You’re the sculptor. You’re the clay

The Better Self revealed (with help from 7 cliches)

Inside of you right now lives your better self.  You may only be able to glimpse them hidden away under excess weight or emotional baggage, but your better self is there.  Meeting them may take a month, it may take years… and how do we even know what our authentic self looks like?  How do they act?  How do we arrange the meeting?

Chip away the extra marble and…

As Michelangelo aptly stated ‘David was always there in the marble, I just had to remove everything that wasn’t David.’ (cliche #1)

The path to this meeting is as different for every person as the ultimate destination.  We can start with a picture of our better selves, we can start with a self assessment, or we can seek out role models.

My path to a Better Self began with a simple question: who do I want to be (physically) in 10 years?  20?

You see plenty of great runners in their 50’s and sixties but the mileage takes its toll.  Sore knees, bad backs, surgeries.   Many of us run on orthotics, with pain meds, prescriptions.  How many older runners are there who are still running fluidly?  Who can hop out of bed and run an easy 5 to 10 miles without paying for it for days.

How can I continue to run, not shuffle or waddle but RUN, for the pure joy of it?  How does one age like Wine and not become Vinegar? (#2)

Age catches up to lifters as well.  Those who continue to lift heavy all have a knee issue, or a sore back, or their shoulders chronically ache.  Runners and lifters are like Cats and Dogs(#3) (Starks and Lannisters?) but they can agree on one thing: Getting old sucks.  Things get taken away.

Wanting to be strong and fast presents a paradox.  When I increase my strength training I add muscle.  Additional muscle increases weight and requires more oxygen, making me slower over long distance.  So I run more and my body adapts to make me leaner and more energy efficient, quickly erasing strength gains.  My body is constantly shifting between strong Steve and fast Steve.

And neither running nor strength training make me more mobile.  I was so immobile while training for the Marine Corps Marathon I had constant pain in my knees and feet.  Waking up every morning I was a shuffling, plodding, heavy stepped mess.  I was the upstairs neighbor from hell whose heavy footsteps could wake you from a deep sleep. My steps were like a Jurassic Park T Rex: Thump, thump, thump.

Running and lifting are predominately performed in a single plane of motion.  The SAID principle states that your body Specifically Adapts to Imposed Demands.  When the sole demand is movement in the Sagittal plane (think arms swinging by sides, legs moving forward and back) the body ignores movement in other planes and becomes less mobile, focusing all energy on moving in a straight line (the imposed demand).

I’ve noticed in my 15 years as a private trainer that mobility and balance are the first two things to leave older clients.  They severely limit one’s ability to enjoy themselves athletically.

I was strong.  I was fast.  But I was becoming immobile.  What chips of marble should I remove to find my Better Self (fast, strong and flexible)? How can I remove them?

‘Man cannot remake himself without suffering, for he is both the marble and the sculptor.’- Alexis Carrel (#4)

We live in a new Renaissance. VIRTUTE is the name of our mission: Highlight excellence in the art of our Renaissance and open it to the maximum of people.

To find your Better Self there must be change.  Change can hurt, so what’s the big deal with adding a little bit more pain?  It already hurt to get out of bed and walk to the kitchen in the morning.

At 34 I began seriously practicing yoga.  I enrolled in teacher training.  My three reasons for undertaking a teacher training:

1- I am a private trainer and want a deep and varied skill set to assist clients.  Yoga would add to that.

2- The personal benefits of yoga practice.

3- Who the hell ever thought I’d become a yoga instructor?

My Yoga Teacher Training Squad

I took a 200 hour certification at Health Yoga Life in Beacon Hill.  It is a great program with great teachers, and I could get there on the T (I hate to drive).  I can’t say enough about this particular Teacher Training.  I found an accepting and encouraging community.  If you take a step towards helping yourself at HYL, the Teachers will take that step with you. (#5)

For the next few months I practiced, I sweated  and I studied with my classmates (pictured).  I chipped (sweated) away the marble that was not authentically me.  I am the marble and the sculptor.  It was not painless.  At times it pushed me to weariness, other times to tears.  You trust the teachers.  You trust the process.  The Better Self emerges.

The first chip of marble to fall was ego.  Yoga is not about who has the strongest practice.  It is about executing the poses to the best of your ability.  I think of my daily practice now as an exploration of where my body is that day.  It is important to seek out the poses in which I struggle, for if ‘I do what I always do I’ll be who I’ve always been.’ (#6)

It is also a humbling practice, especially in the beginning. You have to accept your body’s present limitations and work through them.

A second chip to fall was impatience.  I’ve come to find that almost every pose will unveil itself if enough persistence and patience are applied.

Mindful breath and movement bring you entirely into the present moment.  In order to execute your practice you can’t be thinking about work or home.  You have to be on your Mat and in the moment.  No multitasking.

The chips continue to fall the more I practice.  Bruce Lee said ‘its all about the daily decrease.  Eliminate the unessential.’ (#7)  My better version emerged as I eliminated ego, impatience, weight, fear, instability, tightness, limitation.  The statue becomes cleaner, more refined.

I found yoga strength (true strength): the ability to move your body fluidly (lightly) in any plain of motion.  Not just the linear push pull of weights or the linear controlled forward fall of running.   I remain lean, strong and fast.  I can move silently and in any direction (plane of motion).

I was not born flexible. If I can do it, anyone can.

My flexibility increased.  In no time I was able to move in ways I never thought possible.

My speed remains consistent but my ability to recover has improved dramatically.  No more dead legged shuffle the morning after a particularly long run.   My body is largely free of the aches and pains brought on by overuse.  Some weeks I get in 2 hours of yoga, sometimes I’ll practice as much as 4.

The search for your Better Self is a never ending journey, an exploration that will take you in several directions.  If I had defined my best self as my fastest self then my journey would have ended in college.  But the body changes, the mind seeks new challenges.  Physically my better self is refined with the deepening of my practice and it’s compliment to other endeavors, and my Better Mental Self is revealed through yoga’s continued focus on being present and exploring and challenging the self.

Deep thoughts: the Treadmill

‘Interval training.  It separates those who train from those who race.’- Once a Runner

‘The treadmill.  It separates those who run from those who jog.’- SDA

Are you a Runner or a Jogger?

This is a deep question with many different arguments for and against.  But here is a question to discover which you are.

It’s 45 degrees and slightly windy outside.  You’re at the gym.  You have an hour to get out and run.  Do you hop on the treadmill or go outside?

If you answered treadmill you are a jogger that day.  You wake up with a clean slate every day.

Do not despair fellow Harrier.  At some point we are all Joggers and likewise we all have moments where we are Runners.  I don’t bring this up to disparage you from running on a treadmill.  Noooooo.  The treadmill has uses.

-If you’re recovering from an injury.  Do you want to head out for a run, get a few miles in  only to find out your injury is still bothering you?  Only if you love long, frustrating walks home in tight pants or short shorts.

-If you’re strapped for time and need to get your run in.

-If you want to work on running form.  The treadmill is a place to run without distraction.  No pot holes, no cars, no turns, no hills (except for those you program in).  You can work on getting your stride rate up by doing a :10 stride check (aim for 15 strides on one leg over :10).

