Triathlon – Page 3 – Serenity Through Sweat

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.

Doubt

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I’ve signed up to compete in the Pan American Championships in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu at the end of the month. That has brought with it excitement, anxiety, and doubt.

I’m no stranger to competing. And certainly no stranger to grappling or even jiu jitsu competition. I’ve completed in three smaller local BJJ tournaments, and I’ve lost count how many wrestling tournaments over a 13 year wrestling career.

I’ve also been active in triathlon and ultimate frisbee in those years I wasn’t grappling. Each had their own varying level of competition.

This one feels a little bit different. It will be my first grappling competition since before COVID. It will be my first competition at brown belt. I haven’t competed since I was a blue belt, missing out on competing at the purple belt level.

Anxiety and excitement are to be expected. I got the same butterflies and pit feeling in my stomach before every wrestling match and every big triathlon. But doubt wasn’t something I really thought about.

Maybe it is having kids (even though I’ve raced and competed in smaller BJJ tournaments as a father). Maybe it is getting older and being in the Masters 2 division. Maybe it is my lack of recent competition experience. Maybe it is the thought of injury now as a provider.

Whatever it is, doubt has been creeping in. Will I make the weight? Will I stay healthy and injury free? Will I perform in a way I can be proud of?

That doubt isn’t necessarily bad though. I’m reminded of a conversation I had about doubt, with two close friends at a bachelor party.

We were in a hotel room in Tampa. Sharing a drink, making small talk and getting ready for a hockey game. The celebrated bachelor wanted to read us the vows he had written and have the two of us help workshop them. I know, not your typical rowdy bachelor party story.

He is a scientist, a medical researcher, and one of the smartest people I have ever talked to. He is very methodical in his thinking and communication. All of those qualities came out front and center in his custom written vows.

“As I scientist I am taught to doubt” his message to his soon to be wife, on their most important day, began. “But I don’t doubt my love for you, or the relationship we’ve built”.

His vows went on with a series of “I don’t doubt” statements. Doubt seemed to me, at first, like an inappropriate word for wedding vows, but it fit perfectly with who he was. Doubt was part of his daily life as a scientist and researcher, but his marriage was a place doubt never crept in.

I modeled my own custom wedding vows, a few years later, in a very similar format. A series of “I can’t promise X, but I can promise Y” statements.

To me, this felt like the same removal of uncertainty, and exchange of promises, without the perceived negativity that doubt brings to the table.

Because that’s all doubt really is right? Uncertainty. As a scientist and a researcher, my friend is very deliberately, an active participant in his uncertainty. Trying not to bias his observation of data with his own opinions or desires.

The future is always uncertain. The degree of that uncertainty may vary, but it is never fully predictable. I think it is an old Yogi Berra quote “predictions are hard, especially about the future”

The doubt that has crept in since I’ve signed up for this competition has been an ever present feeling in the pit of my stomach. It has been my somewhat less than welcome companion. (And due to a small weight cut, sometimes the only thing in my stomach)

I’m trying to channel the courage of my friend and embrace that doubt. Uncertainty, just means I get to have a hand in writing out how the future will be told.

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

Bumps

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I have not been writing nearly as much as I want to.

There are dozens of excuses. Some are very understandable and relatable. Other are a niche of my particular hobbies and career lifestyle. Still others are very much first world problems.

None of that changes the fact that words are not making their way to paper. Or the digital equivalent o suppose. Thoughts are not being worked over and properly curated. Ideas wilt on the vine.

While I hope that you get something out of these musings, it is ultimately a selfish endeavor. One that helps me think. Reflect. Ultimately better understand my own worldview. To realize any changes that I need to make for myself or my family.

Dedicating the time to this pursuit is one of those changes. Alas, life has a way, of getting in the way. I noticed this same problem manifest itself on El Duderino’s daily scooter ride.

Nothing makes him happier than being picked up from school with his scooter. I’m not sure if it the the excitement of escape. The satisfaction of scooting. Or the perception Infront of his peers. El Duderino loves scooting home from school.

He takes off on a tear down the sidewalk, often times before I am done talking with his teacher and ready to start my pursuit.

He can be heard halfway around the block engaging his dragon power, or eagle power, or whatever the day’s inner monologue calls for.

