“You might never walk again.” “You could walk but with a permanent limp and have to use a cane.” “You will not be able to run.” The words of doctors crushed me almost as much as the truck that hit me. The suffering experienced and the help I received in the wake of those words were important and transformative. The energy of my heart is what kept me running.
On November 24, 2010, I will celebrate the 6th anniversary of the day I almost lost my right foot. Almost 6 years ago, I was in a car accident that left me with a broken arm, broken left foot, and a smashed right ankle that literally exploded open.
The Suffering
After many x-rays and hours of waiting for a specialist (day before Thanksgiving), I asked about the extent of the injury. I was told just prior to going into emergency surgery that I wouldn’t run again and maybe wouldn’t walk. Being an athlete in a number of sports including soccer, and at the time a runner for 19 years, this was not something I was ready to hear. I cried all the way to the operating room.
When I awoke from surgery, I was still crying and I was suffering on every level. The physical pain was nothing in comparison to the anguish I felt, the insult, in being told I could not run let alone walk, not knowing what my physical fitness future held for me. After a couple days and pain that almost made me pass out, I was released from the hospital with the aid of a walker with an attachment for a broken arm. I grew to dislike the Wong Baker pain scale.
Six days later I returned to my work as a psychologist seeing clients. They looked at me funny when I simply said, “I was in an accident, but I’m ok, now what’s going on with you?” All the hardware, leg up on a chair, and fresh arm cast must’ve been a sight. I put on my “poker face,” but maybe the pain was evident. Doing work helped me feel some semblance of “ok,” I loved my work and it gave me energy to heal. A week and a half later, I did my first workout, lifting a weight with my good arm, a 5 lb. dumbbell with the hand hindered by the cast on my broken arm, and moving my left “good” leg up and down while seated, attempting to hold my right leg still. Anything, something to get a heart rate.
Two weeks after the accident, a second surgery was completed by an ortho-trauma specialist. Ten screws, three plates, and cadaver bone were placed permanently into my right ankle. The prognosis was unknown. I might walk with a permanent limp, I was told. For four months I was on “non-weight bearing status,” no walking, no driving, nothing. I continued to do modified workouts, moving whatever I could while sitting, lifting weights with my good arm, doing sit ups, and once my arm was out of a cast, doing dips on my walker.
My body was smashed in places, but I worked hard at keeping up the parts that weren’t broken, and keeping my mind and spirit as “together” as possible in the aftermath of the accident. My usual disciplines of work, daily running, weight training, and meditation had to be changed, but I continued with what I could in a disciplined way. I kept writing about my inner experiences in a journal to purge myself of the anguish, for a few moments at least, I’d be free from those words as they were released to paper. I continued to meditate, visualizing mini construction workers building my ankle back together (Doozers from Fraggle Rock). I cried a lot, in fact it became part of my discipline, as I attempted to allow the tears when they came and not fight them. This suffering was so bad that I had fleeting thoughts of wishing the car accident had resulted in my death.
“Who am I now if I can’t play…, if I can’t run, if I’m not on the team, if I’m broken.” I was aware of the identity issues that athletes must address when they are injured. I had long identified as a runner and was more proud of my consistency of running 6 days a week over 19 years than my completions of marathons or other events. I knew that my identity should not be tied to being a “runner” and it wasn’t. I battled with the meaning and consequences of “not being able to run,” or even walk. Will I be disabled? How will I be able to move? Will I ever experience the freedom of movement again? Will I ever be pain free? Then I’d say to self, “All is well. All is well. All is well,” then ponder unknown. Repeat over many months. Suffering.
The Helpers
Due to the intensity of the suffering, I enlisted the help of a therapist to assist me with the emotional aspects of the injury. If there was anything I could do to get through this “dark night,” I was willing. I thought I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t “talk to someone” about all that was going on, I didn’t want to keep venting to family and friends (they were very supportive), and I wanted to be sure that my own stuff wasn’t getting in the way of my work with clients. Interestingly, the injury became a secondary topic as the sessions went on. “Not being able to run” took on other meanings as I examined the topic more closely. The therapist knew how to acknowledge the traumatic injury, without rushing to get to other meanings of it. This was an important skill and an important relationship.
Four months after the accident, I finally graduated to physical therapy. My physical therapist had no idea what he was in for. I brought all the energy of a tornado into the rehab facility. I wanted to get better and I wanted to push to the limits, whatever they were. If it was limping with a cane, then at least it’ll be power limping. I pushed through the pain, and pushed to regain whatever function I could. My physical therapist often shook his head in disbelief at my energy, humor, drive, and positive attitude toward rehab.
I was in rehab for about six months with my physical therapist, and then I started an independent program at the facility which I continued for another six months. During that year, I observed a lot about physical therapists and their clients. I was fully aware of the dynamics of a good helper-client relationship given my line of work as a psychologist. What I saw play out time after time at the rehab facility, was that some physical therapists were in high demand and it was their energy that made that so. Some were more effective than others and the better ones tended to have an ability to connect with their clients, they were energetic. They were less distracted, they listened, and they knew how to be “present” with their clients’ suffering. I could see that they had different, better relationships. Patients wanted to see them long after the insurance ran out. Sometimes I cried during my sessions, worried about what was to come, worried about where my physical capacity might stop. My physical therapist acknowledged my feelings without minimizing my loss. This is an important skill. It was an important relationship.
After my year of rehab, I finally decided it was time to be working out in a place that wasn’t about being broken. So I joined a local gym, knowing that I had to engage in low impact cardio, hearing the words of my doctor suggesting that running outdoors the way I used to was out of the question. With my new membership, I got 3 free personal training sessions. I described my history of sport and my recent injuries and my goals for fitness. I asked the trainer to help me push my limits. He later told me that he could think of only a couple clients in his vast experience that brought as much energy and hard work to the session. He knew how to acknowledge my injury without holding me back from pushing my limits. This was also an important relationship.
There is ample literature about the therapeutic alliance and it’s power in effective helping relationships. More than technique, one’s ability to join with another is a big determinant in outcomes. I’ve reflected a lot about my experiences in rehab, in gyms, and in my office. I’ve been trained to be present with suffering and I practice the art of embracing it while facilitating a process of managing it. When helpers/trainers are able to witness suffering, gently acknowledge it, and be present or in the moment with it, this creates connection. The heart to heart connection I experienced with my service providers certainly facilitated the process of healing. Their skills in acknowledging the present suffering or circumstances without moving too fast were extremely effective. They didn’t reduce my suffering, but helped me to more effectively endure it and keep moving forward at my pace.
The Heart Energy, the “Coach”
“You’ve got heart” is something my skating coach used to say to me during countless hours of practice and lessons, when I’d keep going, keep sweating it out despite fatigue and difficulty. Recovering from this accident, I did my best to work on my body. I did my best to work on my mind as I begged spirit to help heal my body. They all worked together, I know, but there were times when each sort of seemed to take the lead. I believe my heart energy was the master leader or “coach,” in making my body, mind, and spirit a working team. All the practices I engaged in with discipline (exercising, writing, therapy, working, etc.) were ways to talk to my “coach,” connect with my heart and the energy of it. I’ve always had a strong sense of “heart,” clearly noticed by my old skating coach.
“The value of our harshest difficulties is how honestly they cause us to question, how they intensify our courage and bring alive our deepest inner purpose, how they reawaken our soul’s task on earth. The painful breaking apart of our world is often the precious opportunity our heart has needed to learn to be true to itself” (Kornfield, 2000, p 44).
I feel the energy of my heart often. I have a lot of energy. I’m always asked where it comes from. I don’t know. Energy can be measured by joules or kilocalories. It’s a “quantity understood as the ability to perform work… Energeia, the general principle of "activity" as opposed to possibility, in Aristotelianism” (Wikipedia).
This energy (ability to perform work) that I feel in my heart is probably related to my satisfaction in life. Much of the positive psychology literature suggests that people report most satisfaction or happiness when they are working toward something, not with the end result. Maybe we could say then, that suffering can create the circumstances to enhance or detract from energy, depending on how one views it. If it’s embraced, it keeps us working, moving forward in activity, and therefore somehow satisfied. If it’s rejected, it leads to stuck/hindered energy, stuck in possibility rather than action. “It is the intensity of the longing that does all the work,” Kornfield quotes Kabir (Kornfield, 2000, p 45). The genuine heart of sadness, tenderness, the heart of a warrior as Trungpa writes, is that mix of happy/sad that moves people through fear and into fearlessness (Trungpa, 1984). Movement, work, energy- from the heart. Suffering and satisfaction co-exist.
I didn’t reject the suffering after the accident. It certainly was challenging, but I did my very best to move through it and brought all the energy I could to the process. I kept working through it. I worked the suffering as hard as I worked my ankle, with my heart. The energy of the heart is “something” that seems deeper than what I can try to put into words. It’s a felt sense of workload that burns me with desire to progress. It’s deeper than goals, it’s the energy of longing, searching, completing a mission. When I stop to notice that energy, I am tapping into a deeper part of myself, breath, everything and nothing. This is simple, not easy, and especially important in times of great suffering. The heart energy, like a kind coach, leads us in practice, the process of life with all of it’s ups and downs. This energy led me to keep pushing, and kept me moving, eventually to running speed again.
The Transformation
The relationships with my physical therapist, therapist, and fitness trainer helped me to endure a life changing injury. Because they each were able to be present to my pain in different ways, I was able to stay strongly connected to my own energy (work) and move efficiently through my healing process. Just as the helpers aligned with me in my mission to move forward, I was aligned with the energy of my heart as the master helper, the “coach.” The meaning of the “accident” and the injury has transformed over time. Although I almost lost my foot from the ankle down, I never lost the energy of desire to move forward. Whether with a working ankle or not, I continued to move. And probably because of that ankle smashing, I now have moved farther than I could’ve imagined at the time.
I’ve come a long way. No cane, sometimes pain. Three years ago I began playing soccer again, started with coaching, then playing “lightly” and then back to “full on.” I kept finding the heart energy to push a little further, my love of the game kept calling me to try. I figured if I could do that, I could run, too. Two years ago, I began incorporating some jogging back into my fitness routines. In June, 2010, I completed my first ultra, a 50 mile trail run. In September, I completed a 24 hour ultra event. I am running again, in more interesting ways than before the accident! I didn’t allow the words of doctors and other concerned individuals to hold me back from my connection to energy. I don’t run everyday, I’m more efficient about running. My ideas about running have changed. My goal in the next year is to complete a 100 mile ultra distance event. Transformation. Better than ever.
The Mission
I rose like the phoenix, prevailing over the physical and spiritual challenge of injury, finding new and expanded depths of my heart energy. Transformation. Breaking open, in crisis, whether accidental or intended, purifies us. Who am I? What do I want? Where am I going? What is my mission? Whether it’s a car accident, divorce, illness, or death of a loved one, these events call us to get more clear about what we’re working toward and be mindful of energy and intentions. Do you know what’s important to you and are you moving toward it?
My mission has always been about cultural transformation, helping people to move toward their potential and thereby move toward my own. Because of the great suffering I endured around the issue of mobility, I learned to appreciate small steps, my own and others’. I learned to appreciate my own voice in movement patterns, where to push and where to stop. This applies equally in my physical activities, work, and my relationships. I feel the energy of my heart often, I feel it now as I’m writing. Six years after the crash, I’m grateful for the suffering, the helpers, the energy, and the transformation. I feel satisfied that I worked through it as I did, and that I keep running, but a twinge of sadness remains. As always, there is suffering and satisfaction, more work to do, more mission to fulfill. When we can connect to the energy of the heart, the kind coach, we can embrace the suffering of practice, and be directed to keep going even when it hurts.
Sources
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Energy
Kornfield, J. (2000). After the ecstasy, the laundry: How the heart grows wise on the spiritual path. Bantam Books: New York.
Trungpa, C. (1984). Shambhala: The sacred path of the warrior. Shambhala Publications, Inc.: Boston.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Pacing Partners
A few weeks ago, I ran my first 24 hour endurance run, with the goal to cover as much mileage as possible within 24 hours. A few people volunteered to assist me in the process, as my “crew.” As part of this crew, I had help during the night hours in the form of a pacer.
What is a pacer? In the world of ultra running, race registrants may have a crew of people who assist and support them in multiple ways. The Pacer, a special role for a crew member, is a fellow runner who runs with the Racer during portions of the race, usually at night or during more difficult periods of the race. The assistance the Pacer offers can take several forms:
• The actual pace of the run- usually coasts with the Racer in a supportive way, but sometimes speeds up or slows down the Racer
• Acting as a guide- someone familiar with the trail or more alert can assist a weary Racer when he/she may be mentally and physically drained
• Encouragement and coaching- knows how to talk Racer through mental aspects of the race and “rough spots” such as doubt, physical pain, “bonking”
• Just being “present”- acts as a witness/companion, shares the pain and experience making it more enjoyable/bearable for Racer
Effective pacers know when to listen/be quiet and when to talk. They know when to speed up or slow down, when to lead or follow. They know how to get someone to eat and drink when not thirsty or hungry, and how to keep someone going when the desire is to quit. They know how to be encouraging but not pushy and they know that a tired crabby Racer is not something to take personally, it’s part of the race. Pacers know when they need to simply be present to suffering and not try to change it. They share the pain and thereby somehow lessen it.
Pacers know these things partly by good instincts, but optimally, the Racer tells the Pacer as much as possible about how they specifically want assistance before the event. If they wait until during the race, it is more difficult to communicate due to the demands of the running and the mental and physical exertion/exhaustion that is likely to occur. A streamlined procedure between Racer and Pacer can mean the difference between success or quitting- finishing the 100 miles or stopping at 70.
