"Something is wrong Jim, I'm looking at your power numbers and I've gotta tell ya, these are pro numbers. I'm glad that you finished in the top 5 but look, you can win - you should be winning. I don't know what you're doing up there, but you're not closing the deal. I know you are capable because I'm seeing the numbers. You don't need to be faster, you need to learn how to win."
Ouch. Here I was all excited that I 'placed' in a big race and my coach, whom I never met but have worked with over the phone and online for about 6 months gave me the real deal.
In split-second pulses at the finish of a race, I was making decisions about how I thought of myself and what I was comfortable with. I was not comfortable winning.
Craig Griffin, my coach, insisted that I win. And he showed me that I was good enough and deserving. Over the next 2 years, every time the finish line got closer, I amped up my mental focus to places I've never been. I would say to myself, I'm here! I'm here! I friggin deserve this. And then, every move was intense, split-second-made and fierce.
I was taking it. I was fighting. Not physically. Mentally. Once I gave myself permission to feel I deserved to win, it felt like I was not just trying to win that race that day, but making up for every race, and every situation in life, that I did not win.
Those moments crystallized in my brain. As I think back to those races over the next 2 years, I remember shutting down extraneous factors and hyper-focusing on where my position was, what gear I was in, where my competitors were and what I needed to do to win. All of it was happening at high race speeds with dozens and sometimes hundreds of bikes cornering deeply into sharp turns before the final straight-away.
So what right? Speedy Jim - whoohoo. Autograph anyone?
But here's the thing: those experiences, and my coach's ability to share his insight with me - in a way that I could handle - changed my life. I was 31 years old at the time. I didn't go on to be a great cyclist. I went on to be a husband, daddy and successful entrepreneur.
I never grew up understanding how to win - it wasn't in the family archives, and that fact made it inherently uncomfortable to succeed. No road map. It was easier - familiar actually - to 'struggle' and be a survivor.
I don't want to survive anymore. I want to live, and live large.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Friday, October 17, 2008
Where I Can Find Me & You Can Find You
I slip on my white italian sidi cycling shoes. They fit perfectly. Tight without being tight. I clip into my bike, I am no longer me and my bike is no longer it. Every effort applied results in one forward movement. Rise from the saddle, cat-like and pounce with speed. I feel comfortable here. Climb mountains, cross desert.
I can relax.
Heart rate climbs, breathing accelerates, and here I am comfortable. This is the place where I can be me. Not a rush, that's a feeling of experiencing something new. This is not new. This is familiar and comfortable.
It's a frequency where I can communicate on all levels. I can reach you here. I can reach me here. I can see brightly. And I can feel everything and be afraid of nothing. Not invincibility. Comfort with my humanity.
God, whoever or whatever that may be, provided me with a heart and I primed it to pump powerfully, and slowly. I did that. My legs - agile sticks as a child are now powerful workhorses that have taken me tens of thousands of miles.
On the road or in the boat, I've met people that I will never forget but that I will never see again. That is living and at its best.
Ever look square into the eyes of an athlete who is at speed, sweating and physically hurting? Its a pure moment of someone being as alive as can be. Challenge that person's spirit by surging ahead of them. I've been here many times, some won, many lost.
I can relax.
Heart rate climbs, breathing accelerates, and here I am comfortable. This is the place where I can be me. Not a rush, that's a feeling of experiencing something new. This is not new. This is familiar and comfortable.
It's a frequency where I can communicate on all levels. I can reach you here. I can reach me here. I can see brightly. And I can feel everything and be afraid of nothing. Not invincibility. Comfort with my humanity.
God, whoever or whatever that may be, provided me with a heart and I primed it to pump powerfully, and slowly. I did that. My legs - agile sticks as a child are now powerful workhorses that have taken me tens of thousands of miles.
On the road or in the boat, I've met people that I will never forget but that I will never see again. That is living and at its best.
Ever look square into the eyes of an athlete who is at speed, sweating and physically hurting? Its a pure moment of someone being as alive as can be. Challenge that person's spirit by surging ahead of them. I've been here many times, some won, many lost.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Outside My Comfort Zone
Rivanna Reservoir, University of Virginia, October 1st, 1992
Rowing duels are rare. Usually crews will compete in fleets of 6-8 boats at a time. But once a year, my crew would take on UVA's crew and this year it would be on their course. It was a quiet reservoir. No spectators; no shore to have them. It was early fall, the leaves were only beginning to change.
When the gun sounded, we pried into our first ten strokes. The UVA crew was rowing higher than us and they immediately gained a 2 seat lead within those first ten strokes. Joe was our stroke, the newest member of our team, one we have not yet really gotten to know.
Had I known Joe would raise the stroke rating to a 48 and demand that we stay there, I probably would have unlocked my oar and dove into the reservoir because I did not think that pace was sustainable. But, having no choice if we were to stay with the big and powerful UVA crew, Joe kept us high.
I remember cursing Joe halfway through the race, accusing him of inexperience for rowing this high - we never settled! We have to settle you ass! We're going to blow up!
UVA hung with us but I could here there coxswain growing more frantic and demanding toward her crew. They were beginning to falter, which gave us new life, and we began to surge.
"Okay Joe, lock us down. Let's settle. Let's bring this down."
He never did. He kept it high and I, along with my crew, felt like our lungs were going to explode. I had already emptied my tank, or so I thought.
Funny how your body has reserve of which you are not aware. Survival reserve.
2000 meters later, we finished in the lead with an open water advantage and broke UVA's course record. Once we recovered in the boat, UVA floated over to us so we could lock oars, shake hands and claim their jerseys. My UVA counterpart was 6'4" with no lank about him. I could not believe I out-rowed this guy.
I took his sweaty jersey that he surrendered in sportsmanlike fashion and thanked him for the race. On the dock, I thanked Joe with a slight grin and smirk on my face.
Who was this guy that handled me like a horse and demanded I go faster than I was accustomed?
Every now and then, we should all surrender control to what we think we know and let someone else guide us. The outcome could take you to a good place.
Rowing duels are rare. Usually crews will compete in fleets of 6-8 boats at a time. But once a year, my crew would take on UVA's crew and this year it would be on their course. It was a quiet reservoir. No spectators; no shore to have them. It was early fall, the leaves were only beginning to change.
When the gun sounded, we pried into our first ten strokes. The UVA crew was rowing higher than us and they immediately gained a 2 seat lead within those first ten strokes. Joe was our stroke, the newest member of our team, one we have not yet really gotten to know.
Had I known Joe would raise the stroke rating to a 48 and demand that we stay there, I probably would have unlocked my oar and dove into the reservoir because I did not think that pace was sustainable. But, having no choice if we were to stay with the big and powerful UVA crew, Joe kept us high.
I remember cursing Joe halfway through the race, accusing him of inexperience for rowing this high - we never settled! We have to settle you ass! We're going to blow up!
UVA hung with us but I could here there coxswain growing more frantic and demanding toward her crew. They were beginning to falter, which gave us new life, and we began to surge.
"Okay Joe, lock us down. Let's settle. Let's bring this down."
He never did. He kept it high and I, along with my crew, felt like our lungs were going to explode. I had already emptied my tank, or so I thought.
Funny how your body has reserve of which you are not aware. Survival reserve.
2000 meters later, we finished in the lead with an open water advantage and broke UVA's course record. Once we recovered in the boat, UVA floated over to us so we could lock oars, shake hands and claim their jerseys. My UVA counterpart was 6'4" with no lank about him. I could not believe I out-rowed this guy.
I took his sweaty jersey that he surrendered in sportsmanlike fashion and thanked him for the race. On the dock, I thanked Joe with a slight grin and smirk on my face.
Who was this guy that handled me like a horse and demanded I go faster than I was accustomed?
Every now and then, we should all surrender control to what we think we know and let someone else guide us. The outcome could take you to a good place.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
36
A relatively young age, but one of massive transition. The middle of the decade of leaving your youth and entering the 'time' you vaguely knew was coming.
I've always been this hyper-focused athlete and now I feel confused. I still have this itch everyday to start racing again, or jumping, even though I know my peak is past. Could I get back there? Well, sure, I think so. But for how long and under what cost? And wouldn't that be a selfish path given the two little munchkins I have running around?
It's their time. Two little ripe kiddies with energy that requires no premeditated thought to unleash. They just...go. Me? I have to have a conversation with myself first before I fire up my engines.
