Cycling – Page 5 – Serenity Through Sweat

Philology

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. As part of my language and communication project I have been doing a lot of reading. Most of it overly academic, and written solely for the academic community. Every once in a while though, a gem will shine through that affects all of us in a profound way.

I didn’t know what philology was until I was introduced to the word while reading John Marco Allegro’s The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross. Marco was a scholar who helped translate the Dead Sea Scrolls, and compare them to original source languages, (think Sumerian, Aramaic and Hebrew).

This was very interesting stuff in my mind, but I understand it is a niche audience. But shooting down the federal mask mandate, that might have some mass appeal. Coincidentally, also a task based in language and philology.

Kathryn Kimball Mizelle is the Florida district court judge whose summary judgment declared that the Federal Mask Mandate exceeded the CDC’s statutory authority. To understand why this is pertinent to our discussion of language, a little background information on both the history and timeline of these regulations as well as the legal system are important. (my mother and my wife have often told me I should have been a lawyer, turns out I’m more interested in arguing linguistics, which is more annoying and less lucrative)

The CDC relied heavily on the Public Health Services Act (PHSA) of 1944 as the statutory basis for their authorization to issue mandates to help manage the Covid pandemic. In Mizelle’s decision, she relies in part on the plain language and context of the PHSA to determine if the CDC’s action where in line with the intention of the original act.

While you and I as everyday non legal types might not be familiar with this process, you have probably heard some political pundit or politician say something like “this is what the founding father’s intended”. Same idea here. What did the authors of the PHSA intend with the act? What powers were granted or restrictions placed? And, more importantly for our purposes, what language was used, in what context, and what was it’s meaning at the time of writing?

When examining the plain language and context of the PHSA, the court found that the relevant portions authorized regulations to prevent the spread of diseases for specific limited circumstances: (1) individuals traveling from foreign countries into the States; and (2) for the purposes of “inspection, fumigation, disinfection, sanitation, pest extermination, destruction. . . and other measures”.

The court referenced the Corpus Linguistics database to verify the meaning of ‘sanitation’ in 1944, and determined it’s primary use was ‘to make things clean’ rather than ‘maintain a level of cleanliness’. The court concluded that “wearing a mask neither sanitizes the people wearing the mask or the conveyance”. There are other procedural and legal issues that are at play, but again they are beyond the scope of this language focused discussion.

Philology is the study of literary texts and of written records, the establishment of their authenticity and their original form, and the determination of their meaning. So when Allegro is studying the Dead Sea Scrolls and validating the original Sumerian and its intention before it was translated into Hebrew or Aramaic, he is engaged in a philological task. Judge Mizelle, when referencing the Corpus Linguistic database for the context and meaning of sanitation in 1944, is engaged in a philological task. One that has a tremendous impact on my day to day life in airports.

As I have said often on this platform, and will continue to repeat, words are important. The intention with which they were spoken or written is important. The study and exploration to determine that meaning is a noble and worthwhile pursuit. A pursuit which has an effect on our everyday life via our legal system disproportionately more significant than I think most of us understand.

When analyzing laws and regulations like the PHSA, a single word can change the context, meaning, and intention of a whole section, having major implications. The same is often true for anyone who works in business contracts, or (as this work is sometimes focused) in aviation.

Aviation is heavily regulated and standardized, and most of our processes and procedures need to be approved by the governing body the Federal Aviation Administration or FAA. The FAA, being a federal government agency, is governed by, you guessed it, laws. The Code of Federal Regulations or CFR, is the codifcation of the general and permanent rules published in the Federal Register by the departments and agencies of the Federal Government. Because the FAA is tasked with governing the aviation industry, the rules it makes become federal law. This is why you hear that it is a federal crime to tamper with lavatory smoke detectors every time you get on an airplane. It also means that a company manual, specifying a company procedure, that has to be approved by a federal regulating (read law making) body, is going to require a specificity of language akin to a federal law or a business contract.

Full blown summer mode in the sunshine state

Words like “may”, “must”, and “shall”, can be easily slipped into the middle of a lengthy and convoluted sentence, in the middle of lengthy and convoluted manual, but they represent, not just a company procedure, but a Federal mandate for how to operate an airplane. So when the captain tells me to select the required flap setting for our takeoff and I reply “flap handle one” instead of “flap lever one”, I am not operating my airplane in accordance with our company, and thus federal, requirements.

