Optimal Training

NY Times' Brooks on "Genius"

David Brooks of the New York Times often writes about politics and economics from a slightly right-leaning sociological view.  Today, however, he's written an article about "Genius" in which he argues for something that you and I have always known: that genius is the product of deliberate practice.  (I wrote about this when Bobby Fischer passed away.)  What makes us great is not, as he puts it, some "divine spark" but rather the ability to "develop a deliberate, strenuous, and boring practice routine."

Sounds a bit like running, to me.

Building the best runner isn't easy

I told my sister about a forum post on LetsRun about why Africans are so fast.  I think it was this one.  (There are so many, and it was a while ago...)  Anyway, people were putting forth a number of different arguments, centering on mental toughness, eons of adaptation at high altitude, smaller calf size...pretty much the gamut of possible explanations.

She took that and came up with this doodle.  I kinda like it.  See more of her quirky doodles at Pee Yoo!

If only perseverence was enough

My sister weighs in on the Nature vs Nurture argument with her doodle titled, "If only perseverance was enough".  There is some truth to this notion that can't be denied.  John Godina was never going to be Ryan Hall.  But I have to wonder if we don't sometimes assume the other guy is a race car simply because he's running race car times.  It's very easy to overlook how much effort someone else is putting into their success. 

You can see more of her "stinky doodles" at her website, Pee Yoo!  I've recently helped her set up her website, and we'd love some feedback.  Comments, ratings, and forwarding them to friends is greatly appreciated!

 

Chris Lukezic has been building his aerobic base

Chris Lukezic has been one of the US's better milers for some time, but despite his 3:33, I've never considered him to be one of the next "truly great" milers.  He didn't seem to have the speed (his 800m PR is just 1:47.75) nor the range (his 5000m PR is 13:52.60).  But that may be changing, since he's just done his first stint at altitude and he's been putting in some heavy base work.

There's a nice interview with Chris at Runner's World.  He covers a range of topics, but it's his experience in 2007-2008, and the way he views Nick Willis' performance, that offer the best lesson to other runners:

"Watching someone like Nick Willis (from New Zealand), who I raced against for the first time at the World Junior Championships in 2002, I've kind of come up with him and seen him do well but don't see him as any more talented than I am."

Chris shows me in this quote that he has the mindset of a successful individual.  He builds confidence from the successes of those he relates to, and he does not attribute their superior performances to talent, but rather to their hard work, preparation, or other variable quality.  I think we'll see more big things from Chris in the future, and given that he's only 24 years old, we could be seeing them for a long time!

Mind Over Matter -- The Scientist View vs The Athlete View

This post attempts to consolidate my thoughts on the Mind over matter? post from Ross at the Science of Sport.  He starts off the post with the following conclusion:

One thing I do know for certain is that physiologically-gifted athletes who lack mental toughness and capacity will be good but never excellent. And athletes with mental capacity off the charts who lack physiological 'hardware' will be the same.

In short, excellence requires both physical and mental abilities.  Lack either one, and you'll never be excellent.  It is important, however, to remember that he is primarily concerned with norm-referenced excellence. 

Norm-referenced excellence is excellence defined against external benchmarks, like one's competition, historical records, etc.  It's counterpart is self-referenced excellence, which is excellence defined against one's individual potential.  (For my detailed description of norm-referenced and self-referenced excellence, click here.)

The Scientist's View

So the question that Ross tackles is fundamentally different from the question I ask my readers to consider.  He asks, "To what extent is mental strength able to overcome physiological limitations in the quest to be the best in the world?"  And they come to the conclusion, rightly I believe, that the mental and the physiological are too intertwined to hazard a guess.

But this question only interests me as an hypothetical.  I do believe that the great runners of the world are physiologically gifted in a way that most people are not.  I'm not convinced that individuals from any region of the world are particularly more physiologically gifted than those from any other regions, but they are certainly exceptionally gifted.  And they marry their physiological talents with incredible mental discipline, sometimes bordering on obsession, over long periods of time.

I also believe it's important for us to continue to study the "mind vs matter" relationship, to learn what is and is not effective, and use that knowledge to improve our training and racing.  We still don't have effective techniques for measuring "mental strength", and assuming away what we don't understand to an individual's "superior mental ability" is a dangerous approach for anyone seeking to improve.  (After some thought, the nearest parallel I could come up with is the tendency to attribute the cause of an unexplainable phenomenon to God, simply because no 'scientific' explanation is readily available.)

