Optimal Training

Another look at the Pre Classic women's 1500m

I'm a little late in catching this article about Jenny Barringer in the USA Today.  As you know, I ranked her as the most valuable distance runner in the US prior to the outdoor season, and she most certainly did not disappoint.  She broke six collegiate records, won a US championship, and has to be considered a threat to medal at the World Championships.

She lost only one race during the year--the 1500m at the Pre Classic--but it was such a breakthrough and took place on such a big stage that it will always be the race that defined her senior season.  I was as amazed as anyone that she broke the 4-minute barrier--she clocked 3:59.90--and gave Gelete Burka a run for her money, but I think it was clear even before the race that she'd be equal to her American counterparts, all of whom broke 4:04.

So why did Barringer, an athlete who I don't believe is any more tough or talented than Anna Willard, Shannon Rowbury and Christin Wurth-Thomas, leave them in the dust in that race?  I'd argue it was her mindset going into the race, which was wholy about competing and not about time.  As she says in the USA Today article:

I went to a place of competition within myself that needed to be found and needed to come out. I just totally let go of splits and was competitive.

When you rewatch the race (embedded below), take a look at where each athlete positioned themselves during the race.  What you see is Jenny Barringer moving up to 4th at 800m and staying close to the front on that third lap--splits be damned--while Willard seemed to take a look at the clock and hold back, saving something for her kick.  (It should be noted that Rowbury ran a great race, but simply didn't have it at the finish.)  I noticed this during the race as my friend Scott and I both thought she was running a pretty risky race.

Neither Willard nor Wurth-Thomas ran poorly.  They just ran safe.  They had an idea of how fast they could run, of what they could split, and they constantly measured their performances throughout the race.  Barringer didn't do that.  She blasted through 800m close to her personal best, and simply willed herself to stay in contention.  A lot of that must be due to the confidence she'd gained throughout the year. But another part of it is the willingness to fail, to go for it without guarantee of success. 

Maybe I'm oversimplifying the race, but you can't tell me there was any difference between Willard and Barringer that day in terms of fitness, confidence or race-sharpness.  The difference was that Willard raced the clock and her competitors, while Barringer simply raced her competitors.  The irony is that it's often by ignoring the clock entirely that you beat it most soundly.

Paul Tergat on why Africans dominate

The Irish Times posted a great article about why Africans dominate distance running.  It's centered around an interview of Paul Tergat, one of the greatest runners of all time.  There are a number of interesting quotes from it, but the one I think I'll call out isn't so much about why Africans are better, but about how Tergat got into running:

“After school I joined the military, and one coach said ‘hey, young man, in the running, you are good’. He changed my life. No one in my life ever told me I was good. Growing up we struggled just to get something to eat.

“So when somebody tells you that you are good, that you have potential, it will change your life. It gave me the motivation, to believe more in myself. And I started to push myself.”

I encourage you to do two things.  First, read the article.  It's worth it.  Second, if you know someone who has the potential to do well in anything--it doesn't have to be running--make sure they know it.  Just tell them.  Sometimes that's all it takes to get them on the path to greatness.

Run! Mimichan Run!!!

Update: It looks like my sister hacked into my blog and posted one of her stinky doodles.  She'll obviously do anything to promote her site...which is a hilarious collection of weird doodles she posts everyday.

By the way, that's my cat, and those are noodles.  My cat loves curly pasta.

I think I'll classify this post in "Attitude & Motivation".  I hope seeing Mimi run will get you fired up to do the same!

Ryan Hall focuses on building mental strength

There's a great article about Ryan Hall and his preparations for Boston.  It covers Beijing, his trip to Africa and a few other aspects of his life, but this was my favorite section:

Beyond the physical demands, Mahon said, it was apparent Hall had to develop even more mental strength. He had shown such toughness in domestic events such as the Trials. Now he had to take the next step, to do so in major international races.