So what's the motivation now if not to win? To look good? That's more about diet for me, and I've never been too good about 'working out' without that competitive element anyway.
I'm itching so badly to open up a studio. One that I, myself, would workout in. I'd invite all of my friends and colleagues to join me for workouts. I NEED to share my experience and knowledge with other people. I want to teach those that REALLY want to amp it up and get fit. It's so hard to do online - no human touch.
I think that's it. I'll be that awesome 40 something year old Dad that's in terrific shape, goes cycling with his buddies on the weekends and occasionally does a Triathlon. Maybe my kids will come by to 'find Dad' and breathe in what I do. Maybe other Dads will walk in and want to get in shape - really want to get in shape. I would love that.
No feeling is greater than the feeling of watching a person's life change as they find their fit selves. Good to know I have those opportunities in front of me, in the not-so-distant future.
I've always been this hyper-focused athlete and now I feel confused. I still have this itch everyday to start racing again, or jumping, even though I know my peak is past. Could I get back there? Well, sure, I think so. But for how long and under what cost? And wouldn't that be a selfish path given the two little munchkins I have running around?
It's their time. Two little ripe kiddies with energy that requires no premeditated thought to unleash. They just...go. Me? I have to have a conversation with myself first before I fire up my engines.
So what's the motivation now if not to win? To look good? That's more about diet for me, and I've never been too good about 'working out' without that competitive element anyway.
I'm itching so badly to open up a studio. One that I, myself, would workout in. I'd invite all of my friends and colleagues to join me for workouts. I NEED to share my experience and knowledge with other people. I want to teach those that REALLY want to amp it up and get fit. It's so hard to do online - no human touch.
I think that's it. I'll be that awesome 40 something year old Dad that's in terrific shape, goes cycling with his buddies on the weekends and occasionally does a Triathlon. Maybe my kids will come by to 'find Dad' and breathe in what I do. Maybe other Dads will walk in and want to get in shape - really want to get in shape. I would love that.
No feeling is greater than the feeling of watching a person's life change as they find their fit selves. Good to know I have those opportunities in front of me, in the not-so-distant future.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Don't Exercise To Be Healthy
I'd be lying if I told you that I exercise to stay healthy. I am just lucky that that was a side benefit. I think a lot of people that meet me feel like they need to put on a healthy front when they're around me. Look - the reality is that, for some reason, I chose to go running at 10:00 on a Friday night when I was a teenager. I had energy and frustration to release. It was an itch to move, so I scratched it. I wasn't consciously choosing to 'be healthy.' Please - does any teenager do that?
I never stopped scratching that itch. There is something special about existing in that 'place' when running, rowing, riding or swimming. It's as close to God as I ever felt. And the feeling afterward, the next day and so on? Awesome. Legs feel strong, abs are tight and you can... breathe...deeply. And that is what kept me running. It was the feeling of having physical mastery in the world I lived in and mental clarity to think my way through it.
So let me say it here - exercise to find that place, to soul-search, to learn more about yourself and negotiate your way through life. Move your body, and use it in every way you can. When it breaks - get it fixed. Don't use your bodies' breaking down as an excuse to get old. Get it fixed.
The other side of this is the reality that we are aging; our bodies will slow down and to fight that is denying the reality of your humanity. Don't fight aging; age gracefully.
Technology. Pharmaceuticals. Processed foods. Progress? I'm not so sure. It's a human condition, especially among Americans, to believe that we are advanced compared to our ancestors. But I look around and I see primitive conditions. I see a culture that lived its glory years. Sedentary people. Very overweight people. People buried underneath their excess. That saddens me, because I would love to meet the people hidden underneath years of neglect. The world needs those people.
Let's get back to basics. Don't eat egg-whites - eat the darn yoke. Skip the energy bar and break a loaf of bread. Bottom-up a tall glass of lemonade, spill it down your chest. Run your hands through your hair and open your eyes to the sky. Go run, or jog or walk. Can't? Knees hurt? Get them fixed. Back hurt? Why? Which part? Which muscle? Get it fixed. Do it to look good and healthy? Sure - that'll happen. But other things will happen. Things that are more powerful and effectual than you can know right now.
I never stopped scratching that itch. There is something special about existing in that 'place' when running, rowing, riding or swimming. It's as close to God as I ever felt. And the feeling afterward, the next day and so on? Awesome. Legs feel strong, abs are tight and you can... breathe...deeply. And that is what kept me running. It was the feeling of having physical mastery in the world I lived in and mental clarity to think my way through it.
So let me say it here - exercise to find that place, to soul-search, to learn more about yourself and negotiate your way through life. Move your body, and use it in every way you can. When it breaks - get it fixed. Don't use your bodies' breaking down as an excuse to get old. Get it fixed.
The other side of this is the reality that we are aging; our bodies will slow down and to fight that is denying the reality of your humanity. Don't fight aging; age gracefully.
Technology. Pharmaceuticals. Processed foods. Progress? I'm not so sure. It's a human condition, especially among Americans, to believe that we are advanced compared to our ancestors. But I look around and I see primitive conditions. I see a culture that lived its glory years. Sedentary people. Very overweight people. People buried underneath their excess. That saddens me, because I would love to meet the people hidden underneath years of neglect. The world needs those people.
Let's get back to basics. Don't eat egg-whites - eat the darn yoke. Skip the energy bar and break a loaf of bread. Bottom-up a tall glass of lemonade, spill it down your chest. Run your hands through your hair and open your eyes to the sky. Go run, or jog or walk. Can't? Knees hurt? Get them fixed. Back hurt? Why? Which part? Which muscle? Get it fixed. Do it to look good and healthy? Sure - that'll happen. But other things will happen. Things that are more powerful and effectual than you can know right now.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
The Last 500 Meters
May, 1994, Dad Vails Regatta, Philadelphia
The lane official, laying belly-down on the floating wet dock, held tightly with both hands to the stern of our racing shell. Eight heavyweight men, one coxswain. We try to stay relaxed, oar blade set in water, ready to pull with all our might. Relax. 2000 meters down the Schuylkill River. Six lanes, six boats. Final Event and biggest collegiate race of our lives. Relax.
A storm-whipped cross current can wreck a smooth start; the bows of each boat struggle to keep from pointing to port side. "Bow hit it!" The coxswain yells at Scott, our bowman. "Keep hitting it Scott - keep us straight." The belly-down deckman's forearms are burning from trying to hold still a 50-foot long shell filled with 8 heavyweights pitching into the cross current.
Loudspeakers boom and echo, "Gentlemen, welcome to the final of the Dad Vails Regatta." Then urgently, the coxswains crisply shout out commands to their crews. The spectators are all at the finish line, 1500 meters down the course. I can hear them, but only as a distant white noise hum. It makes the hairs on my forearms stand and sends a cool tingle down my back.
Our instructions from Chuck, our coach, are to pull only by the command of our coxswain, Robin, and not the gun of the race official, who is located on the side of the river. "The sound of the gun shot has to travel to your ears and your pull will be delayed - Robin will watch the trigger finger - go on her command."
I sit, oar blade buried, ready to explode into my first stroke in concert with my 7 teammates. All I see are the broad muscles of Web's back in front of me; he's drawn at the catch, fingers and shoulders relaxed - but ready to explode.
"Cha!" Robin yells, and then the gunshot.
Every stroke has to be clean and all of our blades have to enter the water together. Each of us has to row as hard as we possibly can and we all must be perfectly in tune with one another. No mental lapses. Don't follow Web, the rower in front of me. BE with Web. Move with him. Explosively.
Coming into the last 500 meters of that race has stayed with me these past 14 years, and those last 500 meters are one of three experiences for me that form the spiritual foundation from which I started Agile. The other two I've written about in the past, and they are buried within the archives of this blog, but subconsciously fresh in my mind everyday.
Something released from us coming into the grandstands amidst the roar of that crowd. Our tension disappeared and the boat went faster. I am not sure where this pixie dust came from, but I picked it up just as a dog would pick up a sudden scent. One by one, this sprinkle of magic trickled through us. We were all in great pain; our chests were heaving, our leg muscles were on fire and we were fried. But we found each other through that pain. Our strokes became rhythmic and the boat seemed to lift out of the water and move with litespeed to the finish line.
