I think my mojo is afraid of H1N1.

That’s the only reason I can think of that explains my mojo’s obvious absence. I have no interest in blogging (obviously) or coaching; personal training is slow and I don’t even care; I haven’t even wanted to do a cyclocross race since Capital Cup (although I’m doing one this weekend–an avondcross!); my cycling classes are boring and I don’t want to be there; I haven’t swam in who the hell knows how long. My mojo is definitely on hiatus. Maybe it went to someplace tropical; maybe I can go visit it there.

You know what I’ve been doing a lot of, though? Running.

Of all things, right? Anyone remember when I hated running, when those were the only workouts I ever skipped, when I did an Olympic tri without having ever run more than 4.5 miles? Apparently, those days are over. I love running.

And I’d love to tell everyone how that happened (because I know I’m not the only one who’s struggled with serious resentment towards one of our three sports), but I can’t. Because I have no idea how it happened. Maybe it’s like an arranged marriage–you spend enough time together, eventually you find love.

Anyway, if anyone knows a good mojo doctor, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll just be waiting for this mojo affliction to run it’s course. I’m sure that as the off-season progresses and I start reading about this race and that race and his plans and her plans, my mojo will take tentative steps back from Fiji or wherever it’s gone.

It would figure.

I go the whole season–swimming, biking, running, doing yoga, lifting weights, trying Pilates, teaching cycling and water aerobics–without being overtrained.

I shift to a single-sport focus, and boom. Overtrained.

(Of course we all know that it’s not really a single-sport focus; it’s two simultaneous single-sport focuses!)

Actually, it might be a little bit deeper than overtraining. Physiologically, I’m having a little trouble; I’m achy in ways (and in places) I normally don’t have trouble. But my resting heart rate is at 48 BPM (right where it should be), and I’m not having any trouble getting it up for workouts.

But I just don’t want to train. I would rather stay at home and sleep, or play DDR. I haven’t run in a week and a half, haven’t swam in a week. I’ve been biking plenty. But I always bike plenty.

Here’s the deal: I don’t have a lot left to do, in the way of triathloning. I want to maintain the speed I have for Redman (which is in three weeks). But that won’t take much more than one hard workout a week (which is one more run workout than I’ve been doing lately). And the race I’m targeting for the one-mile PR is in early December. Plenty of time.

The main thing I’m struggling against is a self-conscious feeling of laziness. Is it guilt? I’m not sure. I just know that it makes me nervous not to be swimming and running. Makes me feel that I’m not doing enough. Of course, I’m still training hard on the bike (and still enjoying it!), which is exactly one more sport than your average person trains hard for. But it feels strange not to be doing at least three swims and at least three runs each week.

Man, this sport makes you crazy.

 Today I was thinking about a drive I made a couple years ago.

I was dropping some friends off at Griffith Park for the inaugural running of the Los Angeles Half Marathon. I don’t remember why I’d volunteered to wake up before the ass-crack of dawn and drive an extra 20 miles or so on a Sunday; may have been simply because they were teammates.

I do remember waiting for them to get ready. I remember them talking about taking a long-sleeved “throw-away shirt” to keep warm pre-race. I remember them discussing warm-up methods and field size (which was big, for a first-time event–about 10,000 people). I remember conversations about how they thought they would fare in what was essentially, for them, a training run, one for which they’d done no specific training.

I remember being astounded at the fact that they could just knock out a half marathon like it was no big thing, like it was just another training run. I remember thinking it remarkable that a person could have so many race t-shirts that they wouldn’t mind throwing one away like it was disposable.

I would never just knock off a half-marathon; I would never sacrifice one of my precious race shirts to the pavement. My race shirts were like medals in themselves; I could wear those around campus, and everyone would know that I am a triathlete. And a half marathon is a long, long race! It takes hard training and planning and (like approaching the Most Holy Place) a good amount of fear and trembling (and maybe bells on your ankles).

But that was three years ago (two-and-a-half?). And now?

Now there’s a half marathon/5k next weekend, the weekend before my half-ironman. I haven’t done any special training for a half marathon; it would be a last-minute decision; I’m definitely not evidencing any signs of fear and/or trembling. But I’m still entertaining the thought of doing it.

So what? It’s only a half marathon. I can just knock it out.

