In the past, I’ve tried to treat my birthday like just another day. But recently, I’ve started to allow myself to reflect a bit. When I do, I always find so many people and things to be thankful for. I’m truly very blessed.
I’m writing this here in hopes that the public information will result in some personal accountability.
Over the past year, I’ve gone weeks, sometimes months, without training.
To be clear, I’m not talking about stretching, at-home exercises, visualization or studying various physical disciplines. By training, I’m specifically referring to early morning, outdoor training.
It’s been a goal of mine to become consistent with my training. To become disciplined and start each day off right.
For years, I’ve failed miserably. So I’m taking to the blog to share my journey with you.
Today, I woke up to my alarm at 5 a.m. It wasn’t too painful, but rising before the sun makes you want to hit the sack again.
I should add that I had gotten several good nights of sleep and wasn’t dead tired when I went to bed.
I was out the door by 5:35 a.m. just as the sun began to illuminate the earth. At this point, I was excited because I knew the next hour belonged to me.
In years past, I would have jogged to my training spot. But recently, I’ve begun to walk. Maybe I’m slowing down. But I personally think I began to walk because I was beginning to despise my training.
Early in the morning, my body needs to slowly warm up. Running straight away is jarring, both mentally and physically.
I’m trying to take better care of myself. Not tear myself down (which I’ve done numerous times in the past by the way).
When I finally get to the park, I’m usually in a pretty good mind-frame.
I begin with jump rope and progress to dynamic stretching. Then it varies a lot depending on how my body feels.
Often, since I spend most of my day sitting, I transition to movements that elongate and stretch my spine. Like twisting shuffles (sorry if not the correct terminology), monkey bars or bar swings. I also like static bar holds with short, quick dips.
I might then move to the ground and get my hands and wrists going. Ground kongs, crab walks and quadrupedal movement are some of my favorites.
I’ll also include leaps off one and two legs. Skips as well. Hopefully, that will keep my knees strong.
As you can see, nothing fancy. I just try to incorporate basic movements so my body can feel light and strong.
Eventually, I’ll work up a nice sweat. Start to finish, training usually lasts 30-40 minutes. That’s usually enough to get me feeling good and ready to go.
Stay tuned for more updates!
You often hear stories of how people work hard, overcome obstacles and eventually achieve mastery at something.
But having achieved mastery implies that you’ve learned everything about a particular subject or discipline.
By that definition, true mastery can never be achieved. There’s always more to learn.
I could guarantee you that LeBron doesn’t think he’s mastered the game of basketball. I know Tom Brady believes there are still ways he can improve as a football player.
The “greats” embrace the process of becoming great.
They know they can’t know it all. They believe that anyone (including kids and novices) can teach them something.
They believe in helping others and passing on their knowledge. Teaching actually improves the teacher’s understanding of a subject.
This is the process of becoming great. It sounds corny, but it’s true: Becoming great is all about the process.
Just as the best players use the offseason to work on their game, I do the same thing as a basketball writer and editor.
The prevailing theme around this time of the year is that things are slow. It’s a good time for a vacation. That sort of vibe.
But I believe this is the BEST time to go hard and get better. This offseason, I’ve been using some of my spare time to break down all kinds of stats from last season. Continuing to study the game.
On the job, I create challenges for myself. Pushing myself to uncover the big story that hasn’t been aggregated (while following the new protocol–word to Windy).
I’ve also been watching the WNBA more than any previous summer. If you consider yourself a fan of basketball, I don’t know why you wouldn’t be watch high-level competition. The league is full of most elite players in the world. I mean, c’mon now…
I challenge myself by taking on extra work. Staying up late and waking up early if need be.
I’m continually working on my discipline and getting my mind and body right so I can perform at the highest level.
But most of all, I’m dedicating myself to writing on a daily basis. Once and for all, I’m committing to keeping this skill super sharp.
Today, you hear a lot of brand marketers asking the question, “What problem do you solve?”
It’s a question that works for a lot of people, getting them to focus more on what they do.
Fair enough. When I was in college, staring my impending graduation in the face, I asked myself a similar, but perhaps a more powerful question:
What can I provide others?
Asking myself this question made me think about my passions and figure out ways of channeling it into a service.
For instance, back in college, I was a big NBA fan (obviously still am). From years of playing fantasy basketball, watching games on TV and playing pick-up, I already had a bette-than-basic understanding of the game.
So I brainstormed different ways to provide a service to basketball fans.
Having no budget, but the good fortune of high-speed internet (my university boasted some of the fastest connection speeds in the country at the time), I found a way to stream live NBA games on my computer, upload the most dramatic/interesting moments to YouTube and use social media to share the content.
All of this was happening just as YouTube and Twitter were poised to take off. The NBA too, for that matter.
It was an immediate hit. I made a name for myself in the basketball community and NBA video clips still dominate our newsfeeds over 10 years later.
The key was to focus on what I was uniquely capable of providing. There may not be a path laid out already. That’s fine. The beauty lies in creating your own way. Using your willpower to forge a new path.
The quiet car, riding into the city, might as well be my sanctuary. The Hudson River racing to my left. Lounging on a cushy seat. Fifty minutes to myself.
The ritual ride into Manhattan brings a calm, old-school, newspaper vibe. Like my tee should be a suit coat, and my Bulls cap a fedora.
The old soul in me wishes I could travel across the country this way. Or across Europe one day. I wish that trains might continue to meander across the land. These 100 mph-plus trains strip the beauty away from the ride.
As my train gets into the city, I’ll savor this moment like the last bit of coffee in my cup.
And don’t hate on the language. That’s a layup.
If you’re reading this, you probably know me by my given name, Ryne Benjamin Nelson. Well maybe, the middle name is new to you—but that’s me.
Chances are you think the name “HOPZ” is kind of strange. You probably laughed when you first heard it.
You might have thought, “The name sounds unprofessional.”
Well, you’re right.
But you see, I never gave myself a name. Not Ryne. Not HOPZ.
Ryne… you know how I got that one. HOPZ… I received that name when I was 24 years old, hanging out at Prospect Park in Brooklyn with a group of kids who live in Brownsville.
I might go into the whole story another time, but one guy (who would eventually become a friend) gave me the name because, well… I had hops. I could jump!
Different people told me throughout childhood and adolescence that I could jump. So this wasn’t something a new. But this was the first time someone called me HOPZ. And it caught on.
So, in short, HOPZ became an alter-ego. And then eventually, my main ego. HOPZ, to me, became who I am.
Ryne Nelson was attached to a byline. A final exam. A credit card. A driver’s license.
Most people are given a name at birth and clutch tightly to it throughout their lives. HOPZ is a name unfettered from those shackles.
So for my reintroduction—and I think my third official blog/website—I chose to begin with my origin story. HOPZ’s origin story.
As you read this blog, you may come to think of me as not just Ryne, but HOPZ as well. Eventually, maybe, we’ll laugh at the power and absurdity of a name.