Every Thirty Seconds

I first noticed him in the locker room of our club about a week ago. Early fifties, starting to grey, dad bod. But he had an attitude. Something that only hard earned success brings. We have exchanged brief pleasantries and that was that.

Until yesterday.

I am in front of my locker, slowly peeling off the layers of my workout kit and trying to control my atrial fibrillation that had started early in our session and remained for its entirety, when I notice that he has picked a locker a few feet from mine. 

I look at him, wondering if this is the guy that takes up two parking spaces for his beautiful black Porsche 911 Carrera and I mutter a ‘good morning, how ya doing’? 

Without hesitation he replies, ‘I am GREAT.’ 

Pause. 

‘Cool’, I say, and add with a good natured chuckle, 'how often do you update that?’

He looks at me with an honest-to-goodness smile and says,

‘Every thirty seconds.’

I have been thinking about that ever since. 

Like You've Never Lost

It is a crisp fall morning. A deep ruby-red sunrise shares its splendor with a few blackened clouds. My Honda is purring like a resting puma as we climb a hill presenting this magnificence. I am filled with awe and gratitude as the giant fir trees stand at attention making a hole for my passage. I slip through and park my bike at the club, anxious and prepared for the chore that is next on my to-do list. Our Saturday spin class. 

In the good-old days we used to do a 90 minute set, and for a brief period even a two-hour morning monster. Long gone are those days of two water bottles and an energy bar. Now we make due with the standard hour despite my relentless promotion of the aforementioned endurance rides. Still, we play the hand. 

I have been getting descent mileage out of a pair of patently pithy preachings. I will share them with for your consideration. 

PPP1: There are two types of character traits in almost all of us, defined as A) The patience we have when we have nothing, and B) Our attitude when we have everything. Alright, it is a exaggeration to suggest that someone, anyone, literally has nothing - so there must be a greater truth hiding in there somewhere between the superlative and the literal. I think it is that to get to the something that we see as everything implies that we need to act in a consistent and focused way that allows for the process to manifest as improvement, growth and eventually success, victory, and/or the obtainment of our goals. Have patience - keep working and keep the faith - but enjoy the process on the path as much as you will one day enjoy the view from the top of the mountain. Another way of putting this conundrum is the zen of realizing that we actually have nothing. The patience is in the process along the rough and rocky road leading to enlightenment. To refresh, that can happen at sunrise, in the gym, on your moto or sitting at your desk as easily as it can happen as you sit zazen, pray or sing in the church choir. Patience will get us through - and especially through the tough parts. Patience is just another word for nothing left to lose. And with apologies to Mr. Kristofferson it is right up there with freedom as a virtue. 

PPP1.2: I really like this one. Close your eyes right now and consider what would happen to your current situation should you suddenly have the Genie grant you your one wish of having everything. You have it all master; money, a house on the river, six cool cars, a jet, an indoor pool, your own recording studio, a masseuse, a brilliant mind, a loving partner and perfect children. You pay no taxes and dabble daily in philanthropy and polo. I could go on but you get the idea. What single characteristic would then be the true test of your pending enlightenment? BINGO. Attitude. And, needless to say, by that we mean a GOOD attitude. 

The juxtaposition of those two fits nicely into the class motivation as we need patience to withstand the reality of exercise physiology and how it works (slowly) and attitude when intensity and endurance call for it. A legitimate thunder and lightening one-two punch.

PPP2. Practice as if you have never won and play as if you’ve never lost. Patience to improve, attitude for situational awareness, dedication to the principles of continual improvement and game-day swagger will get you as close to your goals, be they short term wins or long term happiness streaks, as anything that Amazon.com could ever deliver. 

Class is over. Endorphins flow. Takes on yesterday’s senate confirmation circus exchanged. I head out to the Honda for the gleeful ride home. 

Rear flat. 

Your Blue Butt

I have (for now) a FB friend who posted today that it is always a great day to be an American. This is the same guy who, when I asked why his home state of Idaho voted red, answered, ‘Mormons’, without pause. The earlier question I asked of him, (we were in his car on a two hour drive back from a ride and had to time to kill) was, ‘do you think we should separate church from state.’ His affirmative response set the stage for my amazement at his round-about connection of the conversational dots. 

Evidently he was pleased that his bullies had their way with America again. Watching the travesty of justice that was televised live yesterday and reaching that response is very telling. Here is what it tells me: MONEY AND POWER ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN WOMEN, TRUTH OR JUSTICE. 

Why, what possible motivation could Dr Ford have in coming forward to tell her story, her truth, other than, in her own words, a ‘civic responsibility?’ The answer is that there isn’t one. She took those incredibly courageous steps  because they were, it was, the RIGHT THING TO DO. SHE TOLD THE TRUTH. Without underlying motivation for career trajectory, profit, celebrity, ego or ambition. 

Can the same be said of Kavanaugh? 

He is a fraud. He is hiding a deep and ugly secret. The republicans are complicit in this cover-up. To choose his weak testimony to privilege, elitism and the old-boy network over her brave, compelling and absolutely honest testimony only serves to further the commitment to corruption that starts at the top of this sick party of thugs and filters all the way to henchmen like Graham and bagmen like Cruz. How in the world can there not be a single woman on this committee? 

I am sitting and watching with horror as one by one these obscene embarrassments of masculinity took turns pledging allegiance to their medieval codes of honor; intimidation, ridicule, denial, misogyny, arrogance, violence, privilege, power and deceit. It was textbook bullying on a stage that is looked upon more as a job interview than a character background check for a lifetime appointment to a bench ruling on ethics, morals and more important issues than high school football and keggers. 

Try admitting under oath five times that you like beer while being investigated for sex crimes and see if that qualifies you for any position other than a strip club bouncer. This weasel is a Judge?

