Roz – Serenity Through Sweat

But will there be cookies?

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This month, I want to talk about a topic that is a little heavier than normal.

In the last four months, my boys and I have been to two family memorial services.

Death is never an easy topic to talk about. Maybe western culture has made it too taboo. Regardless of your views, that conversational conundrum compounds when the kiddos are involved.

I tried to frame the entire event as a support and celebrate operation. We are here to support our family and celebrate the life of our dearly departed loved one.

That sounds great on paper but it doesn’t really mean a lot to a 5 and 8 year old. Their idea of support is when I help them clean up their toys, and it isn’t really a celebration if there isnt some sort of sweetened baked good.

In reality, just their presence is supportive. Maybe even more so at their age. Their unbridled happiness is a reminder that life goes on.

The pure radiance in a child’s undisturbed play and laughter, especially outside that kind of event, takes the edge off more than any Irish wake ever could.

And of course, those sneaky giggles and innocent smiles, warm even the hardest hearts, especially when they are trying to sneak their third or fourth cookie after being told two was plenty.

When the boys and I visited buffalo in the fall for my grandfather’s memorial, the boys didn’t really know what to expect.

They had never been to a memorial before. They had maybe met my grandfather on that side once or twice, but certianly not enough to have memories or attachments.

Most of the cousins and family they are more used to seing wouldn’t be in attendance.

Still, they made friends, played nicely, if a little rough as boys are wont to do, and their presence was comforting to everyone.

When it came time to tell them about the second memorial service, I was a little more apprehensive. This time would be in sarasota, for someone they had never met, and with no cousins.

Their first question, “but will there be cookies?”

For them that was what mattered. That was what they associated with memorial services. That was their only experience, and that was what they knew.

I think that’s an important thing to reflect on. On the surface it may seem shallow and juvenile. Which of course it is.

Speedy and El Duderino are 5 and 8 and cookies are much easier and more attractive than reflecting on our mortality.

But, death has a way of shaking things up. Clouding our judgements and emotions. Like a snow globe, the perfect setting can be easily obscured and there is nothing to do but let time take its course, and wait for things to settle.

And, when it does settle, things are still very much as the were before the globe was so violently shaken. provided of course the shaking didn’t break the whole thing.

For the boys, in a strange place, shaken with a turbulent storm of unfamiliar people and emotions, the beautiful back drop for them was cookies.

Of course Heather and I were there, with them and for them. But kids take that for granted. As all of us do until our parents are gone, but especially young kids. But the cookies, that was the special part. That was the connection there brains attached to the event.

As parents, we do the best we can for our kids. We get to make things special. We try to impart values and meaning in things to raise then into strong and loving humans. But, despite our best efforts, we don’t get to pick what sticks.

We don’t get to decide what is impactful for others, we only have that decision for ourselves. We can certainly influence it. We can lay all the dominoes out and hope they fall as planned. But the ultimate decision of what sticks, lies with each individual.

For Speedy and El Duderino, I guess that makes me think about the little things. It’s really easy to get caugt up in the turbulence of the snow globe. Understandably so.

It’s also easy, once the dust has settled, to focus on the centerpiece. The natural point your attention is drawn to inside the globe.

But as the boys showed me, sometimes, the smallest, almost overlooked detail, can bring the most serenity.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Play

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’m sitting in the back of an airplane, hoping to make it home in time to participate in my first BJJ belt promotion ceremony as a black belt.

A few weeks ago I was able to watch Speedy at his first belt ceremony, where two young men recieved their black belts.

Speedy is one of the youngest and smallest in his karate class, but he is fierce.

As he was given his orange striped belt and asked to move out of the basic skills class and up into the beginners class, his instructor said something that caught my attention.

He was praising Speedy for his focus and dedication. He was impressed with his skill and that for such a young student he recognized that he was there to train and to learn, not to play.

Obviously these were all desireable qualities and I am very proud of Speedy as I watch him on his martial arts journey.

Thise comments though, stood out to me so much, because just that same morning, at my 6:30am BJJ class, I very distinctly told some of my training partners “I’m just here to play”

While the two sentiments are in obvious conflict with each other, I think there is room for both of us to be right.

I have a lot of respect for all of the coaches that are working with Speedy. They have all proven to be extremely knowledgeable, good communicators, and personable with a wide range of kids of varying ages, athletic potential, and focus.

And many of the students, especially the younger ones, will result to play as their default setting. Who can blame them. They are on mats, wearing silly outfits and boxing gloves, there are punching bags, gym equipment, hula hoops, and pool noodles around. It looks like a place to play. And at that age, play should be the default mode.

And while play is a great way to learn, you need to understand some basic guidelines before learning is effective much less efficient.

Think about playing a board game. You don’t learn the game by reading the rules. You learn by playing. The strategy, the tactics, the nuance, all come from playing.

But if you dont read the rules first, you might not even know what the pieces do, how to set up, or what the turns or steps of the game are.

