Oh yes, pile it on. Tell me when you see me, write me when you read this. Say it. I know, I’m wrong. Woefully wrong. Wrong like having a dogma enema. Someday I will get over this, but this one remains life-changing. It isn’t like I haven’t been wrong before. Despite being told repeatedly how great I am, I do have to admit being wrong once. Maybe twice.
In all seriousness this latest misconception was only realized by a pure gamble. Let me describe this gamble.
I like bookstores. I really do. They are very calming for me and often times I find it fun just to wander and look at the titles. Call me a geek. Books have always brought me joy, so much that I now find myself slightly on edge when I am about to make a purchase, wondering if the book will be good, or so bad I hurl it against the wall like I did for Twilight. As a voracious reader, I have finished many of the classics, moderns and everything in between that is considered a good recommendation. Picking up a book recommended by somebody is easy work, as you can blame them for something terrible. However, when perusing alone, one is fully responsible for their own actions and buying a book by an unknown author on a favorite subject can be a disaster. No offense to Joe Friel, but Jesus Christ, his books are like reading washing instructions on a shirt tag. Even my favorite subjects have been defecated on by substandard authors and I still haven’t forgave most of them.
This was my dilemma. I saw a book on the shelf titled Born to Run. This book advertised itself as an introspective and mysterious exposé into running and the Raramuri. Having some background of the Tarahumara, I was aware of their location and their lore. Many have compared the Navajo and the Apache to the Tarahumara (Raramuri), but this is fairly incorrect and leads to some silly stereotyping of the Native American populations. The lore is this: many old cultures have always had legends swirling around them of their superhuman running abilities. Be it the Kalahari, Kenyans, Tarahumara or even the Masai, stories find their way into our minds of their crazy abilities to run for tens of miles at a time through the most challenging terrain on the planet. This was not new for me. I have heard these stories and frankly most of them are bullshit disguised as a hook to get people to read the book. This cover was no different. I thought MacDougall’s hook was weak, and I wasn’t intrigued. However, I pulled the book off the shelf and read the inside flap. Blah, blah, blah, the Raramuri are great, run for hundreds of miles, blah, blah and they do it barefoot. Blah, blah…wait! Barefoot? No they don’t. Insert big red bullshit flag here. Wave it. Barefoot? In the Sierra Madres? Keep waving it. Now the gamble wasn’t such a gamble anymore. This book had my attention. However, the last thing I wanted was some Amnesty waa-waa eye crying about another poor part of the world. I know that already, and it depresses me to read anymore of it. But, against some reason, I put the book on the counter and purchased it.
Upon arriving home I flopped down on the couch and dove into Born to Run. Screw the MacDougall hook, I was going to give this one a chance. I suddenly realized MacDougall was not responsible for his cover hook. It must be some wannabe copy editor. Bitch. MacDougall was brilliant, and it all started from one statement: my foot hurts.
Since this isn’t a book review, I won’t bore you with the details. I will say that MacDougall wound evolution, athletics, fear, hope, plot, love, strife, and every other human emotion into a story about running. I was riveted. I laughed. I cried. I made the book an excuse not to sleep. It was powerful, it was moving and more than anything it taught me something.
It taught me I was wrong. It taught me that, despite my life philosophy, I was being a hypocrite and ignoring the obvious. How could thirty years of technology trump a million years of evolution? Why, with all of the data, did we ignore it? My answer is simple. We respond to what we know, and what we knew was to wear shoes. Why wouldn’t you wear shoes? Glass, nails, empty hypodermics…who knows what we could step on? It is a minefield out there! Compare, though, a cut foot to plantar fasciitis. Which is worse? Our feet are meant to be unshod.
This does come with a caveat. I know I just wrote a diatribe on barefoot running, but I still will race in something. I have chosen the Vibram FiveFingers, since I would hate for a small nail or piece of glass to end a race. Welcome to the revolution.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, November 15, 2009
It Begins in Earnest
It begins in earnest.
It begins with a video, a fleeting flash of pixels. It begins with a thought.
It begins with success, it begins with failure. It begins when there are no answers to why you shouldn’t.
It begins with a proclamation, as things like this should. It begins with a whisper in the night.
Most importantly, it begins now.
This is my proclamation.
This is my beginning.
Starting on November 15, 2009, I am going to embark on a journey that many (but a vast minority) have done. I will start my training for an iron-distance race. The journey for me will culminate on July 31, 2010 in Windsor, California, where I will participate in the Full Vineman. I will not be alone. Suzanne Duncan will be joining me in training as she prepares for a harder challenge in Ironman Idaho. Marisa Pirih will join me as she prepares for her race of choice, hopefully Louisville or something as epic as her ability. Others will jump in too, with the same single minded determination that brings us out and sets us in motion. I want to hear from those others. I want to share the journey with you. Please write and tell me about your journey and where it will come to fruition. These next six months will be truly a test of time, effort and concentration.
Like any sane person, I have a plan. This isn’t some weekend warrior event, and that doesn’t suit me well. During the past year, I found myself back in the fray with the triathletes, though heavier and slower than I had hoped. But I was in. I proved to myself that I could still survive, still hammer, and eventually I started to see some success. Through all of this I was utterly uncommitted to a consistent training plan. When push came to shove, I trained hard as was evident for the Escape race last year. Then I survived on grit alone for some of the sprints. That was not a good plan. There were times where I knew I could go faster, but I could not find the juice to get there.