While that may seem a bit anal and pedantic, (it definitely is) “flap lever___” is in quotations, and thus is a required call out. There are areas where (as Austin has said) “a certain laxness in procedure is permitted, otherwise no university business would ever get done!”, and where a strict adherence to procedure, no matter how anal or obnoxious, is required.

I am reminded of this important distinction as the instructor smacks my shoulder for the fourth time today for referring to the flap lever as a flap handle, or the thrust levers as the throttles. Learning a new airplane is fun, and I have spent an inordinate amount of time proclaiming the importance of words and meaning. Still even a linguistics nerd like me is more than a little frustrated by the minutiae that we can get hung up on. I can appreciate the origin and necessity, and despise the outcome and how it impacts my life for the next month in training all at the same time.

Language literally creates, shapes, and defines our world. Searching for the original intent and meaning of language then, seems like a natural step toward serenity. One I’m excited to be taking and happy to share with you.

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

New relationship

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I mentioned last week that I was training on a new aircraft. This week I want to reflect on that process.

Training on a new aircraft is always an exciting and nerve wracking experience. It is very similar to starting to date someone new. There is an excitement attached to the newness. There is anxiety of the unknown. There is a hope of good things to come in the future together.

My happy little corner in the hotel room for the month

Just like a real relationship you show up with your past baggage. After all, you are getting out of a long term serious relationship with your last airplane. You learned what she liked and what she didn’t like. You learned her strengths and her weaknesses. The areas where you had to help her along, and the areas where she had your back, even when you had screwed something up.

You have to learn all of those things all over again. You have to get to know each other. You have to learn how she reacts to your inputs. What can you do to make her happy, and what you can avoid doing that will make her cranky?

In some cases it is like learning to speak a different language. Talking to your new airplane the way you talked to your old airplane is like calling her the wrong name. Nobody ends up happy, and the reaction is going to be undesirable at best.

On this Mother’s Day Sunday, I count myself very blessed to have strong women in my life. Women who set an example for my boys and I to follow on how to interact with the fairer sex.

Despite my interest in communication, and my academic endeavors into language and theory, this is still an area where I need all the help I can get.

The mother’s in my life have always been there with a firm but kind reminder. My mother was always reminding me, “It’s not just what you say but how you say it.” My wife is a miracle worker with my boys and I, making sure we are communicating with each other in a clear and respectful manner.

At the end of the day, isn’t that what the cornerstone of a new relationship is? Learning how to communicate with each other effectively. Falling into the patterns of familiarity where you know the right questions to ask, and the right answers to give. Where you know what is expected of you and your partner (or airplane as it were) knows what is expected/asked of them.

Regardless of the airplane you are flying, monitoring the flight path and ensuring the safety of flight is largely an exercise in those two questions. What have I asked the airplane to do, and what is it doing?

Have I actually asked it to do what I think I asked it to do? Is it doing what I think it should be doing? If it isn’t doing what I want, why not? Did I not ask the right questions or provide the right inputs?

These are questions I am asking myself on a daily basis here in training, with regards to the new airplane. How much of a better communicator could I be if I took the same approach with my wife and kids? Double checking my inputs before executing. Wouldn’t life be easier if you could try out your words in a temporary flight plan page to see how they look first?

Zwift sweat sessions maintaining my sanity and serenity while training

Training on a new aircraft necessarily takes up a lot of mental bandwidth. Maybe after this new relationship is established, it will help bring some lessons learned and serenity to my existing ones.

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog, stay safe and stay sweaty my friends.

Neoteny

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I made my way up to Atlanta to start training on a new aircraft yesterday. That will probably be a topic for next week. Over the past few weeks I’ve been trying to study for that new aircraft on top of my already extensive list of hobbies, projects, and those pesky adult responsibilities like working and being a husband and father. All work and no play makes jack a dull boy, as they say. Which is why I’m thinking about neoteny.

I was introduced to the concept by author Edward Slingeland, in his latest work Drunk how we sipped danced and stumbled our way to civilization.