For a great example of our willingness to attribute accomplishments to mental superiority, see Ross's brilliant breakdown of the history of Bannister's breaking the 4:00 barrier.

The Athlete's View

This blog, however, is generally attempting to answer a different question, based on a different understanding of the word "excellence".  Underlying any post is the assumption of a self-referenced definition of excellence.  I attempt to ask the question, "To what extent is mental strength required to become your best and realize your potential?" 

I prefer this question for two reasons.  First, it applies to everyone, from the high school runner just starting out to the elite athlete trying to shave a second off of the existing world record.  Second, I'm absolutely convinced that the best athletes in the world don't think about their talent at all.  They may dream about what they could accomplish in the future, and draw some measure of confidence from the notion that they are physiologically gifted.  But most of their thoughts are focused on the effort required to achieve those goals, and the mental discipline they need to apply to their lives in order to be successful.

Given that, the basic argument underlying most of my posts is that your physical talent, whether average or off the charts, can never be known unless you have mastered the "mental" side of the sport.  We can guess as to what our physiological limits are, but until we've put in the years of disciplined work, that's mere speculation.  From a norm-referenced perspective, your physiological gifts are absolutely crucial, but from a day-to-day self-referenced perspective, they're largely irrelevant.  The same can't be said for the mental side of the sport.

Conclusion: Focus on You

Neither question posed in this post is more important than the other.  They are related, yet fundamentally different.  The first seeks to answer a scientific question, whereas the second seeks to motivate behavior.  The more we know about the first, the better we will be able to adapt our approach to the second.

You may never be able to mentally overcome a physiological limitation relative to your competition.  You may never be able to trick your brain into not slowing down when you start to overheat or out-sprint an athlete who is simply faster than you are in the final kick.  But you can overcome the habits and lifestyle choices that keep you from realizing your goals and, someday, your potential. 

And whether you are an elite athlete or you just started running as a 2009 New Year's Resolution, isn't that the goal?

Mind over matter, or matter over matter?

The Science of Sport is one of the best blogs I've found on "the Internets".  They just wrote a post on Mind over Matter? that I think is certainly worth a read.  They analyze the very idea of "mental strength" (for lack of a more articulate word) over physiology, and conclude that there's really no way to know.  But don't let the obvious conclusion stop you from reading the post.  It's their analysis that is top-notch.  Here's one snippet:

For example, when you exercise on a hot day, you don't slow down because you are too hot. Rather, you slow down because if you didn't, you would get too hot. The brain works out just what is possible and then regulates pace in order to achieve the best possible performance with the least possible risk.

Now, the obvious extension of this is that if your brain makes the decision, then you can "trick" the brain, or discipline it, into delaying that decision, which would allow you to run or ride faster before that point is reached. Instead of slowing down, you'll hang in there, guts it out, suffer through the pain, because your performance will be improved. It's classic mind over matter.

Unfortunately, this doesn't work, for much the same reason that people are not very successful at committing suicide by holding their breath! It doesn't matter much how badly you want to go, your physiology will win in the end.

They've definitely given me some things to mull over.  My next post will touch on these in more detail.

Or maybe you just need to prepare differently

Asafa Powell said something I found interesting today in his pre-race interview at the Memorial Van Damme meet in Brussels, Belgium.

“I don’t know how to explain (his form in Beijing), maybe I’m just a guy for the circuit. I just don’t know how to explain it,” said Powell.

“At the Olympics, I went back into the relay and ran really well, I said to myself ‘why didn’t I feel like that in the final (of the individual 100m)’. Perhaps it’s running the rounds (at a championships) where as on the circuit you are just running once on the track. That’s all I could come up with.” (emphasis mine)

Asafa Powell has been pegged as an underachiever, given that he has run such amazingly fast times yet never won a major championship.  To be fair, he wasn't going to beat Usain Bolt in Beijing.  But he arguably should have been second instead of fifth.  And that's the crux of the argument against Powell.  It's not just that he's never won.  It's that relative to his abilities, he under-performs in championship situations.

Personally, I think the above is a telling quote.  Long-time readers of Optimal Training will know how often I talk about how high achievers and low achievers attribute their successes and failures.  At the risk of oversimplifying, high achievers attribute success to hard work and painstaking preparation.  They attribute failure to being lazy or underestimating the difficulty of the challenge.  In sum, they focus on qualities that they have some measure of control over.