We’ve come to that special time of year when I sacrifice writing about my favorite hobby to get out and actually do my favorite hobby. The weather’s starting to clear up in Kansas (not counting the week of thunderstorms and rain we’ve had), and I’ve been out enjoying it!

Thanks to everyone who commented on my race report; I love the sense of community we’re all able to enjoy online. I would never have the chance to meet such a diverse and interesting group of people if it weren’t for the whole blogging scene, and for that I’m grateful.

That said, I’ve been doing an absolutely attrocious job at keeping up with it. Haven’t read blogs, haven’t commented. It’s not that I’ve been busy, exactly; it’s just that there are always about 20 other things to do. And in the battle between blogging and yoga, yoga has been winning out.

Speaking of, I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams. Seriously. My hip hurts. My hamstrings hurt. My shoulders are sore. I was afraid I had a hernia on Monday (I don’t). I bruised the toe mound of my right foot swimming on Wednesday (and who the hell hurts their foot while swimming?). I’ve really ramped up my yoga, taking more challenging and longer classes, and I don’t think it’s doing for me what I need it to be doing. I need yoga for restoration and range of motion and relaxation, but my yoga time has become just another kind of strength workout! I may have to back off my yoga practice, taking easier classes, fewer classes, and incorporating more joint opening into my home practice.

The real news, though, is that I’m leaving for vacation on Sunday! I’m heading up to Ohio to visit my aunt and uncle. They live near Mansfield, and I’ll be taking advantage of their hospitality to run my own private training camp. Planning to bike and run in the backwoods of Ohio, swim in Charles Mill Lake and at Ashland University’s rec center, practice yoga everyday, and generally relax. I don’t know if I’ll have internet access, but if I do you can expect a few posts from me, as well.

Thanks for staying with me, friends. Happy training!

So . . . training is not going well. I mean, it’s not going poorly. But it’s certainly not going well.

All last week, I felt like I was right on the edge of overtraining. I don’t know if I tipped over the precipice; I’ve just been trying to take it easy. I’m wondering if the 5 hours of indoor riding on my new, shiny bicycle last weekend was simply too much.

The weather has also been famously uncooperative. After last weekend’s blizzard (no, really. blizzard), I was hoping that winter had had its final roar and would shuffle meekly out the door. But no. Oh no. Snow on Sunday, as well.

What’s even worse, though, is that we have all the negative aspects of spring and none of the positives. Crazy winds? Check. Wind speed on Friday was a constant 25-30 MPH. Saturday was even more epic, with wind speeds holding steady in the 30s and gusts as high as 50 MPH. Allergies? Check. I can still smell without too much trouble, but I can’t seem to drink enough water to keep my throat moist. But we haven’t yet encountered the slow, soaking rains, the epic thunderstorms (not great for training, but very majestic), not to mention the warm temperatures that April should bring. So thanks a lot, Kansas.

Really, though, the issue is that I’m doing too much without affording my body the proper time for rest and recovery (not to mention a frickin’ social life). And stress is stress, whether it comes from training, lack of sleep, or demanding/unreliable/obnoxious client relations.

So I’m stressed, guys. And it’s messing up my training!

“In sport, a good opponent can bring out the best in a man; the existence of a close rival focuses attention on technique, piles on the pressure, and the constant threat of being beaten keeps ambition burning. In an ideal world, a man would choose his rival, selecting him as carefully as he would a friend but, in reality, circumstance makes the decision for him.”

- from The Crossing by Kathy Watson

Today is my first day completely off work in months. Literally months.

I’ve been a little overworked, to say the least. I’m getting used to it, but every now and then the stress will creep up on me. Like this week, when I’m in my last week of build before recovering, when I was really on the edge. Let’s just say, it’s a good thing that nothing went badly on Thursday, or I may have quit my job right then and there.

During this time, yoga has been hugely helpful to me in my recovery. Like amazingly so.

Anyway, today is great, because I don’t have to go to work at all. I went to breakfast with my family, went shopping, went to a bike store to drool, and headed out for a 2-hour bike ride. The ride ended abruptly with a busted tire. I could have borrowed my dad’s front wheel (I don’t have any spare tires, currently, excepting my CX tires), but I decided instead to take the flat as a sign that I should stay home, mellow out, and enjoy my day off. I can’t decide whether to be bummed out or not, because the weather is so great today. It’s not too hot, not too cold, and there is absolutely no wind. Do you have any idea how rare it is to have a day like that here? It’s shocking (especially since yesterday we had 20-degree temps and freezing rain)!