Now, there is a parallel here. In relationships, we all can function as “Pacers.” The key is for both parties to play that supportive pacer role. Let’s apply some of the principles of pacing in running to the context of a relationship. Here are some suggestions:
1. Be mindful about how much each person offers the “pacing.” If both partners are playing the “Pacer” role about equally, then there is likely good support going both ways. In a running event, the pacer role is supposed to be one-sided. It’s all about the runner. In a relationship, it’s helpful to take turns. If the pacer role is always being played by one person, then the “Pacer” is going to get so tired from lack of self-care that they can’t be a good “Pacer” anymore. If one person is always “Pacer” it can be draining, especially if there is no end in sight to the problem being paced.
2. Be explicit about how to handle things before the need arises (pre-conflict briefing). When couples get into a conflict, it’s usually too late to develop a plan for how to handle it. Emotions increase, patterns of interaction take over. So, having a discussion about how to handle conflict before one arises, is a way of assisting each other through the “race.”
3. Be aware that the “Pacer” is not a mind reader, if something is needed, it helps to speak up. Even with an excellent “pre-race briefing,” and even when partners know each other well, sometimes if needs arise that aren’t being met, it is the “Racer’s” responsibility to speak up and let the “Pacer” know, so they can gladly assist.
4. Be aware that the “Pacer” can be supportive, but ultimately can’t run the “race” for the “Racer.” If there is too much reliance on a partner for support, too much leaning, or too much emotional baggage for the “Pacer” to carry, then the “Racer” is placing too much responsibility for the “race” on a partner, and could result in dropping out.
If partners are mindful of these principles of “pacing,” and attempt to balance supportive roles they play with each other, they can more smoothly run the race of life together. Remember:
• Sometimes our partners need us to coast with them, or pick it up or slow it down.
• Sometimes our partners need us to act as a guide, offering a light in the dark when the path gets difficult.
• Sometimes our partners need us to be encouraging and coach-like, helping when “rough spots” appear such as work, family, or health stresses create difficulty.
• Sometimes our partners need us to simply be “present,” acting as a witness to their pain and experience, making it more bearable.
In running races, success is increased when runners and pacers function well together. In relationships, partners that use the ideas of “pacing” can also increase their success rates. Success for partners may include resolving conflicts, increasing understanding, and deeper intimacy. Let’s treat our “Pacing Partners” with the same kind of gratitude that might be felt if we just ran 100 miles, due in part to their assistance.
What is a pacer? In the world of ultra running, race registrants may have a crew of people who assist and support them in multiple ways. The Pacer, a special role for a crew member, is a fellow runner who runs with the Racer during portions of the race, usually at night or during more difficult periods of the race. The assistance the Pacer offers can take several forms:
• The actual pace of the run- usually coasts with the Racer in a supportive way, but sometimes speeds up or slows down the Racer
• Acting as a guide- someone familiar with the trail or more alert can assist a weary Racer when he/she may be mentally and physically drained
• Encouragement and coaching- knows how to talk Racer through mental aspects of the race and “rough spots” such as doubt, physical pain, “bonking”
• Just being “present”- acts as a witness/companion, shares the pain and experience making it more enjoyable/bearable for Racer
Effective pacers know when to listen/be quiet and when to talk. They know when to speed up or slow down, when to lead or follow. They know how to get someone to eat and drink when not thirsty or hungry, and how to keep someone going when the desire is to quit. They know how to be encouraging but not pushy and they know that a tired crabby Racer is not something to take personally, it’s part of the race. Pacers know when they need to simply be present to suffering and not try to change it. They share the pain and thereby somehow lessen it.
Pacers know these things partly by good instincts, but optimally, the Racer tells the Pacer as much as possible about how they specifically want assistance before the event. If they wait until during the race, it is more difficult to communicate due to the demands of the running and the mental and physical exertion/exhaustion that is likely to occur. A streamlined procedure between Racer and Pacer can mean the difference between success or quitting- finishing the 100 miles or stopping at 70.
Now, there is a parallel here. In relationships, we all can function as “Pacers.” The key is for both parties to play that supportive pacer role. Let’s apply some of the principles of pacing in running to the context of a relationship. Here are some suggestions:
1. Be mindful about how much each person offers the “pacing.” If both partners are playing the “Pacer” role about equally, then there is likely good support going both ways. In a running event, the pacer role is supposed to be one-sided. It’s all about the runner. In a relationship, it’s helpful to take turns. If the pacer role is always being played by one person, then the “Pacer” is going to get so tired from lack of self-care that they can’t be a good “Pacer” anymore. If one person is always “Pacer” it can be draining, especially if there is no end in sight to the problem being paced.
2. Be explicit about how to handle things before the need arises (pre-conflict briefing). When couples get into a conflict, it’s usually too late to develop a plan for how to handle it. Emotions increase, patterns of interaction take over. So, having a discussion about how to handle conflict before one arises, is a way of assisting each other through the “race.”
3. Be aware that the “Pacer” is not a mind reader, if something is needed, it helps to speak up. Even with an excellent “pre-race briefing,” and even when partners know each other well, sometimes if needs arise that aren’t being met, it is the “Racer’s” responsibility to speak up and let the “Pacer” know, so they can gladly assist.
4. Be aware that the “Pacer” can be supportive, but ultimately can’t run the “race” for the “Racer.” If there is too much reliance on a partner for support, too much leaning, or too much emotional baggage for the “Pacer” to carry, then the “Racer” is placing too much responsibility for the “race” on a partner, and could result in dropping out.
If partners are mindful of these principles of “pacing,” and attempt to balance supportive roles they play with each other, they can more smoothly run the race of life together. Remember:
• Sometimes our partners need us to coast with them, or pick it up or slow it down.
• Sometimes our partners need us to act as a guide, offering a light in the dark when the path gets difficult.
• Sometimes our partners need us to be encouraging and coach-like, helping when “rough spots” appear such as work, family, or health stresses create difficulty.
• Sometimes our partners need us to simply be “present,” acting as a witness to their pain and experience, making it more bearable.
In running races, success is increased when runners and pacers function well together. In relationships, partners that use the ideas of “pacing” can also increase their success rates. Success for partners may include resolving conflicts, increasing understanding, and deeper intimacy. Let’s treat our “Pacing Partners” with the same kind of gratitude that might be felt if we just ran 100 miles, due in part to their assistance.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Taking off "Protective Equipment"
Have you ever watched a hockey game and noticed how heavy and cumbersome the goalie’s equipment appears? It seems like sweet relief by the end of the game, when the many layers of all of that gear come off. Yes, it’s good for protection, but imagine wearing that equipment all the time, all day long. That would no longer be protective, it would be unhelpful to functioning, to say the least. It seems like people wear a lot of symbolic hockey equipment.
One way to look at stress or emotional weight that people “wear” is to use the analogy of a hockey goalie and the layers of equipment that are worn. There is a reason for all this equipment and clothing. Without the protection they provide, the goalie is vulnerable to other players, their sticks, and the flying puck. In the face of all the aggression that occurs on the ice, the many layers protect against insult and injury.
If we are staying too “protected” with symbolic equipment in our daily lives and in relationships, then we feel heavy and have a hard time functioning well. This may play out in ways of communicating, being less than authentic, feeling stressed, and having difficulty in reaching goals. Putting on a “game face” and being mad, not saying how you really feel, avoiding certain topics for fear of conflict, or saying you want to achieve a certain goal but behaving in incongruent ways can be seemingly automatic and somehow protective. However, being stuck in these kinds of patterns of behavior is probably stressful and doesn’t help in achieving goals or great relationships. We can be mindful of this “equipment” and take it off when it is weighing us down. It may be awkward at first, but gets easier with practice.
Let’s look more closely at the symbolism of the equipment. A hockey goalie wears a mask, a helmet, and a mouth guard, and carries a big stick, wearing skates. By taking these off you will show your true face, let feedback in, speak up, give others points, and stand by your goal without skating away.
The mask serves to protect the goalie’s face and creates a persona that’s somewhat anonymous and intimidating to other players. To be authentic with yourself and others, you’re going to have to take off the symbolic masks you wear to protect your sensitive self underneath. Don’t go along with the crowd because you want to hide the person you really are. Be authentic, take off the “mask,” and show others what you think and feel. For example, if your teammates or family members are making fun of someone, you could skillfully share that you don’t like the remarks, instead of keeping silent or laughing along with them but not really agreeing. Show your true face.
The hockey goalie’s helmet prevents anything from touching or penetrating the head. By taking off this symbolic helmet as you attempt to understand others and yourself, you can open up to others, allowing them to know what you think. If you want to increase your self-understanding, allow others to give you feedback. When you bring your defenses down and accept feedback and suggestions from others, you remove the “helmet.” If someone tells you “You’re a ball-hog,” let that information in and consider what you’ve been doing. If someone notices that you eat poorly even though you say you want to lose weight, remove the “helmet” and let that information sit with you as you decide what it means and what to do about it. Let feedback in.
The mouth guard protects the goalie’s teeth, but it also muffles speech and makes it difficult to understand. In order to communicate effectively with others, you need to take out your symbolic mouth guard. You can’t worry about getting kicked in the teeth – you have to speak up. Speak up in a clear and assertive manner; take out the “mouth guard.” If a parent is yelling at you from the stands during a game, tell him how it makes you feel. Let him know that it distracts you and feels uncomfortable. If a coach is yelling at you/your child in a way that you disagree with, take out the “mouth guard” and arrange a discussion with the coach at another time. Speak up.
The big hockey stick serves to block others’ efforts to score points. Relationships with others that are adversarial or about keeping score are usually stressful. On the other hand, applauding sincere efforts and helping others to succeed as you want to succeed is helpful and may feel “lighter.” For this, you need to put down your symbolic hockey stick and give other people points when they show effort and are attempting to grow, move, or change.
Suppose another starting forward is getting lots of praise from the coach. Instead of being jealous or wondering, “What about me?” be happy for the other forward and say so. Make it a point to compliment each member of the team after a game and find something each person did well. If a co-worker gets the promotion you really wanted, be happy for that person and know that something else is in store for you. Put down the “hockey stick” and celebrate when others get points; be glad when others receive positive feedback, even if this time you didn’t. They will feel better and so will you. Give others points.
The skates worn by the goalie serve as transportation over the ice, providing mobility on a slippery surface. Sometimes goalies come out of the goal inappropriately, to join a fight or mix up the game. If your symbolic skates are taking you away from your goals, you need to remove them and proceed with greater awareness and intention. When the going gets tough, you may be tempted to skate away smoothly, ignoring what you are in the game to accomplish. If you aren’t sure what your goals are, you probably will have a hard time navigating how to move forward with your partner or with a team. By taking off those symbolic skates, you commit yourself to proceeding with thought and care. If you want to exercise three times per week, stay by that goal and don’t skate away from it with excuses that there’s no time. If you want to have a great marriage, you need to take off “skates” like working late every night and then going out with friends instead of being with your partner and working it out. Stand by your goal without skating away.
Far too often, like the hypothetical hockey goalie, athletes, coaches, and others wear many layers of “equipment” on the playing field and in their personal lives when it’s not helpful. Parents and athletes may have communication struggles around topics of practice, game performance, academics, and friends. Athletes may struggle with knowing how to maneuver through decisions about high risk behavior and peer pressure. Coaches and their partners may struggle over how to balance time spent in sport with couple/family time. Parents may have differences in how to rear their children. These sorts of things can create an atmosphere much like a hockey game, in which everyone’s waiting for the next flying puck. Hence, the defenses go up, the “equipment” is on.
If you want to improve your relationships, communicate in skillful and helpful ways, de-stress, and move toward goals, think about the hockey goalie equipment and remember to “take off the mask,” “take off the helmet,” “take out the mouth guard,” “put down the stick,” and “take off the skates.” With practice, it will get easier and become a new pattern of relating. By doing this, you will improve your performance in sport and the wider arena of your life, and most importantly your performance in your relationships on and off the field!
Additional examples of hockey goalie equipment and their symbolism:
The team jersey shows everyone to what team the goalie belongs. It’s usually very large and portrays a group name for identity. If your sense of identity depends on your membership in a group, team, or club, then when you are by yourself or no longer in the group, you may feel lonely and without purpose or direction. When you take off your symbolic jersey, you can claim your individuality and be comfortable with it, in spite of fear about standing alone at times.
If you do things because everyone else on the team is doing them, but you don’t really want to participate or feel uncomfortable doing so, you need to take off the “team jersey” without fear and show your true identity as an individual. Just because everyone else on the team is going out after the game/meeting, if you’re not up to it, you can skip out and be true to your own need for rest. Being true to yourself doesn’t mean you’re not part of the team. Be true to you.
The body-armor padding is worn by the goalie to protect against injury from flying objects – and as protection during fights with opponents. If you are wearing symbolic padding to protect yourself from insult and injury, you prevent yourself from feeling, and feeling is necessary for growth, even if it is painful sometimes. By letting go of the padding, you may find that in the long run you have learned to feel comfortable in your own skin.
You might put up all kinds of defenses to avoid experiencing hurt feelings. You can pad yourself with such defenses as minimizing, humor, or sarcasm. If someone says or does something that you perceive as hurtful, the best thing to do is to take off the defensive “body-armor padding,” and feel, really feel the hurt, sadness, or anger. Address it and eventually move past it. Feelings help you grow. If someone tells you that you had a terrible game, and you know that you tried your best to perform well, it hurts. Instead of defending yourself against the comment by swearing at the person or saying something hurtful in return, you need to take off the “body-armor padding” and tell the person that your feelings are hurt. Feel it.
