that, when it hit me I felt it in my bones, and I had to go all the way back to how I spent my summer seasons during elementary school to feel that same level of simplicity and relief.

I want to be moved.  That’s what moves me.

And I don’t always have to chase and capture photographs for that.  I don’t have to design chair after chair and build full scale prototypes.  I don’t have to seek a new adventure in another city to be moved.  I don’t have to solve for x and find the area of the triangle using the Pythagorean theorem (although that really, really turns me on).

I’m easily moved by a song from the past, something from my favorite record from my favorite band perhaps.  I’m easily moved by having a conversation worth remembering for all time, or a brilliant idea that creates action, or a good film that inspires change.

And I can be moved, every day – even more – simply by just the way you look at me.  And the simple touch of your hand over mine, or if I’m lucky the brush of your cheek against the delicate tip of my nose.  I can be moved by simply hearing your voice, especially when your happy, even when you’re angry, but not when your upset.  I can be moved by the scents that only you will have, and when those scents tickle my senses a jolt of electricity will surrender my body.  I can be moved by the slightest upward bend of your lips.  And if you give me a full smile and that laugh of yours then you’ll move me swiftly off my feet and into outer space.  I can be moved every day.

But I don’t have every day with you. And the possibility of that still keeps me going.

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Worth

Marvel has made the headlines lately with their recent announcements that will and already have shaken up their print universe.  Tony Stark/Iron Man is moving to San Francisco and has a brand new suit.  Steve Rogers is replaced by Sam Wilson, who is black, as the next Captain America.  And the one that hits home for me – Mjolnir, the Asgardian hammer forged from the heart of a dying star and enchanted by the words spoken over Odin’s beard, is now held by a female.

Most of you are aware of the Thor-inspired theme of my Instagram photos.  If not, well, I have an Thor-inspired theme for my Instagram photos:

http://instagram.com/mjolnir_mcfly

See.  I told you.  I wasn’t lying (also see my post called #100).

I’ve always applied the idea of driving my Instagram account to roll with the times, both world/nationwide and personal moments.  Prior to the 2014 baseball season, I set up a spring training series where Thor (played by yours truly, again if you were unaware) works on his timing at the plate and his curveball on the mound.  With the return of my brother from boot camp in April, he accepted the role of Captain America, and us brothers were reassembled via a six-photo series glorious with hammer and shield action – which are my favorite of the bunch to date. And that’s always been my style and preferred method to my madness.  Somewhere there’s always a story to be told, and I want to be the one to tell it to you with multiple layers.

So, the last five photos that I posted on my ‘Gram are direct nods to Marvel’s move to pull the hammer away from the guy that’s been Marvel’s Thor for the last fifty-two years and pass it onto someone else.  There is a new Thor in town, and you can imagine the shock.  After all, many people tend to not accept change very well.

One can assume that it would not be easy to let go of that power after possessing it for that long, right?  We can all relate to – at the very least imagine – the anguish of losing what made you feel extraordinary, and having to witness it move on and accept another (strike a chord? See: break ups).

I have not read the Marvel books, so I am not aware of why or how he lost worthy for Mjolnir in the first place.  But for my photographic and ‘Gram purposes, those details were not required.  What I sought to visually hammer home (pun intended), was the unadulterated distress of loss, and the only thing left that mattered was how to find a way to get it all back.

What resulted was a five-photo series that I am actually very proud of.  It achieved everything I wanted – acting, dramatic lighting, plot progression from one photo to the next, and visual cameos of space and wormhole travel and Asgard itself (at least, the notion of it and how it would look).  More than anything else, people got the idea and I was floored by the overwhelmingly positive responses. It ends with a bit of an apology to Marvel, as I am not ready to give up the hammer.  In the end you have to believe in what you are worth.  And when you do that, ideals become very difficult to let go.  Or maybe that’s too deep of an ending, and I simply could not find a female replacement.  Hmm. Who knows.

What also spawned from the success of this story arc are… more story arcs!  I’ll still have one-shots of beautiful sunsets and sunrises and landmarks (who on the ‘Gram doesn’t love those?) but the future direction of my account will now continue toward a collection of storytelling series.  You know, panels of a comic book, if you will.