-If the weather outside is God Awful and flat out unsafe (Boston runners in February are nodding their heads).

On the cold days, on most days, most people are home doing nothing.  You got off your ass.  You’re exceptional.  Rock on Jogger.

-If you want to take the Sound test.

What is the sound test?

The sound test is simple.  How much sound are you making as you run?  Efficient running is quiet.

Loud running is inefficient.  You are more likely to get hurt (shin splints, plantar fasciitis) or injured (stress fracture or achilles tendonitis) if you run loud.

Running loud- shorten your stride.  Land on the wide, flexible part of your foot (not your heel).  Thank me later.

For bullet proof feet- these stretches/warmups will give you strong feet and relieve pain higher up the kinetic chain into your calves, knees, hips and back. Drills include: myofascial release ankle circles ankle tilts toe pulls heel circles fexion/extension waves manual release

Running loud- stretch your feet.  Here’s how (look right):

See.  It’s okay to jog on the treadmill.  Don’t make it a habit because…

The treadmill has limitations.

The major limitation of treadmill running is that the machine’s motor puts you into hip extension (fancy way of saying your leg is extended behind you).

Once your foot hits the ground underneath you it is the job of your glutes and hamstrings to pull the leg under you and propel you forward.

Sir Mix A-Lot does not approve.

The motor on the treadmill does this for you.  Your foot strikes and is swept underneath you by the machine.  The result is less activation in your glutes and hamstrings.  No Glutes and hammies = FLAT ASS.

Other limitations?

Boredom.  You can have great tunes and I bet you anything your eyes will still drift over to the clock every minute or so.

Sometimes I’m running on the treadmill and I’ll glance over at the time elapsed clock and it will read 10:15 or something like that.  And then time passes.  I keep running.  The urge to look back at the clock returns but I resist.  Eyes ahead.  Keep moving.  Another minute passes (by my account) before the urge to look returns.  I resist again.  I resist for another minute or so after that (my account) and then the urge to look is so strong I have to give in.  I have to know how much longer I have to run in place.  I glance over expecting the clock to read 16:30 or 17 minutes.

Time does not fly in school, or on a treadmill

11:35.

Well shit.

You know if I had one day left on this world and wanted to make that day last, I may just jump on the treadmill.

You run wherever you want at 5 in the morning.

You’re inside.  Your missing out on so much.  Trees, leaves, sunsets, beautiful architecture, night runs…

But wait, you say.  I can watch TV while on the treadmill.  That makes the time pass.

If you can watch TV and follow what’s going on you’re probably not running very hard.

Physical limitations?  Predictability.

SAID Principle:  The Body Specifically Adapts to Imposed Demands.

If you only ask your body to run on flat, even surfaces your body will get adapt only to run on flat even surfaces.  No pot holes, no hills, no turns, no mud, no grass, no uneven or cracked pavement.  You didn’t study for those tests.  Your foot placement is predictable so your foot may develop a limited range of motion.

If your feet have limited range of motion you’ll fail the sound test.

Final deep thought about the treadmill: it has strengths and weaknesses.

But no Runner has ever had the Best-Run-Ever on the treadmill.

Tradeoff: speed v strength

Let’s face it, Distance Runners are skinny.  Really skinny.  Like yours truly in this photo from ’01.

I had a friend test my body fat that summer and it came out to 4.5%.  I was 6’2″ of pure bone and tendon.

I remember My Mom looking at a shirtless Justin Timberlake on the cover of Rolling Stone and saying ‘Why cant you put on some muscle and look like that.’  How’s your self esteem when a member of a boy band is more jacked than you?

In the words of N’sync it is ‘Gone, baby it’s gone.’

JT pictured after months of ingesting steroids

I remember in 8th grade bragging about lifting weights three times a week for the entire summer.  My Sister’s looked at me with legitimate concern.  ‘When’s it going to work?’

I know, I know.  Sisters will bust your balls.  Trust me, this was legitimate concern not good acting.

I’ve never had a whole lot of muscle.  I’m what trainers call ‘ectomorphic‘.

Thankfully I’m a Runner and Runners don’t need a whole lot of muscle.  Muscles are heavy.  They require more oxygen,  Large muscles will not make you fast.

But being strong will help make you fast.  It won’t make you fast, mind you, but it well help.

What are the main things that make you fast?  I’m glad you asked.

You have to have the right ratio of fast twitch to slow twitch muscle fibers.  This one’s mostly genetic. Certain fibers will transition from one type to another but in the end you’re predisposed to being either strength or endurance. Your type 1 vs type 2/2b fibers  will determine your ceiling.  Unhappy with your ratio?  Take it up with Mom and Dad.

You have to metabolize oxygen efficiently.  This one you can improve with training but their is a ceiling here as well, once again determined by Mom and Dad’s chromosomes.

Elite runners are all seriously skinny.  I’ve heard that an elite runners weight is equal to twice their height in inches minus 10.

Can’t achieve that?  Don’t beat yourself up.  In the top pic I was 74″ with a bodyweight of 155.  To be elite I would have had to weigh around 134.  So I guess I was as good as I was going to get with my body.  I still had a great time and ran pretty fast for being so fat (kidding).

Lungs, Legs and a skinny (ectomorphic) body determine your ceiling.  Mileage and speed work will bring out your latent talent.  The right mileage and speedwork can really turn you into a stud.  Having a great coach and teammates to push you can cut seconds, if not minutes, off your times.

I’d guess that alot of elite runners don’t have the perfect lungs and legs.  They just work hard and take the right drugs.

Now Weightlifting will make you strong but it will also make you heavy and reduce your VO2 max.

So to answer the initial question: No, weights will not make you fast over a long race.

Being strong will though.

I watched the Massachusetts state Cross Country meet a few years ago.  As an adult, Run Coach and Trainer it was amazing to watch.  The race broke into packs early on.  You could look at the bodies of kids in each pack and see what the physical differences were that separated the groups.  You can’t look at someone and guestimate their VO2 max or their muscle fiber ratios, but you could eyeball the difference between the front pack and all who came after.

The front pack looked strong.

They had great posture and muscle definition.  They were more mature.  More muscular (cut, not big).

Being strong creates great running mechanics and more resilient muscles which increases resistance to injury and breaking down.  Strong runners can run more miles and recover quickly.

Hold up!  Don’t lift weights but get strong?  What the hell are you talking about?

Good point.  Allow me to explain.

This isn’t the type of strength you’ll come across by lifting weights.  You will come across it lifting yourself.

As in do lunges, squats, single legs squats, pushups, planks, single leg deadlifts etc.

Hint- Yoga is nothing if not lifting yourself.  Do yoga.  Hint, hint.

Some rules for runners getting strong (aside from hiring Yours Truly for Run coaching).

Running is about moving your body and your body alone.  Train that way.  Bodyweight exercises.  Don’t worry about how much you lift.

You live your life on one leg (think about it). Train your legs accordingly.

Two or three strength sessions a week will do.  They don’t have to be more than :20 long. You’ll get cut and look pretty good.

Don’t expect to gain much size if you’re running a lot.  You’ll only get frustrated.  And don’t expect to gain a ton of strength if you’re running a lot.

