birthday – Serenity Through Sweat

Exposure

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week I’m reflecting on my 35th birthday. How I feel. How I’ve grown. What type of man I have become and what type of man I want to be.

Listening to Zach Bitter and Aaron Alexander on the Human Performance Outliers podcast, Aaron said something that made me reflect on my last decade.

Zach is very literally a human performance outlier as an ultra marathoner, and Aaron is a movement coach and author of the Align Method. Their conversation covered wellness topic such as mobility, training, breathing, and mindset.

Whenever you wade into the world of endurance sports, the somewhat unanswered, elephant in the room question, is that of longevity and vitality. What are the long term costs of pushing performance? What is the cost of being an outlier? Specifically on your long-term health and wellness.

Looking back, I have pushed myself pretty hard in the last decade. And not just physically. The volume of miles from triathlon training alone is staggering. Jiu jitsu, despite being the gentle art, takes it’s toll on the body. I’ve finished a graduate degree. Changed jobs twice. Found a partner and started a family. Just in the past few years I’ve cultivated new hobbies and habits.

I feel better now than I did at 25. I walk around at a lower weight than I did at the starting line of IronMan FL in 2013. (Which I hope is the lifetime peak of my training volume). I prioritize sleep and nutrition in a way that I was uneducated about a decade ago. I have more balls in the air now and struggle with balance, but find myself better equipped for that struggle.

Despite all of that, the question remains, am I burning the candle at both ends? Will this impact my longevity and vitality? My healthspan?

Aaron said something that I found incredibly reassuring. “your body adapts to what it is exposed to, even if that is nothing”

If you are exposed to nothing, your body will adapt to that as it’s default. The smallest offset can then be momentous. On the other end of the spectrum, if you vary and amplify your exposure, your body adapts. Your level of resilience is directly correlated to your level of exposure.

There are some obvious caveats. My days of thinking “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” are long gone. Lower intensity work, mobility, and less “demanding” practices like meditation and breath work are a critical part of my routine now. Not every session can be a grip it and rip it sweat fest.

El Duderino and Speedy playing in the water

Beyond what I expose my body to in search of positive adaptation, my boys become exposed to fair portion of it is well. They are always watching and listening. Being exposed to someone pushing themself. To someone who struggles, falters, and ultimately grows. I can only surmise what lens they see me through but I hope that the exposure is beneficial.

I’m grateful for all of the beauty, challenge, pain, and struggle that I have been exposed to. I’m grateful for all the ways my body has adapted over the last decade. I hope for continued exposure to push my adaptation. I hope that I find the appropriate level of exposure for my boys as well. In some dynamic interplay of exposure and adaptation, I hope to find serenity.

Zwift, peleton, treadmill, and some mobility work from a birthday week spent mostly on the road

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

Time

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I celebrated my birthday this week, and I’m thinking about how we measure time, especially with the unusual events of the past year.

The traditionally accepted secular calendar we are all used to is the Gregorian calendar, and it is predated by the Romulus calendar, and the Julian calendar.

The Romulus calendar had ten months from March through December. The year started with the spring equinox and ended 304 days later at the end of December, leaving a no man’s land of winter until the next year began anew.

The second Roman empire Numa, decided to change the system to a lunar based year, and give names to the nameless period of winter. January and February were added and the year, based on lunar cycles, resulted in 355 days.

At the time in Rome, even numbers were considered unlucky, so every month had either 29 or 31 days except February which had to have 28 in order to round out the Lunar year at 355 days.

Measuring the passage of time by lunar cycles is as good a way as any, except if you are a farmer trying to plant your crops based on the Earth’s relative position in orbit of the Sun.

A 355 day lunar year, after a few years, resulted in mismatched seasonality for the crop growing population. This was corrected by inserting a 27 day leap month called Mercedonious every few years. Starting on February 24th, the month would be added, or not, at the discretion of the roman high priests.

El Duderino kicked his undies all the way up to the chandelier as part of his new pre potty ritual

This obviously resulted in significant confusion not knowing whether an entire month would be added, or being able to plan ahead for agrarian lifestyles.