The thermal underwear worn underneath the padding serves the goalie by providing warmth, insulation, and moisture control between the layer of exterior padding and soft human skin. Sometimes you need to get rid of your symbolic layers of moisture control and allow the free release of the sweat and tears that are a natural human function.
Sometimes, if feelings are hurt, it can be good to cry. Sometimes if hard work is required, it’s good to show sweat. If you experience pain from an injury during a game and you shed tears, you don’t have to worry about them getting soaked up or sucked back in quickly, before anyone sees. If you cry in front of a boss or a partner, you may want to quickly stop and be back to “normal,” but allowing them to flow is good. Tears are a natural response to pain. Let it out.
One way to look at stress or emotional weight that people “wear” is to use the analogy of a hockey goalie and the layers of equipment that are worn. There is a reason for all this equipment and clothing. Without the protection they provide, the goalie is vulnerable to other players, their sticks, and the flying puck. In the face of all the aggression that occurs on the ice, the many layers protect against insult and injury.
If we are staying too “protected” with symbolic equipment in our daily lives and in relationships, then we feel heavy and have a hard time functioning well. This may play out in ways of communicating, being less than authentic, feeling stressed, and having difficulty in reaching goals. Putting on a “game face” and being mad, not saying how you really feel, avoiding certain topics for fear of conflict, or saying you want to achieve a certain goal but behaving in incongruent ways can be seemingly automatic and somehow protective. However, being stuck in these kinds of patterns of behavior is probably stressful and doesn’t help in achieving goals or great relationships. We can be mindful of this “equipment” and take it off when it is weighing us down. It may be awkward at first, but gets easier with practice.
Let’s look more closely at the symbolism of the equipment. A hockey goalie wears a mask, a helmet, and a mouth guard, and carries a big stick, wearing skates. By taking these off you will show your true face, let feedback in, speak up, give others points, and stand by your goal without skating away.
The mask serves to protect the goalie’s face and creates a persona that’s somewhat anonymous and intimidating to other players. To be authentic with yourself and others, you’re going to have to take off the symbolic masks you wear to protect your sensitive self underneath. Don’t go along with the crowd because you want to hide the person you really are. Be authentic, take off the “mask,” and show others what you think and feel. For example, if your teammates or family members are making fun of someone, you could skillfully share that you don’t like the remarks, instead of keeping silent or laughing along with them but not really agreeing. Show your true face.
The hockey goalie’s helmet prevents anything from touching or penetrating the head. By taking off this symbolic helmet as you attempt to understand others and yourself, you can open up to others, allowing them to know what you think. If you want to increase your self-understanding, allow others to give you feedback. When you bring your defenses down and accept feedback and suggestions from others, you remove the “helmet.” If someone tells you “You’re a ball-hog,” let that information in and consider what you’ve been doing. If someone notices that you eat poorly even though you say you want to lose weight, remove the “helmet” and let that information sit with you as you decide what it means and what to do about it. Let feedback in.
The mouth guard protects the goalie’s teeth, but it also muffles speech and makes it difficult to understand. In order to communicate effectively with others, you need to take out your symbolic mouth guard. You can’t worry about getting kicked in the teeth – you have to speak up. Speak up in a clear and assertive manner; take out the “mouth guard.” If a parent is yelling at you from the stands during a game, tell him how it makes you feel. Let him know that it distracts you and feels uncomfortable. If a coach is yelling at you/your child in a way that you disagree with, take out the “mouth guard” and arrange a discussion with the coach at another time. Speak up.
The big hockey stick serves to block others’ efforts to score points. Relationships with others that are adversarial or about keeping score are usually stressful. On the other hand, applauding sincere efforts and helping others to succeed as you want to succeed is helpful and may feel “lighter.” For this, you need to put down your symbolic hockey stick and give other people points when they show effort and are attempting to grow, move, or change.
Suppose another starting forward is getting lots of praise from the coach. Instead of being jealous or wondering, “What about me?” be happy for the other forward and say so. Make it a point to compliment each member of the team after a game and find something each person did well. If a co-worker gets the promotion you really wanted, be happy for that person and know that something else is in store for you. Put down the “hockey stick” and celebrate when others get points; be glad when others receive positive feedback, even if this time you didn’t. They will feel better and so will you. Give others points.
The skates worn by the goalie serve as transportation over the ice, providing mobility on a slippery surface. Sometimes goalies come out of the goal inappropriately, to join a fight or mix up the game. If your symbolic skates are taking you away from your goals, you need to remove them and proceed with greater awareness and intention. When the going gets tough, you may be tempted to skate away smoothly, ignoring what you are in the game to accomplish. If you aren’t sure what your goals are, you probably will have a hard time navigating how to move forward with your partner or with a team. By taking off those symbolic skates, you commit yourself to proceeding with thought and care. If you want to exercise three times per week, stay by that goal and don’t skate away from it with excuses that there’s no time. If you want to have a great marriage, you need to take off “skates” like working late every night and then going out with friends instead of being with your partner and working it out. Stand by your goal without skating away.
Far too often, like the hypothetical hockey goalie, athletes, coaches, and others wear many layers of “equipment” on the playing field and in their personal lives when it’s not helpful. Parents and athletes may have communication struggles around topics of practice, game performance, academics, and friends. Athletes may struggle with knowing how to maneuver through decisions about high risk behavior and peer pressure. Coaches and their partners may struggle over how to balance time spent in sport with couple/family time. Parents may have differences in how to rear their children. These sorts of things can create an atmosphere much like a hockey game, in which everyone’s waiting for the next flying puck. Hence, the defenses go up, the “equipment” is on.
If you want to improve your relationships, communicate in skillful and helpful ways, de-stress, and move toward goals, think about the hockey goalie equipment and remember to “take off the mask,” “take off the helmet,” “take out the mouth guard,” “put down the stick,” and “take off the skates.” With practice, it will get easier and become a new pattern of relating. By doing this, you will improve your performance in sport and the wider arena of your life, and most importantly your performance in your relationships on and off the field!
Additional examples of hockey goalie equipment and their symbolism:
The team jersey shows everyone to what team the goalie belongs. It’s usually very large and portrays a group name for identity. If your sense of identity depends on your membership in a group, team, or club, then when you are by yourself or no longer in the group, you may feel lonely and without purpose or direction. When you take off your symbolic jersey, you can claim your individuality and be comfortable with it, in spite of fear about standing alone at times.
If you do things because everyone else on the team is doing them, but you don’t really want to participate or feel uncomfortable doing so, you need to take off the “team jersey” without fear and show your true identity as an individual. Just because everyone else on the team is going out after the game/meeting, if you’re not up to it, you can skip out and be true to your own need for rest. Being true to yourself doesn’t mean you’re not part of the team. Be true to you.
The body-armor padding is worn by the goalie to protect against injury from flying objects – and as protection during fights with opponents. If you are wearing symbolic padding to protect yourself from insult and injury, you prevent yourself from feeling, and feeling is necessary for growth, even if it is painful sometimes. By letting go of the padding, you may find that in the long run you have learned to feel comfortable in your own skin.
You might put up all kinds of defenses to avoid experiencing hurt feelings. You can pad yourself with such defenses as minimizing, humor, or sarcasm. If someone says or does something that you perceive as hurtful, the best thing to do is to take off the defensive “body-armor padding,” and feel, really feel the hurt, sadness, or anger. Address it and eventually move past it. Feelings help you grow. If someone tells you that you had a terrible game, and you know that you tried your best to perform well, it hurts. Instead of defending yourself against the comment by swearing at the person or saying something hurtful in return, you need to take off the “body-armor padding” and tell the person that your feelings are hurt. Feel it.
The thermal underwear worn underneath the padding serves the goalie by providing warmth, insulation, and moisture control between the layer of exterior padding and soft human skin. Sometimes you need to get rid of your symbolic layers of moisture control and allow the free release of the sweat and tears that are a natural human function.
Sometimes, if feelings are hurt, it can be good to cry. Sometimes if hard work is required, it’s good to show sweat. If you experience pain from an injury during a game and you shed tears, you don’t have to worry about them getting soaked up or sucked back in quickly, before anyone sees. If you cry in front of a boss or a partner, you may want to quickly stop and be back to “normal,” but allowing them to flow is good. Tears are a natural response to pain. Let it out.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Ride the Waves!
Whether you are an athlete or a sport and fitness professional, you know about intensity. Rigorous practice schedules, providing various services to clients, teaching classes, staying on top of current literature in your field, motivating clients or teammates to keep going, and engaging in your own self care are all examples of things that require intensity. This intensity is something that may come and go, wave-like. The waves may vary widely in their height and frequency.
Sometimes you may get caught in the down part of the intensity wave, fearing that you won’t or can’t get back to the high. This down in the wave may signify feeling stale with usual routines, or being entirely burned out. In order to navigate and appreciate the natural cycles of the ups and downs of intensity, think of “riding the waves.”
If you have ever been to the ocean, you likely have seen someone attempting to swim in waves. Some people naturally float along in the water, see a big wave coming, and get excited while remaining relaxed, gracefully gliding along the crest of the wave, and still smiling once the wave dissipates back to flat water. Others, however, see a big wave coming, and immediately get a panic face. They tighten their bodies and brace for the big wave as it approaches. This tightening makes gracefully riding the coming wave nearly impossible, and usually these folks take in water, cough, and flail with arms wildly swinging. They may even lose their swimsuit! The wave eventually flattens, but the wave fighter has lost a lot of energy and had no fun simply because they fought the wave, rather than rode it, and now must spend more time recovering.
This “wave-fighting” is exactly what athletes and fitness professionals do when they resist stress or temporary downs that come with high intensity activity. They want to just keep going, work harder, keep moving, when there is need to stop and rest. Resisting natural lower energy phases leads to staleness or burnout, requiring even more recovery. Staleness, due to high intensity activity and excessive training loads at maximum capacity over time (a.k.a. overtraining) is signified by lows like apathy, lethargy, mood changes, and weight loss. There is good overtraining (leads to positive adaptation and improved performance) and bad overtraining. The bad kind puts you at risk for decreased performance and the big burnout, with signs like low motivation, lack of caring, lowered affect (feeling blah), and anxiety. If the continual push to practice harder, workout harder, teach more, or serve more clients is creating burnout, “more” is not conducive to improved outcomes, better performance or better business.
If you are experiencing staleness or burnout, you can shift your perspective and remember that this low energy or stress state is temporary. Remembering that it all “comes and goes,” the idea is to not fight the “big” waves of things like competitive pressure, extended bouts of hard physical exertion, job dissatisfaction, or poor relationships with teammates or co-workers. Gracefully flow with “it,” and your recovery will be much easier, you may even have fun when you see that you are just playing with these issues, rather than fighting them.
Following basic guidelines of recovery and stress management, rest and listen to your body for cues that it’s time, or not, to go back up to intensity. If you’re completely stuck and can’t manage the onslaught of waves, no matter how much you embrace the idea of wave riding, you may be in some deeper water, such as burnout related depression. Self regulation skills such as goal setting, imagery, self-talk, and relaxation may be extremely useful in gently embracing the low and then moving back to intensity.
If self regulation skills and usual support systems aren’t helping you get back to desired intensity, then maybe it is appropriate to get a life preserver, and ask for some help. It may be a good idea to consult with a psychologist who specializes in sport and fitness psychology. Think of that person as a “lifeguard” who has some specialized training in managing the water, who has a broader perspective of your issues from a different vantage point, and who can assist you when it’s hard to assist yourself. The waves will keep coming, but you’ll see them differently and learn to be more skilled in managing them and your intensity levels.
Remember to “Ride the Waves!”
Sometimes you may get caught in the down part of the intensity wave, fearing that you won’t or can’t get back to the high. This down in the wave may signify feeling stale with usual routines, or being entirely burned out. In order to navigate and appreciate the natural cycles of the ups and downs of intensity, think of “riding the waves.”
If you have ever been to the ocean, you likely have seen someone attempting to swim in waves. Some people naturally float along in the water, see a big wave coming, and get excited while remaining relaxed, gracefully gliding along the crest of the wave, and still smiling once the wave dissipates back to flat water. Others, however, see a big wave coming, and immediately get a panic face. They tighten their bodies and brace for the big wave as it approaches. This tightening makes gracefully riding the coming wave nearly impossible, and usually these folks take in water, cough, and flail with arms wildly swinging. They may even lose their swimsuit! The wave eventually flattens, but the wave fighter has lost a lot of energy and had no fun simply because they fought the wave, rather than rode it, and now must spend more time recovering.
This “wave-fighting” is exactly what athletes and fitness professionals do when they resist stress or temporary downs that come with high intensity activity. They want to just keep going, work harder, keep moving, when there is need to stop and rest. Resisting natural lower energy phases leads to staleness or burnout, requiring even more recovery. Staleness, due to high intensity activity and excessive training loads at maximum capacity over time (a.k.a. overtraining) is signified by lows like apathy, lethargy, mood changes, and weight loss. There is good overtraining (leads to positive adaptation and improved performance) and bad overtraining. The bad kind puts you at risk for decreased performance and the big burnout, with signs like low motivation, lack of caring, lowered affect (feeling blah), and anxiety. If the continual push to practice harder, workout harder, teach more, or serve more clients is creating burnout, “more” is not conducive to improved outcomes, better performance or better business.
