Alexandersmap

    Tag: Rowing

    • Time Enough

      “The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.” — Rabindranath Tagore

      We often get hung up on time and how quickly it all flies by. Yet we have more than enough for one lifetime when we use it well. We just waste so very much of it on things that aren’t all that essential. The moment is all that matters, we keep telling ourselves, and yet we measure time. The instant we recognize the fragility of the moment and our place in it, the more we begin to fully live. This is everything, all at once, and it’s a wonder to behold.

      This morning I reconciled myself to spending money and time on a problem that I inadvertently created several years ago. To spend money and time on things that I once thought were finished forever is frustrating, but instead of getting spun up in the error I’m finding joy in the resolution of the problem. With every decision we have the opportunity to set the future straight. We may celebrate this and move on to the next.

      As a rower I know the value of the current stroke in setting up the next one. Effort and recovery are forever linked in a quest for that elusive perfection. A life well spent isn’t all about the highlight reel stuff seen on Instagram, it’s the daily grind and the challenges we overcome that we may live to fight another day. Effort, recovery and setting ourselves up for the next—again and again. Stitch together enough such moments and we may build something meaningful that transcends the ordinary.

      We have time enough, even as we wish for more. Aspire to make more of the moment instead of wishing for more moments. Excellence is found here, awaiting our rise to meet it.

    • The Immediate Concern

      “A bad goal makes you say, ‘I want to do that some day.’ A great goal makes you take action immediately.” ― Derek Sivers

      I type this a little sore. All over sore, the kind that makes you move a little slower and assess your choices in life. Still, it’s a good sore of layered exercise expressing change in the body. We all ought to embrace such positive change in our lives. At least that’s what I’m telling myself, knowing I have work to do today to keep that momentum going in the right direction. And so I appreciate what Sivers is talking about when he assesses a good goal.

      The immediate concern is sustaining positive momentum towards the goal of completing a lot of mileage in a relatively short amount of time. To average 6.5 miles a day is a reckless goal at this stage of my professional life, but calculated to force me to row more often. I’m already feeling the effects of this, and I’m energized by the goal despite the fatigue it brings to me. We are made to move, not just sit staring at a variety of screens all day.

      When the summer is over, I’ll have kept my commitment to myself by keeping the goal alive to completion. Plenty of other things will keep me busy in that timeframe, but some things will be sacrificed for the greater good of finishing the goal. Life is full of tradeoffs, isn’t it? Why trade a good fitness level for comfortable distraction?

      At this very moment there’s a creeping urgency to stop writing about it and get back to stacking miles on top of what’s already been done. What doesn’t get done in July will have to be done in August, and frankly, I’ve got enough on my plate already in August. Great goals make you question your sanity while you’re making them come true. And yet, it makes you feel more alive than a less worthy goal ever would. It’s literally putting bold words into action. What’s more transformative than that?

    • Showing Up

      The hardest day in a new workout routine is the second day. You’ve hit it hard on day one, felt that sense of accomplishment, and then get up the next morning a bit stiff, with lactic acid buildup and a hundred reasons why you should wait just a little while before you get back to that routine. This is the day when you’ve got to show up and push through it, no matter how it goes. Showing up is where committed identity is established.

      The thing is, the results may be pretty ugly. My day two was humbling and embarrassing to post, but it’s one workout in what should be a steady climb to better. What does it matter if we don’t set a PR on day two? I’m not rowing in the Olympics, and the dog walking team hasn’t called me just yet. All that matters is the streak, and you can’t get to day three without getting through day two.

      We are what we repeatedly do. That’s the only success formula that matters in a lifetime. The reason The Beatles were so prolific in the relatively brief time they were a band was because they showed up and did the work. When they slid into a distracted fog they fractured and broke up. The analogy isn’t any different for us. We must show up and do the work that calls to us, every day.

      I was talking to one of my favorite writers a few days ago and she told me she hadn’t been writing lately. I reminded her then (and now, I suppose), that writers write, every day. It’s the only way to avoid atrophy. It’s why I publish this blog every day, and check a dozen other important boxes every day. We must show up, if only to keep a promise to ourselves. There’s nothing worse than a dysfunctional relationship with our inner voice.

      Easy for me to say, right? I’ve already established the habit. But that’s just one part of a routine that is always a work in progress. We never quite reach excellence (arete), do we? All we can do is try to move closer. The rubber hits the road when we gently put our excuses on the nightstand and rise up to meet the moment.