"Winning a major race isn't always who's the fittest on the day or who has the fastest personal time," Mahon said. "It's who knows how to compete against your competitors."

That takes time in training, and the pain of pushing yourself up the hills in the thin air - because the confidence that comes with knowing you've put in the time and you can push back the pain, Mahon said, develops both the "ability to focus" and, more important, the "ability to be a calculated risk taker."

"That," Mahon said, "is as important, if not more important, as all these other things in sport.

"The Michael Jordans, the Kobe Bryants, the Lance Armstrongs - they have that ability to put the rest of the world ... [to make it] just gray. The only thing that's in color is what they're doing that day for training and the goal that they have."

In training now, Mahon said, Hall "does that every day."

(Photo from Universal Sports)

Your unspoken goals...and how they affect your performances

There was a short, insightful post by Seth Godin a few days ago about goals that really hit home with me.  I've recreated it in full below (italics mine):

Doing goal setting with friends and colleagues is always motivating and invigorating for me. You hear things ranging from, "I want to help this village get out of poverty," or "I want to double our market share," or "I want to be financially independent."

What you rarely hear is, "I don't want to fail," "I don't want to look stupid," or "I don't want to make any mistakes."

The problem is that those goals are really common, and left unsaid, they dominate. If your goal is not to be called on in class, that's a largely achievable goal, right?

Think about how often your goal at a conference or a meeting or in a project is, "don't screw up!" or "don't make a fool of yourself and say the wrong thing." These are very easy goals to achieve, of course. Just do as little as possible. The problem is that they sabotage your real goals, the achievement ones.

It's not stupid to have a stated goal of starting several ventures that will fail, or asking three stupid questions a week, or posting a blog post that the world disagrees with. If you don't have goals like this, how exactly are you going to luck into being remarkable?

I see a lot of parallels here with regard to developing a race strategy and then executing it.  How many times have you gone into a race with a plan to run X-minute pace or to stick with That Guy, only to find yourself doing something completely different mid-race?  How often have you made a split-second decision during a race that was the opposite of what you told yourself you'd do?

You could look at these situations and say, "well, you can't overplan your races, you need to just react, to just compete."  That's more or less what Matt Tegenkamp said about his Beijing performance recently, after he didn't execute the plan he had prepared and finished 13th in Beijing.  And there's some truth to that, for sure.  But to be able to approach a race that way, you have to have no unspoken goal "not to mess it up." 

My guess is that Teg went to Beijing with spoken goals (get a medal, put yourself in a position to medal, conserve as much energy as possible in the prelims without taking unnecessary risks, etc.) but also at least one unspoken goal: don't do anything stupid that will mess everything up.  And it's that unspoken goal that paralyzes you mid-race, when you're trying--in a split second--to figure out if you're doing anything stupid or not.

I'm not trying to pick on Teg, really, and for all I know I'm wrong about his particular goals.  I do know I've gone into races where I was saying one thing (perhaps to convince myself) but reacting based on something else.  Often I was reacting based on a fear of the unknown.  ("He went already?  Should I go with him?  What if I blow up?  Or get stranded in no man's land?  Oh crap the race is over.") 

And then when the race was over, I always rationalized some external factor as being the reason things didn't go as I said they would.  ("I don't know what happened, coach.  My legs didn't feel that good and I couldn't tell my splits and he kind of surprised me and and and...")  I never said to myself, "you had an unspoken goal to run a safe race and not embarrass yourself, and you weren't ready to take the necessary risks or experience the necessary pain."

I think this idea of an unspoken goal is incredibly insightful.  It has helped me to put so much of my past running experience into a different perspective.  I encourage you to take a moment and think about whether you're not doing the same thing to yourself.  If you're not sure whether you do it or not, think about the last thing you mutter to yourself as you step to the line.  That's your unspoken goal.

I'll end by returning to Seth's last paragraph, but I'll change it for a more running-centric message:

It's not stupid to have a stated goal of running a race strategy with a losing-be-damned attitude, or making a reckless move mid-race, or even entering a race with no goals at all. If you don't set goals in open contrast to your natural approach, how exactly are you going to luck into being remarkable?