He will scoot right into the open garage and then come back to look for me. Being sure to let me know how much he beat me by.

Occasionally he will stop for no apparent reason. He will abandon his scooter and walk back to give me a hug and tell me he loves me. Such unabashed emotion is powerful amongst men. I hope he never loses it.

Sometimes he makes the cardinal sin of racers. He removes his focus from the road ahead to look back and see how close I am behind him.

This is normally not necessary. I’m hard to miss since I’m prancing with his dinosaur backpack slung over my right shoulder. The leftover contents of his lunchtime trail mix shaking like a maraca in it’s tiny Tupperware. It is not by any means a stealthy pursuit.

This has lead, on occasion, to El Duderino wiping out pretty hard on some of the bumps in the sidewalk. Sometimes he can maintain composure and keep it upright. Other times it is a full yard sale crash.

Knowing that this happens. Knowing where and why it happens, I try to adjust my pursuit, lagging further behind El Duderino on the sidewalk sections with bumps.

When you are moving forward with some momentum small bumps in the road are little more than a nuisance. When you are moving too slow, they can derail you entirely. Especially if your focus is elsewhere.

I didn’t really need to see El Duderino eat it on the sidewalk to understand the concept. But it does have a way of illustrating it in living color. Bringing that idea right to the forefront. Screaming bloody knees and all.

Momentum is a powerful thing. Without enough of it, the smallest of bumps can totally derail us. But, we are also capable of squishing those obstacles like pennies on a train track.

I hope to be able to report fewer derailments, and more squished pennies going forward.

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

What doesn’t kill you

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. I found this really interesting article through a link on Sunday’s with Sisson and wanted to share it with you.

The article discusses recent research into the longevity of ants. While this may seem inconsequential, or unrelated to humans, the findings are somewhat surprising and unexpected.

The first part of the article focuses on the relative lifespan of queen ants compared to worker ants. While there is significant variety amongst different ant species, queen ants tend to live significantly longer despite their increased metabolic functioning.

The queen consumes exponentially more calories due to the increased metabolic demands of laying thousands of eggs. The increased calorie consumption and metabolic functioning means significantly more insulin production. Increased insulin is linked to aging as well as a host of other diseases in humans and other animals.

These ants have evolved into social creatures where only the queen is reproductive. This has lead to some other evolutionary adaptations. When a queen is removed from the colony worker ants will change into “gamergates” or pseudo queens. They start eating more, producing more insulin, and becoming reproductive.

The researchers expected the increased insulin levels to lead to decreased lifespan. However, the insulin signaling in the gamergates deviated from the standard expression and led to increased lifespan.

“Further work showed that the ovaries of the gamergates strongly expressed a protein, Imp-L2, that ignored the MAP kinase pathway but interfered with the second pathway in the fat body. “This protein appears to have the function of protecting one pathway that allows metabolism, but inhibiting the pathway that leads to aging,” Desplan said.”

The second part of the articles describes a parasitic tapeworm that infects acorn ants as an intermediate host. The cestode lays eggs that are eaten by acorn ants. The tapeworm must live inside these acorn ants, that make their nest in a single acorn, until the ants are hopefully eaten by a woodpecker.

If a woodpecker eats an acorn that has infected acorn ants in it, the tapeworm then moves from it’s intermediate host, to it’s final host.

The infected ants are very easy to tell apart from the uninfected ants because their color changes from brown to yellow.

You would expect that the parasite infected ants would have a shorter lifespan, since the parasite is sustaining itself off of the host. However the opposite was observed.

Infected ants lived five times as long as uninfected ants, in part due to a cocktail of different proteins pumped into the ants by the parasite.

Researchers are working to distinguish, analyze and retest these various proteins and antioxidants to see if the results are reproducible outside of parasitic infection.

From an evolutionary and adaptive standpoint this makes a ton of sense. The parasite’s ultimate goal is to get to the woodpecker. The longer the ants live, the greater the chances that they will be eaten by a woodpecker. Increasing the host lifespan is in the best interests of the parasite.

