Mountains

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.

Heart

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog.

Sometimes, you find words that just hit you the right way. Maybe a song, maybe a line from a book or a movie.

The words can be incredibly powerful in their own right. Or, it can be a confluence of events, mood, vibe, context, that enhance the power of the message.

Life size Super Mario Bros made of chocolate

I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the past two days. What is it that makes the same words, the same message, so powerful?

It isn’t some magic spell, that when uttered, affects everyone uniformly. But there is something there. A motivational quote or a song that can give you an extra push, an extra gear.

I had just finished my morning swim in the pool on the twenty fourth floor of my hotel. Swimming indoors is already something of a strange feeling. The thick fog blanketing the streets of Houston and obscuring most of the floor to ceiling pool deck windows made it feel alien.

I still had my goggles lightly perched above my brow, and my waterproof swim headphones in, when I climbed into the hot tub. I fiddled with the strap on the back of my head so I could lay my neck into the crook in the corner of the hot tub paver stone floor.

I instantly relaxed as I sprawled out. My arms and shoulders floating in the steamy water, welcoming stillness after exertion.

My eyes closed as the song started to wash over me. “Somewhere in middle America. When you get to the heart of the matter, it’s the heart that matters more”

I hadn’t heard the counting crows song in quite a while. The music downloaded onto my waterproof swim music player is something of a time capsule. Closed and sealed somewhere after the fall of Napster, but before the rise of Spotify.

The next day, on my long layover in Albany, it was time to revisit my slightly stupid holiday tradition. For the 12th year in a row, it was time for the Christmas half marathon.

I queued up the live album to start my treadmill run in the dingy hotel fitness center, knowing I would need more than a little heart to get me through.

This tradition has come to mean a lot of things to me. One year it was a time to grieve after a loved one had passed. Another year, it was an ill advised death march, when I knew I was sick, and pushed on anyway. It has been a welcome adventure in new towns, and it has been a stale and stagnant trot on hotel treadmills.

Endurance sport, especially this particular event, has a lot to offer in the form of self exploration. What I kept coming back to this year is that emotions are not linear and rarely predictable.

I think it was Yogi Berra, who said predictions are hard especially about the future. Here is one prediction that isn’t so hard. Almost every endurance event will have some sort of low point, some place of self doubt or questioning.

Made it home to see these smiling faces on Christmas

You start to ask yourself, “Why am I doing this?” No one else is here, no one really cares, you can stop the treadmill now and get on with your day.

Humans tend to forecast current conditions out into the future, even when there isn’t great evidence to support that trend line. Look at the housing crisis of 2008 and the inflation that has plagued the past few years. We think things will continue on just the way they are, in spite of changing conditions, until we are smacked in the face with change.

It is especially easy to get into this mental space with some miles behind you and some fatigue in your legs. You start to think, “if I feel this bad after (however man) miles, how am I going to make it the rest of the way?”

If running got me feeling this way and thinking this way, how is more running possibly going to make me feel better?

And yet somehow, like those magic words, or songs, that have the power to change our state of mind, pushing through can make you feel better.

I was struggling around the hour mark at just under 8 miles in. I slowed my pace to a brisk walk and took the opportunity to talk to my wife and kids who had called to check in. Finishing was never in doubt, but the shape those last 5 or so miles would take was still to be determined.

Making the best of an unscheduled LAX layover

Before our quick conversation had even ended, I found myself pushing the pace wheel on the treadmill back up.

I worked my way back towards my target pace while still continuing our quick Christmas conversation.

It is a strange thing, that an endurance event isnt linear. That there will be highs and lows, ups and downs, while covering the miles. But thats a lot like life. Its not predictable. It’s not linear. It depends a lot on the mindset you are willing to approach it with.

Some climbing miles and sprint win on my new bike, the still be named newest lady of the house

And, when you get to the heart of the matter, it’s the heart that matter more.

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

Merriam-Webster

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week, I wanted to share another interesting story I found while researching my linguistics project.

The history of dictionaries may seem like a boring subject. You write down words, and you define them. How hard could it be? There are actually a lot of questions that must be answered when deciding how to make a dictionary.

