Asking, pondering, and answering difficult questions.
Mark Twight is the most influential person in my life. More than any family member, more than any friend. I had developed a philosophy about life before stumbling across his, but his helped me refine and add to mine to make it what it is today. He taught me other ways to live, ways that I had trivially thought about before but never actually abided by. His writings made me confront things about myself that I had ignored or shrugged off as normal and acceptable in today's society—others do this, so why is it a problem if I do? He taught me how to live by a personal standard that is separate from the (lower) standards of others; to strive to meet the goals that I set and suffer the consequences if I don't; to truly commit with my word, always follow through, and never say what I don't actually mean, whether it involves action (talk minus action equals zero) or not.
Twight wrote an essay—called a Sunday Sermon—every week at his old project and published the collection in Poison: Sermons on Suffering. These are my reflections on those essays.
Cheating and PEMs (performance-enhancing methods) are a spectrum. On one end exists barebone participation, where it's pure grit and determination that allows one to survive to the finish. The other end is them doing everything in their power to enhance performance—drugs, coaches, technology, name it. The line in the sand marked "cheater" is arguably arbitrary. Does using electrolytes count? What about a better bike? Should we standardize everything come performance day so everyone is on an equal playing field minus the genetic factor? Should the genetic factor be accounted for by moving the cheating line for those less naturally inclined to the activity?
I try to do most of my performances as bare as possible (see Gear) for a few reasons. One, it feels that much better when I just obliterated opponents who are further towards the absolute cheating end of the spectrum than myself. They have nutrition dialed in, a dedicated mechanic, power meters and heart rate monitors, while I have my bike and my legs and my mind. Second, it keeps me honest about my abilities. Am I really that capable or was it a fluke assisted by the [insert cheating method here]?
Twight is right, people don't think about this kind of stuff any more. They casually do something using PEMs and expect a pat on the back. I'm fine with this so long as they're not bragging or bringing down my accomplishment. If you're doing either of those, be ready to defend yourself when someone calls you out.
My ego was humbled when I visited Vancouver's North Shore, a mountain biking capital of the world. The skill required to ride those trails was far beyond anything I could develop in my city, yet I learned an immense amount about controlling the bike during the three days I was there. I wasn't embarrassed to walk features or take a long look before deciding my line. This is how you get better.
The same is true at work. I'm happy (most of the time) to ask silly questions to further my understanding of a technical subject or make sure I'm not misunderstanding a concept/idea. Mistakes are how one learns and shores up weaknesses. Ego often prevents one from getting in said vulnerable position, thus depriving them of a learning opportunity.
I want to learn. I want to improve. This comes at a cost, and that cost I'm willing to bear for the final product.
There are so many paths of growth to a summit that get higher faster than one can ascend. The routes are fraught with failure and lessons, none of them deadly, all of them valuable and able to be used later on. What works in one spot may not work in another despite conditions appearing to be similar. Experience reigns supreme—the more time spent in the discipline, the more knowledge of the discipline and when to use what.
Self-experimentation is healthy for the soul. It shows what can and cannot work, how individual one is. It humbles and inflates egos, all the while filling in the puzzles pieces of learning and the territory.
Keep growing.
Sometimes there are specific issues preventing a solid performance, but other times it's just lack of toughness and willpower. It's important to distinguish and recognize the difference between the two and when it's the latter, decide to disobey the mind and keep pushing; situations like that result in the most growth, not the ones where everything is dialed in and feeling great.
Pay attention. Understand your actual current condition. Define realistic objectives. Learn what it will take to achieve them. Execute and hold yourself to the standard you determined was required. Do not allow distraction. Pay attention.
See Boredom I and Boredom II. In the end, we (well, at least I) know progress comes down to consistency, hard work, and intelligence, in that order. Work both smart and hard on a regular basis while avoiding the traps and results are sure to follow.