There is some front loaded focus and discipline, that is required in order to take advantage of that play learning.

That cycle repeats itslef. You need to focus and study a new technique, and then you need to play with it to really learn and undertand it.

The bigger a foundation of knowledge and skill you build through focus and discipline, the more the ratio can shift towards play.

Since I have spent more than thirty years on the mats, I have a lot to draw on. Unless I am specifically training for a competition I mostly just play.

As an adult (or psuedo peter pan type adult) I think that mindset is more important than ever.

Despite my best efforts, my default mode is not play. And, I would be willing to bet, that I am still far closer to the play end of the spectrum than many other adults (psuedo peter pan or otherwise).

Whenever it is time for the sparring or live rolling part of a Jui Jitsu class, I try to be respectful of my fellow classmates needs.

I always start by asking if there is anything they want to work on, a technique, a position, or anything they want to get out of their training.

Very few take me up on the offer and I am delighted to offer whatever knowledge I can when they do.

When they don’t, we slap hands, and I get to play.

I already know the rules. The patterns and movements feel like a well worn trail. Sometimes, something new might pop up, like pushing through the tall grass off to the side of that well worn trail.

Maybe it leads to a whole new place, or maybe it just follows parallel alongside before rejoining the path later on.

Regardless of whether the path is well worn or rough trod, it is a playful exploration.

Wrong size bike but a fun adventure in Traverse city

That playful exploration is rejuvenating and enlightening. I am in a better place to learn and imprint there, than any amount of laser focus.

But perhaps thats because of the years of laser focus and that foundation that has already been built.

I guess what I want Speedy and El Duderino to realize, is that both are important. And, play, even more so as you get older and are less naturally inclined towards it.

Find the time to focus. Learn, and build your foundation. But, dont forget to play and look for serenity along the way.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe, and stay sweaty my friends.

Filling in the Blanks

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’ve been slowly exposing Speedy and El Duderino to my rather eclectic taste in music (metered in at age appropriate levels, of course). I wanted to share and discuss one of those recent experiences.

“It’s stupid, contagious
To be broke and famous
Can someone please save us from punk rock 101
My Dickies your sweatbands
My spiked hair, your new vans
Let’s throw up our ‘organs’ for punk rock 101″

“Wait a minute, that’s not right. I’m pretty sure it’s “rock hands” dude. No, it’s organs. Buddy, throw up our organs doesn’t make any sense. These are rock hands, you throw them up at concerts or listening to music. I still think it’s organs.”

Above are the lyrics from Bowling For Soup’s song Punk Rock 101, followed by the exchange between El Duderino and I while singing it together in the car.

To be fair, I’m not sure I knew what rock hands were at age seven either. And, that is kinda the point. Our brains do an incredible job of filling in blanks where we have gaps.

The gaps can be visual, auditory, information, knowledge, anything. We crave a complete picture and understanding so much that we sometimes fill in those gaps unconsciously.

Such is our desire for completion, and our discomfort with incompletion, that we have evolved to make this process automatic.

I told myself this year I would try to get back in the water, and a few early season hurricanes gave me some great swell and the push I needed

El Duderino didn’t know the lyric, he had an incomplete set of information. He heard some sounds, and filled in a word he understood that matched what he heard, even if it didn’t make much sense. The brain drives us to make a complete unit rather than leave the lyric unsung.

This is not uncommon for any of us singing along in the car, (especially before the days of looking up lyrics on the internet). But, it is a much deeper phenomenon that is studied in psychology, neurology, and vision.

“Filling in” is the phenomenon where the empty space left by our physical blind spot appears to resemble the color, brightness, or texture of the surrounding area.

Each eye has a physical blind spot where the retina joins the optic nerve, and there are no photoreceptors. With both eyes open, each eye covers the other’s blind spot. But, even with one eye closed, the brain will automatically fill in the area based on what else it perceives.

(A) The blind spot. Close your left eye, gaze at the cross, and move the page toward you. At some point the black spot will disappear because it lands on your retinal blind spot. However, the red and green stripes perceptually fill into the blind space. (B) Neon spreading. The thin red lines are perceptually filled in to form an illusory pink annulus. Both rings are the same red, but they average together with their white or black backgrounds to look light or dark pink. (C) Pinna’s water color illusion. The colored lines appear to fill-in and tinge the entire regions with color.

Illusion A is a classic example. With both eyes open, you can see the black dot on the right. With one eye closed, as the black dot moves into your physical blind spot, your brain fills in the red and green stripes.

In this case the filling in is relatively harmless. El Duderino sings a funny lyric and we laugh about it.

I’m sure I’m still butchering lyrics to many of my 90s favorites and filling in what makes sense to my brain, regardless of what the artist intended.

A different kind of filling in can be a bit more problematic. Troxler’s fading is shown in the example below. Stare intently on the red dot and watch the colored ring fade away.

