Family – Serenity Through Sweat

But will there be cookies?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Make your own kind of music

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

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

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

The rooftop from our airbnb in Marseille

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

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

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

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

Cathedral Notre dame and beach day in the Mediterranean

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Acropolis tour and getting on the cruise ship

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boat cruise, swimming and Delos tour in Mykonos

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

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

Outcome

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe that is a bit too much philosophizing over making fudge, but I think we could all use some more stubborn dedication to family values.

The pursuit of passing on what is important to us, to the generations that follow, knowing that the outcome is never guaranteed.

13th annual Christmas half marathon and the first run of the new year

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

Progress

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. A few weeks ago, I earned my black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and I wanted to reflect on that today.

I started wrestling when I was 5 years old. I have been grappling in one form or another for most of my life. For all intents and purposes, I have been throwing other people around, and getting thrown around myself, for longer than I have done any other activity in my life.

It’s kind of weird to think about it that way. I went to school from kindergarten, all the way up through a masters degree, but I have still spent more years on the mats than in a classroom.

I’ve only been working a real job (if you can even call flying an airplane a real job) since I was 18. Again less time than I’ve spent manipulating sweaty bodies.

Earning a black belt was never something I sought out or aspired to. In fact, growing up as a wrestler, I thought they were kind of a joke.

Every martial artist thinks their art is the toughest, and their gym is the best, and wrestlers are no exception. But, wrestling doesn’t have any belts, so the idea always seemed silly to me.

Even when I transitioned to Jiu Jitsu, the idea of belts seemed less important, and mote symbolic than anything. With so much wrestling experience, my white belt in Jiu Jitsu quickly became a point of frustration for my training partners.

Even as a blue belt and a purple belt, I would have lots of frustrated peers in the gym comparing themselves to my belt color without the understanding that thousand of hours of wrestling weren’t factored in to the rankings.

I started teaching and instructing as a brown belt, and any of those misconceptions that had existed before, melted away quickly.

Even when I received my black belt, and I knew the honor was coming, I wasn’t sure what it meant to me. I knew I would be asked to speak, and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say.

I said some thank yous to my coaches, my mother, my family, and my teammates and training partners. I talked about how wrestling and Jiu Jitsu have been a release for me. A safe place to de stress and decompress. To get out of my own head and out of my own way. Serenity Through Sweat.

I felt that my remarks after receiving my black belt were inadequate. I was unprepared to explain not just what it meant to me, but what grappling has done for me, what it has taught me, and how it has shaped me.

Thankfully, I have this space, to explore and share those thoughts. I also have, hopefully, many more years on the mats to share those thoughts and the knowledge gained with anyone who will train with me.

My biggest takeaway from grappling, the thing that I learned on the mats through blood, sweat, and tears across three decades, that yranslates so well to everything ends in life: progress is not linear.

If you put in the work, really put it the work, doing the right things, you will make progress.

Sometimes, that progress comes in leaps and bounds, slowly and then all at once. Those are the magical moments we remember. When something finally clicks and we level up.

Sometimes progress does come in a steady trickle. You grind out the reps you are supposed to and are rewarded in kind.

A lot of the time though, certainly more than we would like, progress is infintecimally small. What seemed at one point like a steady climb becomes filled with plateaus and false peaks.

It is easy to feel like you are treading water or stuck in a rut.

I can’t tell you how many times across my grappling career I have felt stuck. How many times I didn’t know if I could improve or how. How many times i thought i had leveled up, only to be humbled and feel like I was starting from scratch again.

My senior year in high school, coming off championships the previous two years, I didn’t score a single takedown on my main training partner in the practice room all year. Not one

I still went on to win the state championship that year and advance further than I had previously. A whole year of treading water in the practice room. Feeling like I wasn’t making any progress, but my persistence was rewarded in the end.

Im reminded of the scene in Catch Me If You Can (obviously a favorite of pilots who wished they looled half as cool as frank abagnail jr strutting through the terminal flanked by attractive young flight attendants)

Frank’s father gives a speech about two mice thrown into a bucket of cream. One mouse struggles so hard, he churns the cream into butter, and crawls out.