I have a client who came to me for strength and getting cut.  He was consistently throwing up some amazing weights and slowly but surely cutting away at his already lean waist.  Week after week he got stronger and stronger.  Then he came in one day and wanted to run the marathon.

We pivoted.

His mileage increased and his lifts dropped.

Then he lost size in his shoulders and across his chest.

He trained hard, overcame a tough knee injury in the final month of training and ran a fantastic 3:40’ish marathon on a slow/hot day in Boston.  I’d call it a 3:30 on a perfect day.

We met for a follow up session a few weeks later.

‘What’s next?’ he asked.  I looked at this once jacked guy, now skinny with visible bone structure under his shirt.

‘Why don’t you put on some muscle, look like that?’

The lesson: Want to get huge?  Don’t run high mileage.

I Know you have 5 minutes

Dear Running Man,

‘You know…I am NOT a runner!! But I need to get in better shape, and your recent post has me thinking maybe it would help me. Do you have any pointers on how to begin from a bad place.’

Great Question.  I’ll answer it twice.  Once with my head, once with my heart.

Head first.

I once sprained my ankle so badly I needed crutches to get around.  Healing was slow; it was so weak I kept re-spraining it (missing a stair or rolling it on uneven ground was all it took).  It didn’t improve for months.

The Pain was constant.  Swelling occurred daily.

This was my bad place.  Before when I felt down or depressed I could run to feel better.  The injury robbed me of that relief.  I was helpless.

I just couldn’t get well.  I thought of quitting.

But then I saw a good Doctor and things took a turn.  I stopped re-spraining my ankle and slowly got well enough to run.

Thankfully I realized that overtraining had gotten me hurt in the first place.  I was cautious on my return.

I started on January 3rd, 1999.  My Sister’s B-day.  I know the date because I kept a journal.

Thankfully the Computer I used in College was fried by a water balloon and no one can read the embarrassing stuff I stuck in there.  Goals, victories, Break ups, Crushes, Call outs.

I was unaware at the time but what I was really doing was writing my story.  The first entry it was right there.  ‘I am starting at nothing and ending a champion’.  First sentence, first entry.

I wrote with the end in mind.

Tip 1: Start a journal.  Somedays it will be a workout summary, other days it will turn into a confessional.  It is your story.  It will take twists and turns but you write the ending.

I began small: a 5 minute run on the treadmill.  I’m not a huge fan of the treadmill, but this way if my ankle hurt I didn’t have to walk home in the cold.

Tip 2: Start small.

5 minutes will get you in shape to run 10 minutes but won’t get you in shape to change your life.  It’s a start.  Don’t stop until you see the change.

Increase mileage by 10% every other week.  I somehow missed the word other in that sentence and increased too rapidly.  I was 20 and my running age was high enough that I got away with a lot, but by April problems arose.  Sidestep the problems.

Tip 3: Build slow.  Increase mileage by 10% every OTHER week.

Another lesson I missed lead me to some painful deep tissue massages and nagging pains.  That lesson is that you need adequate rest and recovery.  Low mileage/rest weeks will keep you mentally fresh and allow for some much needed physical recovery.

You can’t improve without recovering.

Tip 4: Take a low mileage week once a month.  Cross train.

Runners run long once a week.  Long is a term that is relative to your weekly mileage.

If you want to transform yourself through running nothing is more important than the long run.  Don’t skip it.

Tip 5: Your long run should be equal to 1/4 of your weekly mileage.

That is how ANY ONE can become a runner.  Start small, build slowly, do a long run, recover adequately, and write your story.  That is my clinical/scientific Head answer.

Here’s my Heart‘s:

Four years ago I was about to sign up for yoga teacher training.  Did my research, filled out my application, entered my Credit card information and everything. I slid the mouse down towards the purchase button and stopped.  I let it hover…

Self doubt stopped me cold.

Wait.  I’m barely good enough to finish a class, let alone good enough to teach yoga.  I’m not even flexible.  A single class is tough for me, How the hell can I finish a course filled with 12 hour days?   And who the hell will take a class from me should I finish?

The mouse arrow fled to the top left corner of the screen to X out.  Then a thought popped into my head:

‘Someone with less talent has done it.’

There are few people with less talent for yoga than me… but if they can do it then I’m not going to live in fear.

Champions can be inspiring.

But people with no natural ability who are courageous enough to try; They show us what’s truly possible.

I clicked on the pay link.  My life has become immeasurably better for it.

I know you have 5 minutes.  Show me what’s possible.

R.I.C.E.

You’re injured.

Or hurt.

Check out my blog on the difference.

Remember:  Don’t panic.

What next?  If you’re injured your looking at some time off.  But if you’re hurt…

HERE’S SOMETHING THAT CAN GET YOU MOVING SOON.

I have a coworker who surmised a Coach/Private Trainer’s role succinctly:  I can’t fix you but I can get you moving today.  Now there’s a small chance that something below will fix you completely (and quickly), but one or all of them should make you feel better immediately.

This ain’t what we’re talking about.

Step 1: R-I-C-E  

Rest

Ice

Compression

Elevation 

Not rice. 

R-I-C-E falls into the containment/prevention category.  Nothing here will help you run today, but it will certainly help you tomorrow and into your future recovery.  If you hurt at all during or after a run start here.  

Rest- Simple,  right?  Take time off.  A good rule of thumb is wait until pain subsides, then wait another day or two.  Test out your legs and then re-assess.  

I was at a lecture given by Mike Boyle and Dan John (two amazing strength coaches/lecturers btw).  The room was full of strength coaches, trainers, generally big dudes, bald heads, fu manchu mustaches, testosterone, and me.  I felt like I was undercover.  

Mike Boyle was speaking and the topic of runner’s came up.  Everyone in the room snickered.  ‘He-he.  Weaklings’.

 ‘A runner,’ Mike began, ‘is like someone who slams their hand in a door and hurts it.  They reluctantly stop what they are doing; they rehab their hand, they care for it, they love it, and as soon as it is feeling somewhat better they take it right back and slam it in the door again.’  Lots of laughs from the strength crowd.  

‘Ahh, silly runners…  so fragile, so dumb.’

Discover & share this What An Idiot GIF with everyone you know. GIPHY is how you search, share, discover, and create GIFs.

Cold blooded.  But accurate.  

My Sister once hurt her foot on mile 3-4 of a 14 miler.  She finished the run (and did some damage to her foot).  Why?  Runners don’t like to rest unless it’s scheduled in our training program.  

And she’s an idiot.  

Juuuuust kidding Sis.

Be smart.  There is nothing you can do in one or two workouts that will significantly change the next two months of running.  Nothing.  Your fitness is the sum product of months of work.

But there are things you can do in ONE workout that will SIGNIFICANTLY DAMAGE the next 6 MONTHS of workouts.  So rest.

Ice- get out the ice bags or stick your injured area into an icy river (I’m talking cold enough to make your foot numb in a minute.  If you live south of New Hampshire then find ice).

Compression- Throw on some compression socks or wrap up your injury in voodoo floss.  This stimulates circulation and will help with swelling and dispersal of lactic acid.  