When steadily fixating the central dot for many seconds, the peripheral annulus will fade and will be replaced by the colour or texture of the background. Troxler’s fading

We haven’t quite pinned down the exact mechanism that causes the fading phenomenon. You can read more about it here. Basically, a lot of big words, and confusing neuro pathways to say we arent sure exactly when images get transfered at different levels to the brain, and what may disrupt those images in the transfer process.

Hearing El Duderino so clearly fall into the filling in phenomenon, I remembered learning about it in flight school.

This was an adventure. Probably a 10k worth of hiking on a bike route reported as “mostly paved”

Part of our training was on the physiology of the eyes and ears. How they work, and how they can sometimes play tricks on us.

I had never before heard of Troxler’s fading, though. It is impressive how fixating on such a small point can impact literally the entire surrounding.

Laser beam focus is super important. I wrote about that a few weeks ago. But so is being able to zoom out and see the surroundings.

One of my favorite layover trail runs in Roanoke

How often do we let ourselves lose sight of the bigger picture, letting it slowly fade while we fixate on the minutiae?

How often are we not even conscious of where our focus is being directed? What is there, lurking out in the periphery that we are missing?

I love singing in the car with the boys. I love that it gets me out of my own head and into a shared space with them. I love it even more when it can open up new realizations and learning. So throw up your ‘organs’, and don’t let yourself fixate on the wrong thing. You might miss serenity hiding in the periphery.

Continuing traing building towards IM FL 70.3

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Make your own kind of music

It was winter break of my junior year of college, December 2007 and January 2008. I was burning the candle at both ends. Flying, studying, surfing, partying, playing ultimate Frisbee. Even youth has is limits.

I had a stress fracture in my shin and arthritis in both ankles at the ripe old age of 20.

I was laid up on the couch and my roommate had given me the first few seasons of Lost on DVD.

The rooftop from our airbnb in Marseille

This was back when we would sit down together for scheduled programming. If we were lucky, it was DVR’ed, and we could fast forward through commercials.

I was two or three seasons behind and the combination of my limited mobility and break from school made the perfect environment for a binge watch.

It’s hard to go back in time to relive the cultural phenomenon that was Lost. Game of Thrones maybe came close, but it was a different time.

The cold open of season 2 episode 1 Man of science man of faith originally aired Sep 21 2005. It brought a swift end to the cliffhanger ending from season one introducing us to Desmond Hume the sole inhabitant of the hatch.

Cathedral Notre dame and beach day in the Mediterranean

We see Desmond go through his morning routine in the isolation of the hatch while listening to “make your own kind of music” by Cass Elliot.

We also see lead character Jack Shepherd meet Desmond in a flash back as they are both doing a tour d’ stade. Running every step in every section of a stadium.

I was hooked on the show and couldn’t wait to catch up and watch weekly with my friends.

This was also the time when I first thought about endurance sport. I remeber watching Lost on DVD in my basement while wearing an air cast and elevating my leg and looking up ultra marathons at the same time.

Boat tour past Chateau D’if and haling and swimming in the Frioul archipelago

I was unable to put weight on my foot without pain, so the obvious reaction for me was, when this is healed, how far can I go?

I have yet to do an ultra marathon, but I’ve done my fair share of tour d’ stade around the country.

Needless to say, the show, and those characters specifically, had a big impact on me. I still like to use Desmond’s line when he leaves Jack to resume his stadium run, “I”ll see you in another life brother” in that dashing Australian accent.

All that trip down memory lane to say, I was thinking about that song, that show, that simpler time in my life, while I was reflecting on my summer vacation with my family.

We had planned to take Speedy and El Duderino on our first big trip once they were both over five. We took months planning a trip to Marseille and continuing on a Mediterranean cruise out of Athens.

The places we visited and the memories we made were magical. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. And yet, there were aspects of the trip that made it feel like a national Lampoons family vacation movie.

Our flight plans changed last minute due to airplane swaps and an ATC strike in France. We ended up flying to Amsterdam and taking two trains with a subway connection through Paris to Marseille. From the end of my work trip to reaching our Airbnb, I think it was roughly 36 hours of travel time.

My father was pickpocketed while protecting Speedy in the subway car in Paris, in almost exactly the same spot I was pickpocketed years earlier on the trip where I proposed to Heather.

At the Airbnb, my father fell down some stairs breaking a few toes. El duderino fell in the pool and got a cut under his chin that probably could have been stitched. Speedy fell off the deck and we were worried about a concussion.

Acropolis tour and getting on the cruise ship

There were wildfires in the Calanques National park not more than a few miles from where we were staying. The smoke was bad enough to close the airport to all flights the day before we were scheduled to fly to Athens for our cruise.

During the cruise, Heather, Speedy, and I all took turns with 2 day colds and fevers.

On paper, it seemed like a comedy of errors. Like one thing going wrong after the next. But that isn’t really how i saw it. That isn’t how it felt.

Sometimes, in a bjj or wrestling match or in a race, things aren’t going your way, but you are in it. You quickly acknowledge the setback or the unfavorable circumstance and move forward. The clock is ticking, and you need to adjust your strategy and keep moving. Sometimes you come out on top, and sometimes you don’t. But you keep moving.