Training was a mishmash of different plans, a punctuated equilibrium of weeks seeing me put in 12 hours, only to follow it up with a week of no running and a couple of swims. It is important to note something about my psyche, as well as my life. Things come easy to me. I have always been blessed with success in my activities and this is a terrible attitude to put toward triathlon training. Though some of you may read this as shameless self-promotion, I actually write it to show my shortcomings. My saving grace has always been my mental preparation. Though the physical training lacked, the mental focus was always sharp. I concentrated on every race and often relied on my mind to get me through the failings of my body. As I look toward next summer, I have this suspicion that focus alone will not be able to get me through 12-13 hours of racing. I will need more, and it is time I admitted it and put some real effort into my physical preparation.
As I said before, I need a plan. Without a plan, a rubric, a connect-the-dots approach, I will be apt to drift and lose interest. This isn’t due to a lack of focus, or a waning portion of my desire, rather just a simple choice in balance of my life. With a plan, I can have check marks, and check marks are good. My plan will be extremely goal oriented with definitive results and markers to let me know where I stand. These little markers will tell me if I am on my way to success or not. Here is my plan, and as I look forward I really, really have some apprehension. As the cliché goes though, if it were easy, everybody would do it.
Fueling Plan:
-I will keep my caloric intake at or under 2100 calories per day.
-I will eliminate all manufactured foods from my diet, as they can carry some of the worst nutrition for training.
-I will keep my saturated fat intake to under 10% of my caloric intake.
-I will eliminate sodas, and all foods that contain HFCS.
-I will fuel before and after each workout correctly.
-I will allow myself 200 bonus calories per day that I exceed my workout length or volume.
-I will drink 124 oz of water every day.
-I will listen to my body.
Training Plan:
-I will train six days per week, never less than 12 total hours.
-I will have a run focused plan, with at least 4 scheduled runs every week.
-I will swim three times per week, focusing on volume and technique, rather than speed.
-I will bike three to four times per week, focusing on volume and speed.
-I will brick every bike with a short run.
-My run markers will be measured monthly, to ensure proper progress is being made.
-I will always have at least one rest day.
-I will listen to my body.
Body Plan:
-I will stretch.
-I will take yoga once…grrrr…maybe twice a month. Grrrrr….
-I will get at least 6 hours of sleep per night.
-I will take my blood pressure and weight every week and track results.
-I will monitor my heart rate on every workout and track results.
-I will monitor my resting heart rate every month.
-I will visit a doctor every month and a half for a fitness check up.
-I will have my VO2 max done three times to measure change.
Race Plan:
-I will do all of the indoor series at the beginning of the year to see how my body responds to high intensity races.
-I will race Belews Sprint in April.
-I will race White Lake Half in May.
-I will race Escape from Alcatraz in June.
-I will race Vineman in July.
-I absolutely will not over-race, or race if I don’t think I can give it my all.
I think this can be done, if I stay focused and keep to this plan. My motivation is my fear of not finishing. Iron distances are more of a test of training than a sprint. Support will be critical, and I thank all of you ahead of time for how much you will mean to me with your support.
It begins with a thought, a plan, a hope. It begins in earnest.
Until next time, lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
It begins with a video, a fleeting flash of pixels. It begins with a thought.
It begins with success, it begins with failure. It begins when there are no answers to why you shouldn’t.
It begins with a proclamation, as things like this should. It begins with a whisper in the night.
Most importantly, it begins now.
This is my proclamation.
This is my beginning.
Starting on November 15, 2009, I am going to embark on a journey that many (but a vast minority) have done. I will start my training for an iron-distance race. The journey for me will culminate on July 31, 2010 in Windsor, California, where I will participate in the Full Vineman. I will not be alone. Suzanne Duncan will be joining me in training as she prepares for a harder challenge in Ironman Idaho. Marisa Pirih will join me as she prepares for her race of choice, hopefully Louisville or something as epic as her ability. Others will jump in too, with the same single minded determination that brings us out and sets us in motion. I want to hear from those others. I want to share the journey with you. Please write and tell me about your journey and where it will come to fruition. These next six months will be truly a test of time, effort and concentration.
Like any sane person, I have a plan. This isn’t some weekend warrior event, and that doesn’t suit me well. During the past year, I found myself back in the fray with the triathletes, though heavier and slower than I had hoped. But I was in. I proved to myself that I could still survive, still hammer, and eventually I started to see some success. Through all of this I was utterly uncommitted to a consistent training plan. When push came to shove, I trained hard as was evident for the Escape race last year. Then I survived on grit alone for some of the sprints. That was not a good plan. There were times where I knew I could go faster, but I could not find the juice to get there.
Training was a mishmash of different plans, a punctuated equilibrium of weeks seeing me put in 12 hours, only to follow it up with a week of no running and a couple of swims. It is important to note something about my psyche, as well as my life. Things come easy to me. I have always been blessed with success in my activities and this is a terrible attitude to put toward triathlon training. Though some of you may read this as shameless self-promotion, I actually write it to show my shortcomings. My saving grace has always been my mental preparation. Though the physical training lacked, the mental focus was always sharp. I concentrated on every race and often relied on my mind to get me through the failings of my body. As I look toward next summer, I have this suspicion that focus alone will not be able to get me through 12-13 hours of racing. I will need more, and it is time I admitted it and put some real effort into my physical preparation.