Finally, this one got me. The republican senator that unfortunately carries the same surname as one of the great presidents, asks if Kavanaugh if he believes in God. He then asks point blank if he has committed the crime of which he is being accused, because this will settle it. Kavanaugh’s hem-haw, lawyerspeak tell us he is doing everything in his power to avoid a direct, outright, look-me-in-the-eye lie. Finally he says, unconvincingly, no. 

He is lying I cry. He doesn’t care one iota about it.  His lying eye's scream 'I am privileged and, by God, I deserve this nomination, regardless of past regressions, sex crimes, or anything else the deep-state left might concoct to keep me from my republican birthright.' Further he brags, 'should I - when I - get to the bench, all you on the left will face the whirl of my vindictive wind.'  

I so wanted him at that deceitful moment to be struck by a bolt of lightning, the instant karma payment for gross corruption and the immediate denial of contrition. 

Today, as most days, I am deeply embarrassed and humiliated to be an american. I cannot even capitalize it anymore. We are that corrupt. We are that sick. We have been so gaslit. 

I have three suggestions. 

1) Get God out of politics.

2) Get the God of Money out of politics. 

3) Get your blue butt to the polls on November 6th. 

Enjoy your lunch Senators

They are taking a lunch break. Perhaps the most important session, a confirmation hearing on a lifetime appointment to the supreme court, is happening on our watch. 

I will take opportunity as they eat to opine. 

I must start with the undebatable and resolute fact that I was no saint as a teenager. There were times when I had absolutely zero control over my actions while in the grasp of raging hormones and alcohol. I did some stupid stuff and have paid the emotional price ever since. I also have come to recognize that the price that I paid might be far less than the cost of those with me on the back seat of Dad’s car. Or at that party, at the beach or any other place where the merging was not 100% consensual. I truly, to this very moment in time as the committee ponders the testimony of a woman with twice the courage as I, wish that I had acted with more respect, honor, civility and self control than I did. 

That was 48 years ago. Encouragingly, I have learned a few lessons along the way and now enjoy a relative peace in my present circumstance and the way that I view my errors of the past. I wish I had more maturity then as I wish I had more today. It is a process and that is the way that we learn. We are hard-wired to error. The trick, the magic act, is learning from our mistakes, and perhaps even more importantly, to pass along that important data to a younger generation who will inevitably be put in exactly the same situation and have to deal with it themselves. We can be role models and point the proper way through our current actions and counsel from the lessons learned from our errors, sins and failings of the past. We can look to the future by learning from the past. 

Here is the difference between my sordid biography and that of the currently accused. 

I AM NOT LOOKING TO BE CONFIRMED TO A LIFETIME APPOINTMENT ON THE SUPREME COURT.

There IS the need for a higher standard. There can be no doubt and there can be no skeletons hiding in the closest. This man will rule on a hundred cases at the highest level that impact children, girls, women, Moms and Grandmothers for the remainder of his natural life. If, as the accuser bravely states that he has a history of sexual assault, a drinking problem and now issues with the truth itself, he must be rejected.

If the slim-ball republicans are simply attempting to rush his confirmation through because he will rule on their agenda, pardon the criminals already indicted and eventually the POTUS himself, they are equally complicit. They, these cowardly corrupt senatorial bigots, complicit in this democratic nightmare, must be rejected on November. 

I am no saint. But an unrepentant sinner should not sit on the bench. This I know. 

Enjoy the roast beef senators. 

Nothing and Everything

There are two traits that determine the character of an individual, I announce to the group, one is your patience when you have nothing, and the other is your attitude when you have everything. 

How can we use that as motivation to wring as much quality from our session this morning as humanly possible? 

We are doing another high intensity interval set with ten second explosive blasts of power every four minutes and a two minute recovery after each. We alternate them - sitting one and standing the next. It is a classic opportunity to check in with one’s degree of commitment and ability to measure and manage performance in real time. I take advance of heightened awareness caused by the sudden release of endorphins to attempt extrapolation of some meaning from this mission. 

Patience, yes a virtue, also connotes your wisdom of the human situation, our very genetic composition and our hard-wired inability to leverage it for our advancement. We are a notoriously impatient species. We all know that enhanced fitness and overall good health takes patience, as I think all of us have successfully, at one time or another, conducted experiments indicating this is something that will not occur overnight. We must be patient and that leads us directly to the door where secret number one is stored. Patience is the key that unlocks the door of consistency. And consistency is how we continually improve. Right now you have (metaphorically) nothing. Add patience and you have something, add consistency and you have a whole lot of that something. 

That whole lot of something, can, might, could, should end up being everything. Whomever said that good health is 90% of happiness, was correct. That person, in my estimation was also a pessimist as I see good health and optimum fitness as closer to 95% of our universal goal of happiness. This wholesome goal - not money, fame or power - is the meaning of life according to a guy known as the Dalai Lama. 

Continual practice along the path to awareness and gratitude gifts us with patience. If we are fortunate enough to see this as our personal proving ground, our dharma, the tao of our existence, it becomes the very flow of our consciousness, our unique contribution to our spirit, our community and our global tribe. We are not motivated by greed, ego, dominion over others or the exploitation of our natural resources for financial gain. Cleanliness of Spirit is next to Godliness. 

Next, I continue as the group energy rises, if we have preformed well along that pivotal path converting this precious knowledge into the wisdom of action, we might (could, should) one fine day have the opportunity to witness our response to our personal inventory finding us as having everything. That place where attitude indeed is everything. 

Have patience, be consistent. Let’s warm down and stretch.

Attitude is everything. Great job today. 

Don't Despair - Compare

At its best the gathering of information is a good thing. At its worst it can drive us batty, downing in despair, jealousy or resentment. Recently I was offered an essay on the topic of comparisons. As in how it is borderline evil, totally unnecessary and ultimately dangerous. We have all heard the pithy adage, ‘to compare is to despair’, and so we heed the warnings that proclaims comparisons to only set the stage for later disappointments. The Buddha’s Four Nobel Truths speaks of desire, craving and attachments as all leading to suffering. All true I believe, but…..

