Fatherhood – Page 3 – Serenity Through Sweat

Spoons and Shovels

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week I wanted to talk about the strange relationship I have with efficiency, in fatherhood, fitness, and flying.

I was reminded and inspired for this post by a quote from a Pavel Tsatsouline’s kettlebell book, Simple and Sinister. Pavel’s style of training is to use heavy weights explosively, and do fewer reps for more sets with long breaks in-between.

“Hard style training is also highly effective for fat loss. In a study that compared the energy expenditures in the same exercise performed explosively and non-explosively, the former predictably burned more calories. “The swing is inefficient, which is why it is a great fat burner,” explains Dan John. “The bike is efficient—and fat people can ride it forever.” Yes, you could burn the same calories by doing more reps with less power or less weight…but why? “

“Famous economist Milton Friedman was visiting a construction site in a country with Soviet-influenced economic policies. It was in the 1960s and Friedman was shocked to see only shovels and no mechanized equipment. He asked the government bureaucrat who was giving the tour about it. The latter smugly replied, “You don’t understand. This is a jobs program.” Prof. Friedman smiled, “Oh, I thought you were trying to build a canal. If it’s jobs you want, then you should give these workers spoons, not shovels.”

In many aspect of my life efficiency reigns supreme. I am always looking for the most efficient way to do something. Whether it is a grappling technique, a flight procedure, or just getting the kids out the door.

Aviation procedures after accounting first for safety, are primarily efficiency driven. Small inefficiencies multiplied across thousands of flights a day make a huge difference to a company.

Grappling is all about efficiency in motion. Your ability to generate the maximum amount of force necessitates not wasting energy through inefficient movement. Getting into advantageous positions is often not possible with inefficient or extra movement.

Beauty beyond the buildings in Burlington

In endurance sports, when racing, I’m trying to achieve the best efficiency in terms of speed for power output. The level of efficiency in a pedal stroke, a swimming stroke, or running cadence can be the difference between a personal record, and a really dark and ugly mental slog just to finish.

When training however, I often find myself deliberately seeking inefficiency. Swinging a kettlebell, over-exaggerating grappling movements, practicing a deliberately slower pedal stroke with a higher gear.

These inefficient training methods have a significant impact on strength, and growth in the particular sport or skill.

Fort building with Speedy and El Duderino

The irony is not lost on me that I waffle between maximized efficiency to minimized efficiency. Doing something the most efficient way is seldom the best way to learn.

I’m thinking about this as El Duderino is starting pre school. There are so many things that I do for him, and for myself for that matter, that are driven primarily by efficiency. But is that always the best approach?

El Duderino has been potty trained for a while. My wife was been a rock star with that, starting when he was only 6 months old. But he doesn’t like to wipe his own butt. Efficiency, being the quickest way to get this task done, dictates that I (or my wife) do it for him. The alternative is an existential argument with a four year old. with pants around his ankles, butt up in the air, explaining to us the importance of team work and helping out your family. His argument (especially in context) seems compelling.

At some point he will have to do this himself. It is a question of when, not if. I know that sooner is better than later. But there is a nagging sense of efficiency that rears its head. The desire to complete a simple task and move on to the next, that drives my avoidance of what I know to be my parental responsibility. To help him grow and develop into an independent young man.

It is hard to feel excited about deliberate inefficiency. It is even more painful when that inefficiency can be remedied, but doing so would be detrimental in the long run.

Parenting, along with many other aspects of my life and this blog, can be an exercise in using spoons instead of shovels. At least I’ve got company down in the trenches digging along with me.

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

Debt

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I wrote a few weeks back about Pappyland, a book following the van winkle family and their generational story through the booming bourbon market. The writing even after just a small snippet struck such a chord with me that I bought the book and could hardly put it down. After finishing it, I wanted to share my thoughts especially as they fit in with the overarching themes of the blog.

Whright Thompson spends a few years researching the book getting to know Julian Van Winkle, the bourbon industry as well as the family’s complicated history. The story follows four generations from “pappy”, Julian’s grandfather, all the way to Julian’s son Preston, who is learning at his father’s side.

Maple syrup lollipops from Vermont (what does a father, especially one who travels, owe a son?)

Thompson weaves his own relationship with his father as well as his journey towards becoming a new father into the novel which becomes more about family than it does about bourbon.