But I have decided simply to sit on my deck and read a book instead of biking or running on this glorious day. Tomorrow is going to be a big day, training-wise (and I do have to work), so today’s rest will probably enable me to get through the 10-mile run, 1800-yard steady swim, bike class, and yoga class without pooping out. And it’s not like this missed 2-hour ride is going to totally throw off my training. But you get into a groove, you know, and hate to miss workouts.

I joined a local masters swim group this week. There are only half a dozen people who regularly attend, so I’ll get lots of individual attention (but not much competition, speed-wise). Also trying a new running group for the first time tomorrow–ten miles with the Derby running club. And there will be some very exciting developments on the bike front this week, as well.

So that’s where I stand.

You know you’re in a good place when you go to bed thinking, “Hey! I get to swim and run tomorrow!”

Yeah. I’m in that place.

 

I haven’t had a day off in over three weeks.

This is my third seven-day work week. I’m getting a little burned out.

And what’s more, I haven’t had time to write cool new articles for my blog! I have a new spinning workout that’s only half-done, and will probably remain only half-done at least until Friday.

This business is so weird; it’s either feast or famine. Two weeks ago, I was complaining that I wasn’t getting enough business. And now? I was booked solid from 7:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. today (fortunately, my last appointments canceled, and I got to go home and take a nap). I had four 12+ hour days this last week. Sometimes they start at 5:00 a.m. Which isn’t so bad if I’m waking up to swim or run or something. But waking up to work? Not so much. Because then when do I swim and run?


Needless to say, this situation is not conducive to my training. And my body is starting to rebel. It’s saying, “Hey, you better let up or I’m going to get sick, and then where will you be?” I’ve been drinking antioxidants and munching on zinc, trying to keep my body in line. But the stress of training is something I haven’t wanted to chance for the last couple days.


At any rate, my half Ironman program (!) starts next Wednesday, so I’m going to have to find some balance in my life, some sanity. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Sunday, November 30. I want to do a 10-mile run. Somehow sucker my dad into getting out in the cold Kansas weather to jog the first couple with me. Fifteen minutes before we had planned to leave, it starts sleeting. Not raining. Not snowing. Sleeting. Like hail, but colder. And the wind is blowing so hard that the sleet is coming down at a 45* angle to the ground. Wind from the north. Like really cold wind. It stops after 5 minutes, but the clouds still look menacing.

We run anyway.

Wednesday, December 3. I wake up at 6:00 a.m. to reports of a severe wind advisory. Seriously. The National Weather Service issues tornado and thunderstorm and flash flood warnings. Well, in this part of the country, they also issue severe wind advisories. Our local NPR broadcast journalist reports in a friendly voice that the today we’ll have a high of 39 degrees, a low of 18, and winds from the north at 30 miles per hour gusting to 45. I crawl out of bed and throw tights, arm warmers, leg warmers, windproof pants, a scotch-guarded top, a hat, and gloves into my (too small) bag. I go to work. The wind howls around my car, and I spend my first two training sessions watching the trees outside the windows bend in the semi-darkness and listening to the scratchings and creakings of blowing branches.

I don’t care. I run anyway.

Running is empowering. Whether it’s too hot or too cold or too windy or too rainy or too snowy or just plain miserable outside, an athlete (or anyone, actually) who really wants to run is going to go outside and run. And that’s it.

What’s more, if the athlete is worth his or her salt and has any measure of endurance experience, he or she is not going to whine or brag about it. He or she might casually say, “Oh yeah, I ran earlier today.” But will not regale listeners with tales of brutal conditions.

That’s why I’m falling in love with running. It makes me feel tough. It makes me feel strong. It makes me feel that I don’t need anyone or anything to approve or praise me. Or need anyone or anything at all, for that matter.

That’s why I run. It’s difficult to start running. It’s difficult to keep running. And if it doesn’t hurt by the end, then I’m not doing it right.

But afterwards, in the glow of the runner’s high, I feel strong and capable.

And that’s enough to get me out there again next week.

Previous entries in this series: Appearance (Part I), Eating, A Part of the World, Conquest

Appearance.

It’s hard to know where to go from there.