…..they, an honest and altruistic comparison, can have beneficial results. With the caveat that one must not allow the comparison to progress into the traps of envy, greed, hatred or disillusionment. Those are the traps that ensnare us with the very real human tendencies to opt into a negative as a result of our analysis. He is stronger than I am, I will never get to that plateau, so I might as well quit and go play me some Xbox, or, she is so beautiful and talented, I will never be able to achieve that level of stardom and success, so the hell with it, let’s party. My home is worth more than your seedy compost heap of a house. In these common and banal examples, comparison has lead directly to fear, inaction and the reinforcement of self doubt. I see it all the time.

I see it in the athletes I train with, the athletes I compete against and the athletes in training that I counsel. 

WE ARE ALL IN THIS SAME BOAT TOGETHER.

In different stages at varying points and progressing at different speeds. It is all, to quote Commander Collins, an experiment of one, and that one is you, grasshopper. 

So let’s compare. Let’s select a wholesome and evolved role model to compare ourselves to. Let’s compare the methods, habits and approaches the champions use. If your role model, inspirational speaker, motivational mentor, or action hero has assets, physical, emotional or spiritual from which we can lean, they qualify. Compare your habits, discipline, depth of knowledge, courage, faith and dedication to theirs. By all means. Just don’t be devastated upon detailed review that you are facing a long row of effort to hoe as a result. However, if you can use their success or stature to propel the search for your own advancement, get after it!

I will never forget my first reading of Dan Milman’s incredible work, Way of the Peaceful Warrior. I was so moved, inspired and ready for change that I immediately began to put many of his ideas into play. I made daily comparisons to his protagonist all in contrast to my personal struggle. Realizing that I was failing more often than winning, the thought that I was the only one keeping score paved the way for a continual improvement scenario where the awareness of the struggle became more worthy a goal than a subjective recap and result of each test. I was in it for the flow, a truthful and sincere dance with life. I remain so. Dan calls this the House Rules, a giving back or forward payment, when one converts this knowledge to the wisdom of oneness and harmony.  

Am I despondent because Dan is a better writer, better gymnast and better overall human being than I? No. It serves me no good to compare and self-berate. It does me good, however, to use the analysis to support my relentless pursuit of something so dynamic and ethereal that words cannot adequately describe. It is light, energy, love and quality in one focused breath. I remain all in. 

If I want to emulate someone, ape their skills and employ their techniques for my own growth, I would start with copying their practice. How they work, their walk and their talk, the contrast between my now and their here. What are they doing that I am not? And vice-versa. These are not ordinary moments, they are magic. And they are here. Waiting for everyone of us to notice and act. 

Go ahead and compare. Be ready for an eye opener. Use it as a positive. Run your own race, put your personal stamp of approval on your efforts and use the courage and guidance of those that have run before us to add additional motivation to your efforts. Do not despair. 

Compare. 

To Have Done It

“The reward for a thing done well, is to have done it”, says Emerson. Count me as in full agreement. 

From opportunity or by design, the rewards of a job well done, a hand well played or a sustained and focused response should be enough. Yet somehow we have come to expect a payout, a type of entitlement as compensation. We even have a name for it in training circles, calling the reward after hard effort an entitlement beer. I deserve this, we say. 

And you do. But.

A healthier and more constructive attitude might be to appreciate the magnificence of the moment instead of playing for the payout. I have said this a hundred times, and most likely will a hundred more, if (a BIG if) you have done EVERYTHING right in practice, in training and in preparation, all you can do is go out and play the game. 

You trust the natural system. You realize that luck is born by design and that the luckier you get has a direct connection to the harder you work. It is like the student accepting the fact that the more they study, the better they prep, the more focus they put into the zen of dancing with their books, the more inquisitive they remain and the deeper they dig, the better the outcome will be. Be that either in grades or the the increase in the depth of their knowledge. The important point being that it is the path towards enlightenment that holds the keys, not the illuminating moment of lucid clarity when that path has ended. The journey not the destination, the game not the score, how one keeps one foot in front of the other and all eyes on deck in the present magical moment. 

Again I must mention the plight of the athlete not quite so blessed with extraordinary DNA, but with the attitude and gumption of a chip-on-the-shoulder survivor. I will take that fighter on my team in a heartbeat if given the choice, over the bigger, stronger, faster, but distracted, athlete. 

Same way I like my teams. I have always favored the underdog. Give me a group of misfits, delinquents, red headed step children and hooligans, vice those so naturally gifted that they play passionless and ambivalently. Why?

Because you can teach the former to practice hard, to learn, to respect and to fight for the sole reason to not disappoint those teammates who offer the same pledge back at them. Try doing that with a unit of prima donnas more interested in the bottom line return on their investments. 

For a few weeks now I have been promoting the idea that in any given classroom, specifically I juxtapose this to our indoor cycling, out of the 100% in attendance, if the advertised goal is maximum performance, for our purposes this means peak wattage during a high-intensity sprint, that 50% of the class will over-achieve, leaving the same ratio to the under-achievers. 

In conversation yesterday with another coach, a well-respected and successful track coach, I relayed the outline of my hypothesis. Almost immediately he countered with the data that he has found from a similar protocol with his high school mid-distance runners. His results varied dramatically, and although I used my 50/50 split rhetorically, he had a much more accurate and precise number.

Less than 10% overachieve, or hit max, he says. 

I wonder if the 90% have read any Ralph Waldo Emerson I immediately consider. 

Sitting with Hattori Hanzo

I get into this argument all the time. After our movie ride this morning, a 2:23 leg burner to Blood Diamond, we sat in the wonderful last day of summer sun and enjoyed a casual BBQ on the deck. Of course the conversation quickly opened with a ‘how ‘bout them Huskies’ comment. I smirked, rolled up my shoulders in what the Italians call cosi-cosi (so-so), and mumbled an audible ho-hum. “Well they won’. 

