The above screenshot pretty much captures my current athletic mindset, relative to my own abilities of course. They say that a person gets wiser as they get older. As with many sayings though, exactly how one interprets such a generic statement can vary widely from one person to the next.
The past few years of my athletic life could be described as an educational experience par excellence, where decades of observation and conversation have begun sprouting forth an ever increasing sense of self-discovery. This sense has resulted in a fairly loose and evolving athletic philosophy, free from the limitations of conventional wisdom. I mean, who says and old dog can’t learn new tricks?
I recently listened to a great podcast with a past athletic legend. An exercise physiology graduate who spent the ensuing decade post-university pursuing a career as a professional triathlete, the interviewee related how he feels privileged to have experienced an alternative life away from his current occupation in academia, where the extensive travel and life experiences have allowed him to attain a broader sense of life perspective in general. Given that the guy now has a PhD and is a leading exponent in the realm of sporting performance, the fact that he cherishes his time “off-the-grid” and in the company of the most interesting of people speaks volumes of forging our own path and philosophy in pursuit of sporting excellence. It just takes time and an open mind, two factors that I've had trouble accepting in years past.
Men in their twenties tend to know more than they might
think. This uncomfortable truth is further exacerbated by the fact that one can
get away with a lot during those years, athletically that is. While irrationality
and bad decisions are an essential part of life, learning from those mistakes
and actually applying the wisdom gleaned can transform into amazing results
later on.
Consider the following all too familiar scenario:
Talented twenty-something amateur athlete is turning in
great personal results on a training schedule that is impressive in both its
volume and intensity. On diet rich in grains and junk food and a lifestyle centred around work, sport and partying, our athlete knows no limits and is seemingly invincible. Work hard and play hard is his or her mantra; live life to the
fullest and by the seat of your pants.
While I'm sure we have all had these most enjoyable periods
of our lives where the above description rings true, the reality is that this
lifestyle, as great as it is, is not sustainable in the long run (pun not intended).
As active sports people enter their thirties, they often experience a marked drop-off in athletic performance and health, their years of glory suddenly
becoming distant memories.
While it doesn't have to be that way, this frustrating period
can pave the way to a fuller life further down the line; all that is needed is
a little realization and patience.
Note the use of the word “talented” in the hypothetical
description. But what exactly does talent mean? A few weeks ago, a fellow
athlete told me that I was talented compared to him, where my great result at a
local cross-country running race was off basic of daily jogging. The fact that
the athlete in question is a few years older than me and has a work ethic that
borders on compulsion doesn't mean to say that he is any less talented than me. I'm pretty sure that if he slowed down a little during the week and didn't work
so hard in training, his performances would rise a few notches, but it is does
highlight an important notion:
What works athletically in the present does not necessarily guarantee continued success in the future.
My late-twenties to early-thirties were what I like to term
a “grey-period,” most notably with respect to fitness at the expense of health.
A busy life centred on a rigid training structure was resulting in a general feeling
of lethargy and seeming deterioration of my athletic abilities. A mindset focused
on trying to emulate various hardcore sporting heroes of mine certainly wasn't
helping either; reading exotic tales of daily six-hour bike rides over tough
terrain definitely served to inspire, but in a make-believe kind of way. One Festive
Season involved my racking up an accumulated cycling volume of almost sixty
hours over the course of two weeks, no doubt inspired by the seductive world of
professional sport I read about in various mainstream cycling periodicals. Whilst the sense of achievement was enjoyable at the time, it was more related to compulsion, ego and the need to measure myself against what others were doing. I really am not sure if it benefited me in the long term in any case.
A few months down the line, regular colds and energy fluctuations were rearing their ugly heads, with that Endless Summer feeling like a distant memory. Later that winter, a seemingly crippling foot ailment abruptly halted my beloved intense hour-long runs in the local forest. While my compulsive side sought
refuge in increased time on the bike or afoot, the more pragmatic side of me did
question the wisdom and validity of what was becoming an impure pursuit. Having the
ability to let go was difficult to acknowledge and set in motion at the time, the actual
process taking several years to actually implement.
I am often reminded of this time of my life when I bear
witness to fellow athletes constantly pushing the boundaries while not exactly
enjoying the process. Why is this phenomenon so prevalent in modern society?
I
suspect that a few mitigating factors could include:
- Attaching self-esteem and worth to athletic credentials.
- Approaching excellence in endurance sports in a similar manner to business.
- Aspiring to emulate elite athletes.
- Getting caught up in other people’s schedules.
- A “bucket-list” mentality, where sporting achievements are pursued in the quest for an impressive CV.
Nowadays, I am truly content with a minimum daily dose of exercise that suits my lifestyle. That does not mean I don't like to train hard - far from it actually. Now it is more a case of saving those sort hard training sessions for the days when I feel totally inspired to perform them, which are spaced weeks apart. Instead of doing as much as I possibly can to perform at my peak, I strive to get by with the least amount of pain and suffering possible.
Some rules of effective "approaching forty and beyond" high performance would include:
- training should not hurt.
- training = stress + rest.
- if it feels too easy, then you are exercising at the correct intensity.
- race-pace is for racing.
- strengthen your body, particularly your feet.
- have a cold shower at least once a week, year-round.
- eat one beetroot a day.
- do not plan too far ahead.
Case in point last spring. After a torrential day of rain, I had a late-afternoon telephone interview scheduled with a former professional cyclist and current team manager. Having not yet trained that day, I had resigned to the fact that that particular day would be a rare rest day owing to circumstance. Upon completing the most interesting and insightful of interviews, I was so inspired that went for a twenty minute easy run in the pouring rain. It wasn't planned and was purely spur-of-the-moment but was totally inspiring; quite possibly one of my best training sessions at that point.
Needless to say that the above example would more than likely be unthinkable to many pursuing excellence in their chosen sport. But it is important to remember why we, as amateurs, participate in sport in the first place.
For the love of the game.