If you are experiencing staleness or burnout, you can shift your perspective and remember that this low energy or stress state is temporary. Remembering that it all “comes and goes,” the idea is to not fight the “big” waves of things like competitive pressure, extended bouts of hard physical exertion, job dissatisfaction, or poor relationships with teammates or co-workers. Gracefully flow with “it,” and your recovery will be much easier, you may even have fun when you see that you are just playing with these issues, rather than fighting them.
Following basic guidelines of recovery and stress management, rest and listen to your body for cues that it’s time, or not, to go back up to intensity. If you’re completely stuck and can’t manage the onslaught of waves, no matter how much you embrace the idea of wave riding, you may be in some deeper water, such as burnout related depression. Self regulation skills such as goal setting, imagery, self-talk, and relaxation may be extremely useful in gently embracing the low and then moving back to intensity.
If self regulation skills and usual support systems aren’t helping you get back to desired intensity, then maybe it is appropriate to get a life preserver, and ask for some help. It may be a good idea to consult with a psychologist who specializes in sport and fitness psychology. Think of that person as a “lifeguard” who has some specialized training in managing the water, who has a broader perspective of your issues from a different vantage point, and who can assist you when it’s hard to assist yourself. The waves will keep coming, but you’ll see them differently and learn to be more skilled in managing them and your intensity levels.
Remember to “Ride the Waves!”
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Staying on the Sacred Ultra Trail
After 23 years of engaging in the sport of running, I recently became intimately aware of ultra distance running. I completed a 50 mile “ultra.” The ultramarathon, that some refer to as “beyond the marathon,” is any distance beyond 26.2 miles/42K. It was a battle, and it was a significant sport event that dug me deeper into my spiritual self.
The experience of battle during a sport event is nothing new. In antiquity, it seems that running “events” were related to battle preparations and religious festivals. Sport was sacred preparation for actual combat, athletes were brutal fighters, war ready. The ancient Olympics were certainly full of bloody bruising battles.
The first organized ultramarathon has ties to battle. The Comrades ultramarathon (55.9 miles), held in South Africa, is the largest and oldest organized ultramarathon in the world, beginning in 1921. It originated as a way to commemorate soldiers killed during war, with the goal of creating a unique test of physical endurance and to "celebrate mankind's spirit over adversity."
Today, most individuals are not enthralled in militaristic war, but rather their own daily personal battles with various adversaries (i.e. body image, relationship issues, financial struggles, depression). To cope, some engage in religious or spiritual practices such as meditation, or physical activities and exercise to “get away.” However, prayer, meditation, and exercise don’t necessarily provide escape or halt the battles, they change our perceptions of them. Wrestling with struggles, battling with our issues can be thought of as part of what brings meaning and depth to our lives. Good battle is useful and productive, and helps us make the most of our time in this life. The daily struggles are the stuff of life, we work toward and through things and can feel satisfaction in this. With that kind of change in perception, most find it easier to embrace strife, because it is no longer bad, it just is, it’s just part of the human experience. The connection with something “more” (spiritual, soulful, or Divine), or with meaning-making comes from embracing struggle, not battling with the battle.
I think ultrarunning satisfies the soul because it’s a unique form of battle, a voluntary embrace of struggle. There’s something about this physical practice that is warrior-like. Warriors embrace fear and move through it, they go beyond fear. To do this, they must act with heart: “For the warrior, this experience of sad and tender heart is what gives birth to fearlessness…the product of tenderness. It comes from letting the world tickle your heart, your raw and beautiful heart. You are willing to open up, without resistance or shyness, and face the world.” (Trungpa, p. 46) Warriors embrace unknown terrain, willing to face their states of mind. Instead of aggression, there is self mastery and fulfillment, radiating goodness to the world. They appreciate others and are cooperative. All of these things- moving beyond fear, self mastery, discipline, and acting with heart- are all things required of utrarunners.
Every time I run, no matter the distance, it requires effort. It never gets easy. Some battles are small, some are large, but they’re all relative to my own expectations. When I first started running, 5 miles was an accomplishment. When I ran my first marathon, it seemed like such a daunting task. By the fourth, it wasn’t easier, but my performance improved with experience. When I ran the 50 miler, my perspective about distance enlarged to embrace the challenge. It was a test of my warriorship. I welcomed the challenge of the distance, knowing it would require a transformative mind, body, spirit battle and celebration. For those so inspired to be immersed in a personal spiritual battle or sacred warrior training, through the thrill of adversity contained in an ultra running event, there are a range of options.
Standard ultra distance events include 50K (31 mi.), 50 mi., 100K (62 mi.), and 100 mi. There are multi day events that can cover a 1000 mi. or more. There also are timed events, the goal to cover as much distance possible within a certain amount of time, usually 6, 12, or 24 hrs., then 3 or 6 days. There are ultramarathons of all sorts all over the world with varying degrees of difficulty. Through mountain terrain, ascents and descents of thousands of feet, weather variations, dirt roads and rocks, and water obstacles, the courses widely vary. A quick search of ultra events reveals the hottest to wettest ultras in trails through desert and jungle, and a 3100 miler that takes place over days of running approximately 60 miles per day (5649 laps on a .55 mi. course, in 51 days). It is fittingly called The Self Transcendence 3100 Mile Race, held in New York City. You can’t help but face your state of mind doing thousands of laps on a half mile course.
The trail run I completed was a mere 50 miles, but certainly gave me the opportunity to face my own state of mind. I did battle with my self at certain points, other parts felt smooth and effortless. However, it was in the times of battle, that I dug deeper into my spiritual self. I traveled deeper into the forest, deeper into my own psyche. I had to go into my heart, embracing the battle.
During the race, not once did I think about surface issues like bills, house repairs, or my “list” of things to do that usually flows in and out of my mind on a daily basis. I was in the forest, on the hill, smelling the mud, hearing the birds, hearing my footsteps, watching my steps over tree roots and rocks. I was feeling my legs, each and every muscle, every fiber. I had to be mindful of every step in order to stay on my feet, the trail was aggressive. At times I was engaged in mantra-like self talk such as “jaguar,” “jaguar,” picturing myself moving like a black jaguar skillfully through the terrain, “I can do anything,” “I love my family,” “I love my life,” “keep moving”, “do better,” “c’mon Darla, get it,” etc. At other times, there was no thought, I was so present in my sense experience, that everything went away, even language. That concentration and the enjoyment of all the information my senses were bringing me, is the most rigorous mindfulness practice I’ve engaged in.
The sore muscles and the fears that cropped up did not take me off of that sacred trail. I was indeed engaged in a sacred battle, where the energy of my heart and spirit became the container for the mental and physical challenges. “Shootin’ at the walls of heartache, bang bang, I am the warrior.” The trail, the path, and the running connected me deeply to my heart. I think that is why I cried at the halfway point. The hug of a fellow runner, freely given in response to seeing my tears, delivered me further to the depths of my soft sore warrior heart. I was alone, but not alone. It was battle, but not a battle because I chose it and with every step continued to choose to go deeper.
“You should examine yourself and ask how many times you have tried to connect with your heart, fully and truly. How often have you turned away, because you feared you might discover something terrible about yourself? How often have you been willing to look at your face in the mirror, without being embarrassed? How many times have you tried to shield yourself by reading the newspaper, watching television, or just spacing out? That is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: how much have you connected with yourself at all in your whole life?” (Trungpa, p. 45).
Running that race connected me to myself. Now, I know that “self” is defined in different ways, and there is the idea that there is no self at all. The beauty of the sport battle inherent in running, is that the body is “doing”, but the action takes us to a place, or state of mind, that is beyond the body. You lose track of your body for some moments and are in “flow,” losing the sense of a self, and instead becoming one with all else. Running for fifteen hours is a viscerally different experience than running 60 minutes. That’s why ultras are so appealing, the intensity of the battle is a more intense spiritual experience. There is a more intense body experience, but it delivers more intense “not body” experience.
I’m not suggesting that all ultrarunners are uniquely spiritually inclined or developed. The meaning that is brought to the event may have all to do with what one gets out of it. I’m not suggesting that 30-60 minute runs aren’t effective as a spiritual exercise. I’m also not suggesting that running is the only means of accessing the stream of spiritual development. I’m also not suggesting that physical activity is the best or only way to enhance spiritual development. I could go to an intense meditation retreat for 30 days and probably have some similar experiences of battle and deeper connection with my heart. But I haven’t tried that, yet. What I do know, is that sport in general, and ultrarunning in particular is a modern form of battle, a way to connect with self, culture, and nature.
Days after the race, I felt a very interesting mix of emotions. I was expecting the “now what” slump that most people experience after accomplishing something they’ve worked toward with great effort. I felt a great calm, but also a sort of nothingness. My usual routines seemed now so easy, that I felt unchallenged and a little unhinged, and although fatigued and not physically hungry, more intensely spiritually hungry for that something “more.” The same press of desire to achieve something that I felt before the race did not magically go away after a 50 miler, much to my loved ones’ dismay. As much as I thought to myself that I could choose to never run again, I also started to think, “Maybe I can do the 100 miler next year,” “Maybe I can do a 24 hour run.” Maybe I can…undertake another battle for depth.
People ask, “Why?” Why would I now want to run 100 miles? Run for 24 hours? Because the experience took me deeper into a more rich appreciation of myself and my life and I’d be grateful to experience this again. And because it reminded me that I am ok as I am, I have basic goodness, the same basic goodness that we all possess. I feel confident in a quiet, tender, gentle sort of way, and I feel healthy. This is the experience of the sacred warrior. As Trungpa writes: But when we look back… and see the suffering that takes place in the world of the coward, that inspires us to go forward in our journey of warriorship. It is not a journey in the sense of walking in the desert looking ahead to the horizon. Rather, it is a journey that is unfolding within us…This brings a feeling of being a truly human being. Physically, psychologically, domestically, spiritually, we feel that we can lead our lives in the fullest way. There is a gut level sense of health and wholesomeness taking place in our lives, as if we were holding a solid brick of gold. It is heavy and full, and it shines with a golden color. There is something very real and, at the same time, very rich about our human existence. Out of that feeling, a tremendous sense of health can be propagated to others. In fact, propagating health to our world becomes a basic discipline of warriorship… When we feel healthy and wholesome ourselves, then we cannot help projecting that healthiness to others.” (p. 63)
Moving 50 miles created spiritual and soulful movement, movement that made me be still with a deeper understanding of myself, my experiences, my connection with others and with all that is. I am a warrior, following my sacred path toward my potential. You can also be a warrior, and embrace your battles with discipline, health, and heart. Ultrarunning trails are a form of spiritual trail, the spiritual “path.” If running 50 miles keeps me moving on that path, then bring it on. If running 100 miles keeps me moving on that path, bring it on. I want to move toward my potential, beyond fear, deeper into my heart, and more deeply into the sacred path, the most sacred of trails. I want to stay on the sacred Ultra Trail.
Resources:
Spivey, N. (2005). The ancient Olympics: A history. Oxford University Press, NY.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ultramarathon
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trail_running
Trungpa, C. (1984). Shambhala: The sacred path of the warrior. Shambhala: Boston, MA.
Song lyrics: Scandal, featuring Patti Symth, “The Warrior.”
Comrades ultramarathon: http://www.comrades.com/
Interesting article: http://www.ultrunr.com/beyond.html
The experience of battle during a sport event is nothing new. In antiquity, it seems that running “events” were related to battle preparations and religious festivals. Sport was sacred preparation for actual combat, athletes were brutal fighters, war ready. The ancient Olympics were certainly full of bloody bruising battles.
The first organized ultramarathon has ties to battle. The Comrades ultramarathon (55.9 miles), held in South Africa, is the largest and oldest organized ultramarathon in the world, beginning in 1921. It originated as a way to commemorate soldiers killed during war, with the goal of creating a unique test of physical endurance and to "celebrate mankind's spirit over adversity."
Today, most individuals are not enthralled in militaristic war, but rather their own daily personal battles with various adversaries (i.e. body image, relationship issues, financial struggles, depression). To cope, some engage in religious or spiritual practices such as meditation, or physical activities and exercise to “get away.” However, prayer, meditation, and exercise don’t necessarily provide escape or halt the battles, they change our perceptions of them. Wrestling with struggles, battling with our issues can be thought of as part of what brings meaning and depth to our lives. Good battle is useful and productive, and helps us make the most of our time in this life. The daily struggles are the stuff of life, we work toward and through things and can feel satisfaction in this. With that kind of change in perception, most find it easier to embrace strife, because it is no longer bad, it just is, it’s just part of the human experience. The connection with something “more” (spiritual, soulful, or Divine), or with meaning-making comes from embracing struggle, not battling with the battle.
I think ultrarunning satisfies the soul because it’s a unique form of battle, a voluntary embrace of struggle. There’s something about this physical practice that is warrior-like. Warriors embrace fear and move through it, they go beyond fear. To do this, they must act with heart: “For the warrior, this experience of sad and tender heart is what gives birth to fearlessness…the product of tenderness. It comes from letting the world tickle your heart, your raw and beautiful heart. You are willing to open up, without resistance or shyness, and face the world.” (Trungpa, p. 46) Warriors embrace unknown terrain, willing to face their states of mind. Instead of aggression, there is self mastery and fulfillment, radiating goodness to the world. They appreciate others and are cooperative. All of these things- moving beyond fear, self mastery, discipline, and acting with heart- are all things required of utrarunners.
