Happiness, Ambition and Pursuit

Of all the goals an athlete might possess I believe the most noble is that of reaching our ultimate potential, or at least giving an honest attempt in reaching our ultimate potential. Basically, making the most of our capacity. By the way, capacity is what we're capable of; capability is what we actually accomplish.

Other goals can be worthwhile as well, but one I've never really understood is in trying to attain material goods (and yet so many spend their lives doing so; incidentally, the so-called American Dream is my worst nightmare). Another misguided goal to me is to aim for specific race placings, when we know all along that others---those we compete against---are beyond our control. Ultimately, we should endeavor to do our best, both while racing and while preparing to race others.

In working with age-group triathletes I've come to the realization that there will always be limitations involved: we're simply trying to see how good we can get, given the rest of our life's responsibilities...i.e., given the choices we have made. We want to see what we're made of, but without undertaking the sacrifices that may leave a void in the rest of our life. (It's not unusual here in Boulder for me to hear age-groupers, when talking about pros, proclaim something like, "but I like to have a life!" or that pros "lack balance," because they're fully committed to such a one-dimensional way of life.) (Please note that not many pros are actually fully committed, and this is generally what sets the truly professional apart from the lifestylers, the successful and the not-so-successful, the productive and the unproductive, the pros and the Joes.) Anyway, as an all-or-none kind of coach, this semi-committed approach is often a hard pill for me to swallow, age-group or pro. As I've written in the past, why go half-assing it, when you can full-ass it?!

Now this isn't to say I don't understand the half-ass approach. I was once an expert, in fact. As an athlete I never really pushed my boundaries. I accepted mediocrity because it was comfortable and familiar, not to mention that I was very successful at it! I relied heavily on a high capacity but did little to nothing to demonstrate capability. To borrow a thought from Nietzsche, I became who I was and not who I thought I was. Thankfully, I've long since come to accept my failures, yet it's hard for me to watch others repeat such mistakes, when I now know better: to actualize oneself, one must strive.

But sure enough, I see these same behavioral patterns oh-so-much in this day and age: that good enough is good enough. For example, so many pro triathletes coach not because they're good coaches (they are not), but because it enables them to continue to live the lifestyle (please note that it's tough to live a lifestyle when you are dead). They're no more committed to being a good coach than they are to being a good athlete. They are lifestylers. This, whether they're a good (i.e., performing) athlete or not. (Remember: some athletes are merely successful because they are lucky: they've chosen the right genealogy. Of course, at the top levels of sport, this is pretty much the case across the board, and it's the hardest working who win, not the most talented. A pro becomes a pro because he's talented; he wins because he outworks everyone else.)

Now there's really nothing wrong with being a lifestyler. Life, after everything is said and done (and, to be sure, more is generally said than done), is about trying new things and experiencing as much as we can during the short time we're here. But how quick are we to tear down the winners because of our "balance"! We criticize those on top because they're easy targets: simply aim high! We claim that our "balance" makes us winners, because we've tasted a wide variety of flavors, despite having never tasted victory. After all, variety, it's been said, is the spice of life. But to me the behavior of tearing down the successful (or anyone else) tastes of bitterness, not spice. Are we truly successful if we need to lash out at others? Are we successful because we possess good "balance" in our life? Or are we only kidding ourselves?

Maybe as humans we're meant to give 100% to a sole passion and abstain from dividing our attention; divided attention could be looked at as a lack of focus. Our primordial ancestors were focused, since their survival fully depended on it, whereas today...not so much. And indeed, the focused souls I know, those who pour 100% of their very being into a sole cause (i.e., a soul cause), seem to be happiest. (And happy is a good aim in life...maybe our only aim.) But then again, they wouldn't pour themselves into something if they weren't happy doing so.

Happiness is what drives our ambition and yet our ambition is happiness. We are happy when we're active in pursuit of choice---those worthwhile goals that we, in some measure, might achieve. But yet there is no happiness without contentment and inner peace, which essentially requires less or lessened ambition. Perhaps when all is said and done (and again, more is usually said than done) the pursuit ends up being the goal. It's just that at the time we don't see this with our success blinders on.

Greg LeMond, a neighbor of mine back in Sacramento many moons ago, and the guy who inspired me to take up this whole damn lifestyle, once said, "I fear that with success it is never enough." This, after winning the Tour de France three times. He found more success than most ever will but yet needed more, and he's been looking ever since.