What is natural is not popular. What is popular is not natural. What is popular is not healthy, and does not lead us toward healthy behaviors or healthy attitudes.

And we, as athletes (or, if you don’t consider yourself an athlete, health-conscious people), have very special relationships with our bodies. We move more than other people; we’re more active. We exercise! Which means we build a degree of kinesthetic awareness and proprioception that is greatly above the norm. In other words, we know our bodies better.

Oddly enough, this doesn’t necessarily mean that we love our bodies. In fact, it can mean just the opposite. Instead of seeing the body as a tool, an ally, a friend that allows us to do some remarkable and crazy things, we see it as an enemy. There’s too much of it (or not enough). It’s too flabby. It’s too short. It doesn’t look the way it should. So instead of having an exceptionally close relationship with our bodies because we spend so much time one-on-one with them, we end up (in some cases) developing ever-greater animosity towards them.

And this is not okay. This is not living as part of the world.

So what are we to do?

Oh, nothing too big–just completely revamp our perception of what “healthy” and “fit” look like.


It wasn’t that long ago that bustles were considered attractive. Or–even better–hoop skirts! The Modern Victorian Woman says, “I don’t care that this fashion makes my butt and hips look enormous–I am wearing it!” Similarly, fashionable Victorian men and women cultivated pale skin; tan was the look of peasants, because they were always outside working. Granted, the peasants were probably much healthier than the fashionable aristocrats, but I am trying to make a point here.

And the point is that we (21st century “civilized” people) have made a habit of tricking ourselves into believing that pursuing what is (currently) fashionable is actually healthy.


Look around the health clubs. People are not necessarily helping their bodies, there. They are doing asinine exercises in pursuit of larger pectorals, bigger biceps, flatter abdominals. Why? Because our cultural perception of how a healthy person looks is so screwed up that we equate those things with fitness, capability, wellness.


And it’s just bullshit.


On the other end of the spectrum, we do have to take into account that a large segment of the population is carrying too much body fat on its collective frame. Which has led me recently to ask, “Man, what would these people look like if they were lean and toned, the way evolution predisposed them to be?” Really. What might America look like behind the fat?


Man, this point is so hard to make. What I’m saying is that there must be something between this and this, between nausea-inducing obesity and hyper-focused fitness (you know, the kind of fitness that would prefer a six-pack to a stable spine).


I’ve said it before: the problem of being part of the world is too big for us to tackle all at once (Tyler Durden, are you listening?)–we have to start with ourselves. So although it would be great to try to change America’s perception of a “healthy” appearance, why don’t you change your own? Stop trying to fit the frickin’ mold! If you’re anything like me, your genetics will make that impossible anyway. And don’t go too far in the other direction; if you’re carrying too much weight, you know it, and it needs to come off.


Now assuming you’re still with me and you’re willing to change your perceptions, here’s your practical application (step 1: change perception, step 2: change yourself): let a healthy appearance be a result of your healthy lifestyle. Stop trying to look “healthy.” It is not a goal; it is not an end, in and of itself. It is part of the entire package. The clean, healthful eating. The regular, sensible exercise. The meditation. The spiritual pursuit. The enriching relationships. Rather than trying to look healthy and fit, you are healthy and fit! It’s a pursuit of being a better, stronger, more capable person. Of being who and what you were meant (either by evolution or by a higher power) to be. Of being part of the world.


Which does not necessitate a six-pack.

For previous entries in this series, read here and here.

I started to write this post myself.

But then I realized that I don’t have a great deal of insight to bring to the subject. Like all western women, I’m conscious of my appearance. There are times when I’d like to change it. I work on “problem areas” (ahem, half-heartedly, because I don’t really care). And my feelings about my body probably affect my behaviors and attitudes more than I realize (or would like to admit).

However, for this post, I wanted to invite an author and fellow blogger who has (and does) deal with issues of self-image in a more concrete and immediate way. As a result, we have a wonderful guest post from Amanda, who was kind enough to provide her insight on the matter. Amanda is a dedicated runner, a college student, and an aspiring nutritionist. She also has a great, timely post about Thanksgiving that she posted recently (for you Americans who are staring Turkey Day dead in the face). So visit her and get to know her; she’s smart.