    • BHAG At It

      “Set goals that are so big, so hairy, they make you gulp. When youre about to fall asleep, your BHAG (Big Hairy Audacious Goal) is there by your bed all hairy with glowing eyes. When you wake up its there: ‘Good morning, I am your BHAG. I own your life’. — Jim Collins

      Yesterday I set a goal for myself that was so ridiculous that I laughed. I more than doubled the lofty goal I set for myself a year ago in mileage for the summer, all for a good cause. The thing is, I did it in a calculated way, on a spreadsheet, with a key differentiator from a year ago: I’ve learned what is possible if I simply change the way I arrive.

      The answer to doing more in the same amount of time is to do work with a higher return on time invested. I love a great walk as much as anyone, but they take time. Rowing is far more efficient, and I can cover a lot more mileage in less time. If there’s a red flag in the plan, it’s big blocks of time when I’ll be away from the rowing ergometer for business and personal travel. It’s why I emphasized walking a year ago: because I can do it almost anywhere. By combining the two, but with emphasis on the rowing workouts, I can accomplish 235% more in the same amount of time. That’s what you call a big, hairy, audacious goal.

      The trick is to stop talking about what you’re going to do and get right to doing it. Just because something is possible doesn’t mean it will get done. Just like every other habit in our lives, we must consistently show up and do what we promise ourselves we’re going to do. That’s the only way to make a BHAG our friend. So gulp and get to it already.

    • When the Wind Wants to Dance

      “As the wind comes, they hoist ‘the white sail’, the sail fills, ‘and the wind and the helmsman guide the ship together’. It is an act of cooperation between man and the world, a folding in of human intention with what the world can offer. The ship is a beautifully made thing, as closely fitted as a poem, as much a mark of civilisation as any woven cloth, and the wind in the Odyssey, when it is a kind wind, is a ‘shipmate’, another member of the crew. It is not the element in which you sail but a ‘companion’ on board. The human and the devine dimensions of reality meet in it.
      And now, when I am out in the sound, and the right wind comes, I think of it like that, as something else to be welcomed aboard. That coming of the wind is a moment when you can’t help but smile, when the world turns in your favour.” — Adam Nicolson, The Mighty Dead

      There is something transcendent about being on the water—for it is here that we experience the interaction between the infinite elements and our fragile place in the world. And it’s a sure sign of spring when I look longingly towards the water. Back in my rowing days, we’d break out of the boathouse as soon as (and sometimes before) the ice was completely off the river. By this time in March, we’d be well into our rowing season and preparing for the first races of spring.

      As a rower, the wind wasn’t a friend but an adversary. You learn to deal with it, which is never a good thing to say about a healthy relationship. Later, as a sailor, I put aside my differences and began to have an admittedly dependent relationship with the wind. A sailor needs the wind far more than the wind needs the sailor, after all. But every sailor knows when the wind wants to dance with you, and when the wind wants to dance, you ought to dance.

      All of this talk reminds me that it’s been a long time since I’ve had a boat of my own. When I add up the time I was actively rowing with the time I was actively sailing, it occurs to me that I’ve been off the water far more than I’ve been on it. Yet it’s still a large part of my identity. Perhaps it’s foundational, like school—something that shapes who we become but not something we return to once we move on from it. Perhaps.

      Then again, maybe it’s like having a dog. Dogs come and go from our lives. When they’re gone we miss them deeply and adjust to our time without one. When we bring a new pup into our lives, we celebrate the void they’ve filled even as we’re chagrined by the disruption of routine and occasional destruction of home and garden that follows. A boat can cause similar disruption and destruction. No, a boat isn’t going to dig holes in the garden, but it can distract you from it long enough that the weeds take over.

      The thing is, reading passages like Nicolson’s doesn’t help my garden’s prospects either. Whether we dance with the wind or seek to avoid it in favor of still water, the water nonetheless calls. So too does the world. Now, as a land-based creature most of my days, the wind still whispers to me: Decide what to be and go be it. When the wind wants to dance, we ought to dance.

    • Paying Our Dues

      At a reunion recently an old friend I hadn’t seen in years was talking about the level of rowing she’s been doing. She turned her hands palms up and showed me the evidence in the form of blisters. Elite rowers are a tough lot, and this otherwise sweet and warm person is as mentally tough as they come.

      She asked me if I’d been rowing at all, and of course I mentioned some rowing on the ergometer and some such nonsense. She smiled, turned my palm up to the sky and called BS on me, and we both laughed. You can’t fool an elite athlete, they know when someone is paying their dues. A few turns on the rowing ergometer is not properly paying one’s dues. It’s merely a step in the right direction.