See what I did there?

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Idea

I recently joked on a Facebook post:

“My start-up company will help your start-up company make a dent in a market with so many start-up companies that attempt to start up something that has never been started in a world where something eventually gets started up somewhere. After our success we can go get tattoos of ourselves actually getting a tattoo (#tattooception), while having a conversation about how the hell we got started up in the first place.

Anyone want to help me start this up?”

Now most jokes – my jokes at least – come from a small grain of truth, and with this specific case, it comes from personal experience. My film production team and I recently worked with a start-up company based out of the Palo Alto/Silicon Valley area that required two videos for his company’s promotional and branding purposes. We shot. I edited. Lack of sleep. Project conquered. Client is happy. Done deal. Well wishes shared. Hope to do business again. Onto the next one. Repeat. Right? Right. And it got me thinking – there are so many ideas thrown out there. Not just here, but everywhere. From every city to every classroom to every lab, basement, garage, think tank, and front door staircase. And when you work on enough projects, you can come to one conclusion:

There is no such thing as a bad idea.

Except maybe for genocide, and Matisyahu shaving his beard (why Matisyahu? Why?!)

And here’s the obvious understanding of ideas: good ideas succeed, and bad ideas fail. But we’ve also seen good ideas fail, and surprisingly bad ideas succeed. Doesn’t make too much sense, but we’ve all been witnesses of this. So how’s it possible? Let’s take a moment to play with a few examples here.

There’s a batter at the plate. Puts up monster numbers and has the kind of power that can undo the stitches off a baseball if he gets all of it. There’s two outs, runners on first and third with two strikes on him. And, he can hit absolutely anything… except for an inside fastball.

I’m going to let you get interactive with me and allow you to say out loud what you think is a “good idea” for the pitcher to throw next. And just in case you missed it, here’s a clue: it rhymes with pinside bastfall.

Now let’s take a look at a “bad idea,” at least in a sense where the majority of us would agree on the bad label. First person that comes to mind is a man named Philippe Petit, a high-wire artist from France. Back in the 70’s, Philippe had the bright idea of, quite literally, raising the bar, to heights that no one dared to imagine then nor even now, by walking a tight rope suspended atop the roofs of one tower to the other of the World Trade Center.

Take a minute or two to really let this sink in:
1. On the roof of one tower, to the roof of the other.
2. Tight rope walking, 1,350 (quarter of a mile) feet above ground level in New York City.
3. No safety harness involved.
4. No parachute.
5. Philippe is not from the planet Krypton.

Terrible idea! Why? Take another minute or so to answer this, and if you said anything along the lines of “the chances of Philippe completing this stunt and living the next day to tell about it is slimmer than slim,” then we’re on the same boat here. As it turns out, since then Philippe has had forty years worth of time to tell about it. Not only did he walk the rope a total of eight times, he also danced, laid on the wire, and saluted from a kneeling position. It is famously known as “The Artistic Crime of the Century.” And our pitcher from the previous story did throw that inside fastball, only he ended up leaking it over the plate and, well, hitter man hit one high, and he hit it deep.

Other than the destruction of a certain people and Matisyahu’s lack of facial hair, bad ideas simply do not exist. They are just blocks of wood that really needed a little more careful attention on the chipping, carving, and sanding. What it really comes down to, where it counts the most for any idea to succeed – is execution. And you can execute anywhere between very well (Philippe Petit) or very poorly (unnamed baseball pitcher). The level of execution will always be fueled by the passion behind the idea, and there is an unmistakable correlation between the two.

When the passion is high, the execution is sharp. When the execution is sharp, the product and outcome is enriching. And when the product and outcome is enriching, the easier it becomes to not only accept the original idea, but to welcome bigger, bolder, and more daring ideas beyond that.

It’s not easy trying to find that one thing that sparks that relentless passion that exists in all of us. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe once said, “Everything has been thought of before, but the difficulty is to think of it again.” For some, it clicks. For others, it could take a weeks, months, years, maybe even half a lifetime of searching. So here’s an idea –

It’s never too late to believe in something crazy.

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