Every time I run, no matter the distance, it requires effort. It never gets easy. Some battles are small, some are large, but they’re all relative to my own expectations. When I first started running, 5 miles was an accomplishment. When I ran my first marathon, it seemed like such a daunting task. By the fourth, it wasn’t easier, but my performance improved with experience. When I ran the 50 miler, my perspective about distance enlarged to embrace the challenge. It was a test of my warriorship. I welcomed the challenge of the distance, knowing it would require a transformative mind, body, spirit battle and celebration. For those so inspired to be immersed in a personal spiritual battle or sacred warrior training, through the thrill of adversity contained in an ultra running event, there are a range of options.
Standard ultra distance events include 50K (31 mi.), 50 mi., 100K (62 mi.), and 100 mi. There are multi day events that can cover a 1000 mi. or more. There also are timed events, the goal to cover as much distance possible within a certain amount of time, usually 6, 12, or 24 hrs., then 3 or 6 days. There are ultramarathons of all sorts all over the world with varying degrees of difficulty. Through mountain terrain, ascents and descents of thousands of feet, weather variations, dirt roads and rocks, and water obstacles, the courses widely vary. A quick search of ultra events reveals the hottest to wettest ultras in trails through desert and jungle, and a 3100 miler that takes place over days of running approximately 60 miles per day (5649 laps on a .55 mi. course, in 51 days). It is fittingly called The Self Transcendence 3100 Mile Race, held in New York City. You can’t help but face your state of mind doing thousands of laps on a half mile course.
The trail run I completed was a mere 50 miles, but certainly gave me the opportunity to face my own state of mind. I did battle with my self at certain points, other parts felt smooth and effortless. However, it was in the times of battle, that I dug deeper into my spiritual self. I traveled deeper into the forest, deeper into my own psyche. I had to go into my heart, embracing the battle.
During the race, not once did I think about surface issues like bills, house repairs, or my “list” of things to do that usually flows in and out of my mind on a daily basis. I was in the forest, on the hill, smelling the mud, hearing the birds, hearing my footsteps, watching my steps over tree roots and rocks. I was feeling my legs, each and every muscle, every fiber. I had to be mindful of every step in order to stay on my feet, the trail was aggressive. At times I was engaged in mantra-like self talk such as “jaguar,” “jaguar,” picturing myself moving like a black jaguar skillfully through the terrain, “I can do anything,” “I love my family,” “I love my life,” “keep moving”, “do better,” “c’mon Darla, get it,” etc. At other times, there was no thought, I was so present in my sense experience, that everything went away, even language. That concentration and the enjoyment of all the information my senses were bringing me, is the most rigorous mindfulness practice I’ve engaged in.
The sore muscles and the fears that cropped up did not take me off of that sacred trail. I was indeed engaged in a sacred battle, where the energy of my heart and spirit became the container for the mental and physical challenges. “Shootin’ at the walls of heartache, bang bang, I am the warrior.” The trail, the path, and the running connected me deeply to my heart. I think that is why I cried at the halfway point. The hug of a fellow runner, freely given in response to seeing my tears, delivered me further to the depths of my soft sore warrior heart. I was alone, but not alone. It was battle, but not a battle because I chose it and with every step continued to choose to go deeper.
“You should examine yourself and ask how many times you have tried to connect with your heart, fully and truly. How often have you turned away, because you feared you might discover something terrible about yourself? How often have you been willing to look at your face in the mirror, without being embarrassed? How many times have you tried to shield yourself by reading the newspaper, watching television, or just spacing out? That is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: how much have you connected with yourself at all in your whole life?” (Trungpa, p. 45).
Running that race connected me to myself. Now, I know that “self” is defined in different ways, and there is the idea that there is no self at all. The beauty of the sport battle inherent in running, is that the body is “doing”, but the action takes us to a place, or state of mind, that is beyond the body. You lose track of your body for some moments and are in “flow,” losing the sense of a self, and instead becoming one with all else. Running for fifteen hours is a viscerally different experience than running 60 minutes. That’s why ultras are so appealing, the intensity of the battle is a more intense spiritual experience. There is a more intense body experience, but it delivers more intense “not body” experience.
I’m not suggesting that all ultrarunners are uniquely spiritually inclined or developed. The meaning that is brought to the event may have all to do with what one gets out of it. I’m not suggesting that 30-60 minute runs aren’t effective as a spiritual exercise. I’m also not suggesting that running is the only means of accessing the stream of spiritual development. I’m also not suggesting that physical activity is the best or only way to enhance spiritual development. I could go to an intense meditation retreat for 30 days and probably have some similar experiences of battle and deeper connection with my heart. But I haven’t tried that, yet. What I do know, is that sport in general, and ultrarunning in particular is a modern form of battle, a way to connect with self, culture, and nature.
Days after the race, I felt a very interesting mix of emotions. I was expecting the “now what” slump that most people experience after accomplishing something they’ve worked toward with great effort. I felt a great calm, but also a sort of nothingness. My usual routines seemed now so easy, that I felt unchallenged and a little unhinged, and although fatigued and not physically hungry, more intensely spiritually hungry for that something “more.” The same press of desire to achieve something that I felt before the race did not magically go away after a 50 miler, much to my loved ones’ dismay. As much as I thought to myself that I could choose to never run again, I also started to think, “Maybe I can do the 100 miler next year,” “Maybe I can do a 24 hour run.” Maybe I can…undertake another battle for depth.
People ask, “Why?” Why would I now want to run 100 miles? Run for 24 hours? Because the experience took me deeper into a more rich appreciation of myself and my life and I’d be grateful to experience this again. And because it reminded me that I am ok as I am, I have basic goodness, the same basic goodness that we all possess. I feel confident in a quiet, tender, gentle sort of way, and I feel healthy. This is the experience of the sacred warrior. As Trungpa writes: But when we look back… and see the suffering that takes place in the world of the coward, that inspires us to go forward in our journey of warriorship. It is not a journey in the sense of walking in the desert looking ahead to the horizon. Rather, it is a journey that is unfolding within us…This brings a feeling of being a truly human being. Physically, psychologically, domestically, spiritually, we feel that we can lead our lives in the fullest way. There is a gut level sense of health and wholesomeness taking place in our lives, as if we were holding a solid brick of gold. It is heavy and full, and it shines with a golden color. There is something very real and, at the same time, very rich about our human existence. Out of that feeling, a tremendous sense of health can be propagated to others. In fact, propagating health to our world becomes a basic discipline of warriorship… When we feel healthy and wholesome ourselves, then we cannot help projecting that healthiness to others.” (p. 63)
Moving 50 miles created spiritual and soulful movement, movement that made me be still with a deeper understanding of myself, my experiences, my connection with others and with all that is. I am a warrior, following my sacred path toward my potential. You can also be a warrior, and embrace your battles with discipline, health, and heart. Ultrarunning trails are a form of spiritual trail, the spiritual “path.” If running 50 miles keeps me moving on that path, then bring it on. If running 100 miles keeps me moving on that path, bring it on. I want to move toward my potential, beyond fear, deeper into my heart, and more deeply into the sacred path, the most sacred of trails. I want to stay on the sacred Ultra Trail.
Resources:
Spivey, N. (2005). The ancient Olympics: A history. Oxford University Press, NY.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ultramarathon
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trail_running
Trungpa, C. (1984). Shambhala: The sacred path of the warrior. Shambhala: Boston, MA.
Song lyrics: Scandal, featuring Patti Symth, “The Warrior.”
Comrades ultramarathon: http://www.comrades.com/
Interesting article: http://www.ultrunr.com/beyond.html
Saturday, June 26, 2010
A Relationship with Practice
How many hours do you spend practicing something? Playing music? Practicing fitness routines? Meditating? Cooking?
How many hours in the course of a 12-month period do you think an athlete spends practicing?
It is common for athletes to spend several hours a day practicing for a specific sport or event, and they may spend additional time eating and resting in specific ways to prepare for competition. Over the course of a year, those hours could easily add up to hundreds. Over 500 (10+ hours per week) is probably a reasonable guess depending on the sport, age, and the intensity. Now, compare those hours to the time they spend actually playing in the event, game, or competition. In track and field, for example, some events take less than ten seconds to complete, yet athletes may prepare for them over the course of hundreds of hours.
Without practice, athletes could not perform at their best or move toward their potential. They may even become stressed and frustrated because of poor performance. What if you were to show up for the game of life without a practice plan? What do you think would be some of the likely outcomes? Over time, frustration, fatigue, anger, and depression might set in. And when stressful emotions and physical symptoms like these arise, they can bring with them a host of possible unwanted consequences.
Time spent in practice is development. This leads to a game situation in which thoughts, feelings, and actions are more controlled, planned, and calculated. Time spent in practice prepares one for the multitude of possibilities and situations that may arise during a game. During practice, teams examine the strengths and weaknesses of the opponent, develop strategies and techniques for facing certain circumstances, and rehearse with great repetition their reactions and responses to a wide range of potential scenarios.
What would happen if you spent a similar amount of time preparing for life’s big games? What if you practiced how to be in relationships? In a way you might already do so, as every one of your relationships can be considered a practice arena for rehearsing new skills that help you to be a better teammate, partner, co-worker, etc. Much of your performance in relationships is related to how you practice for them, how you set the tone with the way you think about what occurs within relationships. You may be stuck in a pattern of self-defeating plays, because you haven’t been given a playbook with ideas for how to do things differently.
There are lots of playbooks out there to refer to, but sometimes a guide, like a coach, can be very helpful in helping you to practice some different plays for life. As a therapist, I facilitate a process of practicing for life. We may discuss trying new “plays” in the form of communication skills, different coping skills for stress including an exercise routine, or taking “timeouts” and doing nothing sometimes, maybe even learning to meditate. The idea is that if you are engaged in regular practice of self care such as learning new things, taking care of your body, paying attention to your spiritual self, and addressing things blocking you that you may not be aware of, then you are inevitably developing toward your potential as an individual and as a person in relationship to others.
We have all kinds of relationships. In terms of sport, there are those with the sport itself, to coach, to referees, to teammates, to spectators. More widely in our lives, we have relationships with intimate partners, parents, children, siblings, friends, co-workers, bosses, and people at the gym. A first step in making these relationships as helpful and stress free as possible is to be engaged in regular practice of drills with yourself (exercising your body, nutrition, mind exercise like reading, spirit drills like meditation, relaxation, imagery, and drills to make you aware of your “stuck” places such as talking to a therapist.) As you engage in your personal practices for development, you inevitably become an improved partner to all those with whom you associate.
You have a relationship with practice. Do you enjoy it? Do you make regular time for it with discipline? Do you do it with intensity and focus? How is your relationship to the idea of practice? I encourage you to work on yourself as a practice, to work on your relationships as a practice. Part of the beauty of participation in sport is that is acquaints us with the idea of practice for big games. Outside of sport, we can continue to embrace the idea of practice- practicing for the big games of life, practicing to be our best in relationship to others.
How many hours in the course of a 12-month period do you think an athlete spends practicing?
It is common for athletes to spend several hours a day practicing for a specific sport or event, and they may spend additional time eating and resting in specific ways to prepare for competition. Over the course of a year, those hours could easily add up to hundreds. Over 500 (10+ hours per week) is probably a reasonable guess depending on the sport, age, and the intensity. Now, compare those hours to the time they spend actually playing in the event, game, or competition. In track and field, for example, some events take less than ten seconds to complete, yet athletes may prepare for them over the course of hundreds of hours.
Without practice, athletes could not perform at their best or move toward their potential. They may even become stressed and frustrated because of poor performance. What if you were to show up for the game of life without a practice plan? What do you think would be some of the likely outcomes? Over time, frustration, fatigue, anger, and depression might set in. And when stressful emotions and physical symptoms like these arise, they can bring with them a host of possible unwanted consequences.
Time spent in practice is development. This leads to a game situation in which thoughts, feelings, and actions are more controlled, planned, and calculated. Time spent in practice prepares one for the multitude of possibilities and situations that may arise during a game. During practice, teams examine the strengths and weaknesses of the opponent, develop strategies and techniques for facing certain circumstances, and rehearse with great repetition their reactions and responses to a wide range of potential scenarios.
What would happen if you spent a similar amount of time preparing for life’s big games? What if you practiced how to be in relationships? In a way you might already do so, as every one of your relationships can be considered a practice arena for rehearsing new skills that help you to be a better teammate, partner, co-worker, etc. Much of your performance in relationships is related to how you practice for them, how you set the tone with the way you think about what occurs within relationships. You may be stuck in a pattern of self-defeating plays, because you haven’t been given a playbook with ideas for how to do things differently.
There are lots of playbooks out there to refer to, but sometimes a guide, like a coach, can be very helpful in helping you to practice some different plays for life. As a therapist, I facilitate a process of practicing for life. We may discuss trying new “plays” in the form of communication skills, different coping skills for stress including an exercise routine, or taking “timeouts” and doing nothing sometimes, maybe even learning to meditate. The idea is that if you are engaged in regular practice of self care such as learning new things, taking care of your body, paying attention to your spiritual self, and addressing things blocking you that you may not be aware of, then you are inevitably developing toward your potential as an individual and as a person in relationship to others.
We have all kinds of relationships. In terms of sport, there are those with the sport itself, to coach, to referees, to teammates, to spectators. More widely in our lives, we have relationships with intimate partners, parents, children, siblings, friends, co-workers, bosses, and people at the gym. A first step in making these relationships as helpful and stress free as possible is to be engaged in regular practice of drills with yourself (exercising your body, nutrition, mind exercise like reading, spirit drills like meditation, relaxation, imagery, and drills to make you aware of your “stuck” places such as talking to a therapist.) As you engage in your personal practices for development, you inevitably become an improved partner to all those with whom you associate.