The pixie dust was the spirit of our friendship built on 4 years of rowing and racing and our realization that a great time was coming to pass - in about 500 meters.
The lane official, laying belly-down on the floating wet dock, held tightly with both hands to the stern of our racing shell. Eight heavyweight men, one coxswain. We try to stay relaxed, oar blade set in water, ready to pull with all our might. Relax. 2000 meters down the Schuylkill River. Six lanes, six boats. Final Event and biggest collegiate race of our lives. Relax.
A storm-whipped cross current can wreck a smooth start; the bows of each boat struggle to keep from pointing to port side. "Bow hit it!" The coxswain yells at Scott, our bowman. "Keep hitting it Scott - keep us straight." The belly-down deckman's forearms are burning from trying to hold still a 50-foot long shell filled with 8 heavyweights pitching into the cross current.
Loudspeakers boom and echo, "Gentlemen, welcome to the final of the Dad Vails Regatta." Then urgently, the coxswains crisply shout out commands to their crews. The spectators are all at the finish line, 1500 meters down the course. I can hear them, but only as a distant white noise hum. It makes the hairs on my forearms stand and sends a cool tingle down my back.
Our instructions from Chuck, our coach, are to pull only by the command of our coxswain, Robin, and not the gun of the race official, who is located on the side of the river. "The sound of the gun shot has to travel to your ears and your pull will be delayed - Robin will watch the trigger finger - go on her command."
I sit, oar blade buried, ready to explode into my first stroke in concert with my 7 teammates. All I see are the broad muscles of Web's back in front of me; he's drawn at the catch, fingers and shoulders relaxed - but ready to explode.
"Cha!" Robin yells, and then the gunshot.
Every stroke has to be clean and all of our blades have to enter the water together. Each of us has to row as hard as we possibly can and we all must be perfectly in tune with one another. No mental lapses. Don't follow Web, the rower in front of me. BE with Web. Move with him. Explosively.
Coming into the last 500 meters of that race has stayed with me these past 14 years, and those last 500 meters are one of three experiences for me that form the spiritual foundation from which I started Agile. The other two I've written about in the past, and they are buried within the archives of this blog, but subconsciously fresh in my mind everyday.
Something released from us coming into the grandstands amidst the roar of that crowd. Our tension disappeared and the boat went faster. I am not sure where this pixie dust came from, but I picked it up just as a dog would pick up a sudden scent. One by one, this sprinkle of magic trickled through us. We were all in great pain; our chests were heaving, our leg muscles were on fire and we were fried. But we found each other through that pain. Our strokes became rhythmic and the boat seemed to lift out of the water and move with litespeed to the finish line.
The pixie dust was the spirit of our friendship built on 4 years of rowing and racing and our realization that a great time was coming to pass - in about 500 meters.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Scott
April 1997. Palo Alto California.
Scotty - Do you remember ascending to Skyline Ridge, high above Silicone Valley and then descending at speeds nearly 50 miles per hour all the way to the Pacific Ocean? 6 Days later we were 11,000 feet high in Lake Tahoe skiing the best powder either of us having experienced to this day.
How about when we first met back in college 1991? 4 years of intense Rowing amongst what would be the best friends of our lives; friends that we are unusually close today, 17 years later.
17 years.
Remember when you first took me out on your Catamaran? We had the Cat peaked on one pontoon; I was trapezed way out. The wind suddenly died and I plunged under water then catapulted back onto the deck. You were steering the boat, keeping it from capsizing and laughing like a little kid. We bonded over the fact that only us two would giggle over what others would perceive as an absolute Mayday moment.
Another time that same summer we got caught way out on the Sound with no wind. Stranded for hours and we could have cared less. We had a dozen Coronas, 2 limes and a knife.
1995 summer at G's. That was the best summer of my life. How many open Jeep rides did we make out there?
Surfing in Costa Rica.
What about the Mountainous ride through St. Helena in Napa Valley?
Dad Vails Regatta in 1994. We never rowed better or more in sync with one another. How about the course record we set at UVA? I think we rowed at a 50 the whole way.
Remember Melbourne, Florida? Rowing through the canals. 3 practices a day?
Remember that Golf Trip we took with your Dad in Ocean City? I had a bike race that Sunday and destroyed the field in the finishing sprint. It was special not because I won, but because you witnessed it. I was only that good because your Dad taught me how to take my training seriously.
I'm having a flush of fine memories on the eve of your wedding to the best woman you have ever known (and I've been around to witness every one). I'm reminiscent.
There was a simplicity to our lives back then that made for these fine memories. I'm wanting to find that sense of endless relaxation again. We caught each other's vibes and stayed in tune.
What I do know, is that our best days are in front if us. Lisa and Jen are more alike than I could have imagined. They both don't take any B.S. from us and they know how to put us in our place; they are strong women.
I am happy for you; I am excited at what prospects the future holds for our families. I am thrilled that you and Lisa are taking such a monumental step. I am hopeful that we can not only have more of our past experiences, but that our families can share in them.
Scotty - Do you remember ascending to Skyline Ridge, high above Silicone Valley and then descending at speeds nearly 50 miles per hour all the way to the Pacific Ocean? 6 Days later we were 11,000 feet high in Lake Tahoe skiing the best powder either of us having experienced to this day.
How about when we first met back in college 1991? 4 years of intense Rowing amongst what would be the best friends of our lives; friends that we are unusually close today, 17 years later.
17 years.
Remember when you first took me out on your Catamaran? We had the Cat peaked on one pontoon; I was trapezed way out. The wind suddenly died and I plunged under water then catapulted back onto the deck. You were steering the boat, keeping it from capsizing and laughing like a little kid. We bonded over the fact that only us two would giggle over what others would perceive as an absolute Mayday moment.
Another time that same summer we got caught way out on the Sound with no wind. Stranded for hours and we could have cared less. We had a dozen Coronas, 2 limes and a knife.
1995 summer at G's. That was the best summer of my life. How many open Jeep rides did we make out there?
Surfing in Costa Rica.
What about the Mountainous ride through St. Helena in Napa Valley?
Dad Vails Regatta in 1994. We never rowed better or more in sync with one another. How about the course record we set at UVA? I think we rowed at a 50 the whole way.
Remember Melbourne, Florida? Rowing through the canals. 3 practices a day?
Remember that Golf Trip we took with your Dad in Ocean City? I had a bike race that Sunday and destroyed the field in the finishing sprint. It was special not because I won, but because you witnessed it. I was only that good because your Dad taught me how to take my training seriously.
I'm having a flush of fine memories on the eve of your wedding to the best woman you have ever known (and I've been around to witness every one). I'm reminiscent.
There was a simplicity to our lives back then that made for these fine memories. I'm wanting to find that sense of endless relaxation again. We caught each other's vibes and stayed in tune.
What I do know, is that our best days are in front if us. Lisa and Jen are more alike than I could have imagined. They both don't take any B.S. from us and they know how to put us in our place; they are strong women.
I am happy for you; I am excited at what prospects the future holds for our families. I am thrilled that you and Lisa are taking such a monumental step. I am hopeful that we can not only have more of our past experiences, but that our families can share in them.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Finding My Way So You Can Find Yours
How does one run a company called agile if he is, in fact, not very agile? That was the mental hurdle I was dealing with for the last few months, and part of the reason of why I haven’t written in so long.
But I did do something about it. I had an advanced knee surgery. One that would not simply repair my knee, but rather, make it more than it was originally. I am still laid up and rehabbing my knee, so it remains to be seen how ‘special’ is this bionic knee.
I feel liberated all the same. I feel like my workout efforts now have that sky’s-the-limit mojo.
As I’m laid up in my knee brace, I’ve been working on the things I’ve never been too good at, such as sugar abstinence, sleep and my relationships with the ones I love. I’m trying to find inner peace without having to rely on my physical self. If I can learn to calibrate myself without having to rely on exercise, then I think I will have reached a new place when I do once again have my physical self back.
I’ve been reading a ton lately. I’ve always read a lot, but it’s funny how one takes in information at different ages over his life. At 36 years old, I am by no means old, but I have felt a strong feeling that life choices have narrowed and you start to become who you are and will be. This is unquestionably a result of 2 things: 1) my children; it is breathtaking to watch their energy and restorative power; to witness their growth and 2) aging; my peak is in many ways past. But mentally, I feel extraordinarily more powerful; I find myself thirsty for learning about the world and other people’s experiences. But at the same time, I feel an increased urgency to become who I am so that the world and the ones I love can bear witness.