By now, you’re probably familiar with Mark’s Primal Blueprint, and what it means to those of us concerned about how to live in this world.  I think of my body as the part of the Earth that I most directly affect.  I can change it, move it, use it to do things that are good for the Earth.  In that way, it is dynamic.

But it is also static, in the sense that when other people see it at any given time it is like a picture, something at which they have to look, and something that can only look one way at any given time.  And I have never seen any sense in not making it the best picture possible. In this respect, my body is property — it is my “yard,” if you will.

Have you ever passed a (literal) yard that was ugly, unkempt, or simply not aesthetically pleasing?  Overgrown and an eyesore?  Did you judge the yard negatively?  This is what I do not want people to do to me.  Judge me negatively based on my body.  Judge me by my property and how I maintain it.

So when I look down and see that my body does not meet others’ expectations or standards (real or perceived), I feel like a failure.  Shouldn’t my tummy look the way “a tummy” should?  We all deal in images, in patterns, and if my tummy does not fit the specifications of “a tummy” laid out by society, then it is not “a tummy” any longer.  It is not a “big tummy” or a “tiny tummy,” but an eyesore, a failure as a human being, just as something that looks like a field in front of a house is not a field but a gross, unkempt yard.  To me, such a failure is akin to being given a small plot of land (by the Powers that Be, by the Earth, by whatever it is you believe in) and have let it go to waste, to ruin.  Because I do not meet the specifications for “human” laid out by society, I am no longer human.  And that, for me spiritually, is a death sentence.  It is a lack of definition, and without definition or identity, I feel (as many would) that I am nothing compared to what I could be as my best human self, what I believe I was intended to be.

And I realize that my physical appearance, and even my entire physical manifestation inside and out, is just a snapshot of who I am, of my humanity.  So in that respect, I could “cut myself slack” if my property was not the most beautiful — after all, there are other dimensions of me and of my humanity, right?

But my body is not just my property, or my yard: it is also a tool.  It is both currency and a signal to everyone who sees me.

When my mother used to help me with projects for school, she’d always tell me, “Presentation is everything.”  I feel that
he same holds for our physical appearances.  People rarely think “Is she a doctor,” or “Is he Catholic?” when seeing a person for the first time.  Observations — and judgments — are made based on physical appearance.  If you’re pretty and slender, you get things other people don’t.  Free drinks.  More opportunities.  Presentation affects the way your teachers, coworkers, boss, love interests, friends, and enemies view you.  If your best friend became goth, what would you think?  Would you view him/her differently?  If your best friend gained 100 pounds, what would you think?  Would you view him/her differently?  These are all physical aspects of your friend, and surely you care about and appreciate the other aspects, but even to you — who is not judging your friend based on his/her initial appearance, I would be surprised to hear you say that your friend’s physical appearance doesn’t matter at all or doesn’t at least provide you with some new opinions about your friend.  Now, take that same friend — how would those seeing your friend for the first time judge him or her?

Your physical condition and your presentation says a lot about you, and discrimination against people based on physical traits (including weight) is not news.

Finally, and along the same lines, your physical appearance is also a signal, telling others about — among other things — your socioeconomic status, the cleanliness of your lifestyle, your upbringing, profession, religion, age group, sexual preferences, and outside interests and hobbies.  It is an indicator of nearly everything about you, simply because meeting you begins with seeing you, and is the first indicator of you as an entire person (in all your varied dimensions) that other people have.  They have to make initial judgments based on your appearance and do judge based on your appearance.  Racism, sexism, and weightism are just a few of the ways people discriminate and stereotype, simply because humans are pattern-oriented creatures.  And while this says something about humans and humanity and the way we operate, it has definitely been a cause of stress in my life, as my obsession with perfecting my appearance has taken me to the point of anorexia in previous years.  But this is, of course, my human struggle.  Even the classic novel Candide ends with a call to “cultivate our gardens.”  So sometimes I wonder…how much is too much?

Many thanks to Amanda for sharing her ideas and experience. Check back later this week to read my personal opinions (read: Ishmaelian analysis) of the appearance question.

For the intro to this series, see here.

Living as a part of the world isn’t easy. For one thing, it’s not a one-off decision, a one-step process. It took millenia for our human cultures to stray this far from nature; it’ll take more than a few months (and a few articles by yours truly) to get back.

A second significant barrier that stands in the way of living as part of the world presents itself when we start looking for how (exactly) we’re supposed to do that. My topic for this initial article is eating as part of the world, and for an example of what I mean, read here, here, and here.