Low achievers, on the other hand, tend to attribute success to luck or the relative ease of the challenge.  Yet they attribute failures to their lack of talent.  Essentially, they take no credit for their successes and blame that which is internal and unchangeable for failure.

Now take a look at that quote and tell me which group you'd put Asafa Powell into, if you only had that quote to go by.  (This is why I love reading athlete interviews...it's the only chance you get to see how they think!)  With only that quote, you'd have to put him into the "low achiever" group, wouldn't you?  He's essentially saying he doesn't have the "innate talent" for championship racing.

I'm not saying Asafa Powell is a failure or a low achiever.  He's obviously not.  He obviously believes in hard work, or he'd never have become this fast.  But equally obvious to me is that psychologically, Asafa Powell's mindset is not 100% aligned with high achievement.  He gives himself an out by blaming things outside his control when he fails.  If he really believes this (and I expect he does), then how hard will he work to change it?  (Answer: he won't, it's unchangeable!)

I don't expect Asafa Powell to win any major championships until he addresses this issue.  His problems have nothing to do with talent or being "just a guy for the circuit."  That's ridiculous.  The simple fact about his championship record is that he hasn't won because he hasn't prepared appropriately.  He may or may not have done the physical work, but he obviously hasn't done the mental work necessary to succeed. 

It's not too late--it's never too late--but it's ultimately up to him.  Is he ready to do the hard work to change his mindset?

Update: I meant to tip Jimmie at 400 Meter Oval for finding this story.  He is aggregating all the news--literally, all of it--about running over at his site.  If you're looking for a good running article, 400 Meter Oval is a great place to start.

On the Natural Superiority of Black Athletes

I discovered a used bookstore a couple miles from my home yesterday and spent some time rummaging through their $1-2 rack.  In the end, I came away with 6 books.  I thought I exercised incredible discipline, being that there were about 20 others I picked up, read the back cover, flipped through the pages, gave the page 100 test (read a bit of page 100 to see if a book is more than just a good first chapter and then junk), smelled the age of the paper, and then ultimately put back for later.

I love used bookstores.  Used bookstores love me.

One of the books I picked up was titled Why Black People Tend to Shout: Cold Facts and Wry Views from a Black Man's World by Ralph Wiley.  Ralph Wiley was a columnist for ESPN at the time of his death in 2004.  His columns weren't like other sportswriters' columns.  They simmered and popped.  There was anger, impatience, disdain...and passion.  He was primarily interested in the black athlete's experience, and he wasn't afraid to talk about it in real terms.  Sometimes those terms came off too real.  I loved those times.

Ralph Wiley was not just a sportswriter, though.  He was an essayist, and the above book is a collection of essays.  One of the essays in his book is titled, "On the Natural Superiority of Black Athletes".  More on that in a bit.

When I was a college student, I minored in Education Studies.  My primary interest was Learning Theory and understanding how and why some students excelled and others did not.  I think I applied more of what I learned to my running than my academics, but what I learned stuck with me and much of it is at the core of what I write today.  And what you are reading now.

I remember one particular course.  Actually, that's not true.  I remember one exercise from one class session of one particular course.  I no longer the teacher's name or what the course was actually about, though I do have a vague recollection of what Dallia, the exotic Persian woman who sat across from me looked like.  This particular session was about "the message implied", to give it my own title.  We analyzed situations in which something was said, but the ultimate message--the one subconsciously taken away--was often the opposite.  We used a "template" to generate these situations: To say A is (really) to say B.  You could use "really" if you felt the need to emphasize your point.  I don't remember needing to.

I also no longer remember the examples that students came up with that day, though when they said them I remember thinking to myself, "Oh, that's good," on more than one occasion.  I do remember what I came up with, however:

To say that everything important must be tested is (really) to say that anything that can't be tested is not important.

You can probably guess that I was very much passionately anti-standardized testing at that time.  I still am.  Not enough to rant and rave in a blog the way I do about running, but almost.  When my kids are in school that time will probably come.

So back to Wiley.  Wiley was the master at flipping a question or a statement on its ear and listening to the subtle message that everybody hears but no one really listens to.  And his first reaction to the question of whether or not black athletes are naturally superior was to ask why we were even asking the question.  His response, right or wrong, was that we were asking the question because we subconsciously needed to explain a phenomenon that messed with the accepted propagated social order in our world, i.e. whites are better than blacks.

