Move Daily

Slow Down. Stay Sharp.

The art of peaking is a fine one and certainly something that has intrigued me for years. More often than not, I've dropped the proverbial ball completely in my attempts to arrive at a chosen event in top shape and perform to the best of my ability.

Some memorable "de-peaks":

• racing a 110km cycling event ten days after being hit by a car outside a nightclub. And I wondered why I went straight out the back of the bunch on the first climb.
• catching a cold ten days before an ultra-marathon. And I wondered why I was useless from the 30km mark onwards.
• completing an Ironman triathlon after spending the week leading up to it working night shifts in addition to my day job and training. And I wondered why I looked tired in a photo of me exiting the swim.

This sort of self-sabotage is surprisingly prevalent in endurance sports and is certainly avoidable with a little nous on the part of the athlete. Given that most of us, whilst naturally having some degree of competitive desire, tend to pursue sports as a form of leisure, it certainly begs the question whether the actual process of peaking and tapering is necessary at all.
Recent times have seen a reignited desire inside of me to compete, specifically in road and cross-country running. I'm not sure why, but it is there and often in my thoughts. Additionally, the amateur status, accessibility and simplicity of these athletic disciplines add to the allure that is competition. Needless to say that I am thriving on the stimulation and excitement that this fairly regular competition offers. I actually look forward to the limited amount of races in which I participate, which is certainly a far cry from the days where events seemed to get in the way of training. If I think back to these times, the instances where I actually fulfilled my competitive ambitions could probably be counted on one hand. The weight of expectation that I put on myself as well as the constraints of conventional training methods were certainly the main contributing factors to this lack of "bang for my buck". I can vividly remember reading a magazine interview with a former Comrades Marathon champion who stated that he wished that the athlete who trained the most would win and that, if this were the case, he would train twelve hours a day! Needless to say that I took this quote to heart and tried to put it in to practice. But it never worked: it seemed that the harder I trained, the worse my race performances.

Nick Bester: Ex-parabat. Did the miles. Won Comrades.

The past few years has seen a marked shift in my approach to training and competition. This is not to say that I suddenly woke up one day and decided to change things cold turkey. On the contrary it was more an ongoing process of:

• observing others.
• a desire to be truly healthy as well as being extremely fit.
• learning from my various setbacks.

This process is something that is ongoing and is certainly infinite.
One of the most important shifts in approach has been that I no longer define my daily exercise as "training" per se. Consistent "movement" would be a better terminology. Besides, the term "training" is far too laborious. Training is more apt for elite athletes, who earn their living by being the best they can possibly be through long hours of hard graft and sacrifice. A recreational athlete, however serious, is exactly that: recreational. Consistent exercise is therefore part of a typical day, intermingling with other priorities like work, commuting, laundry, eating, sleeping, cooking, cleaning and so on. Interdependent instead independent.

Freeing oneself from the constraints of over-planning and looking too far ahead are valuable steps forward in the pursuit of a more holistic approach to any sport. In terms of exercise, taking things by the day instead of by the week is far more practical, especially for the recreational athlete. Remember that one week represents an arbitrary number of seven days. Many coaching programs are tailored specifically around the limiting constraints of this seven day cycle, which is great if one template were to fit everybody. This is rarely the case in real life however, where a multitude of factors serve to undermine an individuals best attempts to stick to a predetermined plan.

An amusing anecdote to this phenomenon would be a conversation I had with an Italian friend of mine a few years back. An elite amateur road cyclist in the mid-1980s, Claudio Pellegrini rode in many of the same amateur races as the likes of Gianni Bugno. The European amateur scene is the breeding ground for the professionals we see on television and life there is spartan as it is laborious. Claudio related his experiences in these ranks as "not very nice. We had to stick to the coach's program. On a Tuesday it is raining but we have to do five hours. On the Wednesday it is beautiful sun and we are told to rest, eat pasta and stay in bed. I go crazy. Now if it is beautiful weather, we ride for five hours and get a nice tan. If it is raining, we stay in the bed and drink the coffee. La vita è bella!"