There were certainly times when I felt overwhelmed. Times when I felt like I would be letting the family down if I couldn’t solve the next problem or tackle the next challenge.

But I dont think that is how I will remember the trip. I certainly dont think that’s how the boys will remember the trip.

Sometimes, we get to make our own kind of music. The music can change the way the story feels. The way it unfolds in our minds and our hearts in spite of what is in front of our eyes.

We saw such beautiful places and we did it together. We had experiences, fun, and challenging and new. We rolled with the punches, and we overcame. Together.

I hope that my boys can look back fondly on this first of hopefully many family trips.

I hope that they can appreciate the time spent together in a family adventure.

I hope that someday, they can laugh with me about obstacles overcame and challenges met that they hopefully didn’t even recognize.

I hope they can grow into young men who can meet those same obstacles and challenges head-on with families of their own.

Boat cruise, swimming and Delos tour in Mykonos

I hope they can make their own ki d of music, to whatever beat they find appealing. I hope that they can be the author of their own destiny, writing the story the way they want it to be read. I hope we can all find serenity along the way.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Quintessential

The orange light fights to climb over the closest peak. As it crests, it strains to break through the thick mist. The mist, clinging and caressing my skin as I zoom through the winding and undulating mountain roads.

I almost have to pull over and pinch myself. Is this heaven? A dream? Almost. I wouldn’t want to ruin the flow of the wheels across the pavement, and this zen state of movement.

The road is quiet. Just me and the bike and the mountains. Every once in a while,a car will wait patiently behind me before I signal it is clear to pass. I’m more worried about skittish deer than the cars.

Most of the world, (including my family) is still asleep. Maybe that adds to the beauty. This is a private moment.

They will wake soon, and we will go chase that quintessential summer day together.

Camping at the lakefront. Tubing down the river. Soccer and wiffleball at the local park. Take your shoes off and dip your toes in the creek.

There are too many activities to fit in, despite the sun stretching overhead long after to boys bedtime. It feels like a return to simpler times.

People try to tell you, but it is hard to listen. Harder still to understand and change your behavior. Youth is wasted on the young. They grow up fast. The one that stuck with me was, “you only get eighteen summers with them”

I think that might be generous. They probably dont remember the first three or four. And they will have things that seem more important to them by 15 or 16. The window closes faster than we think.

I think that’s why this summer felt so special. Both El Duderino and Speedy were old enough to appreciate it. And every day I was home felt like a new mission. How do we craft the perfect summer day?

It’s a totally unrealistic goal. Unachievable, really. As everyone’s individual preferences clash. Reality sets in, disappointment, frustration, human nature.

But, like a good dose of type II fun, sometimes the joy is in the journey.

So we hiked. We swam and splashed. We camped. We floated. We traveled. I rode my bike every chance I got, often with bleary eyes and to the detriment of my sleep. There’s nowhere else I would rather have been.

Most of the time, I tried to look at the summer as a whole. What can we do today that week add to the overall experience.

But there were two occasions where I shot for the moon.

I woke up well before the dawn, stretching and prepping gear in the silent dark calm of the early morning trying not to wake the rest of the house.

I would drive 30 or so minutes to the base of the larger mountains and scenic highways and start my ride from there.

Winding my way through the scenic highways

40 ish miles with 4000’+ of elevation gain, most of it before my family awoke.

They would meet me later on at the state park I had already ridden laps, around. I would stop and get donuts and wait for them at a picnic bench beside a babbling creek.

After they joined me, my boys and I moved to the playground, swinging and making friends at the nearby volleyball net while my wife ran on the trail around the lake.

We would later hike on the same trail towards a waterfall before finding a serendipitous presentation by a local aviary rescue.

Meeting up at Vogel state park after my longer rides

We finished the day splashing in the lake, me throwing the boys like a backyard WWF exhibition.

Sure, there were disagreements. Maybe even a tantrum. Kids will be kids, and boys will be boys. I think we might have even found a yellow jacket nest and gotten stung on our hike.

In the moment, those things seem big. They appear to take over the narrative. These certainly aren’t things I would pencil in the agenda for my day. But, they diminish significantly time.

What’s left, is arguably the quintessential summer day. It was far from perfect, and yet it was everything we needed it to be.

Like a lot of things, maybe it was a bigger deal in my head. This lofty expectation that I strained for, and probably fell short of. But god damn did it feel good trying.

This is obviously quite a while after the fact. I hope you can all find activities to bring your family together in these dog days of summer.

That you can find joy in the pursuit of that quintessential summer day. And, just maybe, some serenity along the way.

Finishing off some beautiful summer nights in the mountains

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Mental muscles

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’m fresh out of the simulator for my recuurent pilot training and wanted to reflect on the experience.

“Laser beam focus”. “Like moving a toothpick inside a cheerio”. “Just put the thing in the thing and keep it there”.