He begins the essay:

"Are black people, all people of African descent but especially African-American men, naturally superior athletes?  If you are asking me, I'd have to say, not that I've noticed.  But why ask in the first place?  I want to know why black men have to be naturally superior athletes?  If we are,  it would inevitably follow that black men are naturally inferior at something else.  Like thinking." (italics his)

To say that black men are naturally superior athletes is (really) to say that black men are naturally inferior at thinking. 

If this all sounds like it's just twisted logic, that's because it is in part.  But then again, emotions aren't logical and that's what we're talking about here.  What's the emotion implied in the question?

Wiley argues that the emotion behind the question is self-preservation.  Or at least the preservation of self-respect.  We are only talking about black athletes being better genetically because to not do so would be to invite more difficult questions, the kind we don't want to face.  Later he writes:

"Before the integration of sports in this country (which came after the aberration of Jack Johnson, and began in the boxing ring with Joe Louis and in baseball with Jackie Robinson), all the testimonials were that black people were naturally inferior athletically, as in everything else.  Black men could not develop the mental discipline it took to go fifteen rounds, or play second base in a taut, 2-1 World Series game.

"Blacks wouldn't work hard enough.  Athletics had a mental side then, and a work-ethic side."

I think this is especially prevalent in distance running in America.  No self-respect is lost if you just say that Africans are genetically gifted.  "(Shrug) It can't be helped."  But if you say that all of them are working harder and mentally tougher?

Wiley goes on, primarily focusing on boxing as a microcosm for all of sports.  He argues primarily that the great fighters have historically not been determined by race but by class.  They came from poor, unassimilated communities until those communities began to experience better fortune.  Then, no more boxers.  He wonders: Does this mean blacks are naturally superior boxers, because they still do it?

To say that blacks are naturally superior athletes because they are the best is (really) to say that whites are naturally inferior because they aren't the best. 

Of course, that's not what most people are arguing.  Most people are arguing that blacks are the best because they are naturally superior and whites aren't because they are naturally inferior.  (Which itself implies that when whites are the best, they did it through hard work and mental discipline...)  But as Wiley points out, when the history and the context of the sports are taken into consideration, the best you can arrive at is the above.

Peter Snell said as much when he discussed the similarities between Kenya today and New Zealand in the 50s and 60s, when Kiwi's ruled distance running.  The differences today are comfort and means for survival.  New Zealand has both in relative abundance, and Kenya has them in relative scarcity.  For Kenyans, running provides one notable (and popular) exception.  As it used to do for New Zealanders.

As a result, Kenyans run.  Not just a few, or the ones who are "noticed" young.  They all run, even the gardeners.  Is it any surprise that the number of elite Kenyan runners is high when the pool is so large and other opportunities so scarce?  If you want to know whether or not someone is putting their all into a sport, look to see whether their survival depends on it.  When no one has life preservers and everyone has to sink or swim, you can bet you'll find some people who can damn well swim.  And really, isn't that what you see on a lot of East African running teams, playground basketball courts and inner-city boxing gyms?  People who are sinking and swimming, but counting on their abilities to survive?

I've been running a little thought experiment over in my mind as I type this.  What if you took away all the money from everyone, but offered a ridiculous fortune to the first white guy to break the world record in the 100 meters?  Or in the 10k?  Or to the first black guy to break Michael Phelps's swimming records?  Or to the first black guy to win an NHL MVP award?  And let's assume that any athlete who wanted to go for it would be given adequate equipment and coaching, and time to pursue the dream.

I know I'm asking you to do a lot of assuming.  But wouldn't a situation in which the need was great enough, the reward big enough and the opportunity available be likely to generate at least a couple people capable of accomplishing the feat?  And if you said yes, then are you really sure you need to ask whether black athletes are naturally superior?

Carol Dweck on our focus on talent

There was an article at the NY Times on Carol Dweck's research into "growth mindsets" and how leaders and great creative achievers tend to exhibit them.  Here's the key quote:

“People who believe in the power of talent tend not to fulfill their potential because they’re so concerned with looking smart and not making mistakes. But people who believe that talent can be developed are the ones who really push, stretch, confront their own mistakes and learn from them.”

I think this most certainly holds for athletes as well.  In some people, talent is visible early in their development.  In others, it requires a little more peeling back the layers before their talents really show.  The extent of any individual's true physical talents won't be visible until they've put in years of hard work, anyway.  At which point, one has to ask the question: was it the talent or the work that led to the success?

I've written more about Carol Dweck and growth mindsets here and here.  I've also read her book Mindset: The New Psychology of Success and highly recommend it to any parents, coaches or athletes interested in getting a new perspective on the minds of high achievers.