Doing goal setting with friends and colleagues is always motivating and invigorating for me. You hear things ranging from, "I want to help this village get out of poverty," or "I want to double our market share," or "I want to be financially independent."

What you rarely hear is, "I don't want to fail," "I don't want to look stupid," or "I don't want to make any mistakes."

The problem is that those goals are really common, and left unsaid, they dominate. If your goal is not to be called on in class, that's a largely achievable goal, right?

Think about how often your goal at a conference or a meeting or in a project is, "don't screw up!" or "don't make a fool of yourself and say the wrong thing." These are very easy goals to achieve, of course. Just do as little as possible. The problem is that they sabotage your real goals, the achievement ones.

It's not stupid to have a stated goal of starting several ventures that will fail, or asking three stupid questions a week, or posting a blog post that the world disagrees with. If you don't have goals like this, how exactly are you going to luck into being remarkable?

I see a lot of parallels here with regard to developing a race strategy and then executing it.  How many times have you gone into a race with a plan to run X-minute pace or to stick with That Guy, only to find yourself doing something completely different mid-race?  How often have you made a split-second decision during a race that was the opposite of what you told yourself you'd do?

You could look at these situations and say, "well, you can't overplan your races, you need to just react, to just compete."  That's more or less what Matt Tegenkamp said about his Beijing performance recently, after he didn't execute the plan he had prepared and finished 13th in Beijing.  And there's some truth to that, for sure.  But to be able to approach a race that way, you have to have no unspoken goal "not to mess it up." 

My guess is that Teg went to Beijing with spoken goals (get a medal, put yourself in a position to medal, conserve as much energy as possible in the prelims without taking unnecessary risks, etc.) but also at least one unspoken goal: don't do anything stupid that will mess everything up.  And it's that unspoken goal that paralyzes you mid-race, when you're trying--in a split second--to figure out if you're doing anything stupid or not.

I'm not trying to pick on Teg, really, and for all I know I'm wrong about his particular goals.  I do know I've gone into races where I was saying one thing (perhaps to convince myself) but reacting based on something else.  Often I was reacting based on a fear of the unknown.  ("He went already?  Should I go with him?  What if I blow up?  Or get stranded in no man's land?  Oh crap the race is over.") 

And then when the race was over, I always rationalized some external factor as being the reason things didn't go as I said they would.  ("I don't know what happened, coach.  My legs didn't feel that good and I couldn't tell my splits and he kind of surprised me and and and...")  I never said to myself, "you had an unspoken goal to run a safe race and not embarrass yourself, and you weren't ready to take the necessary risks or experience the necessary pain."

I think this idea of an unspoken goal is incredibly insightful.  It has helped me to put so much of my past running experience into a different perspective.  I encourage you to take a moment and think about whether you're not doing the same thing to yourself.  If you're not sure whether you do it or not, think about the last thing you mutter to yourself as you step to the line.  That's your unspoken goal.

I'll end by returning to Seth's last paragraph, but I'll change it for a more running-centric message:

It's not stupid to have a stated goal of running a race strategy with a losing-be-damned attitude, or making a reckless move mid-race, or even entering a race with no goals at all. If you don't set goals in open contrast to your natural approach, how exactly are you going to luck into being remarkable?

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.

It's about fitness AND confidence

I read a Runner's World interview with Washington Huskies cross country runner Anita Campbell in which she discusses the amazing season they've been having.  She stresses the importance of doing all the little things:

Mentally, Metcalf has been telling us all season "this is the time when we’re working hard, this is the time when we’ve got to make sure we do all the little things." We made sure that each and every one of us was doing everything that we needed to do early on at the season so that when we get to this point where we are now we can look and say "you know what, we did everything we were supposed to do." And we have fill [sic] confidence that Metcalf told us the right things to do. That’s something that I learned over the four years, that it’s so important to [do] all those things so your confidence at this point in the season is so high. And now you can say "my taper is going to be of benefit because all that was done and everything is going to work the way it should work, and in a week, I’m going to be the best that I’m supposed to be." [italics mine]

All the strides, drills, stretching, weight training, diet management, sleeping, and lifestyle management has a physical benefit.  Though that physical benefit might not show in a day, a week, or even a season, it is there.  The mental benefit, however, is incalculable.