Side note: Have compression socks become the new ‘race medals’.  I swear that people wear them out in public to be noticed.  If a runner walks into a room wearing compression socks someone is obliged to notice and ask how the run went.   I’m not hating, I’m just putting it out there.  Some of you are wearing those socks to get people to ask you about your race.  

The interesting thing about compression socks is that people respond differently to them.  Some wear them during the race or long run but takes them off afterward.  If I wear them during a long run or race I feel no different afterward, but wearing them to bed the night after a tough race/workout allows me to recover by morning. 

Training for a race?  Try wearing them at different times during your training (during/immediately after/overnight) and seeing which time produces the best results for you.  

Another compression related device that is gaining some traction is Normatec sleeves.  Remember Hammer pants?  Just fill them with air and program them to massage your legs for :10-:20 minutes.  That’s Normatec.  Or as their website states:  ‘we use compressed air to massage your limbs’.  They’re great.  They’ll get rid of your dead legs.  And yours for the low low price of about $3G’s.  If you don’t have a spare $3G’s lying around then check and see if your gym has a pair that you can use.  Equinox Sports Club has you covered.

Elevation- Runner’s legs are the sight of most injuries.  Gravity causes blood to pool in our legs.  We need to re-oxygenate that blood and rid it of toxins like lactic acid.  Lift your legs above your hurt and let gravity flush out your legs.  How to do this:

Lie on your side next to a wall.  Swing your legs up.  Scoot your butt in to touch the wall.  Voila!  Hamstring stretch/and elevation at the same time.  This is a great place to sit and think post long run. 

You can also use two yoga postures to help here:  shoulder stand (pictured, although beginners should support their lower back with their hands) and viparita kirani (place a block under your lower back and let legs hang overhead).

Or you can stack something under the foot end of your bed.  I used to say place a dictionary or a phone book under the bed posts but when’s the last time you saw a phone book.  Or a dictionary.  F#@k I’m old.  

R.I.C.E is not sexy.  Don’t overlook it because it’s basic, perfunctory, and boring.  Bottom line: it works. 

Best Run Ever

How far?
How fast?
How’d I feel?
Runners are constantly assessing their performance.
Glance at enough running magazine covers and inevitably you’ll see an article that claims it can lead you to that elusive
Best.Run.Ever.
Certain runs stick out. It all came together. These are the BEST.

What was my best?

What even makes a run the best?

These are some that stand out in my mind.

I was 18 when I toed the line for my homecoming 5k. The previous day I had 2 AP science tests, an English quiz, organized the school pep rally, and helped to organize a dance that night. I stepped to the starting line mentally fried.
This was my last race on the home course. During the Summer I had planned an all out assault on the school record of 15:45 for 3.1 miles. But life got in the way. The tests, the events… I even realized that morning that my plastic bottomed track spikes would slip on our 60% Concrete course. So I bought new shoes with Rubber soles that morning. They were a size too small but I wore them anyway.
Too much going against me. I would run faster than last year’s somewhat disappointing 16:39, but I decided the record was out of reach.
So I just ran. I went out in around 4:50 and was all alone. I ran through 2 miles in about 10:00 and began to lap other runners. It was easy. Something special was happening. There was a HUGE crowd of people on the home field for homecoming. They weren’t there to watch me specifically, but they cheered loudly as I passed. I was having a moment.
I finished in 15:43. School record. Some runs are great for the experience.

I was 21 and had qualified provisionally for Nationals in my first indoor 1500 meter run. I had run one of the fastest times in D3 so far that season and I had several fast meets ahead to improve it.
Then I took ill. Turns out that if you run 80+ miles a week in the Maine winter you may get ill (3 winters in Maine, 3 bad bouts of flu. 3 for 3. My advice to all college bound high school seniors: go somewhere warm).
So heading into my final meet I needed to run a 2 second PR to qualify for Nationals. I mapped it out lap by lap. 31.2, 62.4, 1:03.6, 2:04.8… I was going to hit each split along the way and make it happen. No doubt in my mind. Whenever I second guessed myself my mind reverted right back to the splits: 31.2, 62.4…
I recited it in the dining hall.
The bathroom.
English class.
I knew my splits cold.
Race day came. SUPER fast start. Sub 60 for the quarter, 1:56 for the half (a PR!). I smashed through 1000 meters 3 seconds under the school record. I had 500 meters to go. I was in 4th.
Self doubt crept in.
Too fast too early.
You’ve been sick.
You’re not a track guy.
The field is too fast.
I fought back. I rallied.
I ran 3:52 high for 1500 meters. My personal best by 4 seconds.
Some runs are best for the speed.

I was 27 and drunk on the first floor of Clery’s. My friend left the main bar for the basement bar and I followed him.
I was drunk.
And woozy.
And clumsy.
I fell down the stairs.
Miraculously I didn’t hurt anything.
Later that night I was talking to a girl who I remember being as attractive one moment, less attractive the next. Like that Seinfeld Episode. I didn’t get a number, I didn’t get a name.

I did remember her saying she was running a race that was going off at 8 am the next morning near my apartment.  It was around 10 pm.

I staggered home around 2 am.
7 am the next morning. I was up and could not fall back asleep. I was a little hung over but not hurting too bad.
But I was up. No matter how tight I squeezed my eyes I was not falling back asleep.
What the hell, I thought? I’ll run this race and hopefully get a sober look at this girl.
She didn’t show up. Or maybe she did and I was THAT drunk.
But I won.
I Even got a Police escort as I ran uncontested down Comm Ave in Boston.
Many runners have won races. Some have won a race while somewhat inebriated. Some have gotten a Police escort. But winning a race while hung over, after falling down a flight of stairs and getting a Police Escort, who’s done that?
Some runs are the best story.

The Rock Run

2nd place at a race no one remembers, but it was magic!

I was 31 and running the Rock Run with some friends.
The Rock Run is a relay around the circumference of Nantucket. 50 miles, 5 legs, 5 runners.
We had 4.
One of our guys dropped out to be on another team. Benedict Arnold (we’re now friends).
So someone on my team was running 2 legs. I had the most speed but…
My teammate John was training for an Ironman. He could take the extra miles.
And if he couldn’t my teammate George ran ultras. He would take the miles, no problem.
So I ran the long leg: a 12 mile leg in unforgiving heat, in deep sand that caved away underneath your feet. We were up there in the front of the pack. I gave it everything.
My team stepped up as well. With one leg left we had a slight lead over the 5 man Benedict Arnold team.
John and George looked at me.
‘We need to beat them.’
‘You give us the best chance’
‘You got this.’
I reluctantly took the baton for the final 8 miles. I had a 2-3 minute lead. The sand was a little stiffer and I could run a little faster.
But I was being pursued by fresh legs.
Fresh legs that belonged to a High school runner who would go on to win the Florida state 2 mile championship that Spring.
My legs were not fresh.
Not even close.
Every once in a while I’d pass a beach goer and hear them clap politely. ‘Go Rock Run’.
Then I’d listen for them to clap for the next runner. The closer they were the sooner the clap would come.
For 5 miles there were no claps after mine.
And then I passed a nice little family on a deserted stretch of beach.
‘Go Rock Run!’ They clapped politely.
Then about :15 seconds passed. And they clapped again. ‘Go get him.’
Sell outs.
Side note- If you look over your shoulder you’re lunch meat.
If you want to judge how close someone behind you is listen for their cheers.
I was losing ground. I was running on rotten legs. I was hurting.
But I was having fun. And when I’m having fun I’m hard to beat.
I had to dig deep but I hung in and held him off by about :08 seconds.
Sometimes the best runs are slow and painful, but fun.