Yes they did.

But.

I am a fan on a much deeper level than simply the final outcome. It is more important to me to witness the transcendence of the overall team growth, their improvements, corrections, their maturity, their cohesiveness and coming together as a unit, than simply us scoring a larger number of points at the sound of the final gun than the opposition.

Way more. 

I always get strange looks when I say this.

Yes it is. Truly.

Let me provide an example.

Please do.

Now please remember that I cache all this from the standpoint of the head coach, quality assurance evaluator, and perpetual season ticket holder rolled into one. I am in for the long run. When I see an eighteen year old true freshmen play I am projecting his true value to the program four years down the line. 

When I say, as I did today, that I would rather see a team play with balls-out intensity and lose, than a team play with disinterest and win, it comes as close as shrapnel to nailing the gist of the matter. 

Some people do not like to hear this. A win is a win, they pragmatically extol. Nothing wrong with winnin’ ugly, they say, often citing the manta of Al Davis in his Raider heyday, ‘Just win baby,’ or mangling Vince Lombardi’s famous quote about winning being the only thing.

It is not.

It is way more important to take a crude piece of clay and mold it to your understanding of doing whatever is necessary to win, the long hours of practice, time in the weight room, a total commitment to the team and unwavering allegiance to the principles of success, than to go undefeated for the year. It is the path, the journey, the camaraderie, the maturation of the team, the bond, the belief that counts. Not style points. Not your won-loss record.

Don’t get me wrong, I most always backpedal, I am happy they won. We are still in the game, on the trail - the hunt is the action. It is sitting with Hattori Hanzo. 

I just want them to become the players they are destined to become. I want this team to realize its true potential and walk the walk. I do not seek perfection, what I, as a fan, long to see, is continual growth. 

And while sometimes reflected on the scoreboard, more often than not, it has nothing to do with it. 

It is like quality. I challenge you to define it. We say that, although we cannot adequately label it, we know it when we see it. 

Same thing here. 

What A Game

Last night was a first. So many things happening at once. Any number of ways to satisfy inquisitiveness and/or gather intel. There should’t be much doubt as to the importance of this moment in history. We, rightly or wrongly, are making it so dramatic that those tasked with the recording of it have it pretty good. There is no lack of news-worry stories to follow. Pick one, and it inevitably leads down a rabbit hole of horror. 

As mentioned in yesterday’s post, here on the verge of resistance fatigue, we must find a way to cope with the stress coming at us from all directions. Most of it from the top. That is what trickles down, not money from tax-breaks. You simply cannot argue that minorities, women, students, seniors and environmentalists are not being subjected to massive amounts of daily stress. Anyone with more than a couple of empathy cells in their body also feels the pressure, some as shame, some as anger, some peaceful and some militant. How we distance ourselves from the relentless onslaught of intentional cruelty is critical if we are to stay engaged in this struggle. Because the human body, as directed by our survival mechanisms, wants to avoid pain and suffering. So we create disaster scenarios as protection. We overtly distract our awareness because it is impossible to maintain constant vigilance without blowing a gasket. This illustrates the importance of sleep. It is also the subliminal response to work, going out of comfort zone, searching for maximum and overachieving. In exercise physiology we call it an interval. 

AND TO BE SUCCESSFUL THERE NEEDS TO BE A RECOVERY PERIOD AFTER EVERY REP. 

Or one burns out, fades away or is injured. When I spoke of my guilty pleasure of college football yesterday, it being my escape, however temporary, from the banal realities of the world outside of the NCAA, in no way was I preparing for what was to take place last night.

The slime-ball republicans are rushing a tainted candidate through a senate hearing for a life-time appointment to the Supreme Court. You know the story. The politics are so greasy and corrupt they make Charles Manson look like a saint. This is important. Everyone will one way or another feel the results of this decision at some point down the line. Everyone. 

It is Friday night and ESPN, in their eternal quest for an audience they can leverage to sell commercial time, is showing a game I would like to watch to scout two of our future opponents. It is 2000 as I return from a terrific 2x20 set in the PowerBarn and settle down to debrief. 

Two things are happening at once. I cannot chose one without wondering about the other. It has been said that time is what keeps everything from happening at once, and I chuckle at the absurdity and its truthiness. So I split-screen the difference. 

The paradox of watching the Washington State Cougars play the University of Southern California Trojans with Rachael Maddow providing the color commentary on the Brett Kavanaugh hearing is actually quite pleasing. 

What a game!

Proving Ground

The proving ground of my soul. 

Last night we had cancellations galore. When the time had come for our 2x20 session to formally begin, it was just me and one other. My philosophical beliefs, coupled with my coaching mission statement, called for me to segue from group think to individual, private, personal one-on-one. 

Going through the normal preparations and procedures I addressed the situation, offering the standard primary objective to the intrepid athlete present for training. She is an experienced and capable cyclist, but sometimes succumbs to one of everyone’s training banes, commonly referred to as taking the easy way out. She could have used to circumstance as an excuse to quit, or see it as an opportunity to spin the scenario to her default habit of opting out. 

I was impressed that she choose the higher ground. So much so that I was inspired to follow suit and decided to up my wattage output to its highest level in some time. Quite some time. That number where every pedal rotation is an act of sheer will power, when finding the ‘groove-zone’ lasts about five seconds before the reality of the resistance and its direct impact on muscles, legs, and lungs brings one out of the saddle to regain an appropriate cadence. It is a fight to the death in an unforgiving arena of suffering. Anyone who has spent quality time on an indoor trainer knows exactly of what I refer to in this example. 

You either have balls in the air or your act is over. There may not exist in this world a more disheartening scenario than the absolute physiological defeat one suffers upon making the decision to quit. And it is a decision. The “I cannot do this anymore’ statement is one made in the mind, not the body. Your body can, but not without the partnership of the mind. Yet the most interesting part, to me,  of this is the unspoken element - because nobody has yet to come up with an objective method of measuring the role that the spirit plays in this specific scenario. 