      This is true in all of our work, isn’t it? We do or we do not, as Yoda might say it. The trying is nice but we must ship our work daily for it to matter a lick. Everything else is just talk. So my elite rowing friend reminded me that there’s work to do both on the erg and in other areas of my life. When done earnestly and honestly for the time it takes, the results will show. Until then, we must stop talking and keep paying our dues.

    • Leading Indicators

      I was bragging about a blister yesterday. This wasn’t just any blister, this was a rowing-induced, thousands-of-meters-sweating-and-working blister. I haven’t had one of those in a long time. Partly, this is breaking in a new rowing ergometer with a handle that doesn’t offer the cushioning of the previous rowing ergometer’s handle. But the handle is also angled slightly, putting a subtle pressure change in a new place on my fingers. And so I celebrated the emergence of a blister. Before you click unfollow, bear with me just a bit longer.

      As you surely have guessed, the point was never the blister, but the accumulation of sweat equity that it indicates. A blister is a leading indicator of change. I’m making progress on some fitness goals, one day and one workout at a time. You may hear more about that sometime in the future. For now, there’s incremental progress and the desire to keep it going. A great habit, replacing a bad habit, does a body good.

      Positive habits means checking boxes and building streaks. You check off a mission accomplished that day, then the next, and soon you want to keep that streak alive for as long as possible. When you achieve some momentum with this and then you do miss a day or two, beginning again is all you think about. The trick is to find the things you want to do to establish that positive momentum. The rest is checking boxes.

      Except that it isn’t that simple. Life gets in the way, we get busy, or other things take priority, like that cold beer your closest friends want to have with you. Finding the time anyway is the trick, and when you do that beer tastes a lot better than it might have otherwise. In moderation anyway, for we’ve got more work to do tomorrow.

      This is what momentum does to us. This is what progression towards a goal feels like. Incremental, positive change one workout at a time. That spot where the blister is will become callused eventually, telegraphing something even more significant: long term commitment towards a healthier life.

    • A Place for Consistency

      Two weeks goes by so very quickly. If you don’t prioritize exercise you might find that the days slip by without really doing much of anything. But when you do focus on exercise, what can you accomplish in so short a time? Two weeks ago I decided to find out.

      I chose to row 5000 meters per day at 75-80% intensity. The first row reminded me that I hadn’t done it for some time, but I was patient with myself anyway. The second row reminded me that I know how to do this when I put my mind into it. And so it progressed with each row, as I relearned the rhythm of the stroke that has been with me since I was 18 years old. It works out to be roughly 500 strokes each workout, which doesn’t sound like a lot until you push yourself through them.

      And then I traveled, visiting seven states in three days. I was concerned I’d broken the habit of exercise and blown up my fortnight experiment. But I came back and hopped on and told myself to just get through it no matter what. And I hit broke my previous times during the previous streak. There’s a place for rest in your exercise routine. And there’s a place for consistency.

      The entire point is to establish the habit of movement. To pick something you love and maybe hate just a little and get after it consistently, no matter what your mind comes up with as an excuse. I used to travel a lot, so rowing was problematic for me. Then the pandemic hit and in theory I should have been rowing every day for 18 months. It turned out to be far less consistent, but I chose hiking, long walks and swimming laps as my go-to’s. Not rowing but still productive motion.

      When you do a specific exercise almost every day you learn to listen to your body instead of your mind. Your body wants to be in motion, the mind wants to be left alone. At least until you trick it into believing something within you is incomplete until you get back to it, today. And every subsequent day too.

      Today I begin another business travel journey. I know I can’t row during that time, but I can jump right back onto the erg when I return. Or not… the choice is ours, isn’t it? I have a streak to break on my next fortnight of exercise. Best to get right to it as soon as I can.

    • The Next Stroke

      “Every stroke well rowed means a better stroke next time, and so a better chance of winning the race. Every stroke well rowed is felt by all the crew and gives them confidence, and they consequently row their next stroke better; and every careless stroke rolls the boat and puts a nervousness through the crew. So Victory or Defeat depend on the next stroke.” – Steve Fairbairn

      I underlined the above quote in a book back the early 1990’s when I was coaching crew. The quote was almost certainly referenced in some practice session to remind individuals about the essential power of swing in a boat. To focus on the next stroke was all that mattered. The one after that would take care of itself, and so on. Victory or defeat depended on the next stroke. One after another, until you’ve finished the race.