I was 17 and I went for an 8 mile training run. This was before modern work out gear, wicking, rain resistant jackets. We wore cotton.
When I left the house it was cloudy and probably around 35 degrees outside.
A mile in it began to rain. Just a mist, kind of pleasant actually, but enough to soak through my cotton sweatshirt over the next 7 miles.
The temperature dropped. The misty rain became flurries of snowflakes. The moisture froze on the tree branches. I can still see the tall pine trees that lined the side of Oak street, shimmering with new formed ice.
When I got home my cotton sweatshirt was frozen stiff. I had to punch it to break up the ice before I could take it off.
I tried to tell friends how cool this all was later on but they just shrugged and said ‘running sucks’.
No one understood.
‘The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner’ is a thing, I decided.
Some runs are the best because they’re magic, but don’t expect anyone to understand.

I’ve had many other fast runs, many runs that created a moment, a story, or were just plain fun. There were great runs in my teens, my twenties and now my thirties.
With a few magical runs sprinkled in as well.
But when asked which one is the best I borrow Stevie Wonder’s answer to the question ‘What’s the best song you’ve ever written.’
Stevie: ‘I haven’t written it yet’.
And he wrote ‘As’.

What’s my best run?

I haven’t run it yet.

Are you injured or are you hurt

It’s been said there are two kinds of runners: those who are hurt, and those between injuries.

So are you hurt? Or are you injured? What’s the difference? How can you tell?

Rule # 1 when you’re injured or hurt: Don’t panic.

Injuries are emotional. I’m writing this having just gone out for an easy hour run when out of nowhere a dagger shanks into my left calf. I stop, mobilize the affected area, try to run another 10 steps and no. It’s not happening. I am scheduled to run a marathon in 26 days. My entrance check cashed yesterday.

I’m just lucky I guess.

Everything was going so well. This isn’t fair. I’ve been stretching and foam rolling. I do yoga five times a week. Why me? Why??????????

Don’t panic. Breath.  I sometimes read the teachings of great yogis and they start to get deep, and they talk about the soul, and the flow, and enlightenment and I think they’re about to reveal the meaning of life… and then POW! BANG! BOOOM!  They steer me towards 2 things (one of which is relevant here):

breathe and use your block.

There it is. The meaning of your life. Breath and use your block. No blocks in running.

So Breathe.

It’s natural to get emotional when injured or hurt, even when I know that If I take time off and get the right help I’ll be back at it in no time flat. So Take a moment, throw a fit, scream out loud and then cut the pity party and get back to work.

Rule #2 when injured or hurt: Assess risk vs reward of continuing.

Reward of me pushing through this injury: I may qualify for the Boston Marathon. Validation of my summer training.

Risk of me pushing through this injury: Prolonged discomfort. Risk of further (permanent?) injury. Risk of Surgery. Lots of rehab. Co$t of lots of rehab. Further injury impedes my enjoyment of other activities such as yoga and biking.

The decision is pretty easy. There will be other races. There will be other competitions. The smarter you are now the sooner you will be back at full speed.

Life will go on.

Barring a super human recovery I’m skipping this marathon. So be like me, take time off. Time heals most wounds. I may have to accept that this marathon is not meant to be or risk arriving to the starting line, running a slow, miserable marathon and then being injured for months while I pay for expensive rehab and neglect my yoga and cycling.

Back to the big question? Am I injured, or am I hurt? Let’s define injured:

-There is pain.

-The pain is sharp.

-There may be swelling.

-It will likely be on one side of your body (important sign).

-There was probably a traumatic incident i.e. you were tackled or you slipped and sprained your ankle.

-You can’t keep playing right away (Thank you James Caan and the writers of the Program for the above clip).

(also thank you for this scene)

Back to reality.  Even if you can keep playing, don’t keep playing. Why? Because you’re injured. When injured there is a risk of permanent damage. Your body is asking you to take a break. Bill Rodgers used to take 2-3 days off whenever some phantom pain or injury reared its ugly head. I’d say this is sound advice coming from a guy who presently has 4 more Boston Marathon victories than you or I.

Rule #3- LISTEN TO YOUR BODY

Runners suffer from something I like to call ‘Runner’s guilt’. You know that feeling you get when you didn’t get your run in. You feel anxious. You feel lazy. You feel you’re one more missed workout away from being fat.  You feel like you should ignore the pain and get that run in. It drives us to do stupid things like push through a pain because it’s only mile 4 and my running plan has me doing 14 today. Ignore your runner’s guilt. It’s just your body asking (begging) for your daily endorphin rush. I’ve never taken drugs but I bet the crave for that endorphin hit must be like a high.

You’ll be fine without it for a while. I know it’s hard but do yourself a favor.  Listen to your body and take a break. Missing one run, or even a week’s worth of runs will not set you back that far. Your body will remember your fitness. Cross training can be a beautiful thing.

Now if you’re hurt… there is pain, swelling can happen but…

-The pain is on both sides of the body.

-The pain is dull.

-You can keep playing, but you’re not playing as well bc of the pain.

-There was no one incident you can think of that caused the injury.

-More likely you began feeling run down, run down became sore, sore became painful and painful drove you to read this.

Quick aside about something mentioned above:

Rule #4 when injured or hurt: two sides bad, one side worse. One side means you’re injured. There was a specific trauma. A slip, a twist, you heard it pop. Two sides means over use. You’re hurt, but if you’re smart you can get back in fighting shape quickly. Two sides can go away quickly. Rest, a change in shoes, some time on the foam roller and you’re almost back to normal.

Now that we’ve defined Injured vs hurt, let’s define why this matters. It matters because it dictates how you should proceed.

Hurt? Proceed with Caution. Scale back your training.

Injured? Stop and reevaluate.  See a professional.

So let’s run down a few chronic running injuries and assess whether you’re injured or hurt.

We’ll start with my own injury since I can think of little else presently.

Achilles pain/achilles tendonitis: Injured. All injuries have degrees of pain. You can have mild achilles soreness or you can have the lightning bolt that’s currently streaking down my left calf whenever I put weight on it.  Achilles tendons recover slowly because the tendon has a limited blood supply. When you start to feel any type of pain here treat it as if you’re injured. If this injury worsens then you’re looking at a 6+ months of recuperating. See rule #2. Risk outweighs reward.

Shin splints: Hurt. Repetitive trauma has accumulated and every step sends strikes of pain up and down your shins. Pain is dull and on both sides. You can keep running but your runs suck.

Stress fracture: Injured. You ignored your shin splints and they steadily got worse until one side just had enough and the pain became unbearable. You could probably make it 100 yards if your life depended on it, but every step would be blessed agony.