Is that happy?

Maybe. Maybe not. One who longs for what is constantly out of reach will be constantly unhappy, eternally striving but never arriving. Not only shall he not attain that which he desires, he will fail to appreciate that which he has. And there's bound to be no happiness in that.

Strength or No Strength

My last blog included a lot of words that ultimately declared nothing. Like a dog barking aimlessly at the wind, I make a lot of noise sometimes. It's not because I like the sound of my own voice or anything (I do not, be it spoken or written or recorded while "singing" in my true-to-life rock band), but because it's more beneficial for me to think clearly when I do so aloud. Hell, even when I exercise alone at a conversational pace, the conversation rarely ceases.

Anyway, soon after writing and posting that last entry, I received some correspondence in which I was asked, somewhat predictably, whether I have those I guide lift weights. We triathletes like things broken down to a simple, "yes or no, should I stay or should I go?" The fellow who'd asked was obviously one such person. My answer ("it depends on the individual") was not precisely what he wanted to hear, since, I could only presume, he's an individual and yet doesn't know where he might fit in to the "it depends" part. (This, incidentally, is his responsibility, and no one else's; know thyself...or get to know thyself better, always).

Over the years, of those I've acted as an assistant coach for (note: they're each their own head coach), about half have lifted weights and half have not. Some are persuaded to steer clear of weights and some are pushed against their will into the gym. For the most part, here are those who do and those who do not lift…

• Skinny folks: yes
• Older folks: yes
• Nonworking pro athletes: yes, depending on gender, build, responsiveness & desire
• Working pros: generally no
• Working age-groupers: no, not typically
• Nonworking age-groupers: maybe
• High-injury types: yes, but exercises are geared toward eliminating injury
• Low-injury types: no
• Weaker types: yes
• Stronger types: no
• Big units: no
• Greyhounds/whippets: yes
• Bulldogs: no
• In-betweeners: maybe
• Chronic "aerobic overtrainers": yes
• Chronic "aerobic undertrainers": no
• Those who "bulk up": no
• Those who could afford to gain weight: yes, only after eating more first
  
• Those who could afford to lose weight: possibly
• Those who could afford to lose muscle mass: no, never
• Those who'd over-train aerobically if it weren't for the gym: yes
• Those in need of better "hormonal balance": maybe
• Whipper-snappers: no
  
• Those endowed with mostly fast-twitch fibers: no
• Those endowed with mostly slow-twitch fibers: maybe
• Those better off swimming, running or riding more: no
• Those better off swimming, running or riding less: yes
• Germ-a-phobes: no
• Vanity types: no
• Females: more often than men
• Men: less often than females
• Charles Atlas: yes
• Arnold Schwarzenegger: no
• Me: no
• You: maybe

The exercises prescribed generally run the gamut but are specific to the individual and his or her requirements, wishes and goals. If an athlete has a weak back, for example, we don't spend time doing biceps curls. No, they work their back instead (it's not too confusing now, is it?).

Most importantly perhaps is that everyone I've helped guide has done {and indeed does} sport-specific strength work (hill-work, big-gears, paddle work in the pool, etc), and this ALWAYS overrides the non-specific strength work. (Yep, the gym AIN'T specific to race day, you heard it here.) Specificity of preparation plays a major role in the specificity of performance and a triathlete should best work on that which limits his/her performances on race day before worrying about hoisting a bunch of iron. We're Ironmen, not men of iron. Prioritize and let your race results show you your best course of action (or inaction). Lifting weights (i.e., resistance training) is well down the scale of importance for competitions showcasing our aerobic capacity and/or economy/fuel efficiency or overall bad-ass-ish-ness. Weight-lifters may be bad assess, but they aren't triathletes. You can be both, but something's usually gotta give.

Measure, measure, measure (in the pool, on the bike or while running, not in the weight-room) if you're still not sure. As they say, the proof is in the putting out. Put out or get out.

Is Stronger Faster?

True or false? If you are stronger, you are faster.