The book provides a very well thought out and compelling argument supporting the careful use of alcohol in adults. Things like creativity, lateral thinking, team building and trust are some of the positive outcomes that are enhanced with responsible alcohol consumption. These are not just anecdotes, but we’ll documented peer reviewed scientific findings.

The book covers the dangers and pitfalls of alcohol as well, and makes the case for moderate use with appropriate set and setting.

One of the things I found fascinating, was how alcohol effects the adult mind mechanistically. Especially the analogies that Slingeland provided. Alcohol effectively down-regulates the prefrontal cortex (PFC). An area of the brain Slingeland refers to as the playground monitor.

The PFC is responsible for all of the pesky adult things like keeping you focused, task managing, self regulation, and daily routines. It is also the part of your brain that develops later in life (late adolescence).

This is the reason I can focus on putting on my shoes to take my kids to the playground, while El Duderino and Speedy want to play pirate, even though ten seconds ago the were asking me to take them. Their PFCs are not fully developed. Their task management, social cognition, and focus (or lack of all three) is the normal state of operation for their brain. The playground monitor doesn’t yet exist.

There are advantages however, to having no playground monitor. Children score significantly better than adults on lateral thinking tasks like a (remote associate test). You are given three seemingly unrelated words and asked to come up with a fourth that is related to the first three. Here is an example Fox, Man, Peep. (answer at the end of the post).

Adults are able to close that gap in lateral thinking ability with their progeny by temporarily taking their PFCs offline. This has been done in scientific studies with cranial magnets, and with carefully administered doses of alcohol.

In other words, making your brain revert closer to it’s childhood state increase lateral thinking ability, reduces inhibitions, and provides an escape from the all that adult regulating going on in the PFC. Sounds like exactly what I was aiming to do at my college dive bar karaoke night.

This reversion to a more childlike state of mind can be very advantageous, especially when coupled with other similarly reverted individuals with similar goals. Slingeland references the types of synergy that is produced at industry conferences when creative individuals gather together with adequate social lubricant.

SerenityThroughSweat, with some friends tagging along

What I also found interesting, was that this reversion to a more child like state of mind, is not the only aspect of humans where retaining child like features has been evolutionarily selected for. Neoteny, (biologically speaking) is the retention of juvenile traits into adulthood.

I’m not sure knocking my play ground monitor of a pre frontal cortex out with a few craft beers is exactly what biologists had in mind with Neoteny, but Slingeland sure makes a good case for it.

Ironically (or maybe less ironic and more appropriate) the last line of my marriage vows read “I can’t promise to grow up, but I promise to grow old with you” retention of juvenile traits into adulthood runs deep in my gene pool.

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

Just walking in Memphis, on my last trip before changing airplanes

The answer to the remote associate test was “hole” (foxhole, manhole, peephole)

Standstill

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. While working on my linguistics project I have come across a lot of universal wisdom disguised as bland academia. Thoughts and quotes that produce a lasting effect well beyond the initial reading. I wanted to share one of them with you this week.

One of the best ways to truly understand a thing, is to study it’s history and development. Things rarely take a linear path to their current status. Those twists and turns are often filled with difficult decisions, decisions which alter trajectory.

The study of language and communication is no different. If anything I have found it to be even more interesting, because there’s is so much we don’t know. Hypotheses rise and fall on new data and discoveries in a never ending change of tides. The Oxford Handbook of the History of Linguistics, tells this story across the millennia and across the various areas of linguistic study.

Our current understanding of language, is in large part due to understanding the process of change. What data we have an ancient languages, and mapping the changes through the years to where we are now.

One of the beautiful things about language is that it is dynamic and mobile. A word’s meaning, connotation, even it’s spelling is all subject to change.

“There can never be in language, just as there can never be in the continually blazing thoughts of men, a moment of true standstill.” (von Humboldt 1836b: 184)

Linguists draw a comparison (which could also be expanded to fit humans) that languages only become static when they stop being used. These are then considering “dead” languages. People are very much the same.

Even the most obstinate toddler (not that I have any experience with those) is constantly being exposed to new information and experiences. They are a bundle of new patterns and changes.

When we stop our continually blazing thoughts, when we stop learning and growing, we reach a mental standstill. We become our own dead language. Something other people have little use for, except maybe a passing curiosity.