Fitness, sigh. Folks – that is one piece of the puzzle. I very much want to teach you how to gain control of that piece but that has soooo little to do with the nuances of exercise (i.e. how to do this exercise or that) and so much more to do with your psyche. You need to learn about some things emotionally, not intellectually. Fitness is one of those things. That’s why I don’t use this blog to write how-to articles on fitness. My telling you the proper technique of an exercise doesn’t address the emotional triggers of why you eat so much or can’t get off your butt and go running.
I used to be a trainer. Do you know why I was fit and you weren’t? It’s not because I was superior in finding balance. What is balanced about working in a gym? How could you not be fit when you actually get paid to exercise? So what did I have over you and my clients? I sensed at a young age my coordination and physical strength; I was able to define myself through these innate abilities. I then set out to teach others how they could find their best physical self, and how finding this person leads to spiritual peace.
Why am I writing all of this? Because I see this as a partnership. I want to relate to you by showing my humanity and struggles so that you see how like you I actually am. I don’t want to educate you on fitness in a top-down approach. It’s dishonest and ultimately, not helpful. I think that peeling back my thought-process might help you do the same. I’m hoping that you can find nuggets of insight here so that you can apply it towards yourself.
Stop and think about what you are feeling. Use exercise as a way to flush out those feelings. You are very strong; stronger than you know. Do not use me to try and help make you stronger. I can’t do that. You have to do that. You don’t actually have to get stronger; you simply have to unlock your strength.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Mora
Spring Break, 1997
I will never forget Mora. I sensed we had much in common but I wondered if she would accept me on her back. When I got up on the saddle, she reared high. I stood up with her, ran my fingers through the coarse hairs of her mane and kept my chest pressed to her neck as she reared up on her hind legs. I whispered in her ear, "easy babe, easy." I squeezed her back between my legs to let her know that I was comfortable and that I understood and shared her need to run.
Jen and I were among eight couples who were waiting for the horses to be saddled for what would be a 2 hour horseback ride from the high hills on the island of Aruba, down and along the sandy beach. The ranchers were asking our experience level and I was hesitant to say 'none' because I feel like such an answer doesn't account for my natural athletic ability. So I always say "none, but..."
Everyone except Jen was now saddled up and atop their horses. Jen was the most experienced rider and deemed the only one capable of riding Mora. Mora was brought out, feisty and rearing up on her hind legs. Kicking and bucking. I wouldn't have known that is was such a scary thing if not for the nervous look and mannerisms of the ranchers. "She's okay," they said. "She just needs to be up front."
And so once Jen was saddled up, Mora rudely nudged her way through the tight crowd of 15 horses to be in front. I was jealous. Jen clearly was going to have an adventure while I'd be at the back of the line with Mr. Goat the Horse.
I needed to be on Mora. I never rode a horse before but I just felt like I needed to ride Mora. Jen was willing to switch and the ranchers nervously conceded because I assured them I could handle her.
We descended the rocky trail, single file. Mora and I were contained by the ranchers ahead. The salty scent of the ocean was growing stronger. The beach was near and we could bolt ahead. I would pay no heed to the ranchers caution. I wanted to run with Mora and Mora wanted to run.
Cha! I let out the reigns and snapped my right knee into her side. For a split second, I was stunned by Mora's power as she bolted onto the beach. I could not believe the power she unleashed. We sprinted hard and fast away from our group. I wanted the ranchers to know that Mora didn't kidnap me so I reigned her in, spun around and ran straight back towards our group. We came to a stop and Mora kicked up again. Daringly. High above the other couples and their horses.
As I stood on my stirrups and Mora stood on her hind legs, I nodded to the ranchers that it was okay. I pushed Mora's neck forward, tugged on the left reign to turn her and cha! - sprinted away form our group and onto the light surf.
The sound of the ocean air running past my ears and Mora's rhythmic gallop on the wet sand is my fondest memory of early spring. This memory pulls me through the long days of winter and prods me to stay in shape for the new memories I get to create this spring.
I will never forget Mora. I sensed we had much in common but I wondered if she would accept me on her back. When I got up on the saddle, she reared high. I stood up with her, ran my fingers through the coarse hairs of her mane and kept my chest pressed to her neck as she reared up on her hind legs. I whispered in her ear, "easy babe, easy." I squeezed her back between my legs to let her know that I was comfortable and that I understood and shared her need to run.
Jen and I were among eight couples who were waiting for the horses to be saddled for what would be a 2 hour horseback ride from the high hills on the island of Aruba, down and along the sandy beach. The ranchers were asking our experience level and I was hesitant to say 'none' because I feel like such an answer doesn't account for my natural athletic ability. So I always say "none, but..."
Everyone except Jen was now saddled up and atop their horses. Jen was the most experienced rider and deemed the only one capable of riding Mora. Mora was brought out, feisty and rearing up on her hind legs. Kicking and bucking. I wouldn't have known that is was such a scary thing if not for the nervous look and mannerisms of the ranchers. "She's okay," they said. "She just needs to be up front."
And so once Jen was saddled up, Mora rudely nudged her way through the tight crowd of 15 horses to be in front. I was jealous. Jen clearly was going to have an adventure while I'd be at the back of the line with Mr. Goat the Horse.
I needed to be on Mora. I never rode a horse before but I just felt like I needed to ride Mora. Jen was willing to switch and the ranchers nervously conceded because I assured them I could handle her.
We descended the rocky trail, single file. Mora and I were contained by the ranchers ahead. The salty scent of the ocean was growing stronger. The beach was near and we could bolt ahead. I would pay no heed to the ranchers caution. I wanted to run with Mora and Mora wanted to run.
Cha! I let out the reigns and snapped my right knee into her side. For a split second, I was stunned by Mora's power as she bolted onto the beach. I could not believe the power she unleashed. We sprinted hard and fast away from our group. I wanted the ranchers to know that Mora didn't kidnap me so I reigned her in, spun around and ran straight back towards our group. We came to a stop and Mora kicked up again. Daringly. High above the other couples and their horses.
As I stood on my stirrups and Mora stood on her hind legs, I nodded to the ranchers that it was okay. I pushed Mora's neck forward, tugged on the left reign to turn her and cha! - sprinted away form our group and onto the light surf.
The sound of the ocean air running past my ears and Mora's rhythmic gallop on the wet sand is my fondest memory of early spring. This memory pulls me through the long days of winter and prods me to stay in shape for the new memories I get to create this spring.
Monday, February 04, 2008
Start with Just Three Exercises
I started going to the gym again recently after laying off for a few weeks. I decided I wanted to just keep it super simple because physical therapy on my knee was eating up my daily workout time. So which 3 exercises did I choose? Pull ups, Dips and Overhead Squats. That's it. 15 minutes and I could claim I did a full body workout!
Now those 3 exercises wouldn't be the right starter exercises for most people so please don't hang from a monkey bar yet.
But which three exercises should you do? I bet most of you would think 'abs.'
Nope - you'd be wrong there. I promise you that no one gets in shape by laying on their back.
It varies with every person and depends primarily on flexibility, experience and body awareness so I can't write a one-size-fits-all solution.
But think in that mindset if you don't know where to get started: start with 3 exercises. After 3-4 consistent weeks, you can add 2 more exercises. That's really all it takes to start looking and feeling good.
If you need help picking three exercises, visit my free exercise library at Agile Fitness. There are hundreds of exercises there that I've spent 3 years making.
Now those 3 exercises wouldn't be the right starter exercises for most people so please don't hang from a monkey bar yet.
But which three exercises should you do? I bet most of you would think 'abs.'
Nope - you'd be wrong there. I promise you that no one gets in shape by laying on their back.
It varies with every person and depends primarily on flexibility, experience and body awareness so I can't write a one-size-fits-all solution.
But think in that mindset if you don't know where to get started: start with 3 exercises. After 3-4 consistent weeks, you can add 2 more exercises. That's really all it takes to start looking and feeling good.
If you need help picking three exercises, visit my free exercise library at Agile Fitness. There are hundreds of exercises there that I've spent 3 years making.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
I Was the Skyjumper
Can I tell you what it is like to sprint at the fastest speed, plant a 15-foot long pole into the ground, and launch yourself straight up into the sky?