Stepping to the line in a championship race is as much about mental preparation as physical preparation.  Self-doubt will derail your chances of success, faster even than many physical ailments.  And the best way to eliminate self-doubt is to know that at every point leading up to the race, you made a choice to do the extra.  You are as prepared as you can be, and there is nothing holding you back from your best performance.

Most coaches stress this.  Many athletes try to comply.  A few consistently do.  Championship teams have built up a culture around doing the little things, the extra.  Washington is going to roll on Monday, and everyone on their team knows it.  And knows why.

The (inevitable) Plateau

I had a talk with an old teammate of mine this morning who is now a college track and cross country coach.  He talked to me about how his team is experiencing what I call The Plateau.  He described it this way:

"They're going through a tough stretch.  You know, the start of the season is like when you first start dating someone.  Everything is exciting, you feel great, you're fresh.  But after a year, going to Taco Bell for dinner doesn't have the same spark.  It doesn't mean the relationship is bad, but it's easy to think something is wrong if you don't talk about it, expect it."

I think his dating analogy is a pretty good one, as each season you can have a different relationship with your running.  Especially if you are relatively inexperienced, as most high school and college runners are.  Each year and each season represent new training methods, new teammates, new coaches, and hopefully new PRs.

What is The Plateau?

In the middle of any season (or training program), runners and teams experience a period where their motivation and their performances start to level off.  Performance may even decline a bit.  It tends to happen when you've been training hard for some time, you are getting a little banged up, and you are still far from tapering (and the excitement that championship season brings).

The Plateau generally lasts for about 3-4 weeks.  But it can last even longer or you might (maaaaaybe) make it a whole season without one.  The hardest part about The Plateau is that it sneaks up on you; it's only when you're in it that you realize it.  And when you're in it, it doesn't feel like it will ever end.  I think of it as the running equivalent to a headache.

If your team is training exceptionally hard, or has taken its training to another level, you may all go through this around the same time.  If you have upped your training more than your teammates, you may go through this earlier than everyone else.

How do you know it's The Plateau?

First, nothing explicitly "happens".  Training and life continue to go on pretty much as they do.  But...

But you feel kind of blah physically.  Morning runs start slower.  Workouts seem longer and more daunting.  Suddenly, the thought of doing 5 x 1 mile isn't all that exciting.  You tell yourself things like, "I just need to get through this workout," and wonder, "Why does this feel so hard all of the sudden?" 

Second, training loses its excitement.  If you're on a college team, this seems to happen right along with midterms.  You get a little distracted, you have a little more difficulty balancing running and other activities, and you find yourself doubting the quality of your training, mostly because you don't see much improvement.  The doubt seems to come right after an inexplicably mediocre race performance.

As a coach, you begin to see athletes downplaying their own expectations before practices and spending more time in the training room.  You also often see your athletes talking about lots of other things that don't involve that day's workout and/or the upcoming races.  After all, they've been doing these workouts for months now...(insert new topic) is far more interesting.

Why does The Plateau happen?

Actually, it is just a part of the natural cycle of change.  It happens whether you are training, studying, traveling, working, dating, parenting, learning a language, or doing pretty much any hobby.  Change is never linear.  It may appear to be, if you look at someone's PRs on a year-by-year basis.  But PRs are just an indication of progress, not the progress itself.

Actual progress happens little by little, every day, in practice.  It is the accumulation of tiny, marginal improvements made on a daily basis.  The problem is, sometimes your body and mind need more of that energy to simply recover from your recent training and therefore you don't see as much change. 