“What is the relationship between words and phrases? How far should a dictionary go in recording nominal phrases? (Fire escape, forest fire)”

“How strictly should a dictionary confine its inventory to recorded usage? Can a spelling form be shared by more than one word (record as a number and record as a verb).”

“How much attention should be paid to etymology? (Weave intransitive vs transitive verb)” Weave in and out of traffic, and Weave clothes on a loom come, from different origin words as an example.

Making a dictionary becomes a little more complex than just a book to check when you don’t trust your scrabble opponent.

One of the most popular dictionaries in the US, is the Merriam-Webster brand. Their story was featured in the chapter I was researching, on the history of lexicography.

“The Merriam dictionaries trace their history back to the American Dictionary of the English Language dutifully compiled by the polemical lexicographer Noah Webster in 1828. It contains no fewer than 70,000 entries”

“Webster was an indefatigable collector of words with a rare gift for definition writing.”

“Unfortunately, his etymologies were influenced by his belief that modern languages, including English, are derived from something called Chaldean, which he believed was the language used by Adam and God for their conversations in the Garden of Eden and the immediate precursor to Hebrew.”

“After his death, his successors-including his son-in-law, Chauncey H. Goodrich, and the redoubtable Noah Porter, president of Yale College- quietly abandoned the Chaldaean hypothesis and brought the etymologies into line with the findings of Germanic and Indo-European scholarship.”

That is a lot to unpack for a book that has been mostly superceded by online reference checking. But recall that for generations, the Webster dictionary reigned Supreme. It is eerie to think about how much power definition holds, and how that power was held by a religious fanatic.

I grew up Roman catholic, and considered myself fairly devout until after high-school. Even I had never heard of Chaldean before.

After some very preliminary research it seems that the Chaldean people were in Mesopotamia around 11-12 thousand years ago, and were assimilated into the Babylonians. You may recognize that name from it’s own biblical reference the tower or babel.

Apparently there are multiple references not only in the Bible, but also from other renowned scholars, (Pliny the elder and Cicero) to Chaldean knowledge. There appears to be multiple references to their expertise in astronomy, astrology, vibrations, and numerology.

Some or all of that may be nonsense. I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t know how to know if any of it is real or not. Either way, it is fun to think about next time you have to check the dictionary when your five year old asks the difference between gunk and sludge.

We base our lives on definitions. How we identify ourselves, each other, the occurrences of our day to day experiences, they all depend on agreed upon definitions. The ability to set those definitions is a great power. And, as Uncle Ben would say, with great power comes great responsibility.

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

Reset

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. After a short hiatus for a family vacation I’m back and better than ever, and that is exactly what I want to talk about.

My wife and I drove out two boys nine plus hours from Florida into the North Georgia mountains for a family getaway. A change of pace and a change of scenery. There is something about cresting that first ridge about an hour north of Atlanta, seeing the southern tip of the Appalachians standing solemnly yet inviting in the distance, that raises my hopes as much as it raises in elevation.

I didn’t realize how much I missed terrain, until I moved to a place that has so little of it. Florida has its own natural beauty for sure, but there is a majesty in mountains that is sorely lacking in the sunshine state.

We settled into a daily routine of sorts with the boys. We would traverse the steep and winding switchbacks of the mountain roads each morning, trying to appreciate that aforementioned majesty while also fighting back motion sickness (especially for El Duderino and my wife) each day brought a new hike, waterfall, or state park and a small mountain town to explore.

Ana Ruby Falls, Helton Creek Falls, Rocco’s Swinging Bridge

The boys loved it. There is something magical about the mountains, the outdoors, new places, and the synergy of all three for little boys. My two Florida babies where totally unencumbered by the low temperatures and their embarrassingly bulky winter clothes. The Buffalo native in me would be unable to resist poking fun at the collective family’s attire if my thinned out Florida blood could stop shivering long enough to do it.

I loved it too. I cherished it. It was a special time and place to share with family, but it was also a reset for me. Reflecting back on the month of December and the posts I wrote, there is a sense of melancholy. There is pride, and accomplishment, and desire, but it is somewhat tainted by that nagging feeling that all of these things did not awaken in me a sense of joy or fulfillment that I had hoped they would.