Spring emerging from the gloom along the trail in Augusta

The standstill is akin to death in this mental metaphor, which translates well to the physical realm. In grappling sports constant motion is required to set up an technique. Being at a standstill is a surefire way to get beat, or worse, injured.

In endurance sports a standstill is the classic sign of defeat. Haunched over, heaving, hands on knees, halted. The picture of an athlete who cannot progress any further that day.

A beautiful day for a tour d’ stade in Gainesville

Von Humboldt’s words are beautiful, and I think they are accurate. It seems with any judgement of people (and language for that matter too) it becomes necessary to add a caveat. An asterisk.

Never is a powerful word. An absolute. One that begs no argument. Humans, and language, can only find themselves at a true standstill of their own accord. When they fail to forge forward along the path, is when they die literally or metaphorically.

No standing still on the zwift pedals, freewheeling doesn’t work.

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

Expression

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This past weekend my wife and I celebrated our collective birthdays attending a concert. The opening act reminded me of the beauty of expression.

Not to be confused with the post by the same name from last Christmas, which discussed the variety in expression of beers following the German purity law or Reinheitsgebot. This is all about the beauty of self expression. (To be fair if you express yourself by creating beer that is beautiful and I salute you)

Alan Chapell sat alone on the stage, with nothing but a small electronic keyboard in front of him. He felt accessible. Maybe too accessible. It was a great thing for the audience to feel that close to the artist. But I’ve seen it go wrong with redesigned kiosks, gate agents, and flustered passengers, too many times that I had a sense of unease on his behalf.

El Duderino playing with his pecker (his name for the toy parrot, get your mind out of the gutter)

Before each song Chapell gave a quick four or five sentence introduction. What his inspiration was. Who the song was for. Some small story or anecdote from his life at the time of the song’s creation.

Chapell’s fingers danced across the keys as he sang his stories. Each offering was a small piece of his life. A moment in time. The thoughts and feelings, the interactions with a lover or a friend. Each song a work of art, not necessarily because it was a great music (it was), but because he did such a masterful job of distilling the moment. Taking the complexities of life events and presenting them in clear three minute chunks, with melodies to boot.

Building a dog house for his valentine’s day present

To be honest I’m not sure how much I was enamored with the music, so much as I was captivated by him as a storyteller. I was definitely tapping me feet, clapping, and swaying along. In the end his ability to express his innermost self was far more impactful than his musical stylings.

I recently heard Jordan Peterson on the Joe Rogan podcast say “the pathway to success for virtually everyone, is facilitation of their capacity to communicate” I had to go back and play the quote three or four times to make sure I got it right. Those fourteen words pack a punch.

Jordan Peterson also discussed how music matches the rhythm of our humanity. How moving along with music is instinctual. It is in our DNA.

I couldn’t help but think about the music I listen to. Why I like it, and what it says or means to me. What the artists were trying to express through their chosen medium. How this blog is largely a vehicle for my own personal expression. A facilitation of my own capacity to communicate.

One of the most gut wrenching things I do as a father is watch my boys struggle to express themself. At 4 and 2 respectively, El Duderino and Speedy fight an uphill battle based purely on limited vocabulary and phonetic acumen.

Some mobility work and a 5k in the new kicks while home

But beyond that, all words are inherently abstract. The way we describe our inner feelings are approximations at best. Now we are taking about shared approximations described with abstract symbols to try to convey some sense of meaning. Throw in a societal predisposition (especially based on gender) to close off certain feelings, and it’s a wonder any young man can express himself at all.

I’m appreciative of the opportunity this platform has provided. I hope that someday my boys can look back on it. I hope that they can see the growth of their father. See my mistakes and shortcomings. My desire towards self improvement. When viewed on a long enough timeline, hopefully, an increased capacity to communicate.

Post concert spin bike and some layover miles in CAE.

Thank 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.

Misogi

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I try to write weekly, so this would have been for the week of Nov 28-Dec 4, one week out from IM FL 70.3. because life often gets in the way it’s being written on Dec 9, three days till race day.

Despite being a notoriously braggadocious group, I have never heard a pilot claim to have a perfect check ride. There is always some small detail, or some overlooked aspect that could have been performed better.