“Meeting with Julian and making him talk about his family made me ask myself the same question I’d been asking him: What did I owe my late father? What did I owe a grandfather I never met? What is demanded of a son or a daughter? What was demanded of me?”

Both Julian and Wright’s fathers died of illness before their time. Both sons felt the weight not only of the loss, but of the pressure to live up to family expectations. To succeed and press on in ways that the previous generation was unable to, for one reason or another.

The idea of raising a child, makes you reflect on those questions. If you are fortunate enough, and live in enough comfort to be introspective, having all of your needs met, you inevitably owe a debt to your parents. One that I’m not sure can ever be repaid.

Even if that debt is never tabulated, called in, or otherwise made tangible, it exists. It is an unspoken calling across generations to fulfill potential. To create, and affect, and change, hopefully in a positive and lasting way some part of this world.

In the acknowledgements Thompson writes to his young daughter telling her “let me save you some soul searching: you don’t owe me anything”. He goes on to say that he loves her unconditionally and that the book is for her.

I love his work, and I am inspired by it. Especially as I tackle my own literary project. Still, I think he misses the mark. After his deep and moving coverage of the VanWinkle family, it seems to.me there is always some form of generational debt.

The unconditional love and the debt are not mutually exclusive. If your parents did right by you, whatever their faults and failings may be, a debt is owed. It may not even be payable to them. It may be payable to yourself. But, a debt is owed.

My own feeble attempt then, to answer those questions.

Mom and Dad, I cannot thank you enough for the foundation you laid for me, and especially now for my family. There are lessons that are poignant in my mind, that I feel obliged to pass on. Traditions and relationships that I vow to maintain. An idea, of a fulfilled life that I will strive towards. These are the things I feel are demanded of me as a son.

Speedy and El Duderino, you are loved unconditionally. Your mother and I will support you to the best of our abilities in your endeavors. But you owe a debt, mostly to yourselves, but in a small part to us. To try, to engage, to grow, to explore and experience. In short, to live a life with purpose.

These are broad strokes intentionally. There are innumerable paths you both may choose. Following any of those paths in earnest, with intention, grace, and maybe even a touch of serenity, will clear any debt that may be owed.

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

Race day

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This past weekend was my first foray back into longer distance triathlon since having kids and I wanted to share some of my experience.

Let me start by saying it is difficult to adequately express the range of emotions that pop up over the 5:48 it took me to cover the 70.3 miles.

There are lows of despair, pain, and self doubt, followed by bouts of confidence and elation. The smallest and most insignificant detail can move you from one end of the spectrum to the other, and right back again just as quickly.

Nobody likes swimming with company. Biking and running with friends is great, swimming with friends really just means getting groped and kicked. Even with the rolling start (which was way better than IM FL in 2013) the swim was more of a contact sport than desired.

I’m very grateful for a safe bike experience both training and racing. Seeing some of my fellow athletes bloodied and road rashed, or worse is a reminder of how fortunate I am to have avoided major accidents despite all the miles put in.

It also reinforces my decision to train almost exclusively indoors on the bike. With a smart trainer and zwift, my biking is more efficient (in terms of not needing to load up and load out and drive to a safer road to ride). It is also way more diverse in terms of ability to climb, sprint, and ride different simulated terrain and topography.

I felt very prepared for the bike course with only indoor training, but it was a refreshing reminder of why I love to ride my bike. The cool December Florida temperatures (at least for the bike leg) paired with the rolling hills, rural roads, and orange groves, made for a picturesque Sunday morning ride. There were more than few instances out on the bike course where I found myself smiling, lost in the gentle mechanical hum of the chain through the cogs.

There is a simple and efficient exchange that happens on the bike that is magical. Human power goes in and locomotion comes out, but some of that majesty can be lost when looking at a power meter and a virtual world. The wind rushing past the ear scoops of my way too serious looking aero helmet, brought all that majesty back very quickly.

By mile forty seven on the bike course, after north of three hours of racing already, the gentle rolling hills and orange groves seemed much less enchanting as my legs started to fatigue and the new asphalt gave way to roads that can be best described as a taint jackhammer. It is a glamorous sport, you just need the right words to describe it.