It is the most relaxing place I've ever been. The moment where you stop going higher and begin to come back down to earth - freeze that moment. Peace and comfort. Me being me. Pole Vaulting. Jumping. Skyjumping. That's what we called it.
But one day, it all ended abruptly. I didn't have enough speed as I ran down the runway. I jumped anyway, got about two-thirds of the way up, then came back down way off-center. I landed on an uneven surface, my knee twisted to the sound of a gun shot, and I screamed.
I never jumped again.
It was okay I guess. I found rowing after that and that led me to the same spiritual place, albeit, through a totally different movement.
You see, I have an itch. I've learned that I am not so comfortable idling. There seems to be a spiritual state that opens up for me when my heart rate is around 155 and my body is moving rhythmically. This is where I feel at peace with myself. And if a fellow athlete is alongside me, well, that is where a powerful connection develops. Rowing was beautiful because it was eight of us in the boat, all moving together, feeling each other's rhythms. When eight heavyweight rowers red-line their heart rates together and can still stay relaxed and bonded... Well, that is a special special place for me.
I am missing that place right now and I'm wrecked over it. I hurt my knee again and badly. Not one stride I take is without pain.
I walked by 3 gentlemen playing squash today. They danced with each other perfectly on the court. Synchrony to their motions yet they are trying to beat each other. How is that?
I'm the lion in a cage now. I wanted to play too but I can hardly walk! I didn't want to play to beat anyone, I wanted to play so that I can move alongside my opponent. It's the dance that I'm after. It's the bond. It's the most honest moment I know in life. Two people head-to-head competing, giving their everything. But it's not to beat each other. Its to connect.
My heart wanted to leap out of my body and find another one.
It is the most relaxing place I've ever been. The moment where you stop going higher and begin to come back down to earth - freeze that moment. Peace and comfort. Me being me. Pole Vaulting. Jumping. Skyjumping. That's what we called it.
But one day, it all ended abruptly. I didn't have enough speed as I ran down the runway. I jumped anyway, got about two-thirds of the way up, then came back down way off-center. I landed on an uneven surface, my knee twisted to the sound of a gun shot, and I screamed.
I never jumped again.
It was okay I guess. I found rowing after that and that led me to the same spiritual place, albeit, through a totally different movement.
You see, I have an itch. I've learned that I am not so comfortable idling. There seems to be a spiritual state that opens up for me when my heart rate is around 155 and my body is moving rhythmically. This is where I feel at peace with myself. And if a fellow athlete is alongside me, well, that is where a powerful connection develops. Rowing was beautiful because it was eight of us in the boat, all moving together, feeling each other's rhythms. When eight heavyweight rowers red-line their heart rates together and can still stay relaxed and bonded... Well, that is a special special place for me.
I am missing that place right now and I'm wrecked over it. I hurt my knee again and badly. Not one stride I take is without pain.
I walked by 3 gentlemen playing squash today. They danced with each other perfectly on the court. Synchrony to their motions yet they are trying to beat each other. How is that?
I'm the lion in a cage now. I wanted to play too but I can hardly walk! I didn't want to play to beat anyone, I wanted to play so that I can move alongside my opponent. It's the dance that I'm after. It's the bond. It's the most honest moment I know in life. Two people head-to-head competing, giving their everything. But it's not to beat each other. Its to connect.
My heart wanted to leap out of my body and find another one.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Tidal Wave
I woke up this morning terrified. I had one of those doomsday dreams again - 2nd night in a row. The dream felt so real. Real enough that you wake up with the remnants of those feelings intact. In my dream, a huge tidal wave was approaching. My wife and I were running to try and reach our kids, Mia and Max. In that dreamlike sort of way, we were desperately trying to outrun the wave, but it was all slow motion running. I needed to run faster but couldn't. I looked at Jen and told her I loved her and that I love Mia and Max. None of us were going to make it, but I wanted to squeeze Mia and Max and shield them from this wave. Let the tidal wave hit my back. It is okay that I go, but leave them. Please. Please leave them.
You wake up from a dream like that and it is hard to shift into the everyday mode.
So today I feel my humanity; I feel how precious life is. I am scared that I am not living life to the fullest so I say to myself - what can I do TODAY to amp things up? To make myself standout. To be heard. To be remembered for when that wave does break my back.
Somehow this mood always leads me to the gym or out for a run. The act of exerting myself seems to be that expression of 'I'm alive.' It is that place where I can go to make my back more broad to handle that wave.
You had better do the same if you really want to live a full life. In the beginning, exercise is that cold wave - a jolt that will bolt you out of sleep. Move your body, get your heart rate up. Wake up. Life is today.
You wake up from a dream like that and it is hard to shift into the everyday mode.
So today I feel my humanity; I feel how precious life is. I am scared that I am not living life to the fullest so I say to myself - what can I do TODAY to amp things up? To make myself standout. To be heard. To be remembered for when that wave does break my back.
Somehow this mood always leads me to the gym or out for a run. The act of exerting myself seems to be that expression of 'I'm alive.' It is that place where I can go to make my back more broad to handle that wave.
You had better do the same if you really want to live a full life. In the beginning, exercise is that cold wave - a jolt that will bolt you out of sleep. Move your body, get your heart rate up. Wake up. Life is today.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
The Hot Dog Story
July 1993, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Boathouse Row.
The sun had set. I was alone on the upper deck of my boathouse, Pennsylvania Athletic Club Rowing Association, famously known as Penn-AC. The Schuylkill River was calm and lazily falling over a small damn. Remember the museum steps that Rocky climbed in the movie? That museum, with the lit cityscape above, formed the backdrop to one of the most memorable moments of my life. But on this night I was sad; I was saying goodbye to what was the opportunity of a lifetime and one of the best experiences of my life.
Six weeks earlier, I had arrived, along with 3 dozen of the best rowers in the country. I had only been rowing for 10 months but somehow was invited to Penn-AC, the premier rowing camp in the country, for 3 months of world class training and racing under the direction of US Olympic Coach Ted Nash. I will never forget walking into the boathouse on that first day and being introduced to Mr. Nash. He shook my hand and said to me, "I was watching you row upstairs - you know what I like about you? You're the shortest guy here but you bury your hands in the cage anyway and get the same length as these other guys. You're a good athlete - you're one of Chuck's boys right?"
For the record, I am 6'1" so hardly short. But rowers are an unusual breed of broad-backed giants. I was able to compensate because I have inhumanly large quads, the powerhouse muscle needed to row hard and fast.
Chuck was my rowing coach at the University of Delaware. He was and still is one of the best known and well respected rowing coaches in the country. All he had to do was say to Ted, "I'm sending one of my athletes to you this summer." I showed up hardly a good rower but my athleticism made up for what I lacked in experience.
I was gonna have to prove myself everyday at this camp or I would be sent home. I remember sitting in the #4 seat of an 8 man crew and Ted hollered into his megaphone, "#4 - make your catches faster in the next 5 strokes or you're out of the boat." Funny how you learn quickly when you're given that kind of ultimatum.
Practices were 3 times per day. I had planned on getting a job to support myself but I simply didn't have the time or energy to work. I took a waiter job at a local restaurant but quit on Day 2. I was here to row, not wait tables. But cash - I needed cash. I was losing weight very quickly because I wasn't eating enough. I ate to survive. I bought a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly. I'd eat that for breakfast, lunch and dinner until it was gone and then I'd buy it all again. I picked up side jobs moving furniture, painting fences - anything I could squeeze in between practices.
I was becoming desperate for food. On one afternoon practice, I hit rock-bottom - I waited until my crew mates were ready to launch from the dock. I excused myself, ran back into the boathouse, bound up the stairs and raided the small clubhouse refrigerator. Nothing in there. I opened up the small freezer compartment and buried under lots of frost were 2 frozen hot dogs. Fine. I scarfed them down my throat as I ran back down the stairs, onto the dock and into the boat.
I lasted 6 weeks. My crew was headed to the national championships in Topeka, Kansas (I guess they have water there) and I was told to stay behind and catch up on sleep. In other words, I wasn't cutting it.
So while my teammates were competing at nationals, I had the boathouse entirely to myself; I sat on the upper deck of the boathouse and wrote a small note thanking my coaches for the opportunity. I hung out there alone all weekend and reminisced. I packed up my gear and rode my bike back to my hometown which was about 60 miles away.