Whether it is increased metabolic functioning to step into the queen role, or parasitic infection, for the ants in these studies, what doesn’t kill them makes them live longer. (Not coincidentally, the title of one of the studies that the article was based on)

On some sort of intuitive level didn’t we already know this. The individual protein pathways and antioxidants are compelling. I hope the research leads to new understanding and potentially even clinical, pharmaceutical, and lifestyle interventions. But there is so much more to a healthy lifespan than a protein cocktail secreted from a tapeworm.

I like to bounce around on this platform, ping-ponging back and forth between topics that pique my interest. But every post, regardless of topic, has some sweat in it. Challenges that push the body both physically and mentally.

There is a mental clarity and a physical calm that follows these efforts. (SerenityThroughSweat) but there is also the undeniable benefit, that what doesn’t kill us, helps us live longer.

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

Intimidation

The lights seem to pulse around me. I know this is only an illusion. The effect created by the spacing of dim lights and alternating darkness as I float down the hall.

The sweat has gone past the point of beading and running, and has progressed to a steady trickle. I can feel the gentle squish of wet socks in each step as I make my way down the seemingly psychedelic hallway.

I know my body is depleted from the training and the fasting that is now approaching twenty hours. I don’t feel depleted though. I feel light. Liberated. Unburdened.

The squishing intensifies as I start bouncing gently to the music. It is a short way around the courtyard from the fitness center to my room. The twang of the guitar and the blaring horns during the bridge of Gregg Allman’s Midnight Rider, the dim alternating lights, and the runners high work on union to transport me back in time.

The pulsing of lights, footsteps echoing off the tile floor and the walls of lockers, breaths heavy with exertion. I’m running sprints down the freshman hallway of my highschool after wrestling practice.

Sometimes with my teammates. Sometimes in solitude. Occasionally the chemistry teacher, a great runner in his own right, pokes his head out to investigate this intrusion to his own late night solitude.

The same trickle of sweat fills my shoes and bounces off the tile as it cascades off my younger self. That same liberated, unburdened feeling seeps in. The work is done, and it was done in earnest.

The moment fades as I reach my hotel room. I haven’t had a runners high like this in a while. One that alleviates and transports in such a powerful way. I spend a lot of time chasing that dragon, but it is elusive.

I’m in Atlanta and spent the morning in the simulator. Cortisol levels run high in this place. There is no way around it. Knowing it is a simulation, doesn’t take away the feeling that the emergency is real. Being a simulation, it can be reset to the next emergency with daunting speed and efficiency. We aren’t designed for catastrophe on repeat, and it takes it’s toll.

I figured after the sim was as good a time as any to try this new workout. 6 rounds of 6 minutes at threshold running pace, with 2 minutes moving rest between sets. Add in a warm up and cool down and that makes a solid hour block on the treadmill in the training hotel’s lack luster fitness center.

One of my best friends and training partners had done this workout a few times before and shared it with me. I was intimidated.

I’m not even sure what my threshold pace is but my best guess was around a 6:30min/mile pace. That is, as the term threshold might imply, right where things start getting uncomfortable. Each interval is long enough to really make you think about it. The total time in zone accumulates quickly. The rest is enough to recover, only by the smallest of margins.

As much time as I spend intentionally putting myself into discomfort, there are still levels of it that intimidate me. Places I will shy away from. Workouts that I will procrastinate or put off entirely. Or tap out from early.

This was one such workout. I had toyed with the idea of trying it for weeks. An excuse always seemed to pop up. I didn’t have enough time. I would be too depleted afterwards. The alternative I gave myself was better suited to my goals.

It is easy to convince yourself of something you already believe. It is even easier when you are intimidated.

4000′ of climbing, I finished the event but the didn’t make it to the top of the mountain. Another intimidating challenge and an excuse made.

I’m not sure what about it was so intimidating. Extended time at threshold as we have discussed can be uncomfortable. But I like uncomfortable. I know growth comes from being uncomfortable. I actively seek out those situations. This workout though was an outlier in that paradigm.

It went so much better than I thought it would. The intimidation, transformed into satisfaction and serenity. I don’t know if my initial trepidation added to the post workout sensations I described at the start. That light, liberated, unburdened state of post run serenity.

The only time a man can be brave, is when he is first afraid. But the benefits of standing tall in the face of intimidation only adds to the elation when the task is ultimately completed.