The race start was delayed an hour due to morning fog, which was a good call, but it meant the run would be done in the heat of the day, even for the fastest athletes. My slightly better than .idle of the pack pace was no exception. Add in unseasonably warm temperatures for Florida in December, and the half marathon was set up to be a trip through the pain cave.

There is a surge of energy that happens in transition. Our senses are naturally enhanced by change, as an evolutionary trait, so the bike to run change brings not only a sense of completion and accomplishment, but also a much needed shot of adrenaline. That wears off far too quickly as you realize you have 13 miles to run with more uphill than you realized.

A two loop run course is wonderful for spectators and logistics, but it is a cruel mistress. The exit is always close, the self inflicted punishment can stop whenever you want it to. This is a silly thing to do to yourself anyway, why run another lap?

A shot from a friendly neighbor’s hose, the ice cubes melting into sweet relief down your back, a kind word from a fellow masochist, can all give you the push you need to keep moving forward.

The run course wound in an out of neighborhoods, doubling back on itself, in a way that made me frustrated and delirious. Those same rolling hills that seemed so enchanting just a few hours ago, rose up like a rock wall, shimmering in the Florida sun.

Wanting to quit, wanting to jump for joy, wanting a beer, these are all things I had felt before in varying intensity at different races. What I hadn’t felt was my ability to be a father after that kind of effort.

Above and beyond triathlon, the extra gear and the endurance that I have when I see those two smiling faces, is something that I wish I knew how to train, but I’m glad it comes naturally. Being able to take my kids to the playground and the pool, and run around the house with them after the race means regardless of my finishing time, my training was right on point.

The elevation profile is a little off, but here are the race details in all their glory

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

Cooties

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week I think the cooties might have finally caught up to my family and I.

We should have the test results back in a few days but my wife and I have taken turns with fever, chills, headache, and sinus congestion. Speedy and El Duderino have both showed similar although thankfully less severe symptoms.

Admittedly, riding 18 and change miles on zwift with the beginnings of a sinus headache and following it up with a few glasses of wine might not have helped.

The next morning when I couldn’t clear my left ear and the sinus headache was in full swing, the 1.1 mile swim date with my wife didn’t do me any favors either.

It is hard to stop the momentum from a full training plan, especially one that is supposed to be peaking, as opposed to being sidelined.

I was willing to look past a few of the more subjective and intuitivemetrics of how I was feeling, as well as some of the more objective ones (like increased body temp and respiration rate) in the name of a training plan. The results were probably not advantageous.

Thankfully no signs of respiratory decline

I’m grateful that my biggest concern is how I will bounce back for competition. I know that not everyone’s run in with the cooties is so favorable.

I’m grateful that I can be an effective father/husband/provider while still in cootie recovery mode.

I’m grateful that I have taken my own advice to stockpile fitness for times of trouble. I hope that my stockpile pays dividends as the calendar closes is on race day.

I’ve talked ad nauseum about how SerenityThroughSweat makes me a better, calmer version of myself. How engaging a strenuous physical activity pushes on the pain receptors, enabling the pleasure centers to have their turn in the aftermath.

The cooties have taken this option off the table. So not only are my wife and I not feeling so hot, but I think I’m in a (at least short term) below baseline hormonal state.

Photo evidence of the cooties in the house

I’m reminded the quote from Fred Jung played by Ray Liotta the movie Blow “sometimes you’re flush, and sometimes your bust. When you’re up it’s never as good as it seems, and when you’re down you never think you’ll be up again. But life goes on”

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

Interesting

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. As I continue my research on language and communication, I continue to find little tidbits that transcend communicology, and have relevance to the areas we tend to discuss here.

Obviously, the things we discuss here, (flying, fitness, fatherhood, etc…) are all things that I, and I presume at least to some extent you, are interested in.

With that in mind, the following passage from Noam Chomsky’s On Language struck me as especially appropriate.

“I think this whole discussion comes down to a confusion between two senses of the word interesting. Certain things are interesting in themselves- for example: human action. But there is another meaning of the word interesting, in physics, for example. A phenomenon in itself does not have interest for a physicist. What happens under the conditions of a scientific experiment is of no importance itself. It’s interest lies in it’s relation to whatever theoretical principles are at stake.