Of the many topics that multisport coaches like to chatter on about, few stand out like "strength training." Indeed, the matter habitually provokes heated dialogue, with numerous coaches in favor of it and a seemingly equal number against it. Even the well-schooled scientists, those with all those abbreviations after their names, whose very job it is to prove that which works (or to disprove that which does not), stand divided. Because of this great divide amid coaches and scientists alike, who's to know where to stand? All told, it seems the whole notion of "strength training" is merely a matter of opinion, or choice. As a fairly dogmatic dude, I know where I stand. But, just the same, I understand where others stand, whether they stand in front of the weight room mirrors or not.

THOSE AGAINST the typical notion of strength training (i.e., the weight room) say that there's little specificity involved for the endurance athlete. They claim to be "with science on this one" and cite studies that back their claims and argue that the limiting factor in an endurance sport is aerobic capacity, not strength or lack thereof. Among other things, they cite that strength work dictates a consequential decline in sport specific stress, resulting in performance impairment.

THOSE FOR IT say that they "know" it helps, because they've seen it work with themselves or with those they coach, and they too claim to be "with science on this one," referring to studies that back their claims (as written about by Friel, et al). If all else fails, they might argue in favor of it as a preventative measure against injuries or to help correct muscular imbalances or to help release growth hormone (helping older athletes maintain muscle mass) or to increase bone density or to get the girl, further adding to their argument by showing that so many top professional endurance athletes also lift weights.

Here in Boulder, the self-titled Endurance Athlete Capital of the World, I know this last point to be pretty damn accurate. As I stroll through the local clubs or gyms or rec centers on my way to the ladies locker room (no comment), I have seen almost all of triathlon's biggest names (those living here, that is) hoisting weights. But are these pros any faster because they lift weights? Or are they fast in spite of the fact? It's a tough question and I know not the answer (despite having developed my own opinions on the matter).

(Incidentally, it's easy to look at the very best in any of life's microcosms and decide that what they're doing must be right, but this isn't, well…right. In fact, I personally know quite a few fast athletes who don't know what got them there! And even if you knew what got them there, I doubt it would get you there too.)

What's more, over the years, I have amassed a vast assortment of books written by some of the planet's leading exercise physiologists and/or coaches and/or endurance athletes. (This planet.) Most these books include pieces or paragraphs or pages on weight-lifting or other ancillary strength training, like that old, pervasive "core work." Few of the books argue in opposition to strength training, particularly the body-building ones. Wait! Who put these in my bathroom?! And what's with the Men's Health magazine? And the Playgirl one?

Of course, the very definitions of 'strength' and/or 'strength training' must first be fully understood in order to hold any real merit. For some reason, wording is valued in sport and sport science. But, like personal opinions, these definitions run the gamut. Each of the books adorning my reading room (i.e., bathroom) has its own definition it seems, and I'd need to possess some serious strength---of both character and of hand---to type them all here. I myself have called some of the skinniest endurance athletes in the world "strong," but this is a relative connotation, basically a euphemism for "frickin' fit." Example: "That skinny Andy Schleck dude is one strong motherf*cker..." Truth is, Schleck is a weakling.

One might argue that, in an endurance sport, the faster athlete is the stronger athlete, but this is not accurate. Hell, the fastest athlete may not even be the fittest athlete. Classifying the fastest athlete at a given race as anything but the fastest is simply erroneous. He or she was merely the fastest. Nothing more, nothing less. (Personally, I like it like that. Call me a purist if you will, but screw those lame judged "sports" like ice dancing, freestyle skiing, gymnastics, body-building, the snowboard half-pipe and synchronized swimming! I'll concede that those competing in these activities are all athletes, and perhaps I'm just being a poor sport, but I honestly couldn't care less about the winner of a judged sport. If I want a judge deciding my destiny I'll commit a crime, thank you very much.)

Remember, irrespective of distance or duration or course layout, racing is measured in terms of swiftness. Its simplicity is what makes it so alluring. It's about a starting line and a finish line and perhaps a clock, in an attempt to find out who gets there first. It's about competing and beating others…or about beating our previous best self. (Victory doesn't always end with the first person across the line.)

And so it is, with this in mind, I tend to simplify things by having those I guide train to become FASTER, not to become stronger or more powerful or fitter or more balanced or better at arguing about training methodology online or better looking (this would be tough anyhow, since I only guide good-looking people) or even more efficient at going fast. Their training is designed and executed so that they can each reach the finish line sooner, period.

Does "strength training" help with this?

You tell me.

I shan't let them tell you.