Putting in miles in my old stomping grounds

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

Kindness

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Against all odds, I found myself in a central Iowa bar, in the middle of a snow storm talking about surfing this Christmas Eve, and I wanted to share the experience with you.

This trip was the first line choice on my bid for December. I should have known better, but as has been revealed here before, I am a masochist and a glutton for pain. This trip was set to have a 30 hour layover in cedar rapids Iowa, followed by a 15 hour layover in Boise, and then finishing on Christmas day in Orlando around 2:00 pm.

It looked good on paper when I was bidding it in early November. The bomb cyclone that appeared days beforehand had other ideas. We landed in Cedar rapids around ten o’clock at night in blowing snow and 40+mph winds.

The crew who was bringing in the airplane we were to fly out didn’t fair as well, and never made it in. So that is what set me up to be in a local bar on Christmas Eve, watching the Bills game with some locals, and engaging in the conversation I want to share with you.

The first couple that sat down next to me came from an army household and had lived all over. One of their stops was Patrick air force base in Florida. We talked about the changes in central Florida over the past few decades. We talked about surfing the warm water of the Atlantic in contrast to the below freezing wind chill outside.

We shared our fondness for the space coast. The welcoming and small town feeling it had, despite it’s continuing technological progress. We shared our appreciation for the sunshine state.

They left around half time of the bills game, to be replaced by another local mother and son duo. The son appeared to be around my age or so, heavily bearded and heavily jeweled. I think he was wearing more rings, with more gemstones than my wife owns in entirety. Granted that is a low bar, but every finger was covered in a unique ring with a different color stone.

His mother was a self proclaimed long muscled and lithe woman who would outlast me on the bar’s non existent dance floor. She was an ardent disciple of stretching and long muscles, and as I found out, a proponent of being “kind” to your body.

Despite my agreeing with most of what she had to say about stretching and long, lithe muscles, when I twisted my chair to show her the IronMan logo on the back of my jacket, and I told her this was the eleventh year of my annual Christmas half marathon tradition, she rolled her eyes in disapproval.

Running for any length, but certainly a marathon (which she thought was 25 miles, but that may have been the 2-4-1 happy hour talking) was being ‘unkind’ to your body. Why would you ever want to be unkind to your body? What good could that bring?

We had a very nice conversation, agreeing on many fronts and agreeing to disagree on many others. It was a refreshing human interaction. But, it also got me thinking about the primary point of contention. Certain activities I was participating in were deemed as ‘unkind’ to the body, but then what is kindness?

Her argument was that running, biking swimming, triathlon, and certainly weight training, were unkind to the body. That their short term benefits did more long term damage. That the practice of them was unkind to the body, in pushing it beyond it’s limits.

It was difficult to pin down exactly where limits where pushed. Where was too far, or what was too heavy, or when a limit was exceeded. But in her mind stretching, lengthening exercises that promoted mobility and flexibility, and the ability to dance in her 70’s were all that mattered.

By this point the Bills game was wrapping up with the Bills coasting towards a division clinching win over the Bears. The 2-4-1’s had been flowing steadily throughout the duration of the game and my normal excitement to engage in debate was wanning.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder, what is it to be kind to your body. What is it to be kind to your children? My five year old loves to tell me that making him do difficult things by himself is not being kind. And in a sense he is right. I could do it for him with greater efficiency and effectiveness. The immediacy of that kindness, would in my opinion, be dwarfed by the disservice it would do him for future development.

I feel the same way about my body. Treating it ‘kindly’ at the expense of future development doesn’t seem like a good option to me. Sure the masochistic tendencies might seem ‘unkind’ to the outside observer, but they come from a place of love. I love my body and all of the incredible things it can do. All of the grand adventures I am able to have and share in because of the ‘unkind’ stresses my body has endured and grown from.

No one watching a parent talk a toddler through a ten minute shoe tying session would deem the exchange ‘unkind’. Providing the parent was coming from a place of love and respect and engaging the toddler on an appropriately challenging level.

Be kind to yourself. Sometimes that might mean a little bit of a break, but sometimes it might mean a kick in the ass. And, it will always include a little serenity.

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

Belonging

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. Last week I stumbled into a little hipster coffee shop on a long layover in Oklahoma City. They had a bourbon maple pecan latte that caught my attention.