Treading water, but making progress. It certainly wasn’t linear, but rather slowly, and then all at once.

That’s how I feel about my black belt, and that is the lesson I hope to pass on to other grapplers, and to my boys, wether they choose to follow me ontonthe mats or not.

Progress isn’t linear. But, if you keep struggling, keep churning, keep climbing the mountain through the false peaks and plateaus, you will find the summit.

The journey is a worthy endeavor, and there is plentynof serenity to be found along the way.

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

Thanksgiving

The crisp air felt refreshing, rather than the typical dry ragged burn of icy dryness down my throat. The sun came in blinding flashes through the trees, still clinging to the last leaves of fall. The horn section of the ska track greeted me with enthusiasm despite the combination of running earmuffs and headphones chaffing my cauliflowered ears as I bounded through the park.

Sometimes, the music just sets you up for the right kind of day.

I flew into JFK this morning and meandered my way through heavy traffic both, vehicular and sidewalk, to get to Central Park.

I’m not sure what it is, but there is something special about running there. All the other people enjoying the outdoors. The protected green space, surrounded by a concrete jungle. Running fast enough to pass all the horse drawn carriages (and avoiding stepping in their steaming piles).

It got me thinking about all the things I’m thankful for. The list is long. I am very blessed. But, at the forefront, I’m thankful for a life of adventure.

Raising kids is an adventure. Choosing a life partner is an adventure. Traveling to new places and actually exploring those places leads to all sorts of adventures.

These past few months, in particular, I have been seeking out more and more of those adventures.

Part of it was training and preparation for the six gap century ride, (a grand adventure in its own right). But, I think that training also reawakened in me the thirst for adventure.

What started as a way to get in some extra miles morphed into something beautiful. Opportunities taken, not squandered, and approached with reverence and appreciation.

I’m eternally grateful for these opportunities. To travel, to explore, to interact with these new and familiar places in new and exciting ways.

I’m grateful for the physical health and wellness that enables me pursue these passions.

Riding 90 miles around Lake tahoe, knowing I have an early morning and a long day of work ahead tomorrow.

Fumbling my way on a rickety hotel bike to a trailhead for a hike in Montana

Racing ahead of my new group ride friends on unfamiliar roads so I can get back in time to drink wine with my wife

Struggling up a sandy logging road in the back hills of Boise during wildfire season.

Riding through the fall foliage in Roanoke on the blue ridge parkway late enough in the season that it is closed for cars.

Taking Speedy and El Duderino on a boys weekend trip immediately after returning from a red eye.

I’m grateful for the joie de vivre, that gets me out of the hotel and out of the house to explore. Grateful that it is something I get to do, not something I have to do.

I’m grateful to both of my parents for instilling that sense of wonder and adenture in me. I hope that my words, and more so my actions, instill that same sense of wonder in my boys.

That they can see the plethora of adventures that await them. That they can see all the joy waiting for them to reach out and claim on their own paths.

I hope that they get a chance to explore the big, beautiful world i am just starting to explore.

I hope that they see the value in adventure and are inspired to follow their own passions

I hope that they find their own serenity, even if only for the briefest of moments, and maybe they even get a little sweaty along the way.

I’m grateful for the opportunity to watch them in that endeavor, for as long as I can, knowing that tomorrow is not a guarantee.

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

Auto pause

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. A few weeks ago, I completed the six gap century ride and I wanted to reflect on that experience.

It was not the ideal backdrop for the 104 miles and 11,000+ of climbing. Hurricane Helene had just pushed through north Georgia and western North Carolina. Roads were wet, trees and debris were all over, and the forecast was for rain and fog in the mountains.

A lot of the participants, including some of my friends and teammates, were delaying their departure, thinking the event might be rescheduled or canceled.

It’s difficult to explain the mindset leading up to a big event like this. Most of the time, it is something you haven’t done before. The most miles, the biggest climb, the longest day, maybe all three, for this particular event.

All the training and preparation lead you to this moment on the starting line for something you’ve never done before. The uncertainty of the outcome and the uncertainty of the circumstances combine to test your resolve in a strangely invigorating way.