If I knew then what I know now, I would have done things differently - I should have asked people for money on the street. I could have put on my crew jacket and told my story. Why didn't I put up a sign on the street and row on a stationary rower on the street telling people why I need money or food!
I gave up, packed my bags and went home. I could have found food. But what I would not have found is the maturity to realize that I did belong there and that I could figure this out.
I'm okay saying that I have this regret. I won't be that person that's lying on their death bed that says, "I have no regrets." I would much rather say, "I've had regrets, but I made things right in the end."
I am making things right. My memory is bittersweet; it was not my time. But my time is now.
The sun had set. I was alone on the upper deck of my boathouse, Pennsylvania Athletic Club Rowing Association, famously known as Penn-AC. The Schuylkill River was calm and lazily falling over a small damn. Remember the museum steps that Rocky climbed in the movie? That museum, with the lit cityscape above, formed the backdrop to one of the most memorable moments of my life. But on this night I was sad; I was saying goodbye to what was the opportunity of a lifetime and one of the best experiences of my life.
Six weeks earlier, I had arrived, along with 3 dozen of the best rowers in the country. I had only been rowing for 10 months but somehow was invited to Penn-AC, the premier rowing camp in the country, for 3 months of world class training and racing under the direction of US Olympic Coach Ted Nash. I will never forget walking into the boathouse on that first day and being introduced to Mr. Nash. He shook my hand and said to me, "I was watching you row upstairs - you know what I like about you? You're the shortest guy here but you bury your hands in the cage anyway and get the same length as these other guys. You're a good athlete - you're one of Chuck's boys right?"
For the record, I am 6'1" so hardly short. But rowers are an unusual breed of broad-backed giants. I was able to compensate because I have inhumanly large quads, the powerhouse muscle needed to row hard and fast.
Chuck was my rowing coach at the University of Delaware. He was and still is one of the best known and well respected rowing coaches in the country. All he had to do was say to Ted, "I'm sending one of my athletes to you this summer." I showed up hardly a good rower but my athleticism made up for what I lacked in experience.
I was gonna have to prove myself everyday at this camp or I would be sent home. I remember sitting in the #4 seat of an 8 man crew and Ted hollered into his megaphone, "#4 - make your catches faster in the next 5 strokes or you're out of the boat." Funny how you learn quickly when you're given that kind of ultimatum.
Practices were 3 times per day. I had planned on getting a job to support myself but I simply didn't have the time or energy to work. I took a waiter job at a local restaurant but quit on Day 2. I was here to row, not wait tables. But cash - I needed cash. I was losing weight very quickly because I wasn't eating enough. I ate to survive. I bought a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter and a jar of jelly. I'd eat that for breakfast, lunch and dinner until it was gone and then I'd buy it all again. I picked up side jobs moving furniture, painting fences - anything I could squeeze in between practices.
I was becoming desperate for food. On one afternoon practice, I hit rock-bottom - I waited until my crew mates were ready to launch from the dock. I excused myself, ran back into the boathouse, bound up the stairs and raided the small clubhouse refrigerator. Nothing in there. I opened up the small freezer compartment and buried under lots of frost were 2 frozen hot dogs. Fine. I scarfed them down my throat as I ran back down the stairs, onto the dock and into the boat.
I lasted 6 weeks. My crew was headed to the national championships in Topeka, Kansas (I guess they have water there) and I was told to stay behind and catch up on sleep. In other words, I wasn't cutting it.
So while my teammates were competing at nationals, I had the boathouse entirely to myself; I sat on the upper deck of the boathouse and wrote a small note thanking my coaches for the opportunity. I hung out there alone all weekend and reminisced. I packed up my gear and rode my bike back to my hometown which was about 60 miles away.
If I knew then what I know now, I would have done things differently - I should have asked people for money on the street. I could have put on my crew jacket and told my story. Why didn't I put up a sign on the street and row on a stationary rower on the street telling people why I need money or food!
I gave up, packed my bags and went home. I could have found food. But what I would not have found is the maturity to realize that I did belong there and that I could figure this out.
I'm okay saying that I have this regret. I won't be that person that's lying on their death bed that says, "I have no regrets." I would much rather say, "I've had regrets, but I made things right in the end."
I am making things right. My memory is bittersweet; it was not my time. But my time is now.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
So What Now?
Confession: I always exercised as a means to get faster for sports, not just to be a gym-rat type. In high school, I played soccer and ran track. In college, I pole vaulted and rowed. After college, I continued to row on the national circuit and then did the same as a cyclist.
Then my wife and I had kids.
Now that in itself could be considered a sport. One needs to be pretty agile to chase around a 4 year old and an 18 month old. These little creatures do nothing but go. Their energy humbles me.
Anyway, lifting and staying in shape was all about one thing: winning. But why should I exercise now? To race? Nah, I'm starting to feel funny competing at 35. I always raced with the idea that I could qualify for nationals or go to the world championships. I can still do that at 35, but I'd have to give up my business to do it. Not worth it! I'm having too much fun getting you in shape!
So now you and I are in the same boat. We have to keep moving. We have to exercise to stay healthy.
That's what it's about then. Staying healthy. If you had told me that 10 years ago I would have said, "No, the point of training is to get faster so I can WIN.
WINNING has to mean different things to me now. I have to win the game of life. I have to be a good father. I have to treat my body well. Drink lots of water. Sleep. Exercise.
What does winning mean to you? Can exercise help? It is a cure for many things. Try it.
Then my wife and I had kids.
Now that in itself could be considered a sport. One needs to be pretty agile to chase around a 4 year old and an 18 month old. These little creatures do nothing but go. Their energy humbles me.
Anyway, lifting and staying in shape was all about one thing: winning. But why should I exercise now? To race? Nah, I'm starting to feel funny competing at 35. I always raced with the idea that I could qualify for nationals or go to the world championships. I can still do that at 35, but I'd have to give up my business to do it. Not worth it! I'm having too much fun getting you in shape!
So now you and I are in the same boat. We have to keep moving. We have to exercise to stay healthy.
That's what it's about then. Staying healthy. If you had told me that 10 years ago I would have said, "No, the point of training is to get faster so I can WIN.
WINNING has to mean different things to me now. I have to win the game of life. I have to be a good father. I have to treat my body well. Drink lots of water. Sleep. Exercise.
What does winning mean to you? Can exercise help? It is a cure for many things. Try it.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Crisp and Bright October Night
Me, my best friend, Rob, and his professional road racing girlfriend, Katie, were out on an easy spin one weekend day on the backroads of Pennsylvania and Maryland. The riding in that area is among the best I've ever done. Rolling hills and open country. We were on our road bikes now, just opening up our legs for a mountain bike ride that night.
I'd never ridden single track in the dark so I had no idea what to expect. It seemed Rob and Katie shared inside scoop when I asked them about it - they told me to just show up.
Rendezvous was an open field on the north side of town at nine o'clock. Per Katie's instructions, my mountain bike was rigged with a headlamp on my helmet and another one on my handlebars. We unloaded our bikes and layered on the clothing under a high full moon. We checked each other's head lamps and rode off.
Crisp and bright October night.
We rode along the high point across the field toward a dark patch of forest. As we disappeared into the woods, blackness closed in around us; the moonlight above did not penetrate the canopy of trees above and I quickly lost my sense of direction. "Stay on Rob's wheel" - that was the plan I whispered to myself. Rob and I could normally hang with Katie - on our road bikes. On single track? Katie had a finesse that Rob and I lacked. She could dance through the forest at a pace we couldn't. She knew exactly how much speed she could take into each turn. A few minutes into the ride and all we could see of Katie was a spot of light somewhere up ahead dancing through the woods.
Now Rob started opening up distance on me. I couldn't keep up because I was in sensory overload trying to cope with the darkness. The narrow line of sight and winding trail dwindled my reaction time. It was almost impossible to anticipate the turns, so I had to slow down. Katie was now out of sight.
I tried to stay fluid. "Keep your eyes on the trail. See the trail move to the left or right or...down. Dip with it. Keep your body under the bike. Ignore the bright glassy eyes of the animals around you."