These are things the instructors say when talking through a single engine ILS (instrument landing system) approach flown without the autopilot. They are referring to the small yellow box in the middle of the photo, and keeping the yellow box centered on the green crosshair.

Even the slightest deviation from the flight directors commanded position can result in an aircraft state that is no longer in a safe position to land.

Flying at 145 knots on approach means moving through the air at 245 feet per second. ILS minimums typically allow you to land at 1800′ RVR (runway visual range). That means you can only see about 1800 feet in front of you.

You need to transition from that laser beam focus on the dual cue flight director, to pick out the runway environment through the fog and haze. At those speeds, you have 7.5 seconds until the ground comes to greet you.

Let’s rewind about ten or fifteen minutes, before your laser beam focus on the yellow box and green cross hair.

You have flown to a safe altitude on a single engine, combating the asymmetric thrust that wanted to roll and yaw the airplane out of control and upside down. You start the process of securing the failed engine in order to prevent any further damage.

Now you have to expand your thinking and start looking at the big picture. What systems were running off that engine that I lost? Which systems were essential? Which were redundant? What operations can I still conduct with downgraded systems? Does the weather permit those operations with down graded systems? How much fuel do I have? Is it balanced?

The list of questions could go on and on, but you are in a pressurized tube moving through space with a finite amount of fuel. Add on to all that managing communications with the rest of the crew behind your locked cockpit door, air traffic control, and your company counterparts on the ground. There is a lot of data input and management at a higher level.

This represents a significant contrast from the task we previously discussed. A singular lazer beam focus on a very small window.

Singular lazer beam focus and birds eye view big picture situation analysis. Both tasks are critical to getting back on the ground safely, and training and preparing for those tasks are two very different operations.

This reminded me somewhat of the physical training that I do. Training for a five minute Jiu Jitsu match is much different than training for a five hour half ironman.

A single rep max deadlift requires a different training modality and approach than a 100+ mile bike ride through the mountains.

And unlike in sport, where you can specialize and focus on only one type of activity if you so choose, that type of specialization and omission is not an option im aviation.

I’ve never been a big fan of that in my training anyway. “Specialization is for insects” I once read. I want to be able to sprint fast and hike for a whole day. I want to be able to lift heavy things and not have my muscles give out at the end of long climb on my bike.

Similarly, I want to be able to have that lazer beam focus for as long as I need to, in order to land safely. I want to be able to calm my heart rate and nerves and look at the big picture analytically. I want to be able to ground my thoughts and be present in the moment without ruminating or fixating.

I want to train and strengthen all the muscles. Type I fast twitch fibers. Type II slow twitch fibers. The heart, the lungs, and all of those different mental muscles.

I’m not sure what the equivalent of deadlifts for focus, or bench press for big picture thinking looks like. But just like you shouldn’t skip leg day, you have to train all of those mental muscles, not just the showy ones.

I’m sure there are plenty of podcasts and researchers much smarter than myself, that can tell you how to train these different mental muscles. Sometimes, the best training is just repetition.

Have a few tasks that require short, intense bursts of lazer beam focus. Have some planning or brainstorming sessions where you can think big picture. Carve out some time to be creative. Engage in tasks that require longer bouts of repetitive motion but also dynamic motor control. (I helped my neice and nephew place individual perler beads in specific patterns)

All of these mental muscles need to be trained, and need to be continually engaged in order to prevent atrophy.

Just like any other training we talk about here, the joy is often found in the journey more so than the destination. And, there is plenty of serenity to be found along the way.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Satisfaction

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week, I want to talk about satisfaction

As the Rolling Stones once said, “I can’t get no, satisfaction”, but what really had me thinking about it was finishing the book Perseverance Life and Death in the SubArctic, by Stephan Kesting.

I had purchased the book a few months back and it had been sitting in my eternally backed up reading queu.

I found Stephan Kesting more than a decade ago as a fantastic online resource for Brazilian Jiu Jistu techniques and training material.

While I’ve never met him personally, you watch the way he teaches and interacts, and ingest enough of his content, and you get a pretty good sense that he is a great guy.

Hopefully the last of surgical procedures for mr Speedy

When covid wreaked havoc on BJJ gyms and training, Stephan offered his instrcutional courses to the public free of charge.

This was his way of giving back to the community at a time when they couldn’t train.

So, as a long-time subscriber to his content, I was excited to be able to support him when he wrote to his followers and customers, requesting we preorder his new book about sub arctic exploration.

I don’t know that I have a whole lot of interest in sub arctic canoe exploration. But I do place a lot of value on transformative life experiences, especially those that involve endurance, sweat, and maybe a touch of masochism.

The story Stephan tells, of his 50-day solo journey through the sub arctic, a significant portion of it upstream, checks all those boxes.

Stephan masterfully describes the natural beauty, the connection to earlier times and explorers, as well as the excruciating physical and mental toll of the journey.

It was a quick read, that left me with a lot of respect for Stephan. The planning, execution, and the grit required to see through the project were all very impressive.

