Prediction

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I spent the past week traveling with my family and then recovering from a stomach bug and it got me thinking about predictions.

One of the things that sets humans apart from the rest of the animals in this planet is our ability to aggregate, analyze, and utilize data in a forward looking manner. This is easy to take for granted in modern days when constant data access is only as far away as our pockets. Our primal ancestors required a much more conscious approach.

It gets cold for part of the year and there is no food, better stockpile. I get sick after eating from that plant, better tell the rest of the tribe. I got better after drinking tea from those leaves, I’ll do it next time I don’t feel good.

Still for all of our data driven decisions, we are terrible predictors of outcome. Especially when it comes to discomfort. We are inclined to think that the status quo will remain intact, despite what are often glaring signs to the contrary.

On the flight back to Orlando El Duderino was playing with the tray table after we had gotten the “tray tables stowed and seatbacks in the upright and locked position” schpeel. I told him to stop playing with it, and he obliged until after we had landed.

To his credit I told him we couldn’t play with because we were landing. Once we had landed, this edict no longer applied. Despite my frustration, I’m impressed with his reasoning and precise interpretation of language. Words are important as I often say, but I digress.

When it was our turn to exit the plane he was still playing with the tray table only now he got his pinky good and pinched in it. Getting it out meant pinching it even more before the table would release.

I carried a screaming 45lb toddler through the aisle and up the jet bridge and tried to calm him down in the terminal. When I told him I knew it hurt but it would feel better soon his response was, “it’s never going to feel better”.

He is 4 and lacks the kind of life experience and emotional maturity to appreciate healing, pain, recovery, and perception in general. At the same time I think about my own feelings that often mirror his.

Ultra Runner Zach Bitter answered listener questions on the episode of the Human Performance Outliers podcast I was catching up on last week. One of the questions was about perception of effort and discomfort throughout an ultra or other endurance event.

I’ll paraphrase his answer as something like “Perceived effort/discomfort in an endurance race does not follow a linear progression. This may seem counter intuitive, but it is essential to both understand and actively remind oneself thought training and race day.”

If you hit a rough spot at mile 14 in a marathon, it doesn’t mean that every mile after it will get progressively worse. Understanding this intellectually is one thing. Being able to recall it and apply it on race day, with all of the hormones, emotions, and self inflicted suffering, is quite another.

Looking at a workout plan with a number of sprints or a large mountain can be intimidating. Reminding yourself that this feeling is a temporary stressor. One designed to promote growth. After the fourth sprint rep or half way up the climb, can be more challenging than the physical exertion itself.

This is one of the primary goals of mindfulness. Being present in the moment and assessing it without projecting it into the future. Your legs and lungs may well be burning, but that is not their fate forever.

I think Ray Liota said in best in the movie Blow, “Sometimes you’re flush, and sometimes your bust. When your up it’s never as good as it seems, and when you’re down you never think you’ll be up again. But, life goes on.”

El Duderino’s finger is fine. My legs and lungs have already moved on from the workout an hour ago, much less any of the thousands of miles before that one. Our prediction of effort and discomfort may be sorely lacking. But, life goes on, and serenity can still be found.

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