As I said before, I need a plan. Without a plan, a rubric, a connect-the-dots approach, I will be apt to drift and lose interest. This isn’t due to a lack of focus, or a waning portion of my desire, rather just a simple choice in balance of my life. With a plan, I can have check marks, and check marks are good. My plan will be extremely goal oriented with definitive results and markers to let me know where I stand. These little markers will tell me if I am on my way to success or not. Here is my plan, and as I look forward I really, really have some apprehension. As the cliché goes though, if it were easy, everybody would do it.
Fueling Plan:
-I will keep my caloric intake at or under 2100 calories per day.
-I will eliminate all manufactured foods from my diet, as they can carry some of the worst nutrition for training.
-I will keep my saturated fat intake to under 10% of my caloric intake.
-I will eliminate sodas, and all foods that contain HFCS.
-I will fuel before and after each workout correctly.
-I will allow myself 200 bonus calories per day that I exceed my workout length or volume.
-I will drink 124 oz of water every day.
-I will listen to my body.
Training Plan:
-I will train six days per week, never less than 12 total hours.
-I will have a run focused plan, with at least 4 scheduled runs every week.
-I will swim three times per week, focusing on volume and technique, rather than speed.
-I will bike three to four times per week, focusing on volume and speed.
-I will brick every bike with a short run.
-My run markers will be measured monthly, to ensure proper progress is being made.
-I will always have at least one rest day.
-I will listen to my body.
Body Plan:
-I will stretch.
-I will take yoga once…grrrr…maybe twice a month. Grrrrr….
-I will get at least 6 hours of sleep per night.
-I will take my blood pressure and weight every week and track results.
-I will monitor my heart rate on every workout and track results.
-I will monitor my resting heart rate every month.
-I will visit a doctor every month and a half for a fitness check up.
-I will have my VO2 max done three times to measure change.
Race Plan:
-I will do all of the indoor series at the beginning of the year to see how my body responds to high intensity races.
-I will race Belews Sprint in April.
-I will race White Lake Half in May.
-I will race Escape from Alcatraz in June.
-I will race Vineman in July.
-I absolutely will not over-race, or race if I don’t think I can give it my all.
I think this can be done, if I stay focused and keep to this plan. My motivation is my fear of not finishing. Iron distances are more of a test of training than a sprint. Support will be critical, and I thank all of you ahead of time for how much you will mean to me with your support.
It begins with a thought, a plan, a hope. It begins in earnest.
Until next time, lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Good morning.
‘We are made to persist. That is how we find out who we are.’ T. Wolff
I often watch the 2008 Ford Ironman Championships on DVD. I still get moved when the announcer talks about the swim start having a “slow, magnetic approach”. Having competed in a handful of tris now, I tend to agree with that poetic, astute description. The music makes my heart flutter, and I feel the rush when I watch them start the swim. Flash forward to Torbjorn Sindalle on the bike, shredding up the pavement en route to being the first bike finisher of the day. During all of this wonderful footage there are many shots of the racers’ faces. Some, like the face of Chrissie Wellington in this ephemeral DVD, are smiling; others…well, not so much. My curiosity is piqued when I think about what could be going on their heads during this race. If I could be a journalist I would, rather than be cliché and trite, ask about what motivates these people. Why does Belinda Granger push, what makes the legs chop for Crowie?
A run recently made me think of this. We 3 (OFP) went riding for a good clip and mileage counter, only to follow it up with a long (turned short) run. I had some issues (no excuses) this past week, and some of it reared its ugly head on the bike. When we finished the bike we threw on the Mizunos and I was smacked in the face with some serious doubt. This comes a week before I am planning on braving the course at Over the Mountain. Timing isn’t my strongpoint, obviously. When I entered the track my body was screaming no, but my mind kept up its soothing, reassuring mantra of yes. Unsurprisingly I was dropped by the other two in the first lap of the run. My only goal was comfort. I wanted comfort. I really wanted a couch and a fetal position, but that is irrelevant. After the first lap I just told myself to keep steady. A little time later I noticed the 2 swift runners weren’t gaining on me as much and my stride started to lengthen. What was changing, what prompted my improvement since I still felt like a donkey-punched lot-lizard?
It was the rhythm. Much like the Catholics, I was enlightened by the rhythm, however for much different reasons. It was as if my legs were behaving like I was on a bike. Tap-tap-tap-tap my feet went on the track. I kept my head level and concentrated on the tap-tap-tap-tap. Like a magic spell my body responded and started to calm down and get in that flighty state I call the “groove”. It was the eighth stage to Nirvana. Suddenly my body was in motion, musically attached to my rhythm. I could have gone for hours.
The humidity and heat cut our run short and the most amazing thing happened when I stopped: I felt like crap again. It was as if my body became biochemically dependent on the tap-tap-tap-tap. In the great words of Torbjorn, it was as if “you get hit in the head with a hammer”. As of this writing, however, my energy has returned to me.
Now I know a lot of you are saying the obvious “mind over matter”. But there is more to it then just that. I literally was controlling my bio-rhythms through my head. I had the pace preset in the upstairs matter and my body just responded as if being enslaved. To race smart, there must be this mental plan to the functions of your physiology. Detouring from this plan could have unexpected downfalls.