Plantar fasciitis: Hurt. You feel fine once you get going but the first few steps after you’ve been off your feet awhile are agony. Those first few steps out of bed. Or after you’ve been at the desk. It’s like walking on shards of glass. In rare cases when this occurs on one side refer to rule #5.

Ankle sprain: Injured. There was a traumatic moment and one ankle got creamed. There is swelling.

Sore knees: Hurt. Chondromilatia. Both knees are bitching at you every step of the way. You can push through and sometimes the discomfort even subsides after a mile or two.

Sore Knee: Injured.  You could be hurt, but if it’s on one side proceed with caution.

This brings us to Injury Report rule #5: Pain refers out.

Point to where it hurts. The problem is usually above or below, and the mechanical dysfunction at that point is disrupting the kinetic chain at the site of your pain. Case in point: your knees. Tight hip flexors (too much sitting and weak glutes) are pulling on your quad muscles. The quad muscles are in turn yanking the knee joint out of optimal position.

People without hip flexor tightness are like four leaf clovers. I know they exist, I’ve heard about them and though I have trained thousands of hours and taught thousands of yoga classes I have seen very, very few.

IT Band tendonitis: Depends. One side or two? If you have IT band discomfort in both legs then check your shoes (and read my upcoming guide to buying Running shoes). If one IT band is troubling you then refer to rule #5. The IT band is a long strong piece of tissue. You could hang a piano off it and it will not stretch. So look above and below your point of injury: knees and hips to find the cause of the problem.

We’ve covered a lot. Let’s recap.

Key Questions:

One side or two?

Sharp pain or dull pain?

Is there swelling?

Can you keep playing?

If injured stop. If hurt proceed with caution.

Key rules:

Rule #1- Don’t panic.

Rule #2- Assess risk vs reward.

Rule #3- Listen to your body.

Rule #4- Two sides bad, one side worse.

Rule #5- Pain refers out I realize that one side vs two is mentioned twice. I’ll leave it as is because it’s important.

Check back soon for what to do when faced with these common runners injuries.

Embracing Failure (A Love story)

This is a blog about yoga.

It is also about failure.

Injury.

Learning to enjoy things you’re bad at.

And finally, this is about love:  A love story.

Just not the kind you expect.

I remember, clear as day, the moment I was called to a yoga mat.  I was 24.

It was a Friday.  The North End.  The Beacon Hill Athletic Club.  A cardio class was finishing up in the main studio.  Outside a group of yogis patiently awaited their turn in the studio.

He sat tall, legs spread wide in a split.  Class hadn’t even begun and yet here he was: effortlessly unfolded.

He looked happy.

I turned- took in the rest of Men in the gym.  The runners were mercilessly hammering away on their treadmills; the lifters were sweating and grunting their way through their last reps.

And then there was this guy.  Serene.  Flexible.  Calm.  He was levitating a few inches off the floor.

I could be embellishing.

At first glance you’d think that the runners and lifters were the ones doing something difficult; I’d argue that anyone can hop on a treadmill and work up a sweat, anyone can grunt and push through some resistance training sets.

Sitting upright, fully relaxed and happy in the moment; one does not come by that level of effortlessness effortlessly.

He caught me staring.

‘How long did it take you to sit like that?’ I asked.

‘Not long.’

‘You’re lucky.’

He shook his head at the mention of luck.  ‘I had a hard time touching my toes when I started.’

I waited until he had entered his yoga class before I attempted to touch my toes.  I could.  Just barely.  That Friday I took my first yoga class.

What do you think strength is?  Is it the typical male definition of strength (bench and squat #’s)?  Or can it be something else?

What is movement?

Strength, to me, is the ability to move your body gracefully (the right amount of movement at the right time) through any position you desire.  Movement is freedom.

My first yoga class taught me that I was not strong, graceful or free.  I could run fast in a straight line and push heavy weights in a single plain of motion but when it came to moving my own body through space I was limited.

Extremely limited.

How can I describe the agony of those first few classes but to say my body was at war.  With itself.

‘Breath, Relax,’ the instructor would say when my shoulders would knot in downward facing dog.

‘My breath has nothing to do with my shoulders,’ I would mutter.  Grrrrr.

‘Use your block,’ she would say when my reach exceeded my grasp.  But using the block, to me, was cheating.  My ego wouldn’t allow for training wheels.

‘Flow.’

I wanted to, but my body stubbornly refused. Every time I reached for a deeper pose or bind my body would get in it’s own way.  ‘You haven’t earned that yet.’

We’d finish the class in a seated cross legged position.  We’d raise our hands in prayer, cover our third eye and bow.

‘Namaste,’ the teacher would say.

‘Namaste,’ the class would reply.  I stayed silent.  The sanskrit names for the poses, the spirituality just weren’t authentic to me.

My ego was damaged in those first classes.  I’m an athlete; an athlete wrapped up in a traditional Male definition of strength.  Guys who did yoga wore their hair in man buns and didn’t know who Tom Brady was.  Give me a month or two and I’d be just as good as these dudes.

Wrong.

I succesfully gritted or pushed through every athletic challenge to that point in my life.  I thought the same strategy would work here.  I attempted to strain my way deeper into yoga.  I held my breath, pushed myself deeper and found out the hard way that yoga is a finesse game.  To go deeper you have to relax more, try less.

I sucked at yoga, to put it mildly.  Why did I persist?

Savasana: corpse pose.  You lie down on your back for a few minutes at the end of class.  This was the moment: the moment the war ended.  I felt my brain plunge into my subconscious; my body plunge down into the mat.

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No matter how brutal the battle, when I laid down in the end it all seemed worth it.  I felt happy.  Like I was levitating.  I could let go of my ego long enough for the bliss to take over.

This was what that guy outside of that North End class felt.  I was sure of it.

‘I love this,’ a voice in my head said.

I told you at the outset that this is a love story.  And no, I didn’t fall for yoga right away.  Sorry.  I ain’t that easy.  I fell for Jessica Adams.  Or she fell.  Into me.  Let me explain.

A few times in my life I have seen a member of the opposite sex and just known.  Known what?  I don’t know exactly.  Just that I’m gonna cross paths with this one.  It may have happened a half a dozen times in life, but here I am 39 and single.

It was immediately following one of these epic yoga battles that I was entering Park st. station.  I was standing on the top step looking down;  She on the bottom step looking up.  I just knew.  Something.

I lived in Brighton.  I usually took the B or the C line from Park street to home.  I cooooould take the D line home, but it added about a half mile (uphill) to my commute.

Of course she boarded a D line train, and of course I jumped on right behind her.  ‘What the hell?’  Would a half mile uphill walk have stopped Romeo?  William Darcy?  Johnny from Dirty Dancing?

She was a heartbreaker close up.  I debated ways I could talk to her but the car was crowded, loud, and I couldn’t summon the nerve.  We pulled into Copley.  More and more passengers crowded into the car.  She was pressed right next to me.  We made awkward eye contact, exchanged nervous smiles and then the car stopped.

Suddenly.

Screeeeeeched to a halt.  It was carnage.  People got laid out.

And I shit you not, not only did I keep my feet, but I caught her in my arms.