Consider: You are hammering away ‘somewhat’ above your comfort zone, seeking that ethereal place of heavenly rhythm and flow known as the groove-zone as your mind reinforces the power your corporeality is producing. You spirit is smiling in approval but still very objective in its benevolent analysis. Suddenly, for any number of valid reasons, your rate of perceived exertion enters the crimson zone of danger. A code-red neural SOS is fired off to your brain. The message is clear: Slow down, reduce resistance, avoid pain. This is the flight response in the classic fight or flight option. Now you have captured the rapt attention of your spirit because you have upped the ante and engaged the potential of both great success and growth, or equally great defeat and failure. Your spirit is eagerly waiting for your response to this life-changing emergency situation. 

And you have the choice. You can cash in your chips, cut your losses and head home, or you can go for broke. 

We go for broke by engaging the spirit. Asking for the order. Acknowledging the elephant in the room with respect and awe with a ‘let’s do this’ attitude. This is the proving ground of the soul. A place most folks, even the well intentioned, seldom go. The cost of admission, the steps necessary to courageously traverse along its challenging path, the prerequisite training and preparation, the ceaseless practice of mind and body refinement, the sincere faith in the process and the purity of heart necessary for entry, is simply too much for most. And so we give up and go back to the safety and numbness of our easy chairs. 

Next time you are at your peak, working with gumption and gusto, take a closer look under the hood and see if your motor is truly firing on all cylinders. If you are convinced that it is, ask your spirit, as a second opinion, if it agrees. 

I think the answer might surprise you. 

As my answer surprised me last night. 

Distraction and Reality

I have yet to hear someone, anyone, say that all distraction is created equal. Not George Orwell, not Joesph Campbell, not even Rachael Maddow. 

I am saying it now, and you can quote me on it. 

There is distraction of the political variety, something the current administration has successfully morphed into an art form, with the goal to establish plausible deniability and misdirection as they slowly trick the American public into a false narrative of cunningly brilliant slime. They might as well use the trail of a banana slug as a logo. We take the bait, scream in response and pledge support for whomever is leading the local blue-wave charge. Meanwhile laws are signed further incriminating the innocent, penalizing the venerable and jailing the poor, those of color and those not card-carrying members of the old boy network of monied white males. All this carnage as we look in the direction their bidding. 

There is distraction of the socio-economic, a type of modern keeping up with the Jones’ distraction where it is more important to drive a 60K car than support your community. Where our outrageous disregard for the homeless, the disenfranchised and those keeping heads above water on fixed incomes is less urgent that a 900K house that only a few years ago solved the problems that they have now created. If you need evidence of this please keep tabs on your local paper’s headlines as they cheer the hot real estate market with headlines and report the rise in homelessness on page six. 

And then there is my favorite distraction, sports and entertainment. This is a tough one for me because I am a big fan of both. I am a film buff, screenwriter and videographer. I am also a college football fan. I am not sure if I have properly related to you, the vast PB and RCVman audience, how exactly I came to be ONLY a college football fan, but it is important to note here that I have only a single vice in all the sports galaxy, and that is one team in one sport. I do this as a discipline. There are simply not enough hours in the day for me to follow all sports, even casually, with the focused zeal that I share with that one team. 

With that as back-story, here is my defense:

My sports related distraction, my single allegiance to that one team, is an emotional release, an outlet that I rely on to manage a stress overload that seems to be like a recurring nightmare. Every morning I wake early, meditate and hope like hell that when I reach my desk and log on the the news feed that the nightmare will be over and we can all return to normal. 

No more distractions of sexual digressions, kids in cages, school budget cuts, collateral damage, road-rage, multiple shooters, environmental devastation, lying politicians and their obedient minions, overpopulation, pollution, hate crimes, racism, rape and a thousand other crimes that go unreported as the media spins the cycle as regularly as my front bicycle wheel. 

I cannot keep all these fear based power plays in my head. It hurts. I am so ashamed of what we have allowed to happen. We have been distracted by those who profit from our in-attention. The 1% is winning because we are give them the power to do so. By looking in the shadows when we should be, need to be, staring at the light. That light needs to shine brightly in November. 

Use your distraction as a tool. We all need down time to decompress and debrief, to rest and recover. That is not distraction at all, it is a positive response to a negative circumstance. The secret is to not get used to it and take refuge in its transparent security and hollow image of safety. 

Watch your game. Take the lessons. Leave the rest. Get back to work. We have a lot to do. And it’s the fourth quarter with the clock running, on a playing field that is anything but level. Do not allow the distraction to become the reality. 

With apologies to Ms Maddow, (but I know she would agree.)

Extraordinary People

By his own admission he was just an ordinary guy. By my assessment his follow-on statement made him anything but. He used to say, ‘I’m just an ordinary guy who knows that there are no ordinary moments.’

I find this combination of wisdom and humility extraordinary. I also find it useful in many ways. 

I will tell you the same story (that the crow told me) that I offered to this morning’s spin class. I was on the theme of individual responsibility and community opportunity as, of course, they relate to our protocol du jour, a testy little character-builder known as the BTA8, the better than average eights. I remind them that somewhere in there you will each have the opportunity to address your current understanding of the delicate relationship you hold with you as you now and the potential of the you after. One must, I believe, address this moving target on a regular basis. Each of us, as the standard disclaimer requires and the groove-zone directs, must come to terms with the physiological fact that improvement will only follow on the heels of effort above and beyond one’s current comfort zone default value. Or, more colloquially, give till it hurts. 

There is some argument here, as every athlete and artist knows, an internal conversation, very binary at first, but with practice and consistent effort it starts to display the palette-wheel of colorful, artistic personalization, and with perseverance and vision, can, will, end up as a fine piece of art. That vital dialogue usually goes something like this:

DARKNESS

You aren’t nearly strong enough, young enough, rich enough 

or beautiful enough to do this. Stop fooling around, quit now and

let’s go get a pizza and watch some TV on the big screen.