There are a great many things that I have read recently in the course of my research that I find interesting in the second sense of the word. Frequently, after reading some academic passage three or four times to make sure I understand it, and cursing the author for forcing me to look up definitions every other sentence, I will find a nugget (like the one above) that is interesting as it relates to my life, or experiences, or the project I’m working on.

When I excitedly share these findings with my wife, I am very quickly reminded of the difference from the first sense of the word interesting. Many of these theories, findings, hypotheses, are so steeped in academia and so far removed from real life that they are difficult to digest, much less get excited about.

But, because the have a relation to a project, or a passion, they become interesting in the second sense.

The two different types of interesting can also be thought of in terms of the way they affect people. Anything can be interesting in itself to someone without being of interest to someone else. But when it can be related in some other way it’s interest broadens.

Getting stronger with IM FL 70.3 approaching quickly

Linguistics and communicology is not interesting in itself to most people, (as I’m reminded when I discuss it with my wife). But when it can be related to a specific event/topic/situation, (see my previous post about a tough road to hoe) it becomes interesting because now there is context and real life application.

This interplay of interesting is fascinating, especially with my boys. There are some easy guesses on what they will find interesting, but other times I am surprised and fulfilled by their interests.

I recently had lunch with my wife and El Duderino on a layover. We sat down at an old timey diner burger joint. I had a little bit of nostalgia listening to the blues guitar oldies play over the speaker as our burger, fries, and shakes were brought out to the table.

El Duderino’s meal even came served up in an Old school Cadillac dinner tray, wing tips and all. What four year old American boy doesn’t love cheeseburgers, fries, and milkshakes? But when asked what his favorite part of lunch was, (I was sure it would be the milkshake) he told me it was playing air keyboard along with the diner music.

Layovers don’t get much better than this

You never really know what someone else will find interesting, or how what you find interesting will relate to someone else’s lived experience. But sharing our interests, and finding those sometimes hidden relations is a sure path to social connection and serenity. Thank you for sharing in some of what I find interesting.

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

Unable

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Last night I was squeezing in a short Peleton ride at the hotel gym in the MSP airport after a long, reroute induced day. My favorite instructor (partly because she is so often quotable), Robin Arzon, said something that stuck with me.

I decided I needed to get some additional movement in after eating a late dinner and spending most of the day butt in seat. It was just a short twenty minute hip hop ride, but Robin was able to work in this gem. “no, is a complete sentence”.

El Duderino making Play-Doh medicine so daddy can feel better (may or may not have pushed the limits last week)

She then went on to say, something along the lines of “if it isn’t increasing my bank account, or increasing the vibe of my tribe, the answer is no, and that is part of self care”. While I think the latter part of the statement is a bit more crafted and word smithed, the first part felt more organic and resonated with me.

It is also something that we hear on repeat in the aviation industry but struggle with both inside and outside the cockpit. “Unable” is also a full sentence, and it is one that is extremely important to use.

Speedy getting in some jungle gym action at Crayola

Pilots tend to be not only a mission oriented bunch but also type A personality predominantly. This often leads to pushing beyond a sense of personal comfort to complete the mission.

This is a common occurrence amongst the triathlon and endurance community as well. Pushing past the comfort zone is something that is inherent to those sporting domains and seeps into the everyday decisions that those members tend to make.

Enjoying the splash pad in the land of endless summer

I know I have more hobbies and responsibilities than time, and I often find myself trying to “do all the things”. Not wanting to give up the things that are priorities, but also not saying no when other requests pop up is a real struggle for a lot of us. Doing all the things is never an achievable goal and even aiming that high, knowing and accepting, that you will fall short can still lead to burnout.

This is where “No”, and “Unable”, find their essential place in the conversation. Pilots are very familiar with the term when it comes to the limits of their aircraft. If a controller wants a speed/altitude/heading that isn’t possible or safe, pilots don’t hesitate to play the “unable” card. But, being mission oriented, pilots are more reluctant to assess their own limits the way they would the aircraft.

To be fair, the aircraft comes with a manual, black and white criteria that it can and cannot perform. They are also tested in safe conditions to find their limits, and then placarded, with an appropriate safety margin or course. How familiar are you with your own limits and safety margins? Are they fixed and placarded, or more fluid and malleable?

Getting back in the saddle after race week and a brief cold

With many of my hobbies, part of the draw is testing those limits, finding where they are and how far they can be pushed. The endurance/triathlon community knows all about this. So to does the grappling community, because there is nothing like testing your skill against a brother or sister who is also trying to test themself whilst trying to render you unconscious.