But what stuck with me the most, was the books closing remarks. Below are some quotes from the final pages of the book.

“Finally, one of them blurted out, “That’s a really cool trip, but did you enjoy it?” The question took me aback, and it took a while to collect my thoughts. When I finally spoke, I explained that this was probably the wrong question. Yes, this trip had many enjoyable moments, but the trip hadn’t been about enjoyment.”

“yes, I had been happy sometimes, but the trip hadn’t been about happiness. Most of the time, I had been worried, cold, wet, scared, or exhausted. The totality of the journey wasn’t as simple as
seeking enjoyment.”

“The afterglow of satisfaction is much more durable than the fleeting
sugar high of happiness. And yes, the whole thing had been profoundly
and immensely satisfying. Experiences that give you satisfaction transform
who you are, and you can bring those changes back to the world with you.”

I think Stephan does an incredible job summing up the experience, albiet to a bewildered friend. Asking about happiness is the wrong question? Your friends already think you are crazy for going on this trip and then you drop that on them.

I completely agree with him, and I know where he is coming from. I take on lots of activities and challenges that make friends and colleagues question my sanity.

Most of those activities leave me very little in the way of happiness. But they do leave me with a deep sense of satisfaction. A sense of accomplishment and a sense of self. A sense that I can take on more challenges in the future, be they planned or unexpected.

Stepping on the mat with another person whose goal is to try and choke you unconcious. Riding your bike up a mountain high enough that pilots require supplemental oxygen. Snowboarding through tree wells on an unfamiliar slope after a decade away from the sport.

A couple of nice layover runs before the summer heat bears down

The common point in all of these activities is, as Stephan so eloquently wrote, the lasting changes you can bring back into the world with you.

Being brave and prepared enough to have these types of transformative experiences is hard enough. Being able to effectively communicate the message to the public, especially a public who has not had similar adventures is a duanting task.

In my own small way, I hope that’s what this blog does. Communicates the profound satisfaction I get from these types of adventures. The changes that they have produced in me. The lessons they have taught me. Lessons, which I hope to pass on to my boys and share with you.

The rolling stones might not have gotten any satisfaction, and happiness might not be the right question. But, I think Lynyrd Skynyrd’s mother said it best. “All I want for you my son is to be satisfied”

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Mountains win again

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I recently had an adventure in the mountains, a challenge of sorts that I wanted to share with you.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” “When am I going to be here again?” “I’m not getting any younger” these are the things I was telling myself as I made the slogging climb up Pikes Peak on my bike.

The whole thing was thrown together rather haphazardly. A few days before the trip, I realized how close my layover hotel was to the mountain.

Spring break, cousins, and Orlando City, a new yearly tradition

I started looking at routes, bike rentals and weather forecasts, and realized that,maybe, it was doable.

Not necessarily that I could do it, mind you, just that it could be done. All the parts could come together for a pretty epic bike ride from downtown Colorado Springs up to the summit of Pikes Peak.

It was going to be a beautiful day in the mountains. Highs in the upper 60s or low 70s in town. Sunny and mostly clear skies. Light winds and temps above freezing at the 14,100′ summit.

I wasn’t exactly sure how to plan for that. I ordered a pair of fleece lined full leg bike bibs and a fleece lined cycling jacket that would arrive just before I left for the trip.

I knew I would be hot, and as the title suggests, very sweaty on the way up the mountain. But I was nervous about steep descents on slippery roads in temperatures much colder than I’m used to riding in, so fleece lined options won the day.

I got to the bike shop before they opened and was able to get a little bit of an early start thanks to some helpful fellow cyclists.

Winding out of Colorado Springs and through Manitou Springs, the road started to pitch up almost immediately. Not urgently but consistently and noticeably. With the base of the mountain at 5,900′ above sea level even these small changes in pitch got your attention.

The climb started in earnest with an ever so slight turn onto the pikes peak highway. A not unsubstantial climb from the turn before you even reach the toll gate.

At the gate, I paid the fare just like a car would, with a strange sense of equality mixed with superiority. It’s nice to be treated the same as a car on the road, despite knowing we have two very different paths ahead of us.

The toll collector told me the top 3 miles of the road were closed due to snow melt that refroze overnight. Simultaneously disappointing and comforting news as I was already sweaty and winded with a lot of climbing left in front of me.

This may have been one of the friendliest roads I’ve ever ridden on. Every car, regardless of direction, gave a wide berth and were quick to offer cheers and moral support. Many wanted to chat, or perhaps question my sanity, though my responses were often short while fighting for more oxygen in the thinning air.

I stopped frequently. I stopped when I wanted to. I stopped when I needed to. I stopped when the views took my breath away. I stopped when the slope and elevation took my breath away. When I needed to eat or to take a picture, there was no lack of stops on the way up.

At some point, a plow truck pulled up beside me to chat. Fighting for air, struggling to keep my cadance and the front wheel attatched to the steep slopes, he told me the summit had been reopened. “Good news or bad news?” He asked, maybe reading my reaction and body language. A bit of both I suppose.