That is not to say that the time or activities from December were without value, or that melancholy is negative in it’s entirety. But, it made me appreciate the reset in the mountains that much more.

This study from Japan, shows significant decreases in oxidative stress, pro-inflammatory markers, and serum cortisol levels (a stress hormone) from a cohort who engaged in “forest bathing”

This study from a University of Utah professor shows an increase in problem solving, creativity, and other prefrontal cortex mediated executive processes, after spending a prolonged time in nature, both hiking as well as disengaging from multi media technology.

There was no shortage of cell phone usage, Disney shows, or championship football (how bout them Bills) while we were in the mountains, but the rejuvenation I know I felt, and I believe my family shared in, was tangible.

I have talked in previous posts about the almost temple like sanctity of a wrestling or jui jitsu mat, or a frisbee field. There can be a special feeling crossing the threshold, like the baseball players from Field of Dreams, nothing exists there but the purity of the game. Everything else melts away. Serenity, even if only for the briefest of moments.

The mountains gifted me that same sensation. Sometimes in small doses, and sometimes in heaping truckloads. It was a much needed and very welcome reset. One I am delighted to have shared with my family, and in some small part with you, the reader, as well.

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

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I have spent a lot of the last week (and the last nine months) snuggling a sleeping Speedy. I’ve tried to be productive with that time while also enjoying and appreciating the one on one time in his first year.

Productivity, with a sleeping infant strapped to your chest, and a rambunctious toddler in the other room who has a new found habit of screeching like an underfed seagull, is a relative term.

It mostly involves trying to stay away from social media or news feeds, and reading books, blogs, or otherwise useful forms of information. My most recent literary journey is Frank Herbert’s Sci-fi classic DUNE.

Published in 1965 Herbert transports you to a political and economic struggle between great houses on a desert planet called Arrakis. As the major players in the realm jockey for power, Herbert weaves in some unconventional wisdom that retains relevance decades past publishing.

“Any road followed precisely to it’s end leads precisely nowhere. Climb the mountain just a little bit to test that it’s a mountain. From the top of the mountain you cannot see the mountain”

This cold open quote at the beginning of a chapter brought to mind so much of what the last nine months has been like. A road to nowhere, inability to see the mountain we’ve been climbing, and it made me think about being a father in the time of a pandemic.

The runs this week all nasal breathing. It’s not natural yet, but it is starting to get easier.

I have been very blessed to be able to spend much of this time with my family. Watching my boys grow and learn, day in and day out is a privilege that many fathers forfeit in the name of financial responsibilities. Day in and day out growth and change is a bit like the mountain, you can appreciate other peaks and valleys from the top but not really the mountain itself. It is only from the starting point and during the ascent that you can really see the mountain.

Speedy was born at home at the beginning of all of the Covid craziness. Now, nine months later, he is crawling across the house and starting to pull himself up on low surfaces, despite his precarious lack of balance. He babbles loudly and often enough to make himself heard in an already loud family, and much to his mother’s chagrin, has become quite adept at using the few teeth he has cut.

I’ve watched El Duderino grow into his role as a big brother in a way that is as tragically humorous as it is inevitable, mimicking the relationship I had with my younger brother at that age. I’m sure my mother warned me about this, something or other about karma, I was too busy practicing wrestling moves on my brother to pay close attention.

El Duderino flips effortlessly between roles as his brother’s keeper and a toddler adjusting to sharing. He can be heard screaming “no he’ll choke on that”, snatching up small toys out of his brothers grasp, and also “stop that man!” As Speedy crawls towards him, eyes filled with a curiosity and wonder only seen in a newly mobile child.

Looking back across nine months, the mountain is tall, and the climb has been as exhilerating as it has been arduous. That perspective only applies when thinking back to the beginning. Each day examined on its own, seems more like a comedic rerun of the last, rather than an integral part of the mountain trail.

I hope I can maintain mindfulness and appreciation for the many mountains I will climb alongside my family. I hope that I can instill the importance of that perspective into my sons’ young minds. I hope that we all acknowledge the view from the top without forgetting to recognize the trials and triumphs of the climb.

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