LIGHT

No, you are very mistaken, I can do this. I will do this.

DARKNESS

Right. Take a look around, see that guy going twice as fast? See

those girls over there kicking serious butt? You are fat, slow and old.

You shouldn’t be doing this stuff at your age. Back off, you might get hurt.

LIGHT

Back off yourself bitch. Get outta my head, you lose, I will not give in,

slow down or give anything less than my absolute best effort. 

DARKNESS

Yeah, I’ve heard that before. 

LIGHT

Watch and see loser. 

DARKNESS

Sure, good luck, I’ll be right here when you crash. We can have a beer. 

We all have variations on this theme. The trick, the discipline, the growth is in converting Mr Darkness into Mr Light and moving every day a little closer to the completion of the masterpiece that you began so long ago. Or last week. Keep painting, keep building, keep spinning, keep supporting others. 

The story unfolds as I enter the kitchen after our early morning weight session. Junior is upstairs showering and I see a pamphlet on the counter. It is a recap of donations, contributions to help support our high school and especially kids therein facing difficult financial situations. 

My moment of light, my pride in community and restoration of faith in my small sphere of influence, was in thumbing through page after page of people who made a philanthropic sponsorship donation to the future of our kids. I was so proud that I knew so many of them.

Extraordinary people doing extraordinary things. 

The PowerBarn Manifesto

I was hoping to pen a manifesto of sorts. As you know I toil in the fitness industry. By day I am a studio cycling, spin class, instructor at one of our Island’s two gyms. By night I run my own boutique indoor cycling training center, the blog titular PowerBarn. They are apples and oranges. 

In spin class, the objective is to provide some degree of entertainment, hopefully didactic, along with the obvious cardiovascular exercise. In the safety of the group one is offered a smorgasbord of fitness opportunities, with my personal favorite being the classic high intensity interval, HIT, option. My amalgamated sessions combine an understanding of exercise physiology, personal training and racing experiences, and my adoration of classic rock ’n roll. We go hard and take no prisoners. Maximum heart rates are common as is advanced endorphin flow. Most often the proof in the pudding takeaway is your mind, body and spirit in unanimous agreement on the value of the session. I never say it will be easy - I do say that it will have great value. And it does. 

In stark contrast is the PowerBarn facility. We meet in the early evening, use power as the managing metric and rely on the concentrational prowess of the individual to determine their unique value levels. In other words, after a initial test to determine base fitness and functional thresholds, we go about our business in a more personal and civilized methodology, the discipline known affectionately as the 2x20, a place where your ability to focus and feel replaces the group dynamic and verbal cues. It is just you and your ability to negotiate with 85% of your threshold for two twenty minutes sets. It is, as mentioned above, the sweet blood-orange citrus to the tangy Granny Smith. 

Initially I set this up to be a two-part harmony. It has long been a cycling tenant that the three types of indoor training to most benefit the complete cyclist are:

• High Intensity Intervals,
• Steady-state zone 4 sets, and,
• One LSD ride a week. 

Once we added our popular Sunday movie rides to the fall and winter menu, the PB offered all of the above. But it is our methodology that truly makes us different. Certainly we offer races, sprints, power sets and interval sessions along with the bread and butter 2x20s, but what truly illustrates the difference is in the amount of responsibility afforded to the individual. What could I possibly add, as a coach, other than the facilitation, explanation and subsequent offering of consistency to the individual? Do you want me in your face for forty minutes screaming for more? Do you want me quoting inspirational messages to eek another ten watts from your tired bag of bones? Do you want me to play industrial zombie rap at eleven? 

It is all inside you. We offer one way to go there and seek. We unfold the map, grab a compass and draw connecting lines between points A and B. The rest is up to you. Show up, commit to the protocol, and execute with relaxed focus. 

It is not for everybody (some people don’t like peeling oranges). I recognize that many folks rely on the entertainment factor and would rather visit an upscale club that pampers and patronizes than saddle up in a converted barn with exposed rafters. And that’s OK. 

What we seek in the PowerBarn is our best selves. We do it through continual improvement, a consistent routine and a fierce commitment to quality, the very quality of our lives. 

I cannot be all things to all people, and as stated once earlier, I have never said this is going to be easy. What I did say, and will say again, is that it will have great value. 

That being as close to a manifesto as any. 

Five Down From Friday

Fat Guy is third from left, with prop.

TGIM. 

So much has already happened today, Monday, that paring it all down to one topic is challenging. Regardless of my executive editorial decision, the one that I feel is most interesting, and although not bleeding, will lead nonetheless, is this:

It is Day Four. My fourth day of immersion into the frightening and intimidating space known simply as the Ten Day Intensive, or in acronym form, the TDI.

I recapped Saturday’s nightmare as well as yesterday’s test in earlier posts, but today, (and I thought about this last night as I searched for inspiration, or at the very least immediate motivational gratification) will I get a shot-in-the-arm rush of validation once the morning’s two sessions, a lifting set early and a spin class after, are over and I towel-off and climb aboard the balance scale? In other words, will the ends justify the painful means? Will A = B? Am I on the right path? Will whatever slight reduction of gross body weight re-ignite the turbo-charger of my soul and thereby give me the strength to continue? 

We are hoisting a buck ten on the bench. Today we are doing three sets of nine, followed by what we call the lightning round, five reps at each of the four tilt position on the rack. This after our standard dumbbell set and step ups, this set following the floor routine of planks and stretches, all in the allotted half hour. Junior needs to shower, eat and catch the school bus and I need to haul ass to the club for my class. Today class being a set I call the BTA8, better than average eights. It is similar to Super Eights but I leave the ratio of resistance to cadence up to the individual. One can go all-out, 85%, or at whatever range feels appropriate. Kind of gym-class freedom. I illustrated the importance of responsibility hiding cleverly inside this protocol. 

