Life's Chapters

"Death solves all problems. No man, no problem."
~Joseph Stalin


"The greatest and most important problems of life are all fundamentally insoluble. They can never be solved but only outgrown."
~Carl Jung




I am a firm believer that everything is either cyclical or occurs in periods. Life is periodical, as weird as it sounds. As always, I can only speak for myself, and my life has neatly broken down into a few major periods, or even chapters, if you will. I suspect I am not the first or even the 10 millionth person to say this or think of it. It fits, so I will roll with it, however cliche.

For me, life's phases are often defined and punctuated by the kind or quality of struggle to get through the phase, or the degree of difficulty each phase presents. I have had phases of extreme difficulty and phases where life was literally one bike ride, one run, one swim at a time. Maybe this makes me a "glass is half empty" type of person; after all, could I not be also describing these phases by how EASY they were to get through, rather than how HARD? I like to think of it as realism. The glass is too damn big.

Currently I am struggling, struggling big time. I am struggling in my current chapter of life to endure even those things which used to be what I would consider defining characteristics of life's "easy" chapters. Now, even those are difficult, even those things result in untoward stress and trepidation. Work, my beloved work, is ridiculously overwhelming and a major struggle every day. Training is even a struggle. My marriage is probably the biggest struggle of all of them.

It is not lost on me that in life nothing is experienced in isolation; at least I am (somewhat surprisingly to myself) unable to compartmentalise these considerations into uniqe and isolated pockets of resistance. Nope. Its all fucked. Big time. And therefore the blood that spills forth from one battle can not be contained in its "life bucket" and spills into its neighbor. All of my buckets are beginning to resemble each other, as a murky mixture of all of the other problems. Marriage problems spill into dealing with everything else. Work requires so much more effort that I can not keep it from fucking up my training. And if my training, the one thing I hold sacred as my own, personal respite, is not going well... Forget it.

The glass is too damn big--but only if it's holding water. That analogy breaks down when you have to describe the epic tons of horseshit that the glass is trying to hold during this particular chapter of my life. In this case, the glass keeps increasing in size to accomodate more and more crap.

Ironman is 153 days and 15 hours away. And right now, sheer determination is getting me through. How long can it last?

On the Utility of Heart Rates

Any form of exercise that raises your heart rate and leaves you slightly breathless, if done on a regular basis, is extremely beneficial.

~ Mark Richardson

I have a routine that I have followed more often than not for the last 13 years as I go to bed.

I put on my cheapest, most simple heart rate monitor, and lay down. Then, I watch my heart rate decrease to to the lowest level possible without being asleep.

In the 13 years it has become the most reliable barometer of wellness I have ever had. Days before I ever actually experience symptoms from being sick my resting heart rate will only decrease to a level 10 beats per minute above normal. When I am in shape, my resting heart rate is approx 37 BPM laying down. When I am sick, it will not drop below 50 usually.

When I am overtrained, my heart rate tells me.

When I am stressed about work, and about to have a terrible night of (no) sleep, my heart rate confirms this.

Our cardiac output, the simple rythmic beating of our heart, is the function of biochemical processes embedded deep inside our cellular make-up. Our physical selves are composed of a fantastically complicated and intricate network of responses and feedback loops that inhibit and stimulate and constantly "sense" the environment in order to best suit us for what might happen next.

This is, at its essence, Survival.

However, we as humans do not depend upon these series of sensations and responses any longer for survival. Our psyche has, and continues to, uncouple from our physical selves. We think our way through every day knowing full well (most of us) that we are not in peril, that we are not threatened by starvation, and that water is plentiful and safe. We (largely) do not have to spend energy on the worry about being fit to reproduce and pass on our genes for the lineage's survival. Our physical biochemical response is dulled and unresponsive.

So what, then, have we become?

As I lay down with my heart rate monitor and watch the numbers change, my mind races. I think about a demanding meeting at work occuring the next day and the number sky rockets, often two-fold. Tension, perspiration, my breathing increases.

Deep breath. The thought evaporates. I remember the warm, soothing feel of the sun on my face as I sit on the dock at the lake, listening to the water, the dock moving slightly, and my heart rate plummets. My respiratory rate decreases. My breathing is intimately linked to my heart rate. Oxygen and carbon dioxide are powerful drivers of cardiac function. Thoughts are powerful.

"Picture yourself vividly as winning, and that alone will contribute immeasurably to success."

~Harry Emerson Fosdick

With thoughts I can induce changes in the theater of biochemistry occuring inside me. There is still some link to my primal sense of survival, after all. Do people who visualize their physical efforts actually, in essence, train "virtually" by causing a biochemical reaction? If you picture success, does the biochemistry inside of you follow suit and "wire" you for victory?