It’s important to go into any event with a plan. But, the longer the event, the more likely it is that the plan is going to blow up at some point. So, it is important to be able to pivot and be flexible within your overall framework.

I gave myself plenty of time to wake up, stretch, and drive to the event parking area, even leaving in some extra time for the unexpected.

The unexpected came in the form of my third trip to the port-a-potty and my new bike computer failing to load the route within the final minutes before the starting horn. Better to get it out beforehand, I suppose.

Two thousand of my new best friends and I started through the quiet streets of Dahlonega, a parade of multi colored lycra and flashing bike lights.

We climbed and descended, weaving our way through small mountain towns, making our way through the foggy peaks and fall foliage.

The steepest of the climbs on the day, Hogpen gap came 37 miles into the ride. Averging a 10% gradient with parts of the climb above 15%, it was a slow and quiet climb.

The road had been closed off to vehicle traffic, which made the climb eerily quiet. The slow clicking of pedals and deep rythmic breathing echoed off the trees and the damp cliffside rocks.

Not having the route on my bike computer, I didn’t know how far into the climb I was or how much I had left. (The precise feature I had purchased this bike computer for, c’est la vie)

Looking down, I noticed that the computer was paused. I had not turned off my auto pause feature. This is a feature, (usually helpfull for Florida training rides), where the bike computer realizes you aren’t moving and pauses the activity tracking. It auto resumes once it detects movement again.

So if you stop at a traffic light, or break to eat or refill a bottle, your training stats are not affected by the pause.

The trudging dance of pedals up Hogpen gap was slow enough that my bike computer thought I wasn’t moving at all.

That was a little deflating.

But, the bike computer doesn’t know the struggle. It doesn’t know the experience. It is binary. Above this speed is moving, and below it is stopped.

The whole thing made me think of Einstein. One of his many famous quotes, coming from a letter to his son, was, “Life is like riding a bicycle, to keep your balance you must keep moving”

Even when it looks like you are standing still or treading water, struggling to keep your head afloat, the movement is what saves you. The movement is what balances you, literally and figuratively.

I made it over the top of Hogpen gap with lots more miles and lots more climbing still in front of me. I kept moving. It wasn’t always fast, and it wasn’t always pretty, but it was always forward.

Every bike I have had since I started racing has had a name. This bike was purchased with the six gap ride in mind. It had to be nimble up the climbs and fast and stable down the descents. I struggled to come up with a name for the first few months I had it.

Her name came to me while listening to this Shawn James song on a training ride, looking out over the mountains.

“So you think you got it all figured out?
All this money in the bank and the women all about. Well, now what you gonna do when your ship starts to sink?
Caught in a monstrous sea and you won’t be able to think. Yeah, and it’s there you’ll learn what I know. That all of this world will fade You gotta learn to let it all go, oh And flow like the river”

Flow like the river. Always moving. Always forward. Changing course if something blocks its way, but constant power and movement.

One of my favorite TV/movie combos is Firefly/Serenity. It features a rag tag bunch of outlaw space adventurers defying the odds aboard their shuttle ‘Serenity’. The story centers around a character named River.

Constant movement, serenity, an incredible cinematic journey, some funky blues guitar, it all lined up perfectly for what I wanted this bike to be.

Flow like the river

A reminder of why I keep coming back to new endurance challenges. To keep growing. To keep moving forward. To find serenity. To flow like the river, whether the world thinks you are on auto pause or not.

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

Here it is your moment of zen

Change

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week, I want to talk about change, how we are the most adaptable creatures on the planet, and at the same time, are incredibly resistant to change.

It has been longer than I like since my last post, but as you know, life has a a tendency to get in the way.

El Duderino had his second cataract removal surgery this month, which saw me home with him helping him recover. By helping him recover, I mean making sure he gets all the requisite eye drops in. Sometimes, that done with a gentle hand and a gentle word. Other times, it was my best grappling skills to stabilize bodied in a pacifying manner.