See? Everyone has their own idea of what the most natural diet is like. Raw foodists believe that we should eat everything raw, because our most primitive ancestors wouldn’t have had the capability of cooking food. Mark’s Primal Blueprint advocates eating plenty of meat, because “Grok” would have had to eat meat to fill out his diet through the bare winter months. And fruitarians . . . well, I have to confess that I think fruitarians are a little bit weird. The point is that every one of them claims that their collective lifestyle (because it becomes more than just eating, you know) is the most natural, which is why you should be following it with them!

So what’s a neophyte Ishmaelite (Ishmaelist? Ishmaelian?) to do? How do you determine which style of eating is actually the most natural, the closest to the world, and therefore (we suppose) the most beneficial?

Um, I don’t think you can.

What you have to do, I think, is determine first what manner of eating is going to make the most sense for you. I, for example, tried to eat raw. It was a mess. I am not going to be able to eat raw all day every day (at least at this point in my life). Nothing wrong with that. You can eat healthy and be healthy without being a raw foodist. Furthermore, there’s no reason to assume that you have to agree with one of these pre-fabricated eating plans; you can figure out your own way as you go along.

That said, you need to follow your common sense and your conscience. Common sense should tell you that high fructose corn syrup is not good and natural, no matter what they say. Use your brain (and a little low-key research) to figure out which foods (and food additives, if you must) are naturally-occurring. From there, your conscience takes over. In your heart, do you believe that people really shouldn’t be eating animals? Do you prefer only to eat foods that would have been available to your ancestors? Do you draw the line at corn on the cob? Corn meal? Corn syrup? These are questions that need to be addressed individually, according to what you know and what you believe.

In short, I can’t tell you how you should eat. What I can do is give you a few broad guidelines as a starting point for eating as part of the world.

1. Make your own food. You don’t want nasty additives (unnecessary sweeteners, flavorings and colorings, preservatives) in your food. You don’t want HFCS. You don’t want MSG. The best way to ensure that those things are not in your food is to make your food yourself. Come on. This is your first step. Stop buying convenience foods. No more TV dinners. No more 100 calorie bags of snacks. No more spray cheese. No more canned pasta sauce. Do you really need those things? No. Make good, clean food for yourself!
2. Grow your own food. If you can buy produce, good; if you can buy organic, even better. If you can grow your own, though, that’s the best. And you can make it as easy or as extreme as you like. Maybe you keep a few potted herbs on your counter so you don’t have to buy dried. Maybe you buy a bison every year, slaughter it, and freeze the meat (I really did know a family that did that). You have options here, you know.
3. Store your own food. Connect the dots from the last two. You want all-natural applesauce. You happen to have some apples from a tree in your backyard. See where I’m going with this? Canning isn’t that difficult!

Sacrifices will have to be made, but you can make them gradually. And you can pick and choose which ones to make. One of the advantages to the advances that we’ve made, culturally, is that we have consistent availability of a large variety of food. I can eat kiwi. My ancestors wouldn’t have eaten kiwi. Grok probably wouldn’t have eaten kiwi. But I get to eat kiwi. And you know what? I really like kiwi. So I’m gonna have kiwi, every now and then.

The point of all this “part of the world” stuff isn’t to see how tough we can make it on ourselves; it’s not an exercise in some survivalist mentality. The overarching purpose is to begin re-submitting ourselves to the laws of nature–those same laws which we’ve spent years conquering.

Because as long as we willingly choose not to follow the same rules as the rest of the world–exempting ourselves from drought, famine, natural disasters–we won’t have a good reason for actively caring for the world. So keep the big picture in mind. What and how you eat is important, but it’s about more than simply being healthy.

It’s about being part of the world.

Beautiful stock photo by FantasyStock, not me!

As you may remember, I’ve just finished reading this book, and have been thinking constantly about what it means to live as part of the world, rather than in opposition to and dominion over it. My conclusion? Big, big, big changes are required. Perhaps too big for me to handle. Perhaps too big for the world to handle.