Julius Caesar changed the calendar back to a Solar based calendar with 365 days, (and a single leap day when appropriate) but maintained the 28 day month of February. In order to realign the correct seasonality of the months with the new calendar, the year 46 BC was 445 solar days long.

I think we can all sympathize with our ancient ancestors, as 2020 (and especially that past 12 months from March to March) has seemed like a 445 day year with mismatched seasonality and no predictability.

Virtual high school reunion with scotch tasting

Still, the sun rose and set, the moon changed phases, and the requisite number of calendar pages were flipped. The year passed by, but how did you measure it?

For me, (and I would venture for most of us) the year brought a level of stress and uncertainty that I had not previously known. That necessitated a shift in focus and an awareness of my emotions, and the habits that feed them.

A lot of my plans and my ambitions were put on hold, and that energy needed an outlet. I find myself restless, angry, frustrated, and overwhelmed. I think more than anything the last twelve months presented an opportunity to confront these things in my life, rather than occupy myself with other things.

When everything is shut down, the internal struggle is amplified. The struggle continues, but I have an awareness and an appreciation for it that I don’t think would have been possible without the last year.

Seasons of love tells us there are 525,600 minutes and asks us how we measure a year. Regardless of the calendar you subscribe to, I hope the last twelve months have brought you an awareness and an appreciation like only a pandemic can.

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

Mayday

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week we celebrate El Duderino’s birthday. As I reflect on the past year of his life and all the growth I’ve seen, what sticks out the most is his behaviors surrounding help.

Mayday is a word most aviators hope never to have to use. It is the international radiotelephone distress signal, and when repeated three times it indicates imminent and grave danger, and that immediate assistance is requested.

The origin of the word mayday comes from the French, M’aidez, which is help me. Obviously there is a change in tone, connotation, and level of urgency when alternating between the two, but that is kind of the point. The difficulty as aviators, as parents, and as humans, is knowing when to ask for help and knowing when to say mayday.

This is a hard enough distinction for somewhat self reflective psuedo adults (yours truly), much less toddlers. When should I ask for help, who should I ask for help, and especially how should I ask for help, are all critical communication skills we could all improve upon.

El Duderino is at a stage where he wants to do things himself, but also needs a significant amount of help. He isn’t shy about asking for help, but it often comes in the form of a mayday like call from across the house. The desperation fills the room regardless of whether or not the situation demands it.

I’m left trying to parent the situation determining what the issue is, what type of help he needs, and if he needs to adjust his communication method before I provide such help. It is a lot to evaluate and even more to try to pass on to a toddler. Add on to that the fact that I’m still a little confused on what is the best way to approach the topic of “help”

In the bewildering and convoluted web that is modern masculinity, we end up with lots of different positions on help. Providing help to others, super manly. Needing help yourself, not so manly. Yet somehow admitting you need the help and actually asking for it, is somehow manly.

Picanaha, bacon wrapped scallops, and pork belly burnt ends birthday dinner

What is it about needing help, asking for help, accepting help, and providing help, that drives men of all ages to such silly mental gymnastics.

I won’t try to speak for all men, but I think for me it has a lot to do with conflict, like we talked about last week. There is value and growth to be found in conflict and struggle, and bypassing or shortening the conflict with help, could otherwise bypass or shorten the growth.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that tiny driving force called ego that gets in the way. Mine has certainly gotten me into a fair share of trouble often times because I was too proud to ask for help.

Speedy making friends at El Duderino’s birthday

When I do dig myself into enough of a hole that even my ego needs bailing out, I still struggle to ask for help. The request tends to mimic an old Dave Mathews song and my “grace is gone”. (Not that I have ever been accused of an abundance of grace to begin with)

Asking for help is an essential human behavior, and like most behaviors, it can be taught, learned, mimicked, and improved. Parents of toddlers know all too well how behaviors good and bad can be mimicked.

As El Duderino reaches his third birthday this is a skill I’m trying to improve in myself, so that I may provide a better example to teach him.

So the next time El Duderino starts screaming for help like he is going down over the atlantic, and the reason is that he can’t cram anymore play-doh into the cab of his matchbox dump truck, I have to remind myself that this is a teaching moment, and we could all use a little help.

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