Now pardon me while I go squat. In the gym? Nah...in my, ahem, "reading room" once more. I have some books to finish up.

Routinely Training Routine

Perhaps it's a deeply rooted fear of monotony or ennui brought on by an itinerant childhood as a military brat, but I have never been one for routine in life. The square-jawed Colonel V (think The Great Santini) would move our family unit every year or so, and with the constant uprooting came the fear and distaste of stability. At least it did with me. Stability is too much a liability. I'll be ready for change by changing things first.

Cliché as though it may sound, I've always held steadfast to the notion that life should be an adventure, or the voyage is hardly worth living. Routine is the deathbed of the soul, I proclaimed. Of course, for the athlete, routine is anything but fatal. In fact, the repeated way is the only way to seek meaningful insight into ourselves, and seeking meaningful insight is an adventure of its own.

Ultimately, routine is the very foundation in determining success. Athletes who lack routine lack consistency, and consistency, despite what Oscar Wilde may have had to say, is the cornerstone of accomplishment. Few things of value are accomplished without prolonged, unwavering effort. I repeatedly tell the pros I guide to distrust the value of things that come easy. What I essentially mean is that value is only found in that which takes work: "Success might smell sweet, but it first smells like sweat." In other words, if it's worth having (i.e., achieving), it's worth working for. Over and over and over again.

If you're a triathlete intent on reaching some lofty goals, I advise elevating your intent from mere intent to being hell-bent. For I can tell you now: hell-bent intent is how the best train, and they do so consistently and indefinitely. In short, they commit. Their routine is a derivative of that commitment. It is not a routine based on comfort (i.e., many of us stick with routines to avoid being uncomfortable) but rather one based on control.

Here in Boulder I can tell you exactly where you can find Chrissie Wellington on any given training day (note: they're all training days), because the routine of her existence is more than evident; indeed, it borders on ritual. The simplicity/anti-intellectualism of her weekly training schedule would literally frighten most multi-sport "coaches" right out of a job (if their athletes didn't fire them first, knowing how uncomplicated it really all is). But Chrissie's routine works because she works, and continually so. She's cut out the extraneous crap in her life and honed her routine. After all, success has to be a habit in order to be.

Those who don't commit don't last long, and ours, by its very definition, is a sport of outlasting one another. When routine is constantly out of order, so too are dreams and goals.

But what disrupts routine?

I've broken it down into what I most commonly see as a coach, and what I frequently failed to observe as an athlete…

1) Lack of commitment
2) Life (Other people, appointments, errands and so on…)
3) Lack of motivation
4) Illness/ Injury

Obviously, the commitment one is the biggie. Without it, what's the point? You cannot be partially committed, or there is no commitment at all. Your routine needs to reflect your commitment.

Life is a poor excuse to disrupt your routine, as it is what provides the opportunity in the first place. When people claim that they're "too busy" or that "the time just isn't there," they're essentially just advertising their failure to commit, which is their choice. Sure, life can be disruptive, but nothing like death will be. So don't play the blame game; nobody wins.

Lack of motivation is a common cause for failed dreams. Without motivation, nothing gets accomplished, other than failure. If you're not motivated, you've quite simply chosen the wrong route. Sure, motivation will ebb and flow at times, but it should not be lastingly disruptive. More importantly, if your motivation is constantly disrupted, you need to question it…and your commitment.

Finally, injury and illness. I see these occurrences interrupting the training routine all the time, particularly in those who know not how to avoid them (often because they've chosen a regrettable routine). The routine needs to reflect the risks, period. Your training habits need to be constantly altered in response to your own personal responses and requirements and the requirements of your goals. Ultimately, a stubbornness to change confirms the athlete's lack of commitment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Commitment is the only real answer, as you can see. Your training routine is your commitment. It should spur consistency and growth both. Moreover, sustaining a routine doesn't mean that each training block has to be exactly like the last. While the basic skeleton may be similar or even identical, the day-to-day adjustments are what allow you to hone in on what works best for you and your goals. The bottom line is that your routine must not be so routine that it stunts your growth. Allow it to allow you to grow. Then repeat the process and the modifications, ad nauseum.

Before I go I wanted to touch on one last thing: if the training routine is so important and yet so simple, then who needs a coach?

This, you'll need to ask your coach. If he or she cannot provide a suitable answer, uproot yourself and move along.