In these kinds of circumstances, I find it’s best to make changes that are small, personal, and immediate. Is the world worth saving? And can it even be done? Hmm . . . jury’s still out on that one (at least for me). But I do know that I can live slightly closer to being part of the world, and so can you. Here are three ways how:

Biomechanics
It came up in the pronation article. Whether you believe we evolved or were created, it’s clear that our bodies were designed for a specific purpose. That purpose does not include wearing high heels or walking on concrete. Pavement and shoes separate us from the earth. Walking barefoot and working against the degeneration caused by not walking barefoot brings you that much closer to the original design. Pattern. Whatever. And that works in other parts of the body, as well. Strive for balance and stability in your body.

Appearance
As I mentioned before, I think that when you start to see your body as the enemy, as something that needs to be slimmed down (which basically means you need to eliminate part of it), you’re falling into a trap of conquering your body. And guess what! If you win the battle against your body, you also lose. But the same is true of bodies that are, how shall I say, facing the opposite problem. Your body was meant to be lean and muscular, to a certain extent, because that’s what hunting and gathering does to you. So instead of focusing on weight loss or gain, perhaps we should be looking at overall health. Not “skinny”–healthy.

Eating
Which brings me to the final point. Know something? Our bodies were not made to handle high fructose corn syrup. In fact, they weren’t made to handle a lot of the things we put in them. So stop putting that shit in, already. Eat clean. I suppose you could argue that the way we’re meant to eat is raw and vegetarian, but I disagree. The whole premise here is that we live and eat by the laws of nature, and one of those laws is to eat what you can find. You hunt. You gather. Sometimes there’s slim hunting and you have to gather a little bit more to get fed. Sometimes there’s slim gathering and you have to eat a lot of meat. Either way, my personal opinion is that we’re designed to eat both, so I eat both. Besides, I was a raw vegan for a few weeks. Definitely wasn’t working for me.

So that’s the short version. If you believe that we have a responsibility to adjust the course of civilization, you now have three ideas of how to do it in your life. Small-scale. But these are just notions, right now. So over the next few weeks, I’ll be digging more deeply into the practicals–how do we make these changes? What can be different in my life? And why does it matter?

Not sure, yet. I’m thinking about it. I’ll let you know.

“And that’s where it stands right now. We have to carry the conquest forward. And carrying it forward is either going to destroy the world or turn it into a paradise–into the paradise it was meant to be under human rule.”

We are overcomers. Athletes, I mean. We overcome things. We overcome time and distance and genetics and exhaustion and the ever-present, niggling thought (which comes at us through voices both external and internal): “You can’t do this.”

We are overcomers.

Here’s my question: At what point does overcoming switch to conquest?

The issue is that I’ve been reading this book. And having read this book, I’ve begun to look at my life in the context of conquest. Of reclamation. Of forced submission. Because the author argues (in this book) that the drive to conquer is a huge problem for the human race. Humans seem to have this need to force nature to submit. We take oil the earth. We move trees, grasses, animals, hell, even mountains out of the way to make room for our expansion. We spread out farther and farther, extending our reach into the wilds. And the mentality behind this–whether explicit or implicit–is that this world is a battlefield. The earth is trying to resist our expansion, this is our battlefield, and we have to win.

The problem is, if we win we also lose. Because this isn’t our battlefield; it’s our home. So if we end up conquering the world, we’ve destroyed our only means of survival.

Or so the author’s argument goes. I leave it to you to decide (but I do suggest that you read this book).

What does this have to do with endurance?

Conquest, my friends; conquest. If I decide that I’m going to go on a 10-mile run and my body, at around mile 8, says, “Hell no! Leave me alone! Let’s go have ice cream!” and I make it keep going, I’ve conquered my body, yes?

The problem is, I don’t see most endurance athletes fitting into this paradigm. Sure there are a few assholes out there, but for the most part, the endurance athletes I know love life, love the earth, and are remarkably in tune with their bodies, their minds, their spirits, their communities, and their world.

So I’m hesitant to label our endurance training process as conquest; I think it’s more a process of overcoming. In fact, I think the two are not at all the same. Because endurance training–difficult as it is–does not treat the body as a battlefield. It treats it as a home. It recognizes that this home is capable of some pretty remarkable things. It is extremely concerned with the health of this home. It is a constant pursuit of making this home better (rather than what we want it to be). It involves overcoming the obstacles, the imperfections, the problems that face the athlete in order to become more whole, more in tune with the body, more naturally healthy. It looks at strengths and weaknesses, uses the one for all its worth and shores up the other. It works in concert with the body, not against it.