The progress is happening, however.  You just won't be able to see it for a few weeks.

Preparing for The Plateau

So now that we know it's coming, how do we prepare for this?  First, you have to know that no matter how much you love what you're doing, you are bound to experience stretches in which you just don't feel like doing it.  The Plateau is inevitable.  Maybe not every season, but it will happen.  Expecting it is the first part of preparing for it.

Second, you have to believe--not just understand--that you will start feeling better and see improvement on the other side.  The worst thing you can do is let yourself get frustrated, question your training program, and start over-training.

Third, talk with your coach.  And talk with your teammates.  Knowing that others go through it is an incredibly effective way to stay positive.  Similarly, you need to be in tune with your coach so that if you start pressing--which is natural, given how much energy and passion you put into your running and what you hope to get out of it--your coach can help you to relax and pull back a bit.

Executing through The Plateau

The first three points above have to do with preparation.  The last one has to do with execution.  Optimal Training requires that you focus on each.

So fourth, focus on quality.  You're always trying to get the most out of your workouts.  But when you hit The Plateau, it becomes even more important.  Stepping up your training does not get you through The Plateau faster.

For the three hours you are at practice, make a conscious effort to focus on practice.  When you do a stretch, or a stride, or a rep, focus on that and that alone and do it as well as you can.  Focus on incremental excellence.  Every day, try to get better at doing what you do.

Then, when your practice is over, feel free to focus on the other things you need to do.  Hopefully, you've already structured the rest of your life in such a way that it won't be detrimental to your training.

One last thing

When I was a redshirt freshman at UCLA, I showed up to camp in decent shape.  I was training well and looked like I was going to make the traveling squad.  Mark Hauser, our top runner and an NCAA champion, told me what he expected from the season.

He said we'd hit rough patches where we didn't feel we were improving.  He said we'd struggle with tired legs in the middle of the season.  He said we'd run races where our performances weren't indicative of the hard work we'd put in, or the practices leading up to it.  But he also told me it is a natural part of training and that he'd gone through it every year.  He never called it The Plateau, but he didn't need a name for it.  Just taking the time to describe it helped me immeasurably when I found myself in it six weeks in.

So my last piece of advice: if you've been through The Plateau before, or you're working with runners who are going through it, take the time to discuss it with the younger runners.  As a young runner, The Plateau can be an incredibly frustrating period.  But when a young runner learns about it early in her career, it will help them to focus that much more on how to get through it.  It certainly helped me.

Shifting focus - thinking bigger

I had a rare break from work this evening and stopped by 400meteroval to see what's happening in the world of running.  It turns out, Malta has a newspaper.  Yes, I know that has nothing to do with running, but it does have to with my not knowing it.

This article caught my eye because it was titled "Stop thinking small".  I thought it was about track and field in general, but it was actually about track and field athletes.  Even better.

Apparently, Gelindo Bordin, the 1988 gold medal winner in the marathon, was in Malta and was discussing the state of the sport in general, and Maltese athletics in particular.  This one comment caught my eye:

"I think that the most difficult obstacle is your history which sets a mindset where you don't think that it is possible. The challenge is to beat that belief. I'm sure that you're still thinking small.

"If you aim for the national record in the marathon that is 2:26, then that is your limit. However, if someone convinces you that you must target a 2:11 time then you will shift focus."

I don't know much about Maltese athletes--I did read about a falcon, once--but I'm sure they are perfectly capable of running a 2:11 marathon.  But convincing someone of that, when they have no frame of reference for it, is another thing.

It's often said that nothing operates in a vacuum.  Well, no one succeeds in a vacuum, either.  The environment in which we live affects us.  If I were a Maltese coach, I'd do my best to get a couple athletes who have already run 2:11 to come train there.  The quickest way to get someone to change their frame of reference is to show them day in and day out how it's done.