You have a relationship with practice. Do you enjoy it? Do you make regular time for it with discipline? Do you do it with intensity and focus? How is your relationship to the idea of practice? I encourage you to work on yourself as a practice, to work on your relationships as a practice. Part of the beauty of participation in sport is that is acquaints us with the idea of practice for big games. Outside of sport, we can continue to embrace the idea of practice- practicing for the big games of life, practicing to be our best in relationship to others.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Doing the Best We Can
“Get the ball, Buddy. Get the ball, Buddy, get the ball, Buddy. Go after it, Buddy. Go, go, go. Go, go, go. Get the ball, Buddy.” Imagine hearing this every 15 seconds for an hour. Did I overhear these statements in a backyard while someone was training a new puppy? No. I had the distinct displeasure of hearing this at a youth soccer game at 8 a.m. on an otherwise pleasant Saturday morning.
I am well aware that most parents and interested individuals who come to watch their children play sports are generally supportive and wish to cheer for their children and respective teams. At the same time, I have a hard time remembering attending a youth sport game when there was not at least one parent acting in an annoying way, oblivious to the irritation that was obvious to me and other adults in the crowd. Exchanges of knowing looks, a wince from the referee close by, targeted child looking confused/ embarrassed, but nothing said to the “Annoyance.”
The problem is that annoying behavior isn’t just annoying, it interferes with the children’s time to have fun and it usually interferes with their performance. Let’s be clear. There are HELPFUL and UNHELPFUL ways to cheer for youth playing sport before, during, and after the game, practice, or event.
If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, here are a few things to avoid because they are UNHELPFUL: 1. Frequent directions from anyone who is not the coach. 2. Focus on winning. 3. Play-by-play of everything the child “coulda, shoulda, woulda” done during the game, immediately after the game in the vehicle going homeward.
Let me explain.
1. Constant/frequent directions from anyone who is not the coach are UNHELPFUL. In the case of soccer as with other sports, by the time the child registers that it is the parent’s voice, looks over at the parent to “see” what is going on, “hears” what is actually being said, or the child hesitates because she didn’t hear what was said and looks longer away from the play, the play at hand (foot) is OVER. This type of direction from parents is distraction, it usually takes away from the ability to perform in the moment with concentration. By the time the child gets the coveted college scholarship that less than a fraction of 1% of athletes receive, she’s sure to be able to tune out crowd noise and distraction. However, at the youth level when they are just learning the fundamentals and hoping to have fun, constant and even frequent directions from parents are UNHELPFUL.
What is helpful? Once in a while, when the child is in close proximity, maybe when the play is stopped, when the child has done something worth reinforcing (like making a great pass), a parent can give supportive direct feedback specific to the action, such as “Great pass, keep up the great work!” Reinforcement is more effective if it is given a few choice times, not during the entire game. Keep it positive, find what they did correctly or close to correctly, do not point out “mistakes.” If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, discontinue shouting directions from the sidelines. Leave direction to the coach (who hopefully doesn’t shout incessant directions and negative feedback either).
2. Focus on winning is UNHELPFUL. Instead of saying before the game, “Are you going to win your game today?” or during the game/halftime, “We’re winning!” say something about working toward a process goal. Ask before the game, “What are you going to work on today? Passing? Ok, see if you can complete 5 good passes.” Or, during halftime, say, “I can see how hard you are working, I like the 2 passes you did so well, keep it up.” Even if the child is focused on winning, you as the parent can change that focus, thereby supporting a good process (step by step) rather than the outcome (end result-win/lose). When we reinforce process goals rather than outcomes, it is easier to build confidence and competence. Five passes are within the child’s control, winning the game is not. If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, focusing on what they can control is HELPFUL.
3. Play-by-play of everything the child “coulda, shoulda, woulda” done during the game, immediately after the game in the vehicle going homeward is UNHELPFUL. Youth athletes that I talk to tell me time and again that they wish their parents would not “debrief” them on their perceptions of the game/competition afterward. Pointing out “mistakes,” making suggestions for improvement, or offering advice, although well intentioned, usually does not help your child to play/perform better. The game is the teacher. The coach is the teacher. Instead of conducting a review session of the game and offering critique, it may be more helpful to ask, “What did you enjoy about the game?” or “What did you like about your performance today?” or “What did you notice about how you felt during the game?” Even better, stay away from questions and give a simple statement to create a conversation if they want one, such as “I enjoyed watching you, that was fun,” or “You did your best, I’m proud of you.” If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, simple support and positive statements about your experience of watching are HELPFUL.
C’mon parents, I know you want to be helpful to your child. I know you want them to have fun and improve as best they can in the sports they play. Let’s improve cheering and support techniques for their sake. You can do better, you can be more helpful to them by embracing the “less is more” cliché. Less direction from you on the sidelines means less distraction. Less focus on winning, means more focus on process rather than outcome. Less debriefing and advice, means more independent learning. Let them do the talking before, during, and after games. Let them be in control of their games and themselves while they are playing, so they can do the best they can.
I am well aware that most parents and interested individuals who come to watch their children play sports are generally supportive and wish to cheer for their children and respective teams. At the same time, I have a hard time remembering attending a youth sport game when there was not at least one parent acting in an annoying way, oblivious to the irritation that was obvious to me and other adults in the crowd. Exchanges of knowing looks, a wince from the referee close by, targeted child looking confused/ embarrassed, but nothing said to the “Annoyance.”
The problem is that annoying behavior isn’t just annoying, it interferes with the children’s time to have fun and it usually interferes with their performance. Let’s be clear. There are HELPFUL and UNHELPFUL ways to cheer for youth playing sport before, during, and after the game, practice, or event.
If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, here are a few things to avoid because they are UNHELPFUL: 1. Frequent directions from anyone who is not the coach. 2. Focus on winning. 3. Play-by-play of everything the child “coulda, shoulda, woulda” done during the game, immediately after the game in the vehicle going homeward.
Let me explain.
1. Constant/frequent directions from anyone who is not the coach are UNHELPFUL. In the case of soccer as with other sports, by the time the child registers that it is the parent’s voice, looks over at the parent to “see” what is going on, “hears” what is actually being said, or the child hesitates because she didn’t hear what was said and looks longer away from the play, the play at hand (foot) is OVER. This type of direction from parents is distraction, it usually takes away from the ability to perform in the moment with concentration. By the time the child gets the coveted college scholarship that less than a fraction of 1% of athletes receive, she’s sure to be able to tune out crowd noise and distraction. However, at the youth level when they are just learning the fundamentals and hoping to have fun, constant and even frequent directions from parents are UNHELPFUL.
What is helpful? Once in a while, when the child is in close proximity, maybe when the play is stopped, when the child has done something worth reinforcing (like making a great pass), a parent can give supportive direct feedback specific to the action, such as “Great pass, keep up the great work!” Reinforcement is more effective if it is given a few choice times, not during the entire game. Keep it positive, find what they did correctly or close to correctly, do not point out “mistakes.” If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, discontinue shouting directions from the sidelines. Leave direction to the coach (who hopefully doesn’t shout incessant directions and negative feedback either).
2. Focus on winning is UNHELPFUL. Instead of saying before the game, “Are you going to win your game today?” or during the game/halftime, “We’re winning!” say something about working toward a process goal. Ask before the game, “What are you going to work on today? Passing? Ok, see if you can complete 5 good passes.” Or, during halftime, say, “I can see how hard you are working, I like the 2 passes you did so well, keep it up.” Even if the child is focused on winning, you as the parent can change that focus, thereby supporting a good process (step by step) rather than the outcome (end result-win/lose). When we reinforce process goals rather than outcomes, it is easier to build confidence and competence. Five passes are within the child’s control, winning the game is not. If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, focusing on what they can control is HELPFUL.
3. Play-by-play of everything the child “coulda, shoulda, woulda” done during the game, immediately after the game in the vehicle going homeward is UNHELPFUL. Youth athletes that I talk to tell me time and again that they wish their parents would not “debrief” them on their perceptions of the game/competition afterward. Pointing out “mistakes,” making suggestions for improvement, or offering advice, although well intentioned, usually does not help your child to play/perform better. The game is the teacher. The coach is the teacher. Instead of conducting a review session of the game and offering critique, it may be more helpful to ask, “What did you enjoy about the game?” or “What did you like about your performance today?” or “What did you notice about how you felt during the game?” Even better, stay away from questions and give a simple statement to create a conversation if they want one, such as “I enjoyed watching you, that was fun,” or “You did your best, I’m proud of you.” If you place importance on your child having fun and improving performance, simple support and positive statements about your experience of watching are HELPFUL.
C’mon parents, I know you want to be helpful to your child. I know you want them to have fun and improve as best they can in the sports they play. Let’s improve cheering and support techniques for their sake. You can do better, you can be more helpful to them by embracing the “less is more” cliché. Less direction from you on the sidelines means less distraction. Less focus on winning, means more focus on process rather than outcome. Less debriefing and advice, means more independent learning. Let them do the talking before, during, and after games. Let them be in control of their games and themselves while they are playing, so they can do the best they can.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Move 50 Miles
Over 10 days, I viewed 50 films at the recent 34th Cleveland International Film Festival. Similar to my “spin-a-thon,” mentioned in my last post, this “movie-a-thon” was certainly another experiment in focus, concentration, and flow states. I was entertained, emotions were evoked, and I pondered serious issues, as well as laughed with frivolity. My body ached from sitting in dark theaters for long stretches. But I pressed on, knowing that I wanted to beat my record from last year. I felt the “press” of desire to achieve something.
I often feel this “press” of desire and energy. It makes me “move,” mentally, physically, and spiritually. After viewing 50 movies (largely sitting still, though still a mental effort), the next experiment for funneling this energy is a 50 mile trail run in June. I’ve been challenged to engage in this race and said I’d do it. Despite completing 4 marathons and other endurance events, 50 miles scares me.
When I mentioned running 50 miles to friends and family, I was met with statements such as, “Are you crazy?” The adults’ eyes rolled, and I was admonished to be sure my health insurance is intact. Along the lines of being called “crazy,” an accusation was that somehow I have an “addiction.” I’m well aware of exercise addiction, I teach about positive and negative addictions to physical activity. I am not negatively addicted to exercise.
[Here are the definitions according to Weinberg & Gould (2006): “Exercise addiction: A psychological or physiological dependence on a regular regimen of exercise that is characterized by withdrawal symptoms after 24 to 36 hours without exercise. Positive addiction to exercise: A condition in which exercise is viewed as important in one’s life but is successfully integrated with other aspects of life (healthy habit). Negative addiction to exercise: A condition in which life becomes structured around exercise to such an extent that home and work responsibilities suffer (p. 482).”]
Although some endurance athletes may have mental health battles or negative exercise addictions, some find a way to manage to balance total quality of life within the extremes of the training and event completion. Endurance athletes are said to be different: how they think, how they manage pain, and how they view challenge and obstacles. Some would say that physically, endurance athletes are not entirely different from other athletes. They engage in appropriate training, of course, to get physically prepared for their events. However, it is said that endurance event performance is especially related to mental ability and/or training. Mental discipline is a key factor in managing the barrage of thoughts and physical pain that may be present during endurance events. Fears of injury, re-injury, embarrassment, and non-completion may all be part of negative self talk that have to be mentally managed. Perceptions of pain must be mentally managed.
Psychological skills such as goal setting, visualization, self talk, arousal regulation, persistence, and concentration are all keys to mental toughness required for endurance events. The event could be thought of as a mindfulness meditation, simply (not easily) being entirely present in the moment, open to the experience as it unfolds. I have experience with these skills and practice them often. I still view a 50 miler with some fear.
What is it that makes someone decide to complete an endurance activity such as this?
What is it that makes me want to run a fifty mile trail? I like moderation, but I also like a challenge. I like overall fitness. I also like to push my limits, because I CAN. I also am a fan of transformation. A 50 miler seems to me to be all about transformation. Choosing to connect with pain and conquering it is transformative, it’s a spiritual experience. I experienced physical pain in my training as a skater, running marathons, and in surviving a car accident and a year of subsequent rehab. Similar to the challenge of these experiences, a challenge in a 50 miler is to recognize perceptions and hone mental strength to simply “be with” pain. I can do it, I can have this pain and it’s ok. Whether it is foot pain related to blisters or the anguish of wanting to stop and fighting with thoughts of stop or keep going, being present to pain transforms it, just as being fully present for many things is a transformative process.
Again, why do I want to run fifty miles on a trail? What comes to my mind as I sit here contemplating the race is the press of energy, achievement. The achievement is in embracing an opportunity to test myself, pushing my perceived limits. How far can I push the line of achievement toward possible failure? Where is that line? Every time I have pushed, I have achieved a deeper peace with myself, wrestling with a welcome or unwelcome physical hardship.
The endurance events I have completed thus far were a great opportunity to connect with something deeper in myself that transcends and transforms my physical body. This upcoming event will be that as well. Similar to viewing 50 movies at the filmfest, this will be another transformative experience that will evoke emotions, make me ponder serious issues, bring me some laughter, and make my body ache. Move for 50 miles. Move 50 miles, from fear to courage.