Ignore those eyes. I was a little freaked out here. On one hand you know that you're okay - it's not like I'm in Africa and those are the eyes of a lion. On the other hand, when was the last time you were riding through the woods at night - in their home? What happens then? When was the last time one of these animals had this strange earth crunching bike thing running down on them? How would they react? The more I thought about this, the more scared I got.
I suppose Rob and Katie would wait for me at the trail's end. Otherwise I think I would have been out there until sunrise. When the trail finally did break they were there. I cleared the fog from my clear lenses to see them grinning at me. "Oh my god, that was incredible" was all I could say. We knew each other well. They knew I would feel that way, so it was a simple nod of approval.
Katie led onto the next trail set.
I'd never ridden single track in the dark so I had no idea what to expect. It seemed Rob and Katie shared inside scoop when I asked them about it - they told me to just show up.
Rendezvous was an open field on the north side of town at nine o'clock. Per Katie's instructions, my mountain bike was rigged with a headlamp on my helmet and another one on my handlebars. We unloaded our bikes and layered on the clothing under a high full moon. We checked each other's head lamps and rode off.
Crisp and bright October night.
We rode along the high point across the field toward a dark patch of forest. As we disappeared into the woods, blackness closed in around us; the moonlight above did not penetrate the canopy of trees above and I quickly lost my sense of direction. "Stay on Rob's wheel" - that was the plan I whispered to myself. Rob and I could normally hang with Katie - on our road bikes. On single track? Katie had a finesse that Rob and I lacked. She could dance through the forest at a pace we couldn't. She knew exactly how much speed she could take into each turn. A few minutes into the ride and all we could see of Katie was a spot of light somewhere up ahead dancing through the woods.
Now Rob started opening up distance on me. I couldn't keep up because I was in sensory overload trying to cope with the darkness. The narrow line of sight and winding trail dwindled my reaction time. It was almost impossible to anticipate the turns, so I had to slow down. Katie was now out of sight.
I tried to stay fluid. "Keep your eyes on the trail. See the trail move to the left or right or...down. Dip with it. Keep your body under the bike. Ignore the bright glassy eyes of the animals around you."
Ignore those eyes. I was a little freaked out here. On one hand you know that you're okay - it's not like I'm in Africa and those are the eyes of a lion. On the other hand, when was the last time you were riding through the woods at night - in their home? What happens then? When was the last time one of these animals had this strange earth crunching bike thing running down on them? How would they react? The more I thought about this, the more scared I got.
I suppose Rob and Katie would wait for me at the trail's end. Otherwise I think I would have been out there until sunrise. When the trail finally did break they were there. I cleared the fog from my clear lenses to see them grinning at me. "Oh my god, that was incredible" was all I could say. We knew each other well. They knew I would feel that way, so it was a simple nod of approval.
Katie led onto the next trail set.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Many Ways To Get In Shape
The way to lose weight and get back in shape is to simply start moving your body again. It really is that simple. I'm asked all the time what exercises will help get rid of flab here and there. My answer mirrors the simplicity of the question - do the exercise you like - but do it consistently.
Pilates, weight lifting, Yoga, core, cardio...
What do they all mean? What in the heck should you be doing?
Again - all of them or whichever keeps you engaged. Start with whichever activity that you want to learn, or makes sense to you. The key word there is 'start.'
Now if you've been going at a good clip for a few weeks, then it's time to start mixing it up. The mistake people make at this stage is that they keep doing the same thing because it's all they know. This is where the skinny girl on the treadmill needs to start lifting weights and the big-armed, big-gut guy needs to get on the treadmill.
Now, if you're a competitive athlete, you actually don't want to mix it up too much. You need to specialize in your sport and know when to mix in activity that will help you stay physically balanced and injury-free. A good example is the competitive cyclist - these guys and girls could really benefit from Pilates.
Keep it simple in the beginning. Just start moving again. One day at a time. Look up after about 4 weeks and then say, "okay, what now."
Pilates, weight lifting, Yoga, core, cardio...
What do they all mean? What in the heck should you be doing?
Again - all of them or whichever keeps you engaged. Start with whichever activity that you want to learn, or makes sense to you. The key word there is 'start.'
Now if you've been going at a good clip for a few weeks, then it's time to start mixing it up. The mistake people make at this stage is that they keep doing the same thing because it's all they know. This is where the skinny girl on the treadmill needs to start lifting weights and the big-armed, big-gut guy needs to get on the treadmill.
Now, if you're a competitive athlete, you actually don't want to mix it up too much. You need to specialize in your sport and know when to mix in activity that will help you stay physically balanced and injury-free. A good example is the competitive cyclist - these guys and girls could really benefit from Pilates.
Keep it simple in the beginning. Just start moving again. One day at a time. Look up after about 4 weeks and then say, "okay, what now."
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Look At Yourself Naked
Splash cold water on your face, then run that cold water through your hair. Look into the mirror, but deeply. Hold the eyes of the person in that mirror, and look deeper still.
Take a step back from the mirror, and take another look.
Grab onto those feelings and process them right there.
Your Mind and Your Body. Which is stronger for you? How could one be stronger than the other? Wouldn't they support one another? If your mind is so strong, then what thought-process went into leaving your body behind?
Growing up, I took my energy and angst and became physically powerful. My heart beats half as often as the average person's because it is almost twice the size. I wasn't born that way. I made that happen. My heart grew by my effort.
It's taken me a long time to feel as strong mentally as I've always been physically. But I have balanced-out and feel that, if anything, the pendulum is swinging the other way.
And that's good news for you, because now I am in a position to help you.
Take a step back from the mirror, and take another look.
Grab onto those feelings and process them right there.
Your Mind and Your Body. Which is stronger for you? How could one be stronger than the other? Wouldn't they support one another? If your mind is so strong, then what thought-process went into leaving your body behind?
Growing up, I took my energy and angst and became physically powerful. My heart beats half as often as the average person's because it is almost twice the size. I wasn't born that way. I made that happen. My heart grew by my effort.
It's taken me a long time to feel as strong mentally as I've always been physically. But I have balanced-out and feel that, if anything, the pendulum is swinging the other way.
And that's good news for you, because now I am in a position to help you.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Racing in Sonoma
Race Day.
Two east coast families, the Pepe's and the Flatley's were standing on the side of the Russian River at 6:30am in Sonoma, California, celebrating the engagement of Chris Pepe and Kim Flatley!
How is that life can take such dramatic turns? One year before, Chris was diagnosed with cancer. How did he feel then upon hearing that news? What lonely moments did he have? I can only imagine how some of those moments must have been.
But now, Chris, along with Kim, were surrounded by the closest family and friends to celebrate their new life together. Perfect.
I'll give a race report another day. What I want to say here is that sports and exercise in and of itself can be a lonely affair. Especially training for an Ironman or a Marathon. There are miles and miles of hard effort with no one around to witness the work you're doing.
But Sonoma was special. I didn't know what we were celebrating! One minute it was Chris' recovery, the next it was Kim and Chris' engagement and the next it was our race! There were so many toasts to be made for so many different reasons that an observer could only say, "well, they certainly have a lot to celebrate."
And that's why I won't forget Sonoma. Here are some of the moments I will remember for the rest of my life:
1. Watching Jen and 150 other swimmers wade into the Russian River and disappear into the misty marine fog.
2. My father-in-law, Vito, helping me put my bike together the day before the race.
3. Riding to the race course on my bike to see how my legs felt. Oh boy - my legs felt goooood.
4. The beginning of my race, when I past over 100 riders in the first 30 minutes fighting to catch up to the leaders. I was flying!
5. Calling my 4 year-old daughter, Mia, from the race course after I finished my 112 miles. It was so sweet to hear her voice.
6. Having dinner Sunday night at that fancy restaurant that overlooked the San Francisco Bay. Beautiful. A great night.
7. Having our wonder wonderful friend Kristen Conners not only show up, but sign up to be a race volunteer! It was like Jen, Kim and I had our own personal assistant in the transition zones! Kristen - how is it that we see each other like once a year - The last time was during a blizzard in the West Village of New York and this time in the transition zone of an Ironman race at 6am in Sonoma California?! Adventure.
8. Meeting Bob and Mary. Bob - I'm serious about the Vancouver to San Diego ride. I've got my bike in one hand and this Moby Dick novel I've been meaning to read in the other. I'm ready.