There is something about pushing limits, that pushes the throttle up on life. Life becomes amplified, in way that is addictive. Pushing that throttle up, is not without it’s costs, and limits inevitably need to be pushed further to find that familiar feeling.

Putting in work on the trail and the book on the long DAY layover

It is ok to be unable. It is ok to say No. They are both complete sentences. In spite of the little voice telling you to keep pushing, there is serenity to be found in respecting your limits with complete sentences.

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

Tough roads

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. My wife said something to me this week that I had never heard before and it fell right in line with our ongoing discussion of words.

I don’t even remember the context of the conversation, but my wife said “that is going to be a tough road to hoe”. Having never heard that expression before I started thinking about it figuratively, literally, and maybe even a little etymologically, and decided I couldn’t make any sense of it.

I understood the meaning that my wife was trying to communicate, so an effective transfer of ideas did in fact happen, but the line didn’t make any sense to me. Why would you use a hoe on a road, that’s not what the tool was designed for. (As a humorous aside, I told her a tough road to ho, would make sense, but that’s not the point and I digress)

After some very quick phone research (what a time to be alive and be able to settle marital discussions with a device in our pockets) I discovered the etymology of the phrase is “a tough row to hoe”. The phrase has been misheard and then repeated incorrectly enough times to stick, as was the case with my wife.

What is particularly interesting to me in this case is the exchange of meaning. I knew what my wife meant. She knew what she was trying to convey. The exchange took place in spite of the words being used to transmit the message being somewhat nonsensical.

This phenomena happens all the time with parents and kids. I had always attributed that to kids being language learners, and some level of translation as a parental ability.

De la Soul providing the offeratory hymn for this kettlebell session at my backyard temple of SerenityThroughSweat

El Duderino for example is very fond of saying “green beans go”. He says this as a parroting response to hearing my wife say “green means go” when she is stuck behind a driver playing on their phone as a light turns from red to green.

The changing of one character of the twelve, completely changes the implicit meaning of the sentence. But, when used in context, (El Duderino in his car seat behind a stopped car at a freshly changed green light) I can still understand what my three year old is trying to convey. (When he says it at dinner after I’ve smoked green beans for three hours it is equally adorable despite it’s semantic inaccuracy)

It failed to occur to me that we are all continuous language learners, and that a similar level of translation is necessary for effective communication amongst adults, albeit at a much lower frequency.

In the grand scheme of things correcting” a tough road to hoe” versus “a tough row to hoe” is really rather pedantic. In many relationships it could have led to a argument or fight, and I understood what my wife was trying to tell me. So why bother with correcting it or even trying to understand the phrase, especially when an effective communication had taken place?

In discussing the language philosophy of how performative utterances can be “unhappy” J.L. Austin says “in ordinary life a certain laxness in procedure is permitted- otherwise no university business would ever get done!”

I think the tight rope to walk here, is the level of laxness that allows business to get done, along with level of adherence to proper protocol that ensures communication is not unnecessarily degraded. That is a treacherous tightrope indeed.

Words are important, communication is important, and true understanding is even more important, (and of course the most difficult of the three to truly accomplish). It may be a tough road, but it seems to be one worth walking (or hoeing if your level of laxness will permit)

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

Learning

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. My toddler said something interesting to me this week that got me thinking about learning.

While burning off some extra energy jumping in his bed, El Duderino decided that I needed to jump with him. I told him I was too big to jump on his bed to which he replied,

“Don’t worry daddy I can teach you, Just bend your knees then stand in the sky that’s how you jump”

Super adorable I know, kids say the darndest things. But, what caught my attention more was the interplay between teaching and learning. In order to teach something, it needs to be broken down into manageable sections.

For my toddler, jumping comes in two manageable sections, and while academically unspecific, it is a significant step from the “this is how you do it watch me” approach.

He had to break down the two different steps and then articulate them to me, the learner, pretty good for a a three year old.

I’ve gone through this same process with a number of activities but specifically grappling and flying. In order to teach something you need to be able to dissect it. Teaching effectively often times leads to more learning, because you are forced to analyze in a process oriented way that you might have omitted before.