      The rowing began in earnest yesterday. The goal is 100K in November, with only 5K completed. But this is achievable with a mix of 5K and 10K rows over the next twenty days. And then a bigger goal in December. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. One day at a time.

      This is my sweet spot: consistent steady state rowing over a defined period of time. I loved being on the water, and yet I row in my basement on an erg purchased over twenty years ago. I haven’t rowed in a rowing shell on the water in all that time, and yet I row still. And each stroke is a lesson.

      The erg is different from the boat in countless ways, but the essence of the rowing stroke remains the same. There’s a rhythm and fluidity to the rowing stroke that translates as well to the flywheel as it does to the check in a boat moving across water. Mastering each stroke is all that matters in rowing. You might build strategy into the race or the piece you’re rowing; start fast, drop to a pace you can maintain, pick it up with 500 to go and sprint for the last 20 strokes, but strategy falls on its face if you don’t master this stroke and the one after.

      This approach to rowing, mastering the next stroke, certainly applies to the rest of life too. Master the next call when selling, the next sentence when writing, the next step when hiking, the next stride when running. It’s all the same; consistent focus on mastering the moment at hand. The rest will take care of itself. From now until we finish the race.

    • Felling the Tree

      “Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to be.” – James Clear

      This morning the snooze alarm went off well before I was prepared to get up. I don’t use the snooze button mind you; don’t believe in it. You’re either sleeping or you’re getting up. But my wife uses the snooze button often as part of her wake-up routine. Thankfully most days I’m up well before her alarm would go off. Today was an exception. Feeling a bit worn out I was going to sleep in, until the second snooze convinced me it wasn’t possible.

      This morning I operated in slow motion. Foggy and some aches and pains. I slowly dressed to work out, walked downstairs and drank a pint of water. The internal dialogue trending towards bagging the morning workout and doing it later in the day.  I’ve heard this song before and point my feet towards the basement door, down thirteen steps and onto the erg for a row.  I row 500 meters to warm up and assess my overall condition.  My assessment isn’t good, but I stand after 500 meters and warm up the shoulders.  More aches…  but I ignore them and drop down for the burpees, slower than usual but complete, row another piece and call it a workout.  I’ve done the bare minimum, cast my vote and I’m back upstairs.  I hear the snooze going off upstairs and look at the clock.  60 minutes of snooze buttoning.  Yikes.

      On to reading stoicism, a bit of an article on Ben Franklin in London, and a bit of writing this before my wife is downstairs and off for her commute.  Habits carried the morning for me even as the mind rebelled.  The James Clear quote above stays with me more than anything else in his excellent book.  Simple, memorable wisdom in a bite-sized chunk.  I wish I’d written that.  Instead I write other words, casting votes for the type of person I wish to be.  I’m closing in on 100,000 words written in this blog, and a few thousand burpees.  I need to move beyond the bare minimum workout, which means changing other habits later in the day.  Win the morning, lose the evening and it’s a wash.  Life is too short for a wash.  With only 142 days left in 2019 there’s so much to do still.  Why settle for the bare minimum?

      I joined a group challenge with co-workers.  We all travel, and we all struggle with the balance of exercise versus caloric intake that the job seems to demand.  We’ve all agreed to lose ten pounds by the time we reach a trade show in Chicago next month or pay $20 bucks and hear about it from those who were successful.  Nothing focuses the mind like peer pressure, so I’m all in on this challenge.  But I noticed I gave myself a pass last week (after all I had five weeks to complete the challenge).  I recognized this trend – it reminded me of pulling all nighters to complete papers in college.  Wait until the last minute, then put yourself through hell to reach a goal.  You won’t fell the tree with one swing of the axe…  I like the more intelligent approach of consistent, daily action and the compound effect, and so an incremental increase in daily workload to reach the goal is in order.  Keeping it going for the rest of the 142 days offers a head start on 2020, a nice round number with some big moments scheduled.

      I’ve always been intrigued with the concept of accelerating through the curve.  In racing that means slowing down in the first half of the apex and accelerating in the second half. Using momentum to your advantage.  In life momentum starts with casting consistent, daily votes.  That applies in your career, with exercise and weight loss, and writing.  The lack of momentum also applies in each of these areas, so why build anchors when you can build kites?  Or to return to that zen philosophy, you need to chop for a long time to fell the tree, you can’t do it with one swing.