Resources
Evans, M. (1997). Endurance athlete’s edge. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Van Dusen, A. (2008). Inside the endurance athlete’s mind. Retrieved 4-1-10, from cbcsports website: http://www.cbc.ca/sports/story/2008/10/02/f-forbes-endurance.html
Weinberg, R.S., & Gould, D. (2006). Foundations of sport and exercise psychology (4th ed.). Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
http://www.ultrunr.com/train50.html
http://www.ultramarathonrunning.com/training/index.html
http://www.ultramarathonrunning.com
I often feel this “press” of desire and energy. It makes me “move,” mentally, physically, and spiritually. After viewing 50 movies (largely sitting still, though still a mental effort), the next experiment for funneling this energy is a 50 mile trail run in June. I’ve been challenged to engage in this race and said I’d do it. Despite completing 4 marathons and other endurance events, 50 miles scares me.
When I mentioned running 50 miles to friends and family, I was met with statements such as, “Are you crazy?” The adults’ eyes rolled, and I was admonished to be sure my health insurance is intact. Along the lines of being called “crazy,” an accusation was that somehow I have an “addiction.” I’m well aware of exercise addiction, I teach about positive and negative addictions to physical activity. I am not negatively addicted to exercise.
[Here are the definitions according to Weinberg & Gould (2006): “Exercise addiction: A psychological or physiological dependence on a regular regimen of exercise that is characterized by withdrawal symptoms after 24 to 36 hours without exercise. Positive addiction to exercise: A condition in which exercise is viewed as important in one’s life but is successfully integrated with other aspects of life (healthy habit). Negative addiction to exercise: A condition in which life becomes structured around exercise to such an extent that home and work responsibilities suffer (p. 482).”]
Although some endurance athletes may have mental health battles or negative exercise addictions, some find a way to manage to balance total quality of life within the extremes of the training and event completion. Endurance athletes are said to be different: how they think, how they manage pain, and how they view challenge and obstacles. Some would say that physically, endurance athletes are not entirely different from other athletes. They engage in appropriate training, of course, to get physically prepared for their events. However, it is said that endurance event performance is especially related to mental ability and/or training. Mental discipline is a key factor in managing the barrage of thoughts and physical pain that may be present during endurance events. Fears of injury, re-injury, embarrassment, and non-completion may all be part of negative self talk that have to be mentally managed. Perceptions of pain must be mentally managed.
Psychological skills such as goal setting, visualization, self talk, arousal regulation, persistence, and concentration are all keys to mental toughness required for endurance events. The event could be thought of as a mindfulness meditation, simply (not easily) being entirely present in the moment, open to the experience as it unfolds. I have experience with these skills and practice them often. I still view a 50 miler with some fear.
What is it that makes someone decide to complete an endurance activity such as this?
What is it that makes me want to run a fifty mile trail? I like moderation, but I also like a challenge. I like overall fitness. I also like to push my limits, because I CAN. I also am a fan of transformation. A 50 miler seems to me to be all about transformation. Choosing to connect with pain and conquering it is transformative, it’s a spiritual experience. I experienced physical pain in my training as a skater, running marathons, and in surviving a car accident and a year of subsequent rehab. Similar to the challenge of these experiences, a challenge in a 50 miler is to recognize perceptions and hone mental strength to simply “be with” pain. I can do it, I can have this pain and it’s ok. Whether it is foot pain related to blisters or the anguish of wanting to stop and fighting with thoughts of stop or keep going, being present to pain transforms it, just as being fully present for many things is a transformative process.
Again, why do I want to run fifty miles on a trail? What comes to my mind as I sit here contemplating the race is the press of energy, achievement. The achievement is in embracing an opportunity to test myself, pushing my perceived limits. How far can I push the line of achievement toward possible failure? Where is that line? Every time I have pushed, I have achieved a deeper peace with myself, wrestling with a welcome or unwelcome physical hardship.
The endurance events I have completed thus far were a great opportunity to connect with something deeper in myself that transcends and transforms my physical body. This upcoming event will be that as well. Similar to viewing 50 movies at the filmfest, this will be another transformative experience that will evoke emotions, make me ponder serious issues, bring me some laughter, and make my body ache. Move for 50 miles. Move 50 miles, from fear to courage.
Resources
Evans, M. (1997). Endurance athlete’s edge. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Van Dusen, A. (2008). Inside the endurance athlete’s mind. Retrieved 4-1-10, from cbcsports website: http://www.cbc.ca/sports/story/2008/10/02/f-forbes-endurance.html
Weinberg, R.S., & Gould, D. (2006). Foundations of sport and exercise psychology (4th ed.). Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
http://www.ultrunr.com/train50.html
http://www.ultramarathonrunning.com/training/index.html
http://www.ultramarathonrunning.com
Friday, February 26, 2010
Let it Flow, Let it Flow, Let it Flow
On February 6th, 2010, I competed against myself in a 12 hour spinning class. Yes, twelve hours of continuous biking. The event was a fundraiser at a local fitness center for the American Cancer Society. In exchange for $10, anyone could participate in a one hour spin class, 12 classes were offered back to back starting at 7am and ending at 7pm. I used the event as way to push my limits and observe the state of “flow” or peak experience in the context of physical activity.
Spinning is a group exercise on stationary bikes, an instructor leads the class with music and choreography that mimics varying terrain, with hills, sprints, and overall interval training. It is an excellent workout, and certainly is one of those things that what you put into it, is what you get out of it. I have enjoyed and been challenged by spinning classes regularly over the past 3 years. I frequently feel a state of flow in these classes as well as in other activities, like playing soccer. It starts with body activity, but then the activity becomes something that is not about the body at all. It is a different state of mind.
Flow is something that most athletes have experienced, without really knowing what it is or the mechanics of it. More than a heightened sense of focus or concentration, flow is described as a state of experience, separate from states of waking or dreaming. It can be a spiritual experience that takes athletes to a “divine” place, beyond the body, beyond the sport. They feel great satisfaction and report happiness.
“Flow” is a concept written about by many authors, including Mihalyi Czikszentmihalyi.
In the context of sport or physical activity, many people describe flow as an experience in which they lose track of time, they feel one with others or their teammates, everything “clicks,” and they perform well almost without effort. There is little distraction, little sense of self, and complete immersion in the activity. Full attention is on the process of the current performance, not on analysis of technique or errors. Some athletes even report being able to see things happen before they actually do.
To bring flow states, it is suggested that athletes practice being in the moment, focusing attention on the present as much as possible. Mindfulness and meditation training outside of sport are very helpful. Being relaxed and alert, moderately challenged (not bored or totally outmatched), and prepared are elements of bringing flow. Athletes must perceive that they are good enough to meet the demands of the challenge, thinking positively. It is suggested that wanting to win, showing off, comparing self to others, or being angry toward opponents takes one out of flow.
A month prior to the “spin-a-thon,” I began to prepare physically and mentally. Imagery and goal setting are two powerful tools in psychological skills training for sport. I kept “leaning into” the images of what it might feel like to move constantly for 12 hours. I considered physical pain and fatigue. I kept focused on my goal: staying on the bike for the duration of the 12 hours. No bathroom breaks. As a way to create a spiritual purpose for the event, I dedicated my efforts to all those who need healing, cancer or otherwise. My efforts took on a much larger context than my own limits. I reminded myself of that often and told myself that whatever pain lie ahead, it could not compare to having cancer, and I could bear it. I focused on positive self talk, another powerful sport psych skill. All of these things prepared me to be receptive to the flow state.
The morning of, I awoke with great excitement and readiness. When I arrived at the fitness center, I set up my bike as usual. The sun did not rise yet, and we were in the dark morning. I went to the bathroom, one last time, and decided I’d have to be very sparing with water if I was going to make it the full 12 hours. I mounted my bike, tightened my footstraps and was off! I felt gratitude and happiness as I started out and got warmed up. Definitely in the flow. I was aware of a great sense of gratitude and satisfaction. I noticed my thoughts, they easily remained in the moment, enjoying the beginnings of the experience.
As the event progressed, I noticed my perceptions of time shifted more frequently and varied often. Sometimes 5 minutes felt very long, sometimes an hour felt very short. I was in flow when I noticed time felt short or when I wasn’t aware of time at all. I kept reminding myself to focus on the process, the immediate moment, rather than what I might be doing later, how it might feel to get off the bike, sitting on the couch, drinking a big glass of water, etc. The more I was able to settle into the present moment, the more I felt back in the flow. I joked around with friends on nearby bikes, I focused on the feelings of my body. I focused on the music, I was one with the music and the people in the classes (my “team”).
Comparing oneself to others usually breaks flow, and I did notice that when my mind wandered to the performance of those next to me I felt irritated. When I began to analyze the instructor, or didn’t like the music, I experienced irritations and breaks in flow. I constantly and gently kept bringing my attention back to my body, my process, my goal. Just this minute, stay on the bike, keep spinning. Just keep spinning.
Hour 10 was by far the most difficult, I felt a bit nauseous, and closed my eyes for longer stints of time. I used cue words to keep myself focused. I said, “fighter” to myself, and things like “I’m strong and healthy,” and “I can do this.” As I juggled these words and other thoughts that competed for my attention, I remembered that focusing just on my body might be more effective at this stage. So I did, and it seemed to help, back to flow, if fleeting. I became more and more present to the current experience, painful as it was.
With my preparedness, positive attitude, and my knowledge of the mechanics of controlling flow, I was able to direct it and maintain it for periods of time during the 12 hours. At the same time, it wasn’t something that was constant, it wasn’t “easy,” and it wasn’t something I really controlled. Rather, I allowed for it’s presence. All of my knowledge and preparation was a means of creating space for the possibility of flow. When it was present, paradoxically I wasn’t really thinking about it.
I did complete the 12 hours of spinning, no breaks, no getting off the bike, no stopping. I did experience flow a lot. I don’t know how many minutes, but I’d say at least half of the time. Maybe that’s an overestimate. Mostly, I felt very grateful for the experience and quite happy during the whole thing, despite the physical suffering. Flow seemed more consistently present at the beginning and at the end of the event. When I finally stepped off the bike, I felt a great sense of relief and accomplishment. I also felt like I was walking on water and my legs were made of jello. The physical effects went away shortly, but my feelings of confidence, satisfaction, and happiness with the accomplishment lasted for days. I felt more of everything. My experience became sharper and deeper. I enjoyed the process of the event immensely. I certainly enjoyed the aftereffects. It is possible that my contact with more sustained flow states over those 12 hours contributed to this heightened sense of well being
Sport and physical activity are gateways to flow states. A body activity leads to something that is not really about the body. Sport is a gateway to spiritual experiences that are beyond the language that we usually use when discussing sport.
Pushing limits and experiencing flow states is commonplace in sport and physical activity. I used a fundraising event, dedicated to healing, as a way to tap into a limit-pushing, flow-inducing experience. It had great effects. Flow is something I experience on a smaller scale everyday in usual fitness and sport activity. Exercisers and athletes generally recognize the power of their activity/sport experience in enhancing their fitness and well being. When they are knowledgeable about flow states and how to open more consistently to them, we can spin sport into the divine experience that it really is.
Resources
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. NY: Harper and Row.
Jackson, S. A., & Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1999). Flow in sports: The keys to optimal experiences and performances. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Spinning is a group exercise on stationary bikes, an instructor leads the class with music and choreography that mimics varying terrain, with hills, sprints, and overall interval training. It is an excellent workout, and certainly is one of those things that what you put into it, is what you get out of it. I have enjoyed and been challenged by spinning classes regularly over the past 3 years. I frequently feel a state of flow in these classes as well as in other activities, like playing soccer. It starts with body activity, but then the activity becomes something that is not about the body at all. It is a different state of mind.
Flow is something that most athletes have experienced, without really knowing what it is or the mechanics of it. More than a heightened sense of focus or concentration, flow is described as a state of experience, separate from states of waking or dreaming. It can be a spiritual experience that takes athletes to a “divine” place, beyond the body, beyond the sport. They feel great satisfaction and report happiness.
“Flow” is a concept written about by many authors, including Mihalyi Czikszentmihalyi.
In the context of sport or physical activity, many people describe flow as an experience in which they lose track of time, they feel one with others or their teammates, everything “clicks,” and they perform well almost without effort. There is little distraction, little sense of self, and complete immersion in the activity. Full attention is on the process of the current performance, not on analysis of technique or errors. Some athletes even report being able to see things happen before they actually do.
To bring flow states, it is suggested that athletes practice being in the moment, focusing attention on the present as much as possible. Mindfulness and meditation training outside of sport are very helpful. Being relaxed and alert, moderately challenged (not bored or totally outmatched), and prepared are elements of bringing flow. Athletes must perceive that they are good enough to meet the demands of the challenge, thinking positively. It is suggested that wanting to win, showing off, comparing self to others, or being angry toward opponents takes one out of flow.
A month prior to the “spin-a-thon,” I began to prepare physically and mentally. Imagery and goal setting are two powerful tools in psychological skills training for sport. I kept “leaning into” the images of what it might feel like to move constantly for 12 hours. I considered physical pain and fatigue. I kept focused on my goal: staying on the bike for the duration of the 12 hours. No bathroom breaks. As a way to create a spiritual purpose for the event, I dedicated my efforts to all those who need healing, cancer or otherwise. My efforts took on a much larger context than my own limits. I reminded myself of that often and told myself that whatever pain lie ahead, it could not compare to having cancer, and I could bear it. I focused on positive self talk, another powerful sport psych skill. All of these things prepared me to be receptive to the flow state.