I lay there, watching the numbers fall. I find it meditative to focus on these numbers and clear my mind. In all honestly, it is one of my favorite moments of the day. One of the few times outside of training when I feel free of the bonds of thought.

And, naturally, my heart rate drops.

How to Track Me

In case you are interested, many of the workouts between now and August 26th will be tracked with my Garmin Forerunner 305.





Garmin Connect Site

I purposefully do not wear it on every workout, so it is not exhaustive. But you will be able to see my progress, as well as see some of the races I do in the mean time. And no, I won't wear this in the pool or in the weight room or on the trainer.



Enjoy.

Aaron

Achieving the Unachievable

"You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else."
~Albert Einstein

"Winners compare their achievements with their goals, while losers compare their achievements with those of other people."
~Nido Qubein

I set out to win every race I enter. I tell myself this is not realistic, but I never start any race thinking I am racing for 2nd.

I want to create the best treatment for cancer, a treatment that saves lives and does not ruin the patient's life in the process. Hell, I want to be the person who cures cancer. I tell myself this is not realistic, but every day I get to go to work is a new opportunity to try. And I do.


You are too ambitious.

Why do you train so hard? You can't win.

Your expectations are unrealistic.

You are setting yourself up for failure.

Your enthusiasm is only because you are new to the field.

You work too hard, it's just a job.


These are the things I hear almost every day of my life, meant to stifle me down into the ever thickening vignette of mediocrity at the bottom of the picture of success. Most people would probably never believe that these are the types of things I used to say to myself. I punished myself with these thoughts constantly until my twenties, when the switch flipped during a 6 month stint of therapy. Back then the world was more than happy to sing the song of doom along with me. Come--join everyone else in the fulfillment of low expectations, and collect your award.

Begin digression.

I was laying in the gurney, and the back of the ambulance opened. The jarring motion of being lifted out of the ambulance and onto the ground. My family around me, now, looking panicked and scared. Everything hurts, the world is a bit distorted. I saw them, and I understood the reason behind the fear in their eyes, but something in me remained calm. I knew it was going to be okay, for some reason. Maybe, in retrospect, it was ignorance that kept me calm. At 18 years and 11 months, we do not often understand the nature of our experiences as we have them, hence so many young people kill themselves doing what appears to more mature individuals as "stupid shit".

I had tried to insert a waterski into the back of my head and instead crushed a 3 inch crater of my skull into about 6 fragments, some of which were pushed into my brain. Later I would discover I had bruised my brain, and was about 3 mm from paralysis or death. Everyone stood around, nervously, listening to the neurosurgeon. The next day I emerged victorious (albeit in extraordinary pain) from surgery, and here I am, 15 years later, alive and well.

Why do I bring up this story?

That event could have stopped me cold in my tracks. It could have killed me. It could have prevented me, physically, from being able to do the acivities I enjoy. Or, it might have scared me into a shell of fear where from the ambitions of life I could hide. And, probably, few people would have really questioned this. After all, I had a blind spot in the center of my vision as a result of the trauma to my brain which forced me to read (words and music) differently. I had every excuse to live a much easier, simpler life.

The bar I set for myself is unmistakably, unequivocally ridiculous. How many humans are happy with what I consider to be "just getting by"? How did I become this way? I don't think I am better than anyone. Not at all. What is it, then? These days, I feel sorry for those people, big and small, red, white blue and black, who fail to recognize their own potential for greatness. And believe me, greatness has nothing at all to do with being a pharmacokineticist or a musician or a fly fisherman or a triathlete. It has nothing to do with what other people see in you, however, when you realize your potential engaging in your chosen endeavor, your luminescence is clearly visible.

How do you know when you have realized your potential?
You can see greatness because of the sudden, complete stratification of your peers. There is precipitation into one of three clusters:

1) Envy - "Meh. It's not so great." The most common reaction to success, I believe, is negativity.

2) Agnosticism - "What success?" It is easier to close ones eyes than to see and acknowledge the successes of others. In many ways it is similar to 1 above.

3) Pride - It is a rare individual who can share in the successes, as well as the failures, of others. The people who stand with you in victory are often great, as well.


And so here I go, with yet another unrealistic expectation: Qualify at Ironman Canada, this August, for the Ironman World Championship. The vocal opposition is loud and clear. I hear you, but I don't care.

After, on August 27th, many people will say "I told you so."

Some will say "That's too bad."


As for Me?
I will say "I did it."