Last time bouncing before surgery and healing time

The surgery went well, and El Duderino is on his way to a bright new future, quite literally. In the days immediately after the surgery though, he refused to open his eyes. Both the recently operated on eye, as well as the already recovered eye.

The first day after surgery is crucial for examination, I’m told. So much so, that the eye Dr asked about putting him under anesthesia a second time if she was unable to examine the eye.

It took every ounce of physical and emotional strength I had to hold him down the day after surgery. Squirming and screaming in the eye doctor’s chair, he was adamant on not opening his eyes.

Outside of normal human functions, breathing, moving, talking, the one activity I have spent more of my life doing than anything else, is forcibly controlling bodies. I felt uniquely qualified for this task, in spite of the emotional toll it took on me.

It didn’t occur to me that this change would be so jarring for him. I don’t know what his vision was before. I don’t really know what it is now. We have metrics that we can assign to vision, and those metrics have improved. But his lived experience, even as a very articulate six year old, is very hard to discern.

Going from a cloudy field of vision, to a clear field of vision, even with a brief hiatus in recovery seemed like it should be a good change. One to be welcomed and embraced. Instead, he retreated. He stayed in a self imposed darkness for almost three full days.

We were able to pry his eye open safely the day after surgery. Every other attempt to get him to open his eyes over the next three days was unsuccessful. Look, your favorite show is on TV, “no thanks”. Can you help me pick out some cookies to share with our friends? “Maybe you can just tell me about them”.

I’m not sure what he was thinking or feeling. The most I was able to get out of him was, “it feels funny when I open it”

And still, after the third day, his eyes opened, like it had never happened. He adapted to his new reality. How can we as a species be both so stubborn and so adaptable?

I’ve been doing a lot more grappling in the past few months as I transition out of triathlon season. I’ve also tried to train at different gyms across the country as I travel, preparing for an upcoming competition.

I was recently training at a 10th planet gym, known for their unorthodox no gi style, especially their guard. The head instructor commented that I had one of the best “wrestler guards” he had seen in a while.

Wrestlers are programmed from day one not to go to their back. I heard Daniel Cormier (UFC double champ and Olympic wrestler) recently say he can’t sleep on his back without having nightmares, a sentiment I had during my high-school wrestling days as well.

Cycling miles fell off a bit as BJJ season picks up.

As I have transitioned to BJJ over the last decade, I have made a concerted effort to play guard and feel comfortable off my back. At this point, most of my training time is spent there, fighting from my back, or at least the bottom position.

I have adapted extremely well to the new rule set and strategy of Jiu Jitsu. And yet, at this latest competition, I found myself stubbornly insisting on wrestling, despite almost none of my training and preparation for this competition, including wrestling of any sort.

Like a small child with my eyes closed, I clung to what was familiar, shaying away from a change that had already happened. A change that has made me better.

It is difficult in the heat of the moment to embrace the new game plan and not revert to the comfort of old patterns. I’ve done a great job making this change in the gym, but have yet to see that transition fully materialize in competition.

Adaptable and stubborn. Embracing change, and simultaneously rejecting it. Hiding from it. Eyes closed curled up under the blanket.

As the saying goes, the only constant, is change. We are incredibly adaptable creatures, and there is serenity to be found in embracing that change.

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

Loss

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This past weekend I competed in the Pan American Jiu Jitsu championships, and I wanted to share my results and my experience.

One of my favorite TV shows in college was scrubs. This was in a TV era where dvr technology had just emerged but I couldn’t afford it at the time.

New episodes of your favorite show aired at a certain time, on a certain day. If you weren’t able to watch it you had to wait till the episode reran. Or, maybe you were lucky enough to have a friend with a dvr and could watch it at their house.

This also gave rise to the spoiler, and the spoiler alert. Someone who watched the newest episode would inevitably want to discuss it with you, knowing that you were also a fan, but unaware that you hadn’t seen it yet.

My roommates and I watched a lot of scrubs. The show was humorous and heartwarming. I was never really concerned about spoilers. (Lost was another story)

Most of the show was narrated in the voice of JD, John Dorian. The main character played by Zach Braff who works his way as a doctor through the Sacred Heart Hospital and grows up along the way.