I typically load up my coffee at home with a lot. Creatine, resveratrol, NMN, collagen, cinnamon, and turmeric all make a regular appearance. Even still, there was a lot going on in that latte. To include chopped pecans for an oddly satisfying chewy sensation I was surprised to enjoy in my mid morning cup.

Between the heavy history of linguistics research and the multitude of flavors in the latte I was surprised when my attention was drawn to the window outside.

It was a windy day in Oklahoma. I had spent the morning running along the brick town canal and then the Oklahoma River. It was mostly quiet and just a few other walkers or cyclists were out. There was however, a small army of landscapers weilding leaf blowers.

It seemed like an exercise in futility, but there they were, it seemed a new team around every corner, battling the wind with their air cannons trying to corral the rogue leaves.

This was especially apparent outside the coffee shop window, where the small army and their mini jet engines could be heard through my ear plugs and over the hipster coffee shop music as I tried to work.

I finally looked up and saw this silly tree across the street. A lone act of defiance in an otherwise concrete jungle landscape. From my seat at the window it was hard to tell where the roots even had access to any dirt.

This was the source of all those rogue leaves. Which drew the army of jet blasting landscapers. Which in turn was providing a myriad of distractions from my project at hand. This tree obviously didn’t belong here.

Or did it.

I am very grateful for these long layovers. Away from the inevitable busyness of a flying day or life as a father and husband, I am able to have such trivial contemplations.

The tree certainly didn’t fit with the rest of the scene, and my initial reaction was that it didn’t belong. The landscaping team certainly shared my belief, fighting their uphill and upwind battle illy equiped against the leaves.

What if I got it wrong? What is the tree did belong there. What if it belonged there more than the sidewalk, or the condo, or the hipster coffee shop? Who gets to decide what belongs and what does not.

I smiled to myself as I chewed on my latte, suddenly much more appreciative of the distraction from my project. My initial reaction was unnecessarily hostile and misguided. As quickly as it came though, a competing idea bubbled up.

I thought about my boys, growing up in a world that seems to be increasingly divided and polarized. A world with spaces were belonging can be artificially defined.

I’m not sure they are old enough, and even when they are they might not fully appreciate this story. It is after all one trivial contemplation among many that I hope to bequeath them.

Maybe you had to be there. Trying to block out the hipster music and the leaf blowers, oddly chewing on pecans in a latte, reading esoteric linguistic research to really appreciate that renegade growing tall out of the concrete and peppering passers-by with it’s foliage.

But, I think it’s lesson is a valuable one. Our first reaction to who or what belongs, is not always the right one. There is beauty to be found especially in outliers, that might not seem to belong.

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

Durability

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. While this blog tends to wander with my mind and interests, it had at its heart the foundation of rigorous physical movement as a part of the path towards enlightenment and some sort of inner peace.

With that in mind, i wanted to talk about the concept that was presented on one of my last zwift workouts. Durability.

Zwift is the virtual cycling platform I use to train. They have curated a very extensive library of training plans and workouts, developed by professional coaches and athletes across multiple cycling and and endurance disciplines.

Each of these curated workouts has some text pop ups periodically throughout the workout. They range from small coaching tips and motivational messages, to full scientific explanations of the training methodology. The latter normally coming in the warmup phase when you aren’t focused on sucking air and trying not to embarrassingly fall off a fixed bike trainer.

As I was spinning my legs, warming up, and getting into the right headspace for a more focused training session, I wasn’t really ready for the very scientific and research based information that was being displayed in fading text bubbles.

The words passed along the screen, and I had enough otherwise unoccupied attention to realize they were important and interesting. I immediately pulled out my phone to search for the fragments of the explanation I could remember.

I found the following research paper, which was obviously the one the coach and designer of the workout was referring to, since he quoted the definition of durability verbatim.

“Therefore, applied exercise physiologists working with endurance athletes would benefit from development of physiological-profiling models that account for shifts in physiological-profiling variables during prolonged exercise and quantify the ‘durability’ of individual athletes, defined as, “the time of onset, and magnitude of deterioration, in physiological-profiling characteristics over time, during prolonged exercise.”