The morning of, I awoke with great excitement and readiness. When I arrived at the fitness center, I set up my bike as usual. The sun did not rise yet, and we were in the dark morning. I went to the bathroom, one last time, and decided I’d have to be very sparing with water if I was going to make it the full 12 hours. I mounted my bike, tightened my footstraps and was off! I felt gratitude and happiness as I started out and got warmed up. Definitely in the flow. I was aware of a great sense of gratitude and satisfaction. I noticed my thoughts, they easily remained in the moment, enjoying the beginnings of the experience.
As the event progressed, I noticed my perceptions of time shifted more frequently and varied often. Sometimes 5 minutes felt very long, sometimes an hour felt very short. I was in flow when I noticed time felt short or when I wasn’t aware of time at all. I kept reminding myself to focus on the process, the immediate moment, rather than what I might be doing later, how it might feel to get off the bike, sitting on the couch, drinking a big glass of water, etc. The more I was able to settle into the present moment, the more I felt back in the flow. I joked around with friends on nearby bikes, I focused on the feelings of my body. I focused on the music, I was one with the music and the people in the classes (my “team”).
Comparing oneself to others usually breaks flow, and I did notice that when my mind wandered to the performance of those next to me I felt irritated. When I began to analyze the instructor, or didn’t like the music, I experienced irritations and breaks in flow. I constantly and gently kept bringing my attention back to my body, my process, my goal. Just this minute, stay on the bike, keep spinning. Just keep spinning.
Hour 10 was by far the most difficult, I felt a bit nauseous, and closed my eyes for longer stints of time. I used cue words to keep myself focused. I said, “fighter” to myself, and things like “I’m strong and healthy,” and “I can do this.” As I juggled these words and other thoughts that competed for my attention, I remembered that focusing just on my body might be more effective at this stage. So I did, and it seemed to help, back to flow, if fleeting. I became more and more present to the current experience, painful as it was.
With my preparedness, positive attitude, and my knowledge of the mechanics of controlling flow, I was able to direct it and maintain it for periods of time during the 12 hours. At the same time, it wasn’t something that was constant, it wasn’t “easy,” and it wasn’t something I really controlled. Rather, I allowed for it’s presence. All of my knowledge and preparation was a means of creating space for the possibility of flow. When it was present, paradoxically I wasn’t really thinking about it.
I did complete the 12 hours of spinning, no breaks, no getting off the bike, no stopping. I did experience flow a lot. I don’t know how many minutes, but I’d say at least half of the time. Maybe that’s an overestimate. Mostly, I felt very grateful for the experience and quite happy during the whole thing, despite the physical suffering. Flow seemed more consistently present at the beginning and at the end of the event. When I finally stepped off the bike, I felt a great sense of relief and accomplishment. I also felt like I was walking on water and my legs were made of jello. The physical effects went away shortly, but my feelings of confidence, satisfaction, and happiness with the accomplishment lasted for days. I felt more of everything. My experience became sharper and deeper. I enjoyed the process of the event immensely. I certainly enjoyed the aftereffects. It is possible that my contact with more sustained flow states over those 12 hours contributed to this heightened sense of well being
Sport and physical activity are gateways to flow states. A body activity leads to something that is not really about the body. Sport is a gateway to spiritual experiences that are beyond the language that we usually use when discussing sport.
Pushing limits and experiencing flow states is commonplace in sport and physical activity. I used a fundraising event, dedicated to healing, as a way to tap into a limit-pushing, flow-inducing experience. It had great effects. Flow is something I experience on a smaller scale everyday in usual fitness and sport activity. Exercisers and athletes generally recognize the power of their activity/sport experience in enhancing their fitness and well being. When they are knowledgeable about flow states and how to open more consistently to them, we can spin sport into the divine experience that it really is.
Resources
Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990). Flow: The psychology of optimal experience. NY: Harper and Row.
Jackson, S. A., & Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1999). Flow in sports: The keys to optimal experiences and performances. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Sport Psychology on the Colbert Report!
http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/263088/february-01-2010/sport-report---nicole-detling-miller---jessica-smith
Check out this link! Sport psychology is in the news, it's even on the Colbert Report! A brief interview with a sport psychology consultant to Olympic athletes describes the role very basically as a mental coach.
Check out this link! Sport psychology is in the news, it's even on the Colbert Report! A brief interview with a sport psychology consultant to Olympic athletes describes the role very basically as a mental coach.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
"Couching" Lifetime Fitness in Youth Sports
Despite the emphasis on fitness and sports in U.S. culture, many Americans engage mostly in competitive “couch potato games.” Only a small number of people exercise regularly (10-25%). About 50% of the adult population is sedentary, and only 10% of those persons will attempt to begin a program of exercise. Half of people who begin an exercise program drop out within 6 months. Approximately 20% of adults are considered obese, about 25% of children are considered obese. Seventy-five percent of obese people underestimate their weight. Obese parents tend to misperceive their own and their children’s body size.
About 50% of youth (age 12-21) do not participate in regular physical activity. Physical activity declines as children age: some estimates suggested that over 33% of high school students do not engage in regular physical activity, over 11% get no moderate physical activity at all, about 40% do not participate in school sports. Thirty percent of states mandate no physical education for elementary and middle school aged children. Sport participation peaks between ages 10-13; for every 10 children who begin a sport in a season, 3 to 4 quit before the next season.
Given the high risks of adult obesity and related chronic disease, it is imperative to prevent and intervene in childhood obesity. Attention to regular physical activity (moderate and vigorous) as well as nutrition is critical to disease prevention. Mental, emotional, spiritual, and relationship components of fitness could be addressed in various ways as well. Effective programming may need to include attention to these various modes of development in an effort to reach an overarching goal of promoting total quality of life, while reducing obesity.
Focusing on the physical activity element of obesity reduction, youth specific fitness programming may be on the rise at various types of fitness centers, but there is always a wealth of opportunity to be active in a variety of youth sports of different levels (recreational, community, school, competitive leagues). If participation in sport can be considered one means of interrupting the obesity “epidemic,” then coaches can make a big difference in these efforts. I suggest that youth sport coaches be extremely mindful of their critical roles in the lives of youth, especially those who may be at risk for obesity. They are leaders who are well positioned to model and teach players that sport is a way to enjoy physical activity for the sake of wellness, not just winning.
A coach can facilitate the experience of sport as something that may lead to long term enjoyment of physical activity or something that becomes a source of stress, low self esteem, and drop out. A coach who yells, is often frustrated, keeps “weak” players on the bench, or judges a player in negative ways for not being in tip top shape when starting out, can scare a player off in a hurry. Youth who drop out of sports risk becoming sedentary. Youth who drop out of sports cite reasons such as “I had other things to do,” “not as good as I wanted to be,” “didn’t like the pressure.” It is probable that a coach who knows how to help youth feel and be competent will keep them “in the game” of fitness.
How does a coach create perceived competence? The short answer includes basic relationship skills. How youth perceive their competence has much to do with the way coaches treat them. Low perceptions of ability lead to drop out or not even participating in the first place, but a perception of high competence leads to continued participation and persistence to continue. The key word here is perception! Kids who believe they are competent, become more competent. They continue to practice. How do they come to believe they are competent? Coach communication. Coach encouragement. Coach giving reinforcement. Coach instruction skills. Coach giving mistake contingent feedback. More coach encouragement. More encouragement. These are all correlated with players’ self esteem, motivation, and positive attitudes. A positive approach to coaching leads to lower athlete drop out rates. A positive approach to coaching leads to an experience of sport that is rewarding and sustained over time. This can be one means of increasing long term fitness and reducing obesity.
Organized sports are not a magic bullet for preventing childhood obesity. They do provide an opportunity for youth and the adults they work with as coaches to develop a relationship through physical activity. That relationship can enhance the player’s experience of self and of the sport and create a powerful trajectory toward a lifetime of enjoyable physical activity. Competent coaches know how to help players feel and be competent regardless of their physical prowess or ability. In doing so, they keep them engaged in the sport and off of the couch.
References
Committee on Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity (Contributor); Institute of Medicine (U.S.), Committee on Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity Staff (Contributor). Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity : How Do We Measure Up?. Washington, DC, USA: National Academies Press, 2007. p 353-357.
Weinberg, R.S., & Gould, D. (2006). Foundations of sport and exercise psychology (4th ed.). Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Wiley-Blackwell (2010, January 29). Most parents don't realize their 4- or 5-year-olds are overweight or obese. ScienceDaily. Retrieved
About 50% of youth (age 12-21) do not participate in regular physical activity. Physical activity declines as children age: some estimates suggested that over 33% of high school students do not engage in regular physical activity, over 11% get no moderate physical activity at all, about 40% do not participate in school sports. Thirty percent of states mandate no physical education for elementary and middle school aged children. Sport participation peaks between ages 10-13; for every 10 children who begin a sport in a season, 3 to 4 quit before the next season.
Given the high risks of adult obesity and related chronic disease, it is imperative to prevent and intervene in childhood obesity. Attention to regular physical activity (moderate and vigorous) as well as nutrition is critical to disease prevention. Mental, emotional, spiritual, and relationship components of fitness could be addressed in various ways as well. Effective programming may need to include attention to these various modes of development in an effort to reach an overarching goal of promoting total quality of life, while reducing obesity.
Focusing on the physical activity element of obesity reduction, youth specific fitness programming may be on the rise at various types of fitness centers, but there is always a wealth of opportunity to be active in a variety of youth sports of different levels (recreational, community, school, competitive leagues). If participation in sport can be considered one means of interrupting the obesity “epidemic,” then coaches can make a big difference in these efforts. I suggest that youth sport coaches be extremely mindful of their critical roles in the lives of youth, especially those who may be at risk for obesity. They are leaders who are well positioned to model and teach players that sport is a way to enjoy physical activity for the sake of wellness, not just winning.
A coach can facilitate the experience of sport as something that may lead to long term enjoyment of physical activity or something that becomes a source of stress, low self esteem, and drop out. A coach who yells, is often frustrated, keeps “weak” players on the bench, or judges a player in negative ways for not being in tip top shape when starting out, can scare a player off in a hurry. Youth who drop out of sports risk becoming sedentary. Youth who drop out of sports cite reasons such as “I had other things to do,” “not as good as I wanted to be,” “didn’t like the pressure.” It is probable that a coach who knows how to help youth feel and be competent will keep them “in the game” of fitness.
How does a coach create perceived competence? The short answer includes basic relationship skills. How youth perceive their competence has much to do with the way coaches treat them. Low perceptions of ability lead to drop out or not even participating in the first place, but a perception of high competence leads to continued participation and persistence to continue. The key word here is perception! Kids who believe they are competent, become more competent. They continue to practice. How do they come to believe they are competent? Coach communication. Coach encouragement. Coach giving reinforcement. Coach instruction skills. Coach giving mistake contingent feedback. More coach encouragement. More encouragement. These are all correlated with players’ self esteem, motivation, and positive attitudes. A positive approach to coaching leads to lower athlete drop out rates. A positive approach to coaching leads to an experience of sport that is rewarding and sustained over time. This can be one means of increasing long term fitness and reducing obesity.
Organized sports are not a magic bullet for preventing childhood obesity. They do provide an opportunity for youth and the adults they work with as coaches to develop a relationship through physical activity. That relationship can enhance the player’s experience of self and of the sport and create a powerful trajectory toward a lifetime of enjoyable physical activity. Competent coaches know how to help players feel and be competent regardless of their physical prowess or ability. In doing so, they keep them engaged in the sport and off of the couch.
References
Committee on Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity (Contributor); Institute of Medicine (U.S.), Committee on Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity Staff (Contributor). Progress in Preventing Childhood Obesity : How Do We Measure Up?. Washington, DC, USA: National Academies Press, 2007. p 353-357.
Weinberg, R.S., & Gould, D. (2006). Foundations of sport and exercise psychology (4th ed.). Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics.
Wiley-Blackwell (2010, January 29). Most parents don't realize their 4- or 5-year-olds are overweight or obese. ScienceDaily. Retrieved
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Practicing for Life
Athletes do incredible things. They wake up early for practice, they practice for hours and hours, and they give up free time and summers to train. Much of their time is spent practicing. They stay fit. They learn new plays. They structure their time so that they complete many tasks. They dedicate themselves to a sport and to a team. They work hard and have fun doing it.
Athletes demonstrate commitment, dedication, perseverance, resilience, and a strong work ethic. These are some important attributes or strengths that allow them to participate in sports as they do.
What would it be like if you – as an athlete, coach, or individual – practiced in a similar way to navigate more personal life issues, off the field? Each day you might practice skills for healthy relationships; you might stay fit by doing “life” exercises; and you could learn new “plays” for addressing difficulties that arise. You might dedicate yourself to things you value other than sports and be a part of a team in your family, school, and community.
By intentionally transferring skills and qualities highlighted in sport to your personal life, you might be prepared better for life!
How do you apply your previous or current experiences in sport to your life? How do you practice for your life?
Athletes demonstrate commitment, dedication, perseverance, resilience, and a strong work ethic. These are some important attributes or strengths that allow them to participate in sports as they do.
What would it be like if you – as an athlete, coach, or individual – practiced in a similar way to navigate more personal life issues, off the field? Each day you might practice skills for healthy relationships; you might stay fit by doing “life” exercises; and you could learn new “plays” for addressing difficulties that arise. You might dedicate yourself to things you value other than sports and be a part of a team in your family, school, and community.
By intentionally transferring skills and qualities highlighted in sport to your personal life, you might be prepared better for life!
How do you apply your previous or current experiences in sport to your life? How do you practice for your life?
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