I stopped once more at the Glen Cove Inn at 11, 450′ it would be the last easy pull of spot before the summit. Already feeling winded and unsure of the outcome I lingered and tried to recover as much as I could.

My stops were becoming more frequent, but the real estate for those stops was becoming scarce as I continued my ascent. Restarting presented its own challenge, clipping in on the steep slopes with no momentum and traffic potentially hurtling down the mountain and around hairpin corners unseen at any time.

Eventually, my legs, but more so my lungs and my heart made the decision inevitable. The mountain would win this day.

The risk calculus just wasnt adding up in my favor any more. Pushing myself into exhaustion in three to 5 minute bursts for ever shrinking distances didnt seem like a good idea. The shrinking shoulder of the road and the sheer cliffs loomed as I felt my will to continue slip away.

I took my jacket out of my pack and zipped the sleeves tight. I took one last picture. It was beautiful. Despite my failure, it was a pretty epic climb and a reluctant smile crept across my face. Type II fun was in the bag, now it was time for some type I fun.

I reminded myself that while this was the fun part, it was also the part with highest risk of catastrophe. Decending down a mountain on your bike can take your breath away in more ways than one.

I decided for the first and steepest part of the descent to keep my fingerless cycling gloves, rather than my windproof running gloves. I didn’t want any doubts about my grip or my ability to use the brake levers.

This came at the expense of very chilly fingers. Plunging down the mountain, braking against the building speed into the hairpin corners, as I zipped through the frigid apline air.

I stopped again at the visitor center rougly halfway down my descent and switched gloves. Even if there was decreased grip, it was the better alternative to frozen fingers.

I continued my snaking downhill ride back through town and dropped the bike at the bike shop before walking back to my hotel.

It had been a great day. Maybe not the ride I wanted, or the outcome I wanted, but a great day none the less.

I wrote a while back about a concept called misogi. A quest or an adventure that tests your limits. The challenge should be set hard enough that the odds of success are a coin flip.

Nobody wants to fail. Setting out knowing there is a good chance you won’t reach your goal is daunting. But it is also inspiring.

Failing to reach the summit was inspiring. I can’t wait to go back and try again. Finding out where your limits are is rarely a fun experience. In this case, being able to look out over the mountainside to the town below showed a tangible reflection of how far I had come. How high I went, even reaching my limit that day. The summit ahead, unreached, served as a reminder that the limit can still be pushed farther.

Some cool findings on my way back into town

While thinking back on my time in the saddle up Pikes Peak, the Blues Travelers song popped into my head

“I pick up my smile, and put it my pocket. Hold it for a while, try not to have to drop it. Ooh can you feel the same? Ooh you gotta love that pain, ooh it looks like rain again. Ooh feel it comin in, the mountains win again.”

I hope I get another chance to climb that mountain and reach the summit. I am grateful for the experience and the lessons the mountain has already given me, even if it won this round.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe, and stay sweaty my friends.

Output

It is somewhat fitting, Equal parts ironic and opportunistic that my last post was outcome. I recently competed in my first bjj tournament at black belt, and in the lead up to that competition, I was constantly reminding myself to focus on output rather than outcome.

The main t ake away from Output, was that outcome is never certain. It can be out of your control, even with the best of preparation. But output, is always in your control.

So that is what I tried to focus on going into this competition. Control the output. Deliver a performance I could be proud of. And, let the chips fall where they may.

View from the sauna and view from tbe chair

That is easier said than done. Especially in something so personal and ego centric as one on one, hand to hand combat.

The day of the competition was my 38th birthday. My matches were scheduled for later in the evening.

Maybe I was feeling my age. Maybe it was harder to get warmed up at a time when I would have otherwise been eating dinner. Maybe I am finally losing my appetite for cutting weight after three decades.

Whatever the reason, I followed my normal warmup routine, but I didn’t feel the same fire. I felt prepared. I felt ready to compete. But just without that extra edge.

In the aftermath of previous competitions, I realized I had relied too much on my wrestling and not gotten a chance to really test my jiu jitsu. I vowed to change that.

I had a game plan going in. A few wrestling setups and takedowns I felt confident with, all attempted within the first 30-40 seconds. If those were unsuccessful, the plan was to get into guard and get into my jui jitsu game.

The first part of the match was a perfect execution of may gameplan. A few takedown attempts, not successful, but enough to make him think. Then straight into a guard I felt comfortable with.

I played my guard game, moving, adjusting, attacking. Everyting going to plan. I wrestled up from my guard attacks finishing a takedown and ending on top.

So far I was executing the game plan, and the game plan was working. I continued to apply pressure from top position, looking for a place to attack.

I found an opening for a knee bar and trasitioned quickly. Another part of my game I was focusing on from previous competition was being decisive and explosive when the window was open, knowing that windows in high level bjj close quickly.