Teaching someone how to land an airplane requires a mechanistic understanding of weather, aerodynamics, momentum, gravity, mechanical engineering, and the interplay between them all.

Teaching a double leg takedown requires an understanding of physiology, center of gravity, physics, momentum, defensive counters and reactions. Breaking down the process for others often improves your own technique.

Like any skill though, these data points all get recognized and processed almost automatically after a while. So going back and teaching them can be a refresher in what is happening at a subconscious level.

Not only does teaching then promote more learning (for the teacher as well as obviously the student) but it also enhances neuroplasticity and fights aging in the brain.

Any time we learn something new (even if it is a relatively small nuance to an already known process or technique) new neural connections are formed and old ones are strengthened. This is why the mechanistic breakdown required of teaching helps the teacher learn.

Getting zwifty before race season starts

Even though you already know how to do a double leg takedown, you create new neural connections and synapses and strengthen old ones by breaking down your technique. Creating new connections and strengthening old ones keeps the brain plastic, just like keeping your muscles supple.

Life long learning can help fight cognitive decline as we age, and teaching can help promote new learning, even for already known skills. So teaching El Duderino how to jump a little more eloquently than “stand in the sky” will help me age gracefully and find serenity. (So long as there are no major tumbles off the bed)

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

What’s Cookin’

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week, against my better judgement, I want to talk about gender stereotyped activities. Wish me luck and come along for the ride as I traverse this modern day minefield.

I often find myself flying with captains who are much older than me (20 to 30 years older) and at a different point in their life. Anyone who has spent a career in aviation and anyone who has raised a family has a wealth of knowledge and no shortage of stories to share. While I appreciate these peers and mentors and the wisdom they share freely (sometimes uninvited) I find that there are some generational gaps that can’t be overcome.

One such generational gap came up on my most recent trip and I thought it was worth discussing. This trip was a three day, with a real kick in the pants type of first day. Five legs, lots of convective weather, a prolonged sit in an out station, and then a deadhead on a regional jet that was delayed.

My alarm went off at 5:00am and I didn’t make it to my hotel until after 8:00pm and the only real opportunity to have a civil meal in that time was our prolonged sit at the out station.

The captain told me I packed like a senior flight attendant (notorious for carrying lots of bags) when he saw my oversized cooler bag along with my flight bag and suitcase. As I unpacked some smoked brisket and curried cauliflower he became more intrigued. When I told him that I cooked before I left so that my wife and kids had prepared food while I was gone, and I had healthy meals on the road, he responded “you cook for your wife before you leave, that’s different”. He shared that his wife had packed his PB&J bag lunches that were indistinguishable from those a kindergartner might show up with.

I’m under no illusion that my meal prepping is not the norm. Im also not so self involved that I think I can change those gender norms. I do think however, I can raise my boys with the understanding that something you are passionate about, that also benefits others, can be a source of joy and pride regardless of norms.

I love to cook, especially when I am not time constrained by the already untenable list of things I enjoy spending my time on. I am also passionate about diet, exercise, and overall well-being, and those overlap very well with my cooking/meal prepping. Pair in an aviation career especially post covid with limited food options in airports and on layovers and my meal prep/ cooking habits are done just as much from a self serving sense as they are from that of a provider.

Not a bad spot to write down your thoughts, Naked River Brewing Co Chattanooga TN

Don’t get me wrong, I love that my 1 and 3 year olds eat roasted asparagus and brussel sprouts, curried cauliflower, and smoked meats. Fueling my training and work schedule with healthy foods is an admittedly selfish priority, the fact that my boys eat that way too is a wonderful bonus.

But I hadn’t thought that much about the behavior modeling of dad (me) doing all the cooking, and especially cooking ahead of time for when I’m on the road. As a child of divorce, both my parents cooked for me when I was hungry, I never saw it as a gender specific task.

When I stopped eating what my mother cooked because I was cutting weight for wrestling, I started cooking for myself in my sophomore year of highschool. Again, this seemed a practical and realistic division of labor rather than an against the grain trend.

Starting to build up the milage this week, 75+ miles over 3 rides

One of the guiding questions that fuels this blog, is how I will answer my boys when they ask me what it means to be a man. The conversation in my head normally spans multiple sittings, involves at least me drinking, and tends to be full of inconsistencies. The truth is I’m not really sure, and that’s O.K.