What do you do when you need to groove? Do you count road dashes? Do you listen to music, do you have a mantra? Whatever it is, make a replica and save it for race day. That rhythm is key to a great finish, practice, negative split, and all other things wonderful.
Until next time-lux aeterna.
Race smart.
OFP racing.
-The Mental-ist
‘We are made to persist. That is how we find out who we are.’ T. Wolff
I often watch the 2008 Ford Ironman Championships on DVD. I still get moved when the announcer talks about the swim start having a “slow, magnetic approach”. Having competed in a handful of tris now, I tend to agree with that poetic, astute description. The music makes my heart flutter, and I feel the rush when I watch them start the swim. Flash forward to Torbjorn Sindalle on the bike, shredding up the pavement en route to being the first bike finisher of the day. During all of this wonderful footage there are many shots of the racers’ faces. Some, like the face of Chrissie Wellington in this ephemeral DVD, are smiling; others…well, not so much. My curiosity is piqued when I think about what could be going on their heads during this race. If I could be a journalist I would, rather than be cliché and trite, ask about what motivates these people. Why does Belinda Granger push, what makes the legs chop for Crowie?
A run recently made me think of this. We 3 (OFP) went riding for a good clip and mileage counter, only to follow it up with a long (turned short) run. I had some issues (no excuses) this past week, and some of it reared its ugly head on the bike. When we finished the bike we threw on the Mizunos and I was smacked in the face with some serious doubt. This comes a week before I am planning on braving the course at Over the Mountain. Timing isn’t my strongpoint, obviously. When I entered the track my body was screaming no, but my mind kept up its soothing, reassuring mantra of yes. Unsurprisingly I was dropped by the other two in the first lap of the run. My only goal was comfort. I wanted comfort. I really wanted a couch and a fetal position, but that is irrelevant. After the first lap I just told myself to keep steady. A little time later I noticed the 2 swift runners weren’t gaining on me as much and my stride started to lengthen. What was changing, what prompted my improvement since I still felt like a donkey-punched lot-lizard?
It was the rhythm. Much like the Catholics, I was enlightened by the rhythm, however for much different reasons. It was as if my legs were behaving like I was on a bike. Tap-tap-tap-tap my feet went on the track. I kept my head level and concentrated on the tap-tap-tap-tap. Like a magic spell my body responded and started to calm down and get in that flighty state I call the “groove”. It was the eighth stage to Nirvana. Suddenly my body was in motion, musically attached to my rhythm. I could have gone for hours.
The humidity and heat cut our run short and the most amazing thing happened when I stopped: I felt like crap again. It was as if my body became biochemically dependent on the tap-tap-tap-tap. In the great words of Torbjorn, it was as if “you get hit in the head with a hammer”. As of this writing, however, my energy has returned to me.
Now I know a lot of you are saying the obvious “mind over matter”. But there is more to it then just that. I literally was controlling my bio-rhythms through my head. I had the pace preset in the upstairs matter and my body just responded as if being enslaved. To race smart, there must be this mental plan to the functions of your physiology. Detouring from this plan could have unexpected downfalls.
What do you do when you need to groove? Do you count road dashes? Do you listen to music, do you have a mantra? Whatever it is, make a replica and save it for race day. That rhythm is key to a great finish, practice, negative split, and all other things wonderful.
Until next time-lux aeterna.
Race smart.
OFP racing.
-The Mental-ist
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Breakthrough
Good morning.
For the endurance athlete life can become a grind. Training for a triathlon can be monotonous, having to swim and bike and run and swim and…you get the point. Different people have different tricks to get through the grind, the dark days, the winter, the rain, etc. Often it is music, a certain beautiful route, or even the giddy anticipation of an upcoming race. Whatever it is, the endurance athlete is in a special place because they need to be mentally prepared a lot more than most. Volume is important, and volume takes time. However there is one more tool to put in your shed that I think is amazing especially when it happens 3-4 weeks before a race.
I call it a breakthrough. We all have had it, and mine came last night. Per my workout schedule for my upcoming Alcatraz race I was doing a long swim. As I got out of the pool I dressed to do some weight work and got the idea that I wanted to brick a run instead. Considering I am still in “recovery” from my race Sunday, this isn’t the best choice to brick a long swim with a run. But, I wanted to test myself. On Sunday I had a faster 5k, and on Monday I ran a fast pace again. So, off to the treadmill I went. You should ask yourself now why, oh why, would I grind out a treadmill when the weather is so nice and inviting to run outside. The treadmill offers a couple of things. The first is consistent pace. Whenever you can kick out a consistent pace it will give you a great view of precisely how steady you can run, and any pain can be immediately identified and not blamed on road conditions, hills, etc. The second (and, to me, most important) is the incessant boredom. Running without scenery sucks. But, if you can grind out a workout on the treadmill, you can grind out anything. Watching paint dry is more fun.
Back to the workout… I hopped on the treadmill and started my run, fully expecting to run for about 15-20 minutes. As I started to groove my body gave me great feedback. My breathing was steady, heart rate stayed low, and by all indications I had some serious gas in my engine. So, I bumped up the speed. And I bumped it up some more until my pace was at 5k pace for a triathlon (currently 8:30 miles, which isn’t that fast, but still fast for me). I ran…and I ran some more. 2 miles turned into 3, then 4 and before I knew it I ran for a full hour and hit over 7 miles. I could have run more, but the evening was getting late.