As close as we get to white Christmas in FL

I think the same is true of triathletes, runners, and cyclists. Even after winning an event, beating a goal time, or setting a new PR (personal record), there is always some aspect of the race or the preparation that could have gone better.

Neurologically, when we stress our body, especially the type of heightened stress that comes with the fast speeds and hyper focus of racing, all the details of the event get imprinted onto our memories. The same neural pathways are triggered when flashing lights, bells and whistles start going off while moving hundreds of miles per hour across the ground in a metal tube.

Chilly treadmill work in Montreal, and speedo weather at the pool in FL

This is an evolutionary trait that helps us learn from what were typically life or death encounters in our ancient past. Hunting to feed your family, escaping a predator, traversing a difficult landscape to find shelter, all fit the bill.

Where those types of events might have happened somewhat regularly to our ancestors, it is relatively easy to avoid that kind of stress and discomfort in today’s society especially if you are above the poverty line in the U.S.

Enter Misogi. (You can read more about it here) An ancient Japanese practice that originated with a myth and has been adapted to a modern concept of challenge. The idea is to pick a challenge for yourself once a year that tests your physical and mental limits. A challenge that you don’t know if you can actually complete.

Part of the thought process is that you don’t know where the end of your potential lies unless you push up to the failure point. Part of the magic is that the neural imprinting from such a challenge stays with you long after you cross the finish line, or don’t for that matter too.

While I’ve finished a full Ironman triathlon, and finished a few half Ironman distance races, this one feels a little different. For starters I haven’t raced this long of a course since before I had kids. My priorities and responsibilities at home, and my time and ability to train are all drastically different than they were when I crossed the line at IM FL almost a decade ago.

Despite wrestling in hundreds of matches and grappling for closing in on 30 years, I still get butterflies in my stomach before ever match. I’ve been racing for less than half that time, and I get butterflies at the starting line too.

I’m sure when I’m on the beach at Lake Eva state park in just a few days I will have butterflies for the trial that lies ahead. Right now I have the thought of Misogi, a challenge with an uncertain outcome, that lingers in my head.

Like an old friend who has perhaps overstayed his welcome, the excitement of the challenge along with the uncertainty and doubt have become an unwelcome guest, but one that I cannot force to leave before the time has come.

I’m nervous and excited. I’m proud that my boys will be able to share this challenge with me, even in some small way, and I hope that one day I can share challenges of theirs with uncertain outcomes.

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

Bourbon dreams

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’ve been reading a lot about America’s favorite drink since my wife and I visited Louisville last week. And while on a lonely Thanksgiving overnight I found this gem by Wright Thompson.

The following is an excerpt from his book Pappyland (which I ordered immediately upon finishing the article). Multiple times throughout the short read I was struck not only by Thompson’s prose and command of language and imagery, but by the deep and meaningful themes he connected to bourbon.

The beauty of the holiday season in FL, you can look at Christmas lights in the park and still enjoy a snow cone

“A career that aligned with my deepest wants and protective urges, both in how it would let me roam and how it would let me avoid myself by diving into the lives of others. I’ve always been happiest when dreaming of escape. From my earliest memories, my greatest solace and focus came while moving, or planning to move, from small actions like pacing while answering flash cards to planning elaborate road trips I knew I’d never take. When I look back at my early life, everything I read and watched and love and hoped and even feared came from this desire to fly far away.”

The idea of avoiding oneself by diving in to the life of another is something I think journalists and maybe actors can relate to, but as Thompson points out everyone can get out of their own way by immersion into their craft. And if that craft is movement based (pilots, journalists who have to travel, or athletes) so much the better.

I wrote back in May about restricted movement. Whether it is injury for an athlete or quarantine or lockdowns, I think there is a part of all of us that wants to rebel against movement restrictions in any form. This is what led me to the world of endurance sports and specifically to IronMan FL 70.3 taking place in less than two weeks.

But more than just wanting to move when we are otherwise unable to, Thompson’s words capture an emotion that I think most triathletes and most pilots live with but struggle to balance and convey.

I look at my work schedule when it is posted each month and plan out adventures that may or may not happen in the layover cities I’m supposed to visit. The schedule often changes whether by my action, my company’s, or external factors like weather or maintenance, but I’m still always moving to a different city and some new adventure awaits.