There are a few episodes which are narrated by his tough love mentor figure, Dr Cox. These episodes occur after Dr Cox’s botched vasectomy where he is having overly philosophical conversations with his infant son Jack, swinging in a baby rock n play. (Way more back story than you needed, but that was more for my trip down memory lane than anything else)

That image of a grown man, established and respected in his profession, bearing his soul to an unresponsive drooling baby swinging back and forth, is one I think about often with this blog.

It is a very one sided conversation, a monologue with a captive audience that is unable to respond.

It is also a beautiful moment of vulnerability and sensitivity for an otherwise rough and gruff character. Dr Cox bearing his soul to a child who likely won’t remember any of what is said.

A lot of this blog is directly or indirectly for my boys. That they might look back in time at the man their father was before they were able to understand such adult intricacies. I found myself in one of those conversations yesterday with El Duderino.

My wife had taken the boys to a birthday party while I went to the Jiu Jitsu tournament. I was able to join them after a rather unceremonious first round loss. By the time I got there El Duderino was in a full meltdown.

My wife scooped him up and took him home. I stayed with Speedy for another hour or so, letting him play while I caught up with friends.

We had a very nice rest of the evening as a family, bit when it came time for bed El Duderino was still struggling. There were lots of things I could have said to him. Things I know have worked in the past to calm him down. But I found myself giving one of those Dr Cox like monologues to a somewhat captive audience instead. (El Duderino had crawled into his trundle bed mattress while it was still tucked under his twin bed, I layed at the lengthwise exit so he was very much a captive audience)

I told him he seemed sad and upset. I told him I felt sad, and upset, and disappointed. I told him I had competed that afternoon and lost. I told him I fell short of my goals and expectations. I told him that good things can be born from disappointment.

I tried to boil my feelings down to a five year old, hiding under the bed, level. To put my disappointment, frustration, and anger into a positive light for El Duderino to see. To show him the soil that can be tilled for growth out of loss.

I don’t know if the lesson sank in. I may never know. I don’t think I was as gracious in loss as I ought to have been in the moment. Losing 0-0 by advantage is a tough pill to swallow. But there was a unique catharsis in sharing the emotions of my loss with my young son. I had never experienced that before.

I don’t like to lose. I am very fortunate to still be somewhat unaccustomed to it, after essentially thirty years of grappling. Still, I recognize the lessons to be learned. Even more so now that I am a father. I hadn’t competed in a Jiu Jitsu tournament in three years, and I hadn’t lost a competition match since having kids. It only felt right to share that with them, and I hope they can learn as much from it as I did.

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

Delimitation

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Continuing to work my way through linguistic research I came across the following entry from General Course in Linguistics by Ferdinand Sassure.

“A linguistic entity is not ultimately defined until it is delimited, i.e. separated from whatever there may be on either side of it in a sequence of sounds. It is these delimited entities or units which contrast with one another in the mechanism of language”

At the same time I was reading this passage I was listening to the Huberman Lab podcast with movement and mobility master, Ido Portal. When Ido spoke about movement he intentionally didn’t define it or delimit it.

You can find the full conversation on the Huberman Lab podcast, but I’ll paraphrase his message. “A fluid is delimited by it’s container but that is not the entirety of it’s being. So it is with movement”

Ido also said it was his goal to not answer any of Professor Huberman questions because words are incomplete and delimiting entities.

I was struck the the diametric opposition of these two points. It is obviously a philosophical thought experiment. One that may not have an entirely productive outcome. But, I found it fun to engage in none the less.

On the one hand, a linguistic unit (not always as simple in academic terms but for our purposes today: a word) only has meaning by it’s delimitation from all other words. On the other hand, an idea, being delimited by a word will often fail to capture the entirety of it’s essence or being.

Words are our most effective tool to express ideas. But words are an imperfect tool. Both Sassure and Portal approach the same point, that words are primarily negatively defined entities, from different angles.

That means that words are defined more so by what they aren’t, than what they are. It is easier to define a difficult word by pointing out how it is unlike other words than what it actual is itself.