Amby on German, talent, and great distance running

I know this blog has taken on a bit of a "German Fernandez man-crush" feel this past week, so this will be my last post about German and his amazing double.  And it's not really about his double so much as how to understand his double from an Optimal Training standpoint.  So there.

Amby Burfoot writes the following about German Fernandez and great distance running:

"I think the more interesting question [about German] is: What does it mean? What are we to make of such astonishing prowess?

Here's my answer: Great distance runners are born, not made. Corollary: Training is vastly over-rated.

I've found that these aren't popular positions. It's considered much more American to believe: Dream big, work hard, and go for the gold. But there's little evidence to support the primacy of the hard-work approach for distance runners. Sure, Fernandez trains hard. So does Ryan Hall, Kara Goucher, Kenenisa Bekele, Paula Radcliffe, Haile Gebrselassie, and every other world great you can name (including the aforementioned Webb, Ritzenhein et al). What else does everyone else on this list share? They were all teenage running sensations; they were born to run.

Fast teenagers don't run fast because they have great coaches. They might be lucky, or not, in the coaching department. A bad coach can destroy a great talent, but a good coach can't create one. Nor do fast teens run fast because they have completed tens of thousands of miles of super-secret workouts aimed at their lactate threshold or vo2 max or 98 percent of their max heart rate. Most just run what they can, and race themselves into shape. They beat others because they have extraordinary talent for distance running.

I don't wholly disagree with Amby.  99.9% of the world can't run as fast as the people mentioned above.  And by can't, I mean can not.  Not physically capable.  The best of the best of the best have a rare combination of talent, passion, discipline and opportunity that others simply can't match.  Of course, if you asked me to tell you who could and who couldn't, I'd have no idea.  If I'd looked at Steve Prefontaine and been asked to judge whether he'd be as good as he was on the world level, I'd probably have said no because he was chunky and short and I inherently doubt people with bushy mustaches.  And I'd have been wrong.  And quite frankly, if you'd asked Steve Prefontaine, I think he'd have had just as much chance of being wrong, too, whatever he answered.

And I also agree that training is vastly over-rated.  It's why this isn't a blog about workouts and mileage and pacing strategies.  All that stuff is secondary.  If you look at the 50 best distance runners of all-time, you'll find 50 different training programs.  But you'll find one constant: a combination of passion and discipline that surpasses what most people are willing (or able) to put into the sport.  The super-secret workouts?  Those are just icing.

So I don't wholly disagree.

But I do take exception to one thing he writes, and it's something I've written about with regards to chess great Bobby Fischer previously.  Amby writes, "They were all teenage running sensations; they were born to run."  By "born to run" he means "freaky talented."  But what is it that defined whether or not they were "born to run"?  Was it the fact that they were successful that proves they were incredible talents?  Or was it their passion for the sport and willingness to train intensely?

To put it another way, to say someone is born to run because they are successful is like saying that it rained because the ground is wet.  In most instances, it probably was rain.  But you can't see an effect and prove the cause.

Dathan Ritzenhein ran 100-mile weeks in high school.  So did Donald Sage.  Alan Webb ran ridiculously intense speed training sessions.  Ryan Hall ran 10-mile tempo runs.  Haile Gebrselassie grew up running 10k to school and back every morning.  And who knows what Kenenisa Bekele, Hicham El Guerrouj, etc., did growing up and/or in their training.  We all know it has to be insane.

But what actually made them successful?  Was it their talent, or the work they did?  My good friend Jon Rankin didn't do that type of training in high school.  And he wasn't sensational.  But then he started training like those guys and now he's on the cusp of making an Olympic team.  Am I arguing that he's not talented?  No, he's a freak.  But all that freaky talent didn't mean anything until he got passionate and disciplined.  Nobody even knew he had this talent until he got passionate and disciplined.

Again, it's the combination of talent, passion, discipline and opportunity that matters.  Amby's right that the best of the best have talent.  I'm not refuting Amby's message so much as trying to change the emphasis.  Amby's main message isn't to "not work hard" anyway.  It's ultimately that if you find you don't have world class talent, it isn't the end of the world.  You can still be happy and productive and live a wonderful life.  In that regard I totally agree.

But if you are watching German run 4:00.29/8:34.23 and thinking you want that to be you...  And if you've got the passion and the discipline and the opportunity to go for it...  And if you have even a smidgen of a hunch of a feeling that you've got the talent, then I say this:

Dream big, work hard, and go for the gold.