Most of those adventures involve some sort of movement, a hike, a running path, a walk through a different city to a restaurant or bar I like. My next trip has a layover in Chattanooga where I’m hoping to get in a scenic fall 5k before stopping at a local diner with a desert case that would make the Cheesecake Factory blush.

Rode the first half of the IM FL 70.3 bike course virtually, and some zwift miles through the foothills of France

There is something protective about movement, or maybe there is something vulnerable in stillness. Either way, flying to another place, running or biking, even if it is stationary, moving always has a net calming effect for me.

There is a magical effect when I walk into an airplane that my problems seem to melt away. The airplane doesn’t solve any problems, and they are always waiting for me back on the ground, but flying has a way of lowering the volume on everything else in life.

Athletics have always held that same powerful effect for me. The wrestling mat or the jui jitsu mat has always been a special place almost spiritual. Like stepping into another dimension, where all your baggage gets checked at the door, I grew up Catholic and seldom felt that way walking into church. There is a special mental space only attainable by forgetting your fixation on first world minutiae, and trying to avoid being choked unconscious.

A similar state of mind occasionally becomes accessible to me after long miles on the road or in the saddle. No one is trying to choke me, but the mental struggle against my weaker thoughts, my faults and failings, match the physical struggle to just keep moving.

I’m excited to read the rest of Thompson’s work, and I’m grateful already for his illumination of an emotion that I can so keenly relate to and at the same time, have struggled to express.

I hope that you the reader can find the same solace and focus in whatever your craft may be, that many of us find in movement.

Thanksgiving day treadmill brick run that came after 2hrs on a spin bike

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

Power Curve

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This last week has been all about getting over the case of the cooties as a family, and it reminded me of an old aviation lesson.

Learning how to fly is both art and science. You can learn and apply without getting too deep into the math and engineering side if you are so inclined, but where is the fun in that. For me, the math and science made it real and added to my ability to process the phenomena I was experiencing in the plane.

I did a lot of riding at night after the rest of the cooties filled house was asleep, these two were still behind the power curve

One of those phenomena is the aircraft’s position at any given time along the power curve. The power available curve (or thrust available curve, the difference is important but beyond the scope of today’s discussion) is relatively straight forward. The engine is capable of producing different amounts of maximum power based on engine specifications as well as environmental factors like temperature, pressure, and altitude.

The power required curve is a combination of the different types of drag that the aircraft must overcome based on its particular flying conditions. Some drag is based on pure speed, some is based on how much lift is produced.

When both curves are graphed together (power required vs power available) the image is a power envelope. This envelope allows us to determine scenarios (in this case environmental and airspeed) and how much excess power the aircraft has. How much more power it is capable of producing than what it needs.

Notice at a certain point in the graph, it actually requires more power, (and significantly more power for that matter) to fly a slower airspeed. This is denoted on the graph as the region of reversed command and is also known as flying behind the power curve.

Behind the power curve, is where I found myself in recovery from the cooties. I wasn’t moving as fast, or getting as much done, but It felt like I needed way more power to do it. I was moving a lot slower, but my engine felt like it was closer to red line than it ought to have been.

As the week progressed, I started to move out of the region of reverse command and get back ahead of the power curve. My power envelope and “excess power” expanded for things like resuming training and the extra attention and patience that El Duderino and Speedy often demand.

These zwift rides were a bit more structured as I got back in front of the power curve

Obviously the cooties were a significant environmental factor that put me behind the power curve, but I was thinking about other times I felt that way. Whether it was the Doldrums, over training, poor dietary choices, jealousy, anxiety, nervousness or any of the other negative emotions that can drain excess power.

There are lots of ways to put ourselves behind the power curve, and while an aircraft can and will fly there, it isn’t the most efficient or the most comfortable place to fly. It is important to understand how and why to operate behind the power curve, and it is just as important to know how to get back out in front of it.

This was a warmup lap and then 2 laps for my first zwift race. I have a long way to go but it was a fun experience and felt good to rev the engine

I’m thankful I was able to support my family and recover while on the backside of the power curve. And I’m even more thankful to be back on the other side and back to pushing up the power.

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

Blanket forts and popsicles help you get back in front of the power curve right?