But there is a fine line between the concepts I’ve introduced here, you understand. Can you see how easily the overcoming can turn into a conquest? When you begin to feel your body work against you. When you begin to push beyond the limits of health to eke out a few less seconds, a few more miles. When you feel your body deteriorating, but keep going anyway. When you look in the mirror, say, “This will not do,” and vow to be more disciplined so that you may cut part of your body away. When you no longer see your body as a partner–as more than a partner, as a concrete part of yourself.

Well, then you’re no longer an overcomer.

You’re only a conqueror.

My grit, I mean. It was hanging out in yesterday’s (second) cycling class, just waiting for me to find it.

The morning class was big and exciting, and I worked my little ass off; I pushed way more resistance than I normally would. Probably because out of the three events I wanted to race this weekend, I did not do a single one. One was canceled. One was sold out. And the back-up to the back-up plan . . . well, let’s just say that having my alarm set to go off at 6:00 p.m. was not terribly helpful.

And so there I was. Teaching my second set of cycling students on the day (all two of them). Halfway done. And I found myself looking down at the resistance knob, thinking about how easy it would be to turn it down before the truly hard part came. I had the perfect opportunity. No one would have known that I was taking it easy (except me). I had already killed myself in the 8:15 class. And really, isn’t one hour of leg-crampingly difficult cycling enough for me?

But it was not enough. I turned the resistance up and murdered that mofo. I hit it hard, maybe right on the edge of too hard.

And I was pleased. I had found my grit. All was right with the world.

Then, on the very last track, my grit stood up, shook off some cobwebs, and frickin’ asserted itself. “Don’t bother looking for me,” it said. “I am right here!” And so, with almost no conscious thought or decision making on my part, I found myself turning the resistance knob up. And up. And up. Until I felt I could barely move my legs. But I did move my legs. In fact, I turned them over about as fast as they could go.

Today, my legs are sore. No, really. SORE.

But I don’t care. I’ve got my grit back.

Now if I could just find a race . . .

Sometimes you start too early.

Sometimes you finish too late.

Sometimes you allow yourself to become burnt out in almost every aspect of your life.

Sometimes your heart calls you far, far away with so loud and distracting a voice that you can’t concentrate on anything around you.

Sometimes you get hurt. Injured. Taken out.

Sometimes life derails your plans, then pushes you down and takes your milk money for good measure.

Know what? Sometimes everything sucks. You don’t finish races (or don’t get to start them, because they’re canceled or sold out). You can’t work out because of some stupid, bullshit, recurring injury. You get confused about why you even bother. You wonder whether you really love swimming, biking, running, or any combination of physical activities. You think maybe it’s just become habit (or it’s your job).

Sometimes the next step forward is too difficult to think about, too much to bear, too big to take.

I’m not sure I’m ready for inspiration, yet. Because sometimes you need to walk it out, go inside, figure out whether or not you really have the grit to finish a long run. A 5k. An Ironman. Whatever it may be.

The grit’s in there, though. Just need to find it.

Thanks to a series of 15-hour workdays (as well as a handful of gym members who claim that they are leaving the gym because of something that I allegedly did or–in some cases–didn’t do), I have had no time to write at work and no energy to write at home. Besides which, I am entirely too busy watching Olympians being awesome to complete the latest installment in my “Stop Slouching!” series (which will be about weak hamstrings, by the way).

Also, I am flying to Boston tomorrow to help my friend drive to Arizona, where she has a job teaching 4th graders. So I will be in a car and therefore unable to update for the next week.


In the meantime, I invite you to join me by splurging (bowl of ice cream, anyone?) and pulling up a seat in front of the TV to watch the following events:


Women’s 10,000 m final - Friday at 9:45 a.m. (all times are Central Time)
Women’s marathon - Saturday at 7:30 p.m.
Men’s 10,000 m final - Sunday at 9:45 a.m.
Women’s triathlon - Sunday at 9:00 p.m.
Men’s triathlon - Monday at 9:00 p.m.


And I will be back to regale you with tales of weak hamstrings on Tuesday. Please try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone .


-J

• What brought you to my blog? Spinning workouts? Advice? Race reports? The lure of my general awesomeness?
• Why do you keep reading? What are your favorite parts?
• What would you like to see more of?

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