The team from Auckland University argues that much of the information that goes into training plan design and race pacing strategy is based on variables that are measured in a static, and usually rested, environment. Those variables of course change and degrade with time and effort. The time of onset and magnitude of deterioration is important to understand for each athlete in maximizing performance.

The workouts seek to measure or at least help you understand these characteristics in yourself by putting you into a state of fatigue, and then having some sort of repeatable assessment .

A cycling example would be a five minute time trial at the end of designed one hour workout. A running example could use an all out one mile time after a similarly structured one hour workout.

5 min time trial after a deliberately fatiguing effort

How long into a prolonged effort does your performance start to deteriorating? What is the magnitude of that deterioration? Is it linear? Does it change drastically with different perceived levels of exertion? Just how durable are you?

These are important questions. Regardless of your status as an endurance athlete, or an athlete at all. How durable are you mentally? Emotionally?

I can certainly think of more than a few instances with my boys where the ‘time of onset and magnitude of deterioration’ in my emotional profiling characteristics would not be considered durable.

As a triathlete this research fascinates me. I also directly benefit from it since coaches are reading it and using it to design workouts I have access to. I also think the ability to say ‘here defined as’ is magical.

The research team is able to specify the niche in which they wish to work. The set the definitions. They remove the potential for misconception as well as focus the readers attention in the desired direction.

Of course my mind takes the concept and wanders with it. Applying it to fatherhood, to my marriage, to research and writing projects after a long run. All of that is still within the confines of their definition. Here defined as.

The coaches and exercise physiologists can develop workouts and training plans that improve durability. Increase the time to onset. Reduce the magnitude of deterioration. Maybe even a little of each.

Who wouldn’t like to be a little more physically durable? Who wouldn’t like to be a little more mentally or emotionally durable? I think there is plenty of room for crossover between the two.

I’m by no means suggesting you deliberately exhaust yourself prior to handling a temper tantrum. But the next time it happens, as a parent and an athlete it is a matter of when not if, see it as an opportunity to become more durable.

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

Noise

Thanks for joining me for another edition of the SerenityThroughSweat blog. This week I want to talk about noise.

Maybe not in the typical sense that we think of it. There are different types of noise, and they all play a part in disrupting not only effective communication, but our general happiness and even our health.

I found the idea of noise disrupting our health in the book Lifespan by Dr David Sinclair. Dr Sinclair’s message condensed down to an elevator pitch, is that ageing is a disease that can be treated, halted, and even potentially reversed.

A significant part of ageing is noise in the communication between our genes and our cells. Minimizing that noise, and ensuring genes and cells effectively communicate, keeps cells healthy, operating properly, and young.

Dr. Sinclair goes on to quote Claude Shannon, one of the founding fathers of information theory back from 1948.

Shannon’s noisy channel coding theorem, says that “however contaminated with noise interference a communication channel may be, it is possible to communicate digital data error free up to a given maximum rate through the channel. (a mathematical theory of communication, 1948)

Dr Sinclair uses this theory of information transfer as an example for how our genes and cells communicate, as well as what we can do to minimize the noise, thus maximizing the error free data transfer (effective communication)

This got me thinking about the types of noise we experience in interpersonal communications, some of which I recognized without knowing they had their own specific domains. Physiological, physical, psychological, and semantic noise all play their own part in disruption.

Physiological noise refers to anything going on within our personal body that might hinder communication. This could be a headache, hunger, fatigue or other physiological conditions. Think those Snickers commercials. Why don’t you have a Snickers, you don’t listen so well when you’re hungry.

Physical noise refers to disruptions that are physical in nature but external to the receiver. Think headset/radio/phone malfunction, a crowded room, or even a bright and distracting light.

Psychological noise refers to disruptions that are internal to the receivers thought process. If you are preoccupied with another problem, or day dreaming instead of listening that would be psychological noise.

Finally semantic noise is a misunderstanding of words between the sender and receiver. This could be due to lack of shared knowledge, language barrier, or cultural differences.

There is no shortage of barriers to effective communication. There is always some noise present, and often there is a lot of it. The constant noise we live with, makes determining Shannon’s maximum error free data transfer rate a crucial piece of information to know and apply.