The point of this story is to explain the “breakthrough”. Previous to this, 3 miles was my max, and it was painful. I hated running because of where my body was. But as I shred pounds, the stride is returning. Yesterday, I felt like I was in college again. When you are finishing with a workout, and you want to do more, then do it. Listen to your body. If it says go, then go. The mental benefits of extending your workout and feeling great about it are endless. Imagine being faced with a long run in a race. All you have to do is tap into that memory of the day you ran 12 miles instead of 4 and your body will respond as if it never forgot. Certain coaches might tell you to never go beyond the assigned workout, but they leave out the mental benefits. Sure, I am not recovering properly. But this morning, I felt great. Other than a tiny bit of soreness that compression is currently healing, I feel like I could run ten more miles this morning. I attribute a bit of that feeling to the mental joy I got from going so far last night.
Alcatraz doesn’t seem so daunting now.
Until next time, lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
*If you comment or contact the author, write to csharpserge@gmail.com
For the endurance athlete life can become a grind. Training for a triathlon can be monotonous, having to swim and bike and run and swim and…you get the point. Different people have different tricks to get through the grind, the dark days, the winter, the rain, etc. Often it is music, a certain beautiful route, or even the giddy anticipation of an upcoming race. Whatever it is, the endurance athlete is in a special place because they need to be mentally prepared a lot more than most. Volume is important, and volume takes time. However there is one more tool to put in your shed that I think is amazing especially when it happens 3-4 weeks before a race.
I call it a breakthrough. We all have had it, and mine came last night. Per my workout schedule for my upcoming Alcatraz race I was doing a long swim. As I got out of the pool I dressed to do some weight work and got the idea that I wanted to brick a run instead. Considering I am still in “recovery” from my race Sunday, this isn’t the best choice to brick a long swim with a run. But, I wanted to test myself. On Sunday I had a faster 5k, and on Monday I ran a fast pace again. So, off to the treadmill I went. You should ask yourself now why, oh why, would I grind out a treadmill when the weather is so nice and inviting to run outside. The treadmill offers a couple of things. The first is consistent pace. Whenever you can kick out a consistent pace it will give you a great view of precisely how steady you can run, and any pain can be immediately identified and not blamed on road conditions, hills, etc. The second (and, to me, most important) is the incessant boredom. Running without scenery sucks. But, if you can grind out a workout on the treadmill, you can grind out anything. Watching paint dry is more fun.
Back to the workout… I hopped on the treadmill and started my run, fully expecting to run for about 15-20 minutes. As I started to groove my body gave me great feedback. My breathing was steady, heart rate stayed low, and by all indications I had some serious gas in my engine. So, I bumped up the speed. And I bumped it up some more until my pace was at 5k pace for a triathlon (currently 8:30 miles, which isn’t that fast, but still fast for me). I ran…and I ran some more. 2 miles turned into 3, then 4 and before I knew it I ran for a full hour and hit over 7 miles. I could have run more, but the evening was getting late.
The point of this story is to explain the “breakthrough”. Previous to this, 3 miles was my max, and it was painful. I hated running because of where my body was. But as I shred pounds, the stride is returning. Yesterday, I felt like I was in college again. When you are finishing with a workout, and you want to do more, then do it. Listen to your body. If it says go, then go. The mental benefits of extending your workout and feeling great about it are endless. Imagine being faced with a long run in a race. All you have to do is tap into that memory of the day you ran 12 miles instead of 4 and your body will respond as if it never forgot. Certain coaches might tell you to never go beyond the assigned workout, but they leave out the mental benefits. Sure, I am not recovering properly. But this morning, I felt great. Other than a tiny bit of soreness that compression is currently healing, I feel like I could run ten more miles this morning. I attribute a bit of that feeling to the mental joy I got from going so far last night.
Alcatraz doesn’t seem so daunting now.
Until next time, lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
*If you comment or contact the author, write to csharpserge@gmail.com
Monday, May 11, 2009
The True Athletes
Good afternoon.
We like to look at ourselves and believe that we obtain the qualities for greatness. We do. Some, however, epitomize greatness in ways I will never know. I saw three people this weekend that were the paradigm of greatness. And for those three people I dedicate the next few words of praise and hope the words find them someday.
Will. We all say we have it. Some people stop smoking, exercise, eat right, etc. Some of us need a boatload of will just to finish a race. Some need to tap into it daily to get through struggles we may never understand. I admit, it is extremely hard to get out of bed, or off the couch with a bowl of ice cream, but I do. I have will. So do the rest of you. But one special person has will I only hope to emulate someday.
His name is Grady Gaskill. Grady Gaskill finished the White Lake sprint tri this weekend in approximately 2:35. This isn’t a great time. In fact, this time officially stands outside the “cutoff” set by the race. Ok. But Grady finished. And Setup Events let him finish. And at the awards ceremony Grady received a tear-jerking 5 minute standing ovation. Grady has will, mountains of will. What did Grady do? Oh, Grady only exercised more in his two hours than the 80% of the nation does in a month. So what? Whooppeee, he finished a triathlon. Yeah, he did. And when he did he beat all of us Sunday. Grady is 81 years old. He is a statistical anomaly by being alive. As Bill Scott said, I hope to be able to recognize people at 80, let alone finish a triathlon. My hat is eternally off to Grady, and I hope we all use him as motivation. Grady is 81. How old are you?
