One of the complexities of middle age is that the line
between knowledge-based confidence and ignorance-inspired misconceptions is usually
blurry. The liberation I feel at my
lack of concern for the judgment of others is more than offset by the filter
that excludes ideas that don’t match my adopted paradigms from being seriously
entertained inside my head.
Objectively I do think I know a lot about a lot of
things. Realistically I am sure I know a lot less than I think I do. Combining my conceded ignorance with my
extraordinary powers of rationalization results in the perfect storm for
unexplained phenomena.
One such phenomenon is my exceedingly pedestrian
performances in Cyclocross. Whilst I
don’t find my meaning in life from my finishing position, I do marvel that my
dedication and hard work yield essentially nothing.
With the freakish exception of one season of Cyclocross a
few years ago my results have been alarmingly mediocre. For the last two seasons you can take the
number of race entrants and divide by two and that is my finishing place plus
or minus ten percent.
I’ve read everything about training I can get my hands on
and work amazingly hard to be this mediocre.
I don’t know what was in my oatmeal in 2010, but aside from that one
year of podium finishes, I’ve been remarkably unremarkable.
I’ve laid out training plans and worked hard yet my
results have been unaffected by my efforts. Excel spreadsheets and graphs have
elegantly documented the acute lack of correlation between planning, execution,
effort and the subsequent results. I
plan months in advance and tweak my plans as appropriate, yet my race results
remain crap.
I spent the first twenty-some years of my life winning
(running) races and my transition from victory to philosophical justification
has been humbling. My ego doesn’t need
to win, but I would like to see something for all of my efforts; measureable
improvement would suffice.
I enter each season with high hopes and the first race is
inevitably a total bitch-slap. Typically the season opener leaves me
scrambling, feeling like I have gone down the wrong path AGAIN!! Nothing like finishing the first race
thinking, I must need more base miles!! Too late! I have lamented time and again that nobody
works harder to be as mediocre as me.
A chance conversation with a good friend has brought
about a different approach for 2014. I
have a coach. I was skeptical if this
change would bring about different results since (in my ego infused head) I
already know everything. My mindset was
open and I will confess that I did feel a sense of relief over not having to
deal with the day to day planning of my workouts. All I have to do is execute the
work. That sounds refreshingly easy.
When I got my first week’s plan from my coach I looked at
the workouts for each day. Nothing wild
here, I thought. Hard days, easy days,
weights…. Then I looked at Thursday
evening’s workout. Stairs …..stairs,
…..stairs!! I haven’t run stairs in
decades.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I had phased lunges out of my weight workouts because
they made my gluts sore. I trimmed my
interval workouts into my commuting schedule rather than adjusting my commute
to include a FULL interval workout. Without
noticing it I had cut corners and used my well documented powers of
justification to forget the countless compromises and wonder slack-jawed why my
results were unchanged.
When I was in physical therapy my torturer made me do
lunges. They hurt. I healed. They worked. Then I slacked.
How many things have I phased out of my training because
they were hard, or hurt, or were inconvenient?
My guess is that in the coming months I shall find out. I had adapted to
working hard at the things I wanted to work hard at and excluding the things I didn’t
care for. Suddenly the puzzle to my lack
of performance was coming together. Oh
the powers of rationalization are strong with this one.
Having to be accountable is also valuable not just to
make sure I did the hard stuff hard enough, but also to make sure I took it
easy when I was supposed to. Many times
I was on a recovery ride and feeling pretty good so why not attack the
hill? Well, I just made my recovery ride
not a recovery ride. Accountability
seems to be a good thing. Through the
miracle of GPS devices there really is no place to hide. Good as well.
There is some pain in my future. Pain that brings results
is welcome. I look forward to it. At least I think I do. One of my first exchanges with my coach
echoed of my conversation with my granddaughter when she fell while learning
to cross country ski. I’ll paraphrase
his answer which concluded our conversation “Yeah, it’s hard.”
I ran those stairs yesterday. Today my legs hurt. Just so you understand let me clarify a few
things. I competed in track and cross country for fourteen years. I’ve finished ten marathons. I’ve completed countless other running
races. I consistently ran hundred mile
weeks in high school and college. I
would guess I’ve ridden in excess of fifty thousand kilometers on my bike. My legs have never hurt this much.
There will be pain. Oh yes, there will be more pain.
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