Staying at or below the applicable Shannon rate for a given exchange will ensure the message is transmitted effectively. If you have ever had a conversation at a loud concert, with a foreign speaker, a toddler, or someone with a bad hangover, you already understand self limiting your rate of data transfer through the given channel. (If you’ve ever been the hungover one this is greatly appreciated)

Taking account of the noise around us, and the overall capacity of our channels of communication is a demanding and everpresent task. One that helps pave the path to serenity.

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

Summer

What is a summer day made of? The dog days of summer are here. My wife is back in the classroom as a teacher for the first time since the pandemic emerged. El Duderino, my little linguistic four year old has started VPK at the school at the end of our neighborhood. I spend my mornings at home corralling him and Speedy, getting them to their respective school and daycare on time so my wife can have a sembelance of normalcy in the morning at least part of the time. When im working all of those duties fall to her.

Speedy generally gets dropped off first at a small in home daycare. “GiGi” has been as much a part of the boys life as I have. During particularly busy periods, maybe more so than me. Then it’s El Duderino’s turn. The elementary school sits at the end of our neighborhood. Maybe a half a mile following the sidewalks as they twist around gator filled retention ponds, and wind their way through suburbia. El Duderino rolls ahead of me on an aqua marine three wheel scooter with light up wheels. He is becoming skilled enough that I can’t keep up with him at just a walk anymore. Wearing sandals is no longer an option. I need closed toed shoes and a gait somewhere between a prance and a jog to keep up. Awkward enough to get second looks from the seniors and moms power walking at 8 am. But, I’m sure endearing none the less. Seeing an obviously uncaffeinated and disheveled father chasing his son down the street. Dinosaur backpack and spider man lunchbox in hand, so he can focus on the scooter.

About half way to the school he pauses to tell me this trip is annoying. I’m not sure our personal ideas of annoying line up, but I think I can empathize. The dog days of summer in Orlando mean that even this 8am short scoot to school is already sweltering in the upper 80’s. The air is sticky, and clings to you in an oppressive way. Like you owe it a favor and it is here to collect. It wont take no for an answer.

When I first started college in Melbourne Fl, around the same time of year, in the dog days of summer of 2005, I remember those same feelings. The excitement and anticipation of new adventures and opportunities. The social anxiety of a new places and new people. The growing laundry hamper as I would change my clothes after every single class. The walk from my dorm to any class and back, regardless of the time of day would leave me soaked, sweat stained, and contemplating my educational choices. I think I called my mom at some point and told her that I wasn’t sure I was up to this. I’m no stranger to sweating, but normally it is in athletic wear and a setting more of my choosing.

This morning was quite different. The dog days of summer in Burlington VT remind me of what a summer day is made of. In Fl we have it everyday, it isn’t special, because it is the norm, rather than the exception. I have grown to really like this layover, seeing it in both the depths of winter as well as the picturesque day I have enjoyed today.

The sky over Lake Champlain is that faded gray blue of optimism. Not the story book blue that looks so bold and perfect to be cartoonish. The faded and more realistic duller version. The one that inspires adventure because it is lacking in that crisp perfection. There is still room to grow. The breeze blows gently. Just enough to flitter the leaves along the running path and keep the mid sixties air from feeling stagnant. The lake and the mountains silently battling for your attention in the naturally beautiful background.

After my admittedly optimistic and subsequently failed attempt to get out and run a half marathon this morning despite not running in close to a month, I strolled down the street to my favorite local breakfast place here. I have written about it before and will do so again. Handy’s lunch is the Cheers of local dining establishments. I think I have eaten there three times, every time ordering the Chuck Norris breakfast sandwich and a cup of coffee. The owner came over this time shook my hand, and thanked me for visiting again and for our last conversation when I visited a few months ago. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. It doesn’t hurt that it is one of the best breakfast sandwiches I’ve ever had and I’ve accrued a serious calorie deficit either.

While sitting at the counter watching him interact with the other local, mostly regular customers. One of the men says he grew up in Buffalo. It turns out he is only a few years older than me. He probably played high school football with my step brother. We talked about growing up there and how the city has changed. We talked about high school glory days over carb laden breakfast delicacies.

What is a summer day made of? Optimism, adventure, nature, camaraderie and celebration, in my case obviously some heavy sweating. All of them important and impactful. All of them fleeting.

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