Courage. It is the force behind taking that first step into the dark, the juice that fuels the jump off the airplane, or even talking in public. We all think we have courage. We all think we are brave and can face our demons. Think about an adult who didn’t swim until their late thirties. Six months ago I met this adult and without sugar-coating anything…I was afraid she wasn’t going to make one lap in the pool. Yet she tried. She spoke about her fears. She faced them. And she swam two laps. And three. And four. Sure, some of the swimming was a backstroke-like concoction. But does that matter? On Sunday she jumped into the same water with the rest of us. An outside observer might look at her time, or see her in the water and wonder what happened. Though I was in the middle of the race course I thought about her and the fear she was facing. Then as I came in the run and saw her hammering away on her bike, I knew she had arrived. Her name is Amy Barrett. She did her first open water tri on Sunday. I hope I can summon her courage when my fears face me. She showed all of us Sunday what it meant to be brave, and although most will never recognize this, I hope she realizes how much she accomplished. Amy didn’t quit, even though she spent some serious time in that choppy water. Amy overcame, can you?
My third is a real special person. She is a punisher, an intimidator, a force, and the tiniest little ball of power you could ever meet. Twice now I have started the run portion only to see her cruising toward the finish. In an age where waistlines are exceeding IQ’s, I see much of our younger generation falling victim to processed diets and uncaring parents. It is a health crisis, a pandemic of apathy, and a very grey, bleak outlook. In the middle of that, though, is Kathryn Buss. Google her and you can find out much more. Plainly put, Kathryn finished third or so in White Lake this weekend. My coach, Marisa, finished 2nd. Kathryn, at age 15 or so, finished about 1 minute behind her. Let me put this into perspective. Marisa is badass. She punishes most of the males she races with. Marisa is fully versed in physiology, nutrition, kinesiology, training…etc. The point is she has a huge arsenal to attack a race (and other competitors) with. Kathryn does not. Kathryn has a teenager body, an unsteady metabolism, and growth to look forward to. Yet she hammers. Not only does she hammer, but she does it in age of exponential distractions. Girls her age hardly think a great transition is cool, or shaving a minute off of your 5k time. Facing ostracizing comments she pushes through. As all of the pre-teens and teens search for identity, Kathryn has found hers. Let her be an example for that, and I hope someday to see her finish in the top 5 in Kona. Kathryn you should be inspiration to many more.
Until next time…race smart.
Lux aeterna Grady, Amy, Kathryn.
-The Mental-ist
We like to look at ourselves and believe that we obtain the qualities for greatness. We do. Some, however, epitomize greatness in ways I will never know. I saw three people this weekend that were the paradigm of greatness. And for those three people I dedicate the next few words of praise and hope the words find them someday.
Will. We all say we have it. Some people stop smoking, exercise, eat right, etc. Some of us need a boatload of will just to finish a race. Some need to tap into it daily to get through struggles we may never understand. I admit, it is extremely hard to get out of bed, or off the couch with a bowl of ice cream, but I do. I have will. So do the rest of you. But one special person has will I only hope to emulate someday.
His name is Grady Gaskill. Grady Gaskill finished the White Lake sprint tri this weekend in approximately 2:35. This isn’t a great time. In fact, this time officially stands outside the “cutoff” set by the race. Ok. But Grady finished. And Setup Events let him finish. And at the awards ceremony Grady received a tear-jerking 5 minute standing ovation. Grady has will, mountains of will. What did Grady do? Oh, Grady only exercised more in his two hours than the 80% of the nation does in a month. So what? Whooppeee, he finished a triathlon. Yeah, he did. And when he did he beat all of us Sunday. Grady is 81 years old. He is a statistical anomaly by being alive. As Bill Scott said, I hope to be able to recognize people at 80, let alone finish a triathlon. My hat is eternally off to Grady, and I hope we all use him as motivation. Grady is 81. How old are you?
Courage. It is the force behind taking that first step into the dark, the juice that fuels the jump off the airplane, or even talking in public. We all think we have courage. We all think we are brave and can face our demons. Think about an adult who didn’t swim until their late thirties. Six months ago I met this adult and without sugar-coating anything…I was afraid she wasn’t going to make one lap in the pool. Yet she tried. She spoke about her fears. She faced them. And she swam two laps. And three. And four. Sure, some of the swimming was a backstroke-like concoction. But does that matter? On Sunday she jumped into the same water with the rest of us. An outside observer might look at her time, or see her in the water and wonder what happened. Though I was in the middle of the race course I thought about her and the fear she was facing. Then as I came in the run and saw her hammering away on her bike, I knew she had arrived. Her name is Amy Barrett. She did her first open water tri on Sunday. I hope I can summon her courage when my fears face me. She showed all of us Sunday what it meant to be brave, and although most will never recognize this, I hope she realizes how much she accomplished. Amy didn’t quit, even though she spent some serious time in that choppy water. Amy overcame, can you?