Claudio Pellegrini: Recreational cyclist. Sun-worshiper. Also an engineer.

Claudio's experiences serve to highlight the differences in mindset between an aspiring professional athlete and a recreational athlete. To reach the elite level of any sport requires dedication far beyond the realms of normality and is certainly not for everyone. Even those possessing innate talent and physiology in their chosen sport won't necessarily reach the levels that this talent suggests. The fact that Claudio still rides his bicycle to this day indicates that his mindset is that of a recreational athlete, physical attributes aside. He is at peace with his chosen path and truly cherishes the experiences that his chosen path has afforded him.

Gianni Bugno: Professional cyclist. Rode in the rain for years. Now a helicopter pilot.

As a recreational athlete, being too strict and too serious about our chosen sport can lead to staleness and lack of enjoyment. Focusing on enjoyment and health instead of numbers and fitness is a wholly invigorating experience, thus enhancing our athletic longevity. If the passion is there, the results will follow - it just means channeling that passion in a way that suits you.

Recently, I participated in 15km running race that went very well by my standards. Invigorated by the good result and wanting to carry the momentum further, I immediately checked the calendar for a fast and flat 10km event in the not too distant future. Sure enough, there was indeed a race that met the criteria, scheduled for Saturday 20 July and four weeks after the 15km event. This presented me with a challenge: how could I maintain and possibly even improve my condition through to the following race, given the window period of almost a month?

Conventional methods would dictate that once or twice weekly speed-work sessions would do the trick, my form supposedly improving with the intensity of those repetitions. In other words, trying to mimic what the "pro's" do and sticking to a rigid plan in order to enhance my performance. I say bullshit to that and have decided to take the opposite approach: maintained daily exercise concentrating on enjoyment and proper technique, all the while maintaining an extremely low intensity. In other words, slowing down to get faster, which is the complete antithesis of most training programs. After all, how can one take in the beauty of the great outdoors when busting out the miles at breakneck pace?

This low key approach would enable the following:

• full recovery and absorption of the 15km race effort.
• taking full advantage of the benefits derived from the absorption this effort.
• guarding against illness and injury.
• keeping fresh, both physically and mentally.
• ability to perform one speed session when feeling inclined in order to stay sharp.
• maintaining full enjoyment of my chosen sport.

This past Sunday, I woke feeling fresh and twitchy. After checking the weather outside and drinking a cup of tea, I made up my mind: this morning would be the time for that single speed work session. It had been fifteen days since the 15km race so I reasoned that I should have fully recovered from that effort. Time to clean pipes so to speak.

I jogged a couple of kilometers down to my local "track", which is actually a patch of grass nestled underneath some pine trees. Approximately 200m in length and slightly downhill, this area provides the perfect environment for some low impact yet fast running.

15x200m. Just what the doctor ordered. Lovely pines and green grass.

As I jogged to the park still undecided on what exactly to do, the session began to take shape in my mind: 15x200m at slightly faster than race pace with a 200m jog back up to the starting point. Whilst fifteen repetitions appeared to quite substantial at face value, the combination of the slight downhill gradient, a northwesterly tailwind and the fact that I had waited until I actually felt like doing this session meant reaping its full benefits. I couldn't even imagine doing this sort of workout on a weekly basis; if I did, the pure enjoyment would be squeezed out making it a chore.

I was euphoric upon completion of this set and it is at times like these where we need to resist the impulses to do more. I most certainly could have done twenty or even thirty repetitions but settled on fifteen; it was what I originally planned to do and felt like the right amount. Any more and I would have been entering the danger zone; any less and I would have been unfulfilled. Similarly, another session of this sort is not even in my thoughts. As they say: Save it for the race. "It" being that little bit extra that one only finds in a race environment.

Jogging home, I couldn't help but feel a lightness in my step. With the 10km race less than two weeks away, this was the perfect opportunity for some sharpening. Now it is time to revert back to the trusted slow daily movement. There are thirteen days to absorb the benefits of the "session in the park" and let's hope the six miles will be as fast and equally euphoric.