Think about a word like morose: “having a gloomy or sad disposition”. But feeling morose isn’t gloomy, or sad, or upset, or depressed. If it were, those words would do, and there would be no need for morose. The same could be said of ecstatic. Happy, joyful, glad, excited… All of these words are close but not exact. We define our some of our most important words negatively, by how they are unlike other “known” quantities.

I think that is why there is such beauty in art. Whether it is the written word, music, or some form of visual expression or story telling. We appreciate the exquisite exchange of ideas.

With an inherent knowledge that words are imperfect, and negatively defined, we are captivated when the right combination of words transcends those boundaries. When a passage speaks to us in a way that isn’t delimited by it’s container. When we feel that we truly understand it’s essence.

Maybe it was your favorite song. A poem that spoke to you. A passage by your favorite author. We all have some array of words which has deeply touched us and conferred meaning beyond the sun of their parts.

Riding through a zwift academy workout this morning “The Light” by Common came on. The rapper’s take on complex topics accompanied by captivating beats, is rivaled only by his longevity in the industry. The song is a dive into relationship communication and one line stuck with me as I struggled to breath through the above FTP effort.

“I never call you my b*tch or even my boo, there’s so much in a name, and so much more in you.”

Words are incredible tools. Occasionally we can string them together in a way that is transcendent. For the rest of the time there is beauty in the struggle to define essence with imperfect tools.

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

Value

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. While continuing research for my linguistics project I found this interesting philosophical quote on value.

Values always involve:

(1) something dissimilar which can be exchanged for the item whose value is under consideration.

(2) similar things which can be compared with the item whose value is under consideration.

An easy example would be the value of a five dollar bill. With a five dollar bill you can buy a gallon of gas (maybe), and you could also get five one dollar bills, or a number of euros, based on a value exchange rate. The value consideration of the five dollar bill is based on both similar and dissimilar items.

Currency of any kind is an easy example because it comes in denominations that are easily changed. A less concrete (or more concrete depending on where you live) example would be a home.

The home would be priced in the local currency, but would also have it’s value partially determined by comparable homes in the area. Homes with similar features, amenities, square footage etc.

The brave and powerful cow knights of the order of Chick-fil-A

With dollars, the value determination from the similar category is really the same, where as with the home, the determination based on the similar category is only comparable. The difference may seem minute but it is important.

The examples given are tangible, but the discussion quoted was about linguistics, and specifically, linguistic units.

Whether you want to break down individual words, syllables, or individual signs (signs, has a very specific and nerdy linguistic definition, that we might get into at a later date) each has a value based on the two criteria above.

“A word can be substituted for something dissimilar: an idea. At the same time, it can be compared to something of like nature:another word. It’s value therefore is not determined merely by that concept or meaning for which it is a token” (Sassure, Course in General Linguistics)

Sassure then goes on to cite the value of the word mouton in French as compared with the word sheep in English. While the meaning is generally the same (a four legged wooly animal that Mary had as a pet) the value in each language is different.

In French mouton can be used to mean both the animal as well as the cooked meat. In English the animal is referred to as a sheep and the meat is mutton. So the value of the word in each language is different.

Giving speeches in his undies, and making friends with dragonflies

The difference in value is due to the presence, or absence of other similar items. It’s value is determined in part by how much it can be delimited from other elements in the same system.

The subtly of similar and comparable, and the variance between value determination in similar and dissimilar categories together form a complex process for effectively determining value.

This is something we do almost instinctively on a very regular basis. Something is on sale. Something looks like a good deal. Something is overpriced. As a consumer driven nation this is a process we engage in regularly.

But what about value determination for items without price? How you choose to allocate your free time? Things like opportunity cost. What value do you derive from your choices? How is that value determined.

This is mental exercise I engage in frequently. Comparing the money saved and the pride of completing a home improvement project yourself, against the time taken that could be spent doing other things with family or friends, the frustration that inevitably comes with these projects, and the workmanship that despite my best efforts will not be the same quality as a professional.

Each option has its own value. Delimited by what it can provide, and what it can exclude. A constant reexamination and assessment of value is important to properly align priorities. It is also a step toward serenity.

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