My third is a real special person. She is a punisher, an intimidator, a force, and the tiniest little ball of power you could ever meet. Twice now I have started the run portion only to see her cruising toward the finish. In an age where waistlines are exceeding IQ’s, I see much of our younger generation falling victim to processed diets and uncaring parents. It is a health crisis, a pandemic of apathy, and a very grey, bleak outlook. In the middle of that, though, is Kathryn Buss. Google her and you can find out much more. Plainly put, Kathryn finished third or so in White Lake this weekend. My coach, Marisa, finished 2nd. Kathryn, at age 15 or so, finished about 1 minute behind her. Let me put this into perspective. Marisa is badass. She punishes most of the males she races with. Marisa is fully versed in physiology, nutrition, kinesiology, training…etc. The point is she has a huge arsenal to attack a race (and other competitors) with. Kathryn does not. Kathryn has a teenager body, an unsteady metabolism, and growth to look forward to. Yet she hammers. Not only does she hammer, but she does it in age of exponential distractions. Girls her age hardly think a great transition is cool, or shaving a minute off of your 5k time. Facing ostracizing comments she pushes through. As all of the pre-teens and teens search for identity, Kathryn has found hers. Let her be an example for that, and I hope someday to see her finish in the top 5 in Kona. Kathryn you should be inspiration to many more.
Until next time…race smart.
Lux aeterna Grady, Amy, Kathryn.
-The Mental-ist
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Good evening.
Here is a question for you. What feels right? Is it a down comforter? A warm bath? Do you feel good when you look at a forest of trees or a grassy meadow? Does certain music calm you? Better yet, how does your body know that the particular stimuli is good, bad, dangerous, funny, etc.? It knows because it is trained. Whether by deep rooted genetics, past experience, or even trauma association, we respond according to some “memory” that is put in place.
This type of response to situations can throw a real wrench into the plans when racing. Most commonly, this psychosomatic association occurs in swimming. Why? Quite simply it is the one athletic event that is about as abnormal as you can get. In most other sports oxygen as abundantly available and you can breathe as much as you want. Swimming, however, is a different beast. A lot of the time in a swim you don’t have available oxygen, rather you have to make an effort to get it. This can cause a very normal response in humans: panic. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I would be worried about the individual that did not panic when deprived of air.
Many people ask the stronger swimmers why they look so effortless in the water while the beginners look like they need to be rescued. It is a twofold cause. One is the fact that many beginners have inefficient strokes to begin with. But the more important factor is how they handle the “panic”. I have swam since I was 9 years old, often in a competitive environment. I probably have logged enough meters to swim from here to the moon. However, I am not immune to the panic feeling. I don’t think my twenty some years of swimming is going to override the eons of human biology. Though I may panic, I am used to the panic and I welcome it. Much like the motorcycle racer who travels at 150 mph for a living, I know the panic isn’t normal, but I come to peace with it knowing there is no way for me to eliminate it. This lets me relax and get through the swim.
For the beginners, I can only suggest doing breathing drills and timing drills. One great drill is to swim sets of 200s and breath every fourth stroke. This will help time correct inhalation and exhalation. In turn it will ensure proper breathing. The other thing to do is go to the deep end and breathe out all of your air until you sink, count to twenty, and come to the surface. If you aren’t feeling the panic then, you aren’t doing it right. The benefit is it will generate the panic in a controlled environment.
In the end, we must face the hardest things for us and find ways to battle. Otherwise a simple mental hiccup could be the difference between a personal best and an average run.
Until next time-lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
Here is a question for you. What feels right? Is it a down comforter? A warm bath? Do you feel good when you look at a forest of trees or a grassy meadow? Does certain music calm you? Better yet, how does your body know that the particular stimuli is good, bad, dangerous, funny, etc.? It knows because it is trained. Whether by deep rooted genetics, past experience, or even trauma association, we respond according to some “memory” that is put in place.
This type of response to situations can throw a real wrench into the plans when racing. Most commonly, this psychosomatic association occurs in swimming. Why? Quite simply it is the one athletic event that is about as abnormal as you can get. In most other sports oxygen as abundantly available and you can breathe as much as you want. Swimming, however, is a different beast. A lot of the time in a swim you don’t have available oxygen, rather you have to make an effort to get it. This can cause a very normal response in humans: panic. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, I would be worried about the individual that did not panic when deprived of air.
Many people ask the stronger swimmers why they look so effortless in the water while the beginners look like they need to be rescued. It is a twofold cause. One is the fact that many beginners have inefficient strokes to begin with. But the more important factor is how they handle the “panic”. I have swam since I was 9 years old, often in a competitive environment. I probably have logged enough meters to swim from here to the moon. However, I am not immune to the panic feeling. I don’t think my twenty some years of swimming is going to override the eons of human biology. Though I may panic, I am used to the panic and I welcome it. Much like the motorcycle racer who travels at 150 mph for a living, I know the panic isn’t normal, but I come to peace with it knowing there is no way for me to eliminate it. This lets me relax and get through the swim.
For the beginners, I can only suggest doing breathing drills and timing drills. One great drill is to swim sets of 200s and breath every fourth stroke. This will help time correct inhalation and exhalation. In turn it will ensure proper breathing. The other thing to do is go to the deep end and breathe out all of your air until you sink, count to twenty, and come to the surface. If you aren’t feeling the panic then, you aren’t doing it right. The benefit is it will generate the panic in a controlled environment.
In the end, we must face the hardest things for us and find ways to battle. Otherwise a simple mental hiccup could be the difference between a personal best and an average run.