We finish, it was difficult, especially since my handlebars fell off near the start of set one and I choose to stay aboard and ride it out in what felt like full aero position, and I am walking towards the shower room thinking again about the ‘proof in the pudding’ thing. 

I shower in the luxurious club facility often and when I do it is a long, hot and soapy affair, almost a poor man’s massage. I linger under the hot jet spray today because my neck is a little tight most likely due to yesterday’s two-hour movie ride from the front row.

I am talking about Saturday’s Husky game with a OSU Beaver grad as I dry. We curtail our conversation temporarily as he heads for his locker and I begin the short walk towards the tell-tale scale. 

I hang my towel and stand naked to the reality of my self induced purgatory. I remember so vividly my desire for an IPA as the Huskies struggled offensively on Saturday and yesterday as the week wound down and I made the telephone rounds with family and friends. 

Calling to mind the starting number, as measured in pounds, from Friday, a mere three days ago, I widen my eyes to see if the number is correct. It is, I determine and step off the scale with bravado, feeling as light as a defensive back, five down from Friday. 

Be Perfect

After a gut-wrenching, heroic performance on TDI Day Two, we steam-roll into Day Three gathering momentum like an underdog football team after a turnover. You can sense the power, feel the cosmic energy and almost taste success. It gets easier to control the discussion. Every time one of the many ‘wouldn’t a beer be delicious right about now’ thoughts pop up, the conversation ends with a quick no. And those thoughts, conversations, bribes, negotiations, excuses, rationalizations, debates, are acknowledged, and then rejected. Just don’t pick up as Russell Brand warns. 

It has always helped me, a former smoker, chewer and functioning alcoholic, to move my focus away from the urge as quickly as possible. If I start to rationalize and create scenarios that justify my basic weakness, I will lose. As long as I have a something in front of me to attach my awareness to, it’ll be OK, at least for the short tern, that being all I need - just get me through this mess and I’ll deal with the next one as soon as it shows up. But if I engage in the debate - I will end up numbing the pain and find some petty and pathetic reason why. 

What I found out about myself yesterday, struggling to watch my first college football game sober since about 1967, is that the reality of the circumstance I have created for myself is comparatively bleak. A fact that I can choose to either accept and improve or try to erase from memory with help from the NCAA and a local craft brewery. I used to think that this was a reward of sorts, watching my team that I have been following since Jimmy Carter was in office play football on fall Saturdays as I sit in my armchair wearing the dual caps of quarterback and beer vendor, always convinced of its wholesome therapeutic entitlement. 

Yesterday’s game was horrific, not so much because my team played like dog shit (and still won) but because I had (choose) to watch while drinking lemonade and coffee. Painful on and off the field. 

The important thing is that we slugged it out and stand here, now, in the red-zone of Day Three. We have a fighter’s chance. The streak is alive, I discovered a very important lesson, the Dawgs beat Utah on the road, and I think I feel stronger for the effort. It didn’t kill me so I MUST be stronger. There is no quit in this dog today.

This morning we staged another Sunday movie ride in the PowerBarn. Watched Friday Night Lights and rode almost 37 miles from the cheap seats of the PB’s front row. Coach Gary (Billy Bob) delivered the key line to his QB about life and football:

 “Being perfect is not about that scoreboard out there. It's not about winning. It's about you and your relationship with yourself, your family and your friends. Being perfect is about being able to look your friends in the eye and know that you didn’t let them down because you told them the truth. And that truth is you did everything you could. There wasn’t one more thing you could've done. Can you live in that moment as best you can, with clear eyes, and love in your heart, with joy in your heart? If you can do that gentleman - you're perfect!”

Be perfect. 

Find The One

One of the hardest, most demanding and courageous areas any musician can explore is the zone known as the jam. Jazz notwithstanding, the exploration of musical space requires a deep instrument competency and a complete willingness to experiment. It is scary out there with no road maps, sheets of music or the security of structure. You gotta have some chops and ample faith in your tribe. It was quoted of the Dead back at the start of the progressive jam band days, that when one wondered, with sincerity and respect, where the one was, the one being the starting chord in the chosen key scale (normally I, IV, V in rock), that the 'correct' answer, the musical response, was ‘wherever you want it to be.’ A perfect jumping-off point in the study of chaos music theory. 

Pondering the value and validity of the Ten Day Intensive (TDI) yesterday, a lyric came to mind. 'The first days are the hardest days, don’t you worry anymore.’ Somehow, hearing magic in the music, it became apparent that this is a common theme, known to multitudes and not the sole dominion if Uncle John. ‘Cause when life looks like easy street there is danger at your door.’ 

It is the same ominous warning we hear once we decide to act, but have yet to take that adventurous initial step in the direction of our dream. We all know how this must be done. We all recognize that to get anywhere we must move our feet. Time and experience have shown us that the hardest part is in getting to the one. One step. One day. One at a time. The One. Getting to the one. 

Because without it there can be no two. 

It is the same with deciding to up your physical fitness, become a stronger athlete, write a screenplay, climb a mountain or skin a goat. 

One must:

•  Look deeply inward and establish the goal.
•  Decide to commit.
•  Begin.
•  Keep going.

Find the one. Start. Get one day in the books. It builds courage and strength. It reinforces your self assessment. It simultaneously pats you softlyon the back as it kicks you squarely in the butt. It offers huge rewards in support of your mind, body and spirit. It does all this in real time, here now, wherever you are. 

If you are dealing with an addiction it will be the hardest thing you will ever do. You must prove to yourself that there is something better and immediately available to you should you desire it. Available, but at all cost and no matter what. 

It was most reassuring this morning, after a particularly gnarly get of hill repeats in spin class, that here, today, DAY ONE, I was down a pair of pounds. It works. 

I can now set sights on Day 2. 