The concept of deliberate training is important, whether in a strength and conditioning or an endurance context. Learn what needs to be done and do it. Do it when the appropriate conditions present themselves. A hard, high intensity workout undertaken in a recovered condition will produce better results than that same workout done starting from a deficit. Starting from recovered takeoff point means being able to hit target power output and duration.
Often, when the importance, commitment and time questions are answered the training plan and its outcome has already been written.
Yet another proponent for polarized training. I've started to use both the polarized method (barbell strategy?) in training and life. I ride my bike hard two-ish days a week and the rest is very easy. I lift easy one week (out of a three-week cycle) to practice the movements, then hit heavy weights at 5x5 and 5x3 to develop strength and power. At work I push hard to finish projects when my motivation is high enough to and take it easy when it's low. In writing I either casually write or voraciously consume the research.
Pain being gain has too long been ingrained in us. Pain can be gain, but not always, and no pain can absolutely be gain, which most trainees don't seem to understand.
I recognize I won't produce race-winning fitness on the seven or eight hours of cycling combined with the heavy lifting, but I'll sure give those specialists a run for their money.
The hardest thing to do is one thing at a time.
And yet this is all we can do, nothing more. There is value in being a jack of all trades and master of none: more experiences, a greater appreciation of the various disciplines, possibly more fun. I did this and still do. I'm not willing to jump into bike racing because I enjoy being strong, and I'm not willing to jump into lifting because my ego enjoys crushing skinny cyclists while being able to overhead press my bodyweight. I don't think this is as wrong as Twight makes it out be, it's just personal preference and I'm not complaining.
If your actions in the gym aren't helping, if they are reinforcing the condition you want to change then stop. If you aren't sure or can't prove it then you're wasting time. ... Busy does not mean productive. Pain does not imply gain.
I fucked around with different fitness regimens for years before getting dedicated to the one I'm on now: I lift heavy three times a week and ride my bike five or six times, two of those being intense sessions. My habit wasn't consistency, it was switching programs when the progress I was actually making wasn't as fast as I would have liked. And it was easy for months to go by without noticing this, without me getting stronger. The new year would come along and I'd glance at my training log and notice the same weights, the same reps, the same power output. How could this be possible?
Constant self-reflection is crucial to improvement. Regular review of one's plan for achieving goals is crucial to success. Stop and ask if the plan and its actions really make sense.
Competing against those better than you is the best way to improve faster. If you can get over your ego and the feeling of losing (which isn't necessarily a negative emotion), then much can be learned from the winners: their training, their mindset, their strategy, their sacrifice. All of this information together can enlighten one on if the journey to where they want to be is actually worth it. Is it worth it training 15 hours a week and forgoing social activities? Is it worth it missing out on delicious food and drink and calling it an early night? All of these are questions to be answered, the extent determined by how far you want to progress and how competitive the field is.
Losing is also motivating. It provides feedback that what you're doing may be working, but you need to work harder. Worse, it may show that the current training isn't working and something needs to be changed. It's either positive or negative, but both can be turned into motivation and willpower for the next training cycle.
I try to get in over my head to learn information and where I stand. I don't get too far in over my head since the negative feedback will be too much, but finishing middle of the pack is enough for me to be satisfied and still hungry.
Twight has written extensively how difficult shared experiences bonded him so closely to his climbing partners—being that close to death has that type of effect. I think shared suffering does the same, and if you want to get closer, intentionally suffering together (in a good way!) is helpful in doing so. Coming out on the other side both better and together is not insignificant.
Do most people have a purpose in life? Does being a parent count? What about a menial employee? Maybe in some sense, but not in the way Twight is talking about. His was climbing, mine is yet to be determined. I've found purposes, but not "THE thing that speaks to the heart of us, without interpretation, directly". I've dabbled in a variety of physical disciplines out of boredom and interest and nostalgia and continue to search for something that grabs and holds my attention for a long time. I don't know whether it's me as a person and I'll never find it or if it's still out there, lying in wait. Maybe it's the more general umbrella of self-improvement and the disciplines are just ways to realize the philosophy.