I didn’t finish the knee bar, but I was thrilled with my recognition and quick, decisive action. Again, sticking to the game plan and improving on past performance.

We scrambled up and I ended up wrestling back down to mat, taking his back with one hook in and attacking his lapels for a choke finish.

As time expired, I was delighted with my performance. My game plan was solid, and my execution was everything I could have wanted. Explosive, aggressive, opportunistic. I used my wrestling to set up my jiu jitsu, and my jiu jistu to set up my wrestling.

When the referee had to go have a conference with another referee before coming to announce the decision, I got a sinking feeling.

The scene from Cinderella man started playing in my head. “They take this long to make a decision, they’re gonna decide to screw someone”

The referee talked with my coach before coming back to the center of the mat and raising my opponents hand.

He had been given credit for a sweep when I attacked the knee bar. I only had one hook in on his back and was not awarded points. The final score was 2-2. even though I had a dominant performance, his points coming from my aggression and attacking without any real advantage to him, he scored last, and that was the tie break criteria.

It was a weird feeling. I couldn’t feel happy. I lost, and that win would have put me in the finals. On the other hand, if I could have scripted my ideal performance for my first five minutes competing at black belt, it would have unfolded very much like that match.

The outcome was not what I wanted, but the output, was almost perfect.

I tried to mentally reset and get ready for the consolation match, hoping to win and be able to compete for 3rd place.

If I was in a weird space before my first match, this was even weirder.

I came out a bit flat, and my opponent was aggressive with his take down, taking advantage of my slow start.

No matter, I got right to work in my guard, again using my jiu jitsu to set up my wrestling and wrestling up.

We scrambled and ended up back in my guard, and I found myself attacking an ankle lock that I feel very confident in.

This is a movement I train every day in the gym and have a great deal of success with.

This time however, I felt and heard a crunch in my left rib cage. I knew something wasn’t right but I continued to attack the ankle lock.

My opponent had to defend, and I took the opportunity to again wrestle up. There was no power though, any tension through my core caused my rips to pop back and forth like a snap bracelet.

I tried to establish my guard for another 30 seconds or so before deciding that discretion was the better part of valor and tapping my opponent, signaling he won and would advance.

Two weeks later, I am still struggling with my rib. Two losses, and an injury on my birthday. Not the outcome I was loking for.

But the outcome was never really in my control, never entirely anyway. But the output. In just over 7 minutes, less than a match and a half, I covered almost all of the positions and techniques I wanted to test at this level.

I transitioned seamlessly between my wrestling and jiu jitsu. I was explosive when the window opened. I tested myself rather than trying to rely on an older and more proven skill set.

It is taking some time, and the rib is a constant reminder that the outcome was far from desireable. I am struggling, but, I am finding peace, knowing that the output was something I can be proud of.

SerenityThroughSweat, earned, struggled for, fought for. It isn’t given, and the outcome is never certain. But, you control the output, and you always have a fighting chance to find it.

Thanks for joining me, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Outcome

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Normally this time of year, I am thinking back on my somewhat ill-advised tradition of the christmas half marathon. This year, I want to talk about a different tradition.

For almost as long as I can remember, Christmas time around my house has come with fudge.

Growing up cutting weight for wrestling during the holidays, there were many years where I was less enthused with this tradition.

I still partook of course. It just meant a few more sprints, and envy as I handed out whole tins of fudge to teachers, coaches, and relatives who could enjoy it without thoughts of the scale nagging at them.

The fudge recipe has been passed down through at least three (and now four) generations on my moms side of the family.

My wife and I received the recipe along with some tutorial batches this christmas.

I have always watched my mother make fudge, even helping from time to time over the years. Licking the spoon counts as helping, right?

What struck me most about this tradition is a small line at the bottom of the recipe. I cannot share the recipe as it is a family secret, but I think sharing this part is ok.

“It is truly a learning experience, and even after 40+ years of making fudge, the outcome is not guaranteed.”

Now, this particular quote talks about some of the steps in the recipe that are more art than science. They require some judgment and experience rather than just blindly following steps.

It made me think about some of our other traditions, how they, too, are not guaranteed.

It would certianly be easy to skip my annual half marathon. There have been many years where it was a struggle to fit it in. Years where I wanted to walk (or hobble) away in the middle of it.

Even just getting together as a family, especially with the amount of time I spend away as a pilot, is never a guarantee.

What makes it a tradition, what makes anything a tradition really, are a few people’s stubborn dedication to make something stick.

And not just to make it stick, but also to make it meaningful. To make it something we look forward to. To make it something that we associate with that holiday or time of the year.

I’m grateful for the many traditions that we have in my family. Even more so now, because of the appreciation for how easy it is to let them fall by the wayside. The outcome is not guaranteed.

It also gives me a sense of hope, for those traditions that have lain dormant for years. That maybe with that same stubborn dedication, they can be revived.

It gives me a renewed sense of purpose. One of our main roles as parents is to be teachers, mentors, and examples for children and other younger members of our family.