Until next time-lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
Monday, April 27, 2009
Breaking Down
Good evening.
What drives us mentally? Is it music? Image? Glory? Whatever it is, it most likely exists with its antithesis. My drive comes from visualization. I like to make a mental plan of what I am about to do and visualize through that picture. Obviously this creates a major problem if the mental picture suddenly isn’t what I imagined. That is my antithesis.
Recently on a bike ride I found myself in this trap. I was having a good ride, ripping up the road on a beautiful day. When the group changed directions, I suggested a route I thought to be flat and fast. They agreed and off we went. Upon one of my first turns, I was aware that I had pictured a different route in my mind than the one I was riding. The road had some substantial hills. And a headwind. No big deal, I told myself, I will just turn up the inspirational music in my mind and push through it. That was fine and we turned again to a road I was sure was flat and fast. It wasn’t. In fact it had a bigger headwind, and it was gradually uphill for 5 miles. Annoying. I gave in to my frustrations.
Something I failed on epically was my expectation level. If you are to learn anything from me, most likely you should avoid doing what I do. There is nothing wrong with having expectations or visualization, but be super flexible. Had I been super flexible and a little more stoic, I would have survived. Instead, my frustrations mounted as each turn in the road brought a horizon that showed my destination above my handlebars. I kept telling myself that “over the next hill” all would be well. It wasn’t. I broke down. Somewhere in all of this was a lesson. It taught me to either have an exact mental picture, or none at all. Therefore, I would have been a little more conservative and a lot more happy.
Notwithstanding the hilly headwind did end in a picture of debauchery…the three of us with a pitcher of margaritas, lots of laughs and a 5 mile sprint left (in 90 degree weather). However, the behavior on the bike is where I need fixing, and I will. Nothing could risk you from finishing more than frustration. Frustration takes energy and it will also remove you from your game plan, two things that you aren’t benefiting from. In long course events, this could be a nightmare.
Let’s say you are in a 70.3 race. You hop on your bike and it is instant headwind. You turn, still a headwind. Finally after battling wind for 28 miles, you hit the turnaround, only to find that the wind changed and you are still in a headwind. Homicide seems normal at this point. But are you going to let all of your training go to waste? What if this was the race you planned for, bragged about, lusted over and spent energy and time preparing for it? Are you going to let that go because of wind? It makes me wonder if I was racing Sunday and this would have happened. How would I have handled it?
Solution: Plan. Meticulously if you have to. I am the type of person that rides the course 5 times before each race, if in a car or on my bike. I want to feel the course. There is nothing wrong with good preparation; that might have eliminated the unexpected that threw a monkey wrench into my otherwise enjoyable ride.
Until next time, lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
What drives us mentally? Is it music? Image? Glory? Whatever it is, it most likely exists with its antithesis. My drive comes from visualization. I like to make a mental plan of what I am about to do and visualize through that picture. Obviously this creates a major problem if the mental picture suddenly isn’t what I imagined. That is my antithesis.
Recently on a bike ride I found myself in this trap. I was having a good ride, ripping up the road on a beautiful day. When the group changed directions, I suggested a route I thought to be flat and fast. They agreed and off we went. Upon one of my first turns, I was aware that I had pictured a different route in my mind than the one I was riding. The road had some substantial hills. And a headwind. No big deal, I told myself, I will just turn up the inspirational music in my mind and push through it. That was fine and we turned again to a road I was sure was flat and fast. It wasn’t. In fact it had a bigger headwind, and it was gradually uphill for 5 miles. Annoying. I gave in to my frustrations.
Something I failed on epically was my expectation level. If you are to learn anything from me, most likely you should avoid doing what I do. There is nothing wrong with having expectations or visualization, but be super flexible. Had I been super flexible and a little more stoic, I would have survived. Instead, my frustrations mounted as each turn in the road brought a horizon that showed my destination above my handlebars. I kept telling myself that “over the next hill” all would be well. It wasn’t. I broke down. Somewhere in all of this was a lesson. It taught me to either have an exact mental picture, or none at all. Therefore, I would have been a little more conservative and a lot more happy.
Notwithstanding the hilly headwind did end in a picture of debauchery…the three of us with a pitcher of margaritas, lots of laughs and a 5 mile sprint left (in 90 degree weather). However, the behavior on the bike is where I need fixing, and I will. Nothing could risk you from finishing more than frustration. Frustration takes energy and it will also remove you from your game plan, two things that you aren’t benefiting from. In long course events, this could be a nightmare.
Let’s say you are in a 70.3 race. You hop on your bike and it is instant headwind. You turn, still a headwind. Finally after battling wind for 28 miles, you hit the turnaround, only to find that the wind changed and you are still in a headwind. Homicide seems normal at this point. But are you going to let all of your training go to waste? What if this was the race you planned for, bragged about, lusted over and spent energy and time preparing for it? Are you going to let that go because of wind? It makes me wonder if I was racing Sunday and this would have happened. How would I have handled it?
Solution: Plan. Meticulously if you have to. I am the type of person that rides the course 5 times before each race, if in a car or on my bike. I want to feel the course. There is nothing wrong with good preparation; that might have eliminated the unexpected that threw a monkey wrench into my otherwise enjoyable ride.
Until next time, lux aeterna.
Race smart.
-The Mental-ist
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