‘Nice to meet you.  I’m Steve.’

‘Jessica.’

You meet someone like that and you’re supposed to sail off into old age together, right?

Wrong.

We had nothing in common. And she was late.  For everything.  Drove me NUTS.

I should also mention that I, being 24 years old, was not the most mature Cat you’ve ever met.  At least I was on time.

I think we were so enamored with how we met that we overlooked that we had zero chemistry.  So we went out three or four times more than we should have.  And then (mercifully) Jessica cancelled a Friday date about an hour before we were to meet.  I can’t remember what I got up to that night, just that when the clock struck midnight I was circling my apartment building searching for a parking spot when who did I see walking with some dude down myyyy street.

‘Motherfucker…’

Again, I underline that it was a Friday; hours after one my yoga wars.  I was sore.  My head jerked right.  Quickly.  Not to see her (I knew what she looked like) but to see the guy she ditched me for (and compare myself).

My neck and shoulders were sore; I moved too fast; I was suddenly pissed off.  Craaaack.

I sprained my neck.  Parallel parking was a breeze that night.

That was the end of Jessica and Steve.

I blamed my stiff neck on my yoga wars.  So that was the end of yoga too.

For a while.

Yeah… this ain’t that kind of love story.

Think about the effect that beautiful movement has on you.

The average person spends hundreds, perhaps thousands of dollars a year celebrating movement; through sports, dance, movies.  At a cellular level our fandom is born out of appreciation for movement.  It has an effect.

How is your movement?

The good news is you can always improve.  And it’s simple.

But to improve you’ve got to change up.  Leave your comfort zone.  You’ve got to do something different not once, not twice, but nearly…

Every. Damn. Day.

And let’s get it out there: when you leave your comfort zone you’re going to fail.

You’re going to suck.

You’re going to get your ass kicked.

Because that is what learning looks like.

When you were young and learning to walk you stood up, walked a few steps, crashed, got back up, tried again.  I assume the process worked for you; you’re running now.

The brilliant thing about Children is they don’t have the capacity to take failure personally.  Yet.  Their frustration is evident, but they can’t assign greater meaning to their failure.  It allows them to be dogged.

Failure is the foundation of improvement.  When you work out you are literally tearing your muscles down; purposefully weakening yourself, pushing your muscles to the point where you can no longer do another rep, another interval, another step, so that your body can assess the imposed demand and adapt to accommodate it.

Progressive overload.  And then rebuild.  Failure is data.  What you do to acquire that data gives you a spine.

Failure (with intention) allows for one of life’s great pleasures: looking back and seeing how far you’ve come.

What if I adopted this attitude towards yoga?  What if I subverted my ego?  Allowed myself to fail?  Released myself from any expectations?

Persisted.

In her book ‘Mindset’ (reviewed by yours truly here) Carol Dweck argues there are two different mindsets: Fixed and Growth.  A fixed mindset thinks that talent and ability are fixed – unchangeable.  A mistake means you are flawed.  So a fixed mindset person goes through life avoiding failure, avoiding challenge.  A growth mindset Person sees themselves as a work in progress. They believe they are continually enhancing their intelligence, abilities and competence through effort and practice. They view challenges as learning opportunities.

‘Am I able to improve at yoga, or am I doomed to forever be tight and immobile?’

A fixed mindset told me that I was a runner, doomed to a lifetime of tight calves, hamstrings; sore knees and feet.  I would never be flexible.  I’d never be good at yoga.

7 years passed.

I was in pain.  20 years of running and a job that required countless hours on my feet had taken a toll.   I was still mercilessly hammering away miles along the Charles River; still sweating and grunting my way through last reps and sets.  It hurt to walk down stairs at the start of my day.  It hurt more to walk up them at the end of the day.  An occasional 5 minutes of stretching and some foam rolling wasn’t enough.

My movement was far from graceful; far from beautiful.

Something had to change.  My feet and knees ached constantly.  A fixed mindset lead me here.  I was ready to believe in something else.

I still thought about that guy sitting outside of the yoga room in the North End.  I wanted to move like him.  I wanted to be calm and centered.  I was ready to embrace some aspects of yoga, just not the ones I considered flaky.

How many times had I encouraged clients to step out of their comfort zones and lift, or run a 5k; Embrace things they were ‘bad’ at to serve a larger goal?  You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it, right?  I needed yoga.  I’d be a hypocrite if I avoided it.

This time I was going to be persistent.  I would not take failure personally.

I would not take the D line under any circumstance.

Growth mindset:  I am a rough draft.  A work in progress.  I can improve.  I started practicing 3 x’s a week.  2 vinyasa classes and a weekend restorative class.  I began classes the day after Xmas.  I committed.  I still wouldn’t chant ‘Om’ at the start of practice, but once in a while, at the end of class, I’d bow my head and say,

‘Namaste.’

I was coming around.  Slowly.

Expectations are the enemy of progress.  My first attempt at yoga was thwarted partially by Dear Jessica (cut to me rubbing my neck), but mostly because expectations I placed on my improvement were unrealistic.  I was 24, expecting to unravel 24 years of tightness and limited range of motion with 1 hour a week of purposeful movement.  I don’t care how gifted an athlete you are you will not get results that way.

This time I aimed lower, committed more.

‘Breathe,’ the instructor would say while I was in downward dog.  I gave up fighting the instructor.  I exhaled, felt the tension leave my body.  Catharsis.

‘Relax,’ she would say when I would furrow my brow in a deep twist or a bend.  I let go of the tension.  I moved deeper.

‘Life isn’t about the daily increase but the daily decrease.  Hack away at what is inessential.’ Bruce Lee

‘Flow,’ she would say.  It is one thing to behold beautiful movement, and quite another to embody it… If only for a sequence or a pose.  It may change your life.

You feel transcendent.

I was 31.  The age where things start to get taken away.  My hairline had receded a little.  I couldn’t recover from difficult workouts as quickly as I once could, and yet here was something physical that I was improving at.  I was feeling younger and stronger.

I accepted what I couldn’t do, but still persisted.  My hips loosened.  The pain in my knees and feet left.

‘Use your block,’ my instructor would suggest.  I let go of my ego.  I obliged.

I was perfectly happy being bad at yoga.  I even improved.

But I didn’t commit fully.  I didn’t want to be that guy.  I didn’t chant ‘Om’.  Sanskrit and alternate nostril breathing were still bullshit.

And you know the old saying, ‘women ruin everything’.  Well, I fell in love again.  For real this time.

Nope, it still ain’t that kind of love story.

I spent more and more time with this woman and less and less time on my yoga mat.

I blew off my Weds afternoon class because I was tired from a Tuesday night date.

I blew off my Saturday restorative to sleep in and then go out for brunch.

I got ‘too busy’ at work.

‘You can’t blame a man for following his dick.  It’s like blaming a compass for pointing north.’  – Robert Towne

I’d come a long way.  I didn’t throw it all away, but I did get cocky.  I didn’t give the same attention to my mat.  My practice suffered.  My body suffered.  I could still touch my toes, but that transcendent feeling you get from beautiful movement comes at a price.  I was no longer committed enough to pay.  I went back to feeling ordinary.  That familiar pain seeped back into my knees.