Hang in there Cowboy

We are at the top. 5,500 feet or so above sea level. The only building in the US Forest Service parking lot is an out-house under which we stand and shiver. It is raining hard and we are soaked from the two hour climb to get here. I look at my bike and think about my motivation. I am NOT looking forward to the slippery and sloppy ride back down this magnificent slab of basalt. Had there of been cellular service available I would have called for a pizza and then commandeered the delivery vehicle. 

We agree that cycling etiquette calls for us to wait for the last of our four intrepid riders to join us, but further agree that since this is a dead-end, one-way up and one-way back road, it is pragmatic and imperative that we start back down and not freeze standing around waiting. We give poor Dave ten minutes. 

I am already struggling with my brakes. My gloved hands are trying to negotiate a fine line between enough and not-enough feathering pressure as the squeals of protest from my wheels where rubber meets aluminum, attests. My neck is already objecting to the geometric positioning to accomplish this task and I see ice starting to form on my shins. Water is flying from my wheels as if shot from a high pressure hose as we negotiate the switchbacks at the steepest section of the peak. 

We round up Dave and press onward, downward, mostly because there is no other option available. My breathing is short, shallow and labored. I mentally review the three stages of hypothermia and access my current situation as category 2. I can no longer feel my toes. 

We continue under this scenario for ten miles. Having earlier pocketed my shades I allow the chip seal’s bumpiness to shake my corrective lenses to a secure point way below their designed effectiveness. I am sure I look like Granny Clampet or Jeff Sessions to the few gawking onlookers driving up as we scream down.

With about five miles to go my vision goes bleak. I am now holding on for dear life as this myopic vignette, peppered with flashing spots, plays out from the lens of my unprotected, watery eyes. We need to roll the credits, pronto.

At this point I also recall that one of the bodies survival mechanisms when under threat of stage 3 hypothermia, is to raise metabolic core temperature by adding tachycardia to the mix. Great, I think, another element to add to the chaos. 

I am now shivering almost violently, which is good as that is yet another of the miraculous ways that our bodies search for survival homeostasis as the shaking actually raises the skin temperature of our arms and legs and core. But I can feel the fatigue of staying in mental on physical red alert for two hours start to take its toll. I am weary, compromised and very concerned that I could crash at any moment. I am fighting off panic. 

HANG IN THERE COWBOY. 

Focus on right now. THIS. Here. Breathe deep (as deep as you can), try to relax your cramping core muscles, shake your head and bring the picture back into clearer focus. YOU CAN DO THIS. THINK LIKE A SEAL. 

You must.

We are two miles from the drop point and the road starts to level and then, interestingly, rise a touch, maybe one percent. I try to stand on the pedals but have no feeling and limited strength, a very weird sensation. As I ride without any data devices, not even a speedometer, I have no idea of how fast, to how slow I am going, so I decide to flow it out, and I find an ‘all things considered’ groove and steel my runaway awareness for the last leg. Which naturally seems like an eternity. 

Finally see the sag rigs up around the next bend and sigh deeply. We have made it back.

I pull up to the others and stare blankly at them as they also do back to me. I start to laugh.

We all do. 

TDI postponed

The alarm went off at 0300. We drove 200 miles to ride 40. Made it to the top, had a pee and turned it around. It rained as hard as I have ever seen. I was fearing of hypothermia. Numb hands feathering brakes and frozen legs. My vision was focused on the ten feet in front of my wheel. Shivering and shaking we made it to the rigs and changed into dry clothes. And then went to a brew pub.

It is now 2107 and I am heading upstairs to bed. I have failed to live up to the TDI standard. We will try again tomorrow.

TDI postponed.

The Next Step

The next step. Our next steps. Where do we go from here? Do we listen to our doubts and insecurities and stay in the fuzzy cosiness of our comfort zones, or take that powerful and awakening first step towards our dreams? 

Full disclosure: I am nervous. Maybe even a bit intimidated. Alright I am scared shitless. 

Because tomorrow, not only are we riding Mt. Baker, a 25 mile ramp averaging 3.2% with 4,100 feet of elevation gain, but it is DAY ONE of the 2018 Fall TDI. 

Here’s to hoping that you have deciphered the acronym and have come up with the correct response of TEN DAY INTENSIVE. 

I can handle the two-a-day workouts, I am very familiar with cutting calories and regulating portions and I have been off-sugar for a long time now, but what has me biting my nails is the no alcohol component. I will confess to you, again, that it has become my habitual go-to stress reducer. There aren’t too many things that I crave after the evening spin session than an ice cold IPA. My pathetic method of gaming the jones has been to reduce the alcohol by volume, ABV, to below 5% so that I can quaff between a pair and a quartet of the tasty little 12 oz buggers. Mostly this leads to satisfying the ‘downshift’ stress reduction requirement, but it also adds subliminal excuse validation to the ‘if it busts stress, and I have earned it, then surely a nice, salty, bag of chips can’t be THAT bad, right?’ If ever there was a oxymoron to be found it is here: An subliminal excuse validation? Please. 

That then is my fear. My fear is of failure. And what a POS I will feel like should I fail. 

Here, once again, for official review is the outline of the TDI. I am doing it solo so I might start the roll-out promotion with some data and personal experience. I will share everything with you. You being of course my mirror on the wall. I am you as you are me and we are all together. 

TDI mission statement: Intensive mind, body & spirit re-set. Goal of adding the good and subtracting the not-so-good. Eat well, train hard and manage stress healthfully. No beer, no bread, no dread. 

A daily sample: Early wake up, count breaths, lemon juice. No coffee. Stretch, lift. Lunch is salad and nuts. Water and fresh fruit are new staples. Afternoon walk on the beach and creative (yo), evening spin session, dinner is salad and small portion of fish. Meditate, easy yoga. Read. Rest, recover, repeat for ten days. The morning routines vary adding hikes, swims, work. I need to rebuild the carburetors on the old Shadow. Very zen. 

There you have it. TDI. I am not sure if I can do it alone. 

We shall see. Wish me luck. It is the next step.