But the message will sure as hell include doing what you are passionate about, especially when it helps other people. If that means that cooking is manly, I’ll be the first one to help them tie on their aprons.

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

The injured knee held up pretty well to 7 miles on the treadmill, helped along by some De La Soul

Uh-Oh

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Over the last couple of weeks, I have been doing some research on a new project that is a somewhat related labor of love to the blog. While I’m not ready to reveal the details of the project just yet, it is based around language and communication.

I remember having a conversation with one of my ultimate frisbee and triathlon friends Josh, where he used the analogy of an iceberg to describe hobbies. Like the behemoth that sank the Titanic, only 10 percent was visible from the surface, the rest was hidden underwater. Almost any activity worth pursuing, tends to have the same characteristic, especially when being observed by a beginner.

The only way you will ever know how big the iceberg is, and how deep it goes, is to get wet and dive in to the topic headfirst.

So for the past few weeks I have been swimming in the waters of language and communication, getting just the beginnings of sense, of how big the iceberg really is.

This blog in many ways, has been a learning tool for me. A means by which I can grow as a writer, communicator, father , and so many more things.

This quote from Jerrold J. Katz in The Philosophy of Language, describes this idea eloquently, if not for the over academic rhetoric;

Don Quixote and sancho out to slay the dinosaur

“the process of linguistic communication is conceived as one in which the speaker, in his production of speech, encodes his inner, private thoughts and ideas in the form of some external, publicly observable, acoustic phenomena, and the hearer, in his comprehension of speech, decodes the structure of such objective phenomena in the form of an inner, private experience of the same thoughts and ideas. Language is thus viewed as an instrument of communication of thoughts and ideas which enables those who know the same language to associate the same meanings with each of the significant sound sequences in the language.”

Katz is obviously talking in this example about spoken language, but the same concept applies to written language. It is an instrument by which we convey inner, private experience of thoughts and ideas to one another.

Yet as anyone who is married, or has kids, or both, can attest, there is great frustration when the inner private thoughts of the speaker (or writer) and the hearer (or reader) don’t sync up.

Meal prepping for my solo stay with the boys, brisket, burnt ends, sausage lava balls, and smoked cream cheese.

This is one of the greatest causes of frustration for all humans, and the instrument in question (language/communication) is one whopper of an iceberg.

It was with this research fresh in my mind, that I noticed a particularly behavior in Speedy that is as relevant as it is adorable (except for the cleaning up)

Speedy is babbling a lot, (as most 16 month old do), but it’s also becoming more effective at communicating his wants and needs. One thing he has picked up on is “Uh-Oh”

Speedy before he starts experimenting with gravity

It normally takes him a few tries, you may hear an “uh-uh”, an “oh-uh”, or even an “oh-oh” before he gets it right, but eventually the “Uh-Oh” comes out, normally followed by a parentally reciprocated smile.

Speedy has figured out that contextually, this particular instrument of language is often uttered when something falls. Of course for those of us using it in a classical sense this means whatever was dropped was on accident.

Speedy often takes a more deliberate approach in order to practice his new favorite language instrument, throwing whatever he can get a hold of off his highchair tray and then practicing his vocalizations.

Speedy mastering the Uh-Oh after the food throw

Without totally ruling out that my 16 month old has a strong grasp of irony (not unreasonable considering his genetic makeup), he is using his language instrument in the way he has observed his brother, mother, and me use it. When something hits the floor we often say “Uh-Oh”. Still, I can assure you regardless of my reciprocated smile, our private inner thoughts are not the same after the fourteenth broccoli floret finds the floor.

His I can only presume is an inner thought of triumph at both the correct usage of “Uh-Oh”as well as the mastery of the modern marvel that is gravity. My inner thoughts vary from amused to annoyed based on what iteration we are currently on.

It is relatively easy with a 16 month old to see when the communication process breaks down. Especially with modern means of mass communication, how many “Uh-Oh” moments do you come across in a given day? Is it possible you have some without even realizing it?

Lots of sprint watts and lots of miles on the trainer

Words are hard, finding the right ones is even harder, and trying to understand someone elses private inner thoughts based on sometimes inadequate word choices is next to impossible. Language is the instrument that sets us apart, and serenity awaits those who can matter their instrument.

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