Another two years passed.

‘I’m thinking of becoming a yoga instructor,’ I told my father over the phone one night.  I braced myself for some joke.  None came.

Why would I expect my Dad to joke about me becoming a yoga instructor?  Well, just in case you have never been to yoga it is dominated by women.  Fit women wearing lulu lemon pants with rolled up yoga mats slung over their shoulders.  I have taught well over a thousand yoga classes in my life.  I’d say over 90% of my students have been of the fairer sex.

And there is a stigma around your typical male who takes yoga seriously.  I hinted at it earlier.  Honestly, the stigma kept me from fully committing, but you know who’s feet and knees probably didn’t hurt? North End guy.

No laughter from Dad.  I continued.

‘Yeah, you know when I did a ton of yoga a couple years ago I felt amazing.  I think it’ll be a value add for my clients and, you know, who the hell ever thought I’d become a yoga instructor, right?’

That one found it’s mark.  He laughed.

Seriously.  Who would have thought?

I had flirted with getting serious about yoga.  I started taking classes again but, realistically, classes are offered during the same hours I make my living.  So I bought a couple of yoga DVD’s and relocated my practice to the living room.

That’s the great thing about yoga (and running): you can do it anywhere.

I had regained some of my previous yoga strength and range of motion.  When my clients would ask me how to stretch their hips/hamstrings I would show them a yoga pose.

‘You should teach this,’ they’d say.

‘Huh?’  I’m the worst one in class.  I’m the guy who needs the most help.  I wake up in the morning with knees and feet so cranky I feel like I’m 90 years old.  How could I possibly teach anyone to do something I’m not good at?

A lightbulb goes off.

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‘Because you’re the worst, and if you succeed then you can inspire more than someone who came by this effortlessly.’  The voice in my head; the same one that loves savasana.

I had to teach now.  Precisely because I was the worst.  I could be the MOST AUTHENTIC TEACHER.  Much like the nutritionist who lost a ton of weight.

‘I was once tight and inflexible like you.  Now?  I’m living proof that this works.’  The genuine article.

I did a google search for Teacher Trainings in Boston and hit on ‘Health Yoga Life’ (check the links if your’e interested).  A yoga studio located on Temple street.  Sounds legit.  They were offering their first 200 hour teacher training course in Beacon Hill.  I dropped in for a class.  A HEATED class.

As if yoga wasn’t hard enough let’s up the degree of difficulty by adding temperature.  And sweat.  Lots of sweat.  I sweated so much during that first class (taught by the amazing Sara Packard) that at one point, looking down on my mat underneath me, I could see my reflection staring back at me from a pool of my own sweat.

But as I left the mat my hips no longer hurt.

My knees felt fine.

My feet were relaxed.

I went into the office and signed up.

‘That was great,’ I said to Siga Bielkus, one of the studio owners (one of my first teachers), ‘but the heat…’

‘It’s hard at first, but you’ll come to crave it.’

Imagine an icicle melting in your gut.  Every time a drop of liquid water slides off the cube you feel a jolt of adrenaline surge through your body.  This is the pre race feeling for me.  When I was young I hated it.  It made me uncomfortable.  Now it reminds me I’m alive.  Only problem was, I wasn’t racing today.  I was starting teacher training.

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8 weekends.  24 hours every weekend.  I was immersing myself in yoga, something I was never that great at.  I heard a great quote from Wayne Dyer during the writing of this blog: ‘Courage is being curious about the things that scare you.’

‘Someone with less talent has done this; and thrived.’  This is what I repeat to myself when I get in over my head.  And boy… was I in over my head.

I had three teachers: Sisters Aida, Vyda and Siga Bielkus.  I had 7 classmates.  This was basically my family for the next few months.

The first weekend of teacher training was war.  I was at war with the HEAT (95+), with fatigue (4 hour plus classes in 48 hours), with my body (still one of the worst in the room) and with my ego.  I was insecure.  I constantly compared myself, my ability, to my classmates, wanting desperately not to be the worst in the room.

‘Who would ever take a class from me?’

Everyone will; if you’re the genuine article.

That winter I did a lot of yoga.  It was far from easy.  Mandatory 3 hours of practice during the week, another 5.5 on teacher training weekends.  Then practicing as we learned the sequences.  The more I practiced the easier the war got.  The heat opened me (yes Siga- I even craved it).  Practicing through fatigue made me invincible.  I leaned on my growth mindset.  I used my block.  I breathed.  I stopped comparing myself to other students in the room and focused inward.  What can I do to improve?

‘The cost of your new self is letting go of your old self.’  I’m a guy.  I love yoga.  I may even love the spiritual/intellectual side of it.

I woke up every morning with no pain in my feet or knees.

I may not have realized it at the time but I was in search of a unique human experience:  an adventure that would bring something out of me that I hadn’t known was there.  Aren’t we all?  I had trained for marathons- but I was already a runner.  It hadn’t changed me.  I did outward bound for a week- it didn’t change me.  I searched in countless other places before I finally found it.  Yoga teacher training.  No matter how good/bad you are at yoga if you commit it will bring something out of you that you didn’t know was there.  It transformed me.  Physically.  Mentally.  Spiritually.

Health Yoga Life is a magical place for me.  Not only for the community the Bielkus sisters have created, but for the instruction I received.  Every step I took towards becoming a teacher they took alongside me.  When I succeeded they celebrated with me.  When I struggled they pushed me further.  When I needed more help they gave it to me (I’m not special either.  I’ve seen them go above and beyond for many students/teachers).

4 months of constant heated yoga practice later my classmates and I graduated.  Our final activity together was a teacher trainee led group class: We all took turns teaching part of a yoga flow to an assortment of our friends and loved ones.  I took the class, I taught my section, I laid down in savasana feeling like this:

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Minutes/hours passed in savanna (still my favorite pose) before Vyda called us back to earth.

‘Deepen your breath, wiggle your fingers and toes, let your spirit make it’s way back to the surface,’ she said.  We came back into our bodies.

‘Roll onto your right hand side into a fetal position.’  We rolled.

‘We’ll close class with one deep Om.  Together we inhale…’

Even I, the reluctant yogi, took that breath.

‘OOOOOOOOOOOOOOM’

‘Bring your hands to your third eye.’  We did.

We bowed.

‘Namaste.’

I opened my eyes (wider?).  I was a yoga instructor.

I found my teacher’s voice by mixing what I’ve learned about yoga, with what I know about training, anatomy, neurology.

I say things like ‘you’re body is a rough draft.  Every time you arrive on your mat it’s a reflection of how you’ve moved, what you’ve eaten, how you’ve slept.  Let’s shape the next draft.’

Or

‘Michaelangelo said that ‘David’ was always there in the marble, he just had to remove everything that wasn’t him.  Let’s remove all the tension, the stress that isn’t authentically you.’

Or

‘Once upon a time I was the tightest, weakest, most fearful person in this room.  But I embraced my fear.  Became curious about it.’

And now…

I’ve been practicing four to five days a week for five years.

I can touch my toes, do a headstand, a handstand, an inversion, a twist, a balance.  If I put my mind to it there isn