9. Laying on the blanket after my race. My mother-in-law, Sue had a pile of food for me. A rare moment of guilt-free eat-as-much-as-you-can-of-anything-you-want.
10. Meeting Kim in the transition zone after my ride. She high-fived me, called me a rock star and then sprung out of the gate like a gazelle to run her marathon.
Two east coast families, the Pepe's and the Flatley's were standing on the side of the Russian River at 6:30am in Sonoma, California, celebrating the engagement of Chris Pepe and Kim Flatley!
How is that life can take such dramatic turns? One year before, Chris was diagnosed with cancer. How did he feel then upon hearing that news? What lonely moments did he have? I can only imagine how some of those moments must have been.
But now, Chris, along with Kim, were surrounded by the closest family and friends to celebrate their new life together. Perfect.
I'll give a race report another day. What I want to say here is that sports and exercise in and of itself can be a lonely affair. Especially training for an Ironman or a Marathon. There are miles and miles of hard effort with no one around to witness the work you're doing.
But Sonoma was special. I didn't know what we were celebrating! One minute it was Chris' recovery, the next it was Kim and Chris' engagement and the next it was our race! There were so many toasts to be made for so many different reasons that an observer could only say, "well, they certainly have a lot to celebrate."
And that's why I won't forget Sonoma. Here are some of the moments I will remember for the rest of my life:
1. Watching Jen and 150 other swimmers wade into the Russian River and disappear into the misty marine fog.
2. My father-in-law, Vito, helping me put my bike together the day before the race.
3. Riding to the race course on my bike to see how my legs felt. Oh boy - my legs felt goooood.
4. The beginning of my race, when I past over 100 riders in the first 30 minutes fighting to catch up to the leaders. I was flying!
5. Calling my 4 year-old daughter, Mia, from the race course after I finished my 112 miles. It was so sweet to hear her voice.
6. Having dinner Sunday night at that fancy restaurant that overlooked the San Francisco Bay. Beautiful. A great night.
7. Having our wonder wonderful friend Kristen Conners not only show up, but sign up to be a race volunteer! It was like Jen, Kim and I had our own personal assistant in the transition zones! Kristen - how is it that we see each other like once a year - The last time was during a blizzard in the West Village of New York and this time in the transition zone of an Ironman race at 6am in Sonoma California?! Adventure.
8. Meeting Bob and Mary. Bob - I'm serious about the Vancouver to San Diego ride. I've got my bike in one hand and this Moby Dick novel I've been meaning to read in the other. I'm ready.
9. Laying on the blanket after my race. My mother-in-law, Sue had a pile of food for me. A rare moment of guilt-free eat-as-much-as-you-can-of-anything-you-want.
10. Meeting Kim in the transition zone after my ride. She high-fived me, called me a rock star and then sprung out of the gate like a gazelle to run her marathon.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Gearing Up!
I could hear Max and Mia on the other side of the bathroom door impatiently waiting for me to come out and play with them, as that's our normal after-work routine. But wanting to make sure all of my newly acquired time trial gear fit right, I was in the bathroom, putting on my racing shorts, helmet, etc. I had my funky cycling shoes on, sunglasses - everything. I even shaved my legs. Yeah! On one hand I look cool! On the other, just plain weird. Well, let's see what the kids think. Mia is 4 and Max is 1 - they'll be the judges.
I shut off the bathroom light and slowly opened the door. I clumsily walked out of the darkness in my cycling shoes and stood towering over the both of them.
Max - he was staring up at me with blank eyes. Mia started giggling.
I knelt down and in my best Darth Vader voice I said to Max, "Maaax - I am your faaatherrr."
Nothing. Blank stare. The drip of drool that was hanging from his lower lip now extended as a long strand down to the floor.
Mia then said to me, "Daddy, stop being silly."
"Nooooo Miaaaa, I am not Daddy. I am a superhero on a quest to conquer the world."
Max finally blinks and utters, "...Daddy."
This is not working I can see. They're mistaking me for some earthly being when I am in fact a superhero.
I got Mommy a wetsuit. Insane looking one. This thing looked exactly like the female version of a batman suit. Jen prances out of the bedroom feeling just as I do - a superhero!
Mia giggles at Mommy now and starts jumping up and down. Max is lost. He's at an age where he's just figuring things out. You do this to him, and it totally alters his understanding of things.
But now I'm looking at Mommy. You know, it's a simple little mental switch in my head that I can flip - flip switch down and Mommy looks like an elite female triathlete - cool! Fast! Flip switch up - hmmm - kind of looks like one of those sexy bondage things. Didn't know I liked that. Hmmm. Mommy don't look silly, Mommy look good.
Haha.
So, I think we're just about ready. We're geared up, most of the training is done. Jen and I spent the last week tapering. We'll do 2 more weeks of intensity and then taper just a teany bit before race day.
Update on our super fast runner Kimmers coming soon!
I shut off the bathroom light and slowly opened the door. I clumsily walked out of the darkness in my cycling shoes and stood towering over the both of them.
Max - he was staring up at me with blank eyes. Mia started giggling.
I knelt down and in my best Darth Vader voice I said to Max, "Maaax - I am your faaatherrr."
Nothing. Blank stare. The drip of drool that was hanging from his lower lip now extended as a long strand down to the floor.
Mia then said to me, "Daddy, stop being silly."
"Nooooo Miaaaa, I am not Daddy. I am a superhero on a quest to conquer the world."
Max finally blinks and utters, "...Daddy."
This is not working I can see. They're mistaking me for some earthly being when I am in fact a superhero.
I got Mommy a wetsuit. Insane looking one. This thing looked exactly like the female version of a batman suit. Jen prances out of the bedroom feeling just as I do - a superhero!
Mia giggles at Mommy now and starts jumping up and down. Max is lost. He's at an age where he's just figuring things out. You do this to him, and it totally alters his understanding of things.
But now I'm looking at Mommy. You know, it's a simple little mental switch in my head that I can flip - flip switch down and Mommy looks like an elite female triathlete - cool! Fast! Flip switch up - hmmm - kind of looks like one of those sexy bondage things. Didn't know I liked that. Hmmm. Mommy don't look silly, Mommy look good.
Haha.
So, I think we're just about ready. We're geared up, most of the training is done. Jen and I spent the last week tapering. We'll do 2 more weeks of intensity and then taper just a teany bit before race day.
Update on our super fast runner Kimmers coming soon!
Monday, July 09, 2007
Look Past This Moment
On one hand it is good to stop and live in the moment. But what if that moment is a bad place to be? What if you mistakenly rationalize taking one too many breaks for 'living in the moment?'
What if I were to tell you that you can live in the moment subconsciously and still plow ahead practically?
What I'm getting at is this: Real success and real progress is made by putting your head down and getting done the work that needs to be done. People that want real success are not fickle. They do not often trade their focused efforts for passing pleasures. When it is time to relax, this person knows how to do so without feeling anxiety of time wasted. They revel in their relaxation by knowing it is well earned.
My best moments are felt after I've plowed through a mountain of work, whether that work was 60 miles of riding or 2 years of building the thousands of pages of my website. It's funny how on one level the work is grueling and monotonous, but when you look back, you remember it as 'those were good times.'
What if I were to tell you that you can live in the moment subconsciously and still plow ahead practically?
What I'm getting at is this: Real success and real progress is made by putting your head down and getting done the work that needs to be done. People that want real success are not fickle. They do not often trade their focused efforts for passing pleasures. When it is time to relax, this person knows how to do so without feeling anxiety of time wasted. They revel in their relaxation by knowing it is well earned.
My best moments are felt after I've plowed through a mountain of work, whether that work was 60 miles of riding or 2 years of building the thousands of pages of my website. It's funny how on one level the work is grueling and monotonous, but when you look back, you remember it as 'those were good times.'
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About Me
- Jim
- NY, New York, United States
- I'm 34 years old, the proud father of 2 beautiful children and husband to Jennifer, a beautiful, smart, and very caring woman. I'm an athlete - someone that was blessed with the ability to move fast and fluidly past, around, up and over my opponents. But, my body now reminds me that those days are numbered. I'm the Founder of Agile Fitness, a company dedicated to helping others achieve their fitness goals. Resume: - Certified Strength & Conditioning Specialist ('96). - Bachelor of Arts & Science, University of Delaware, ('95) - Masters in Business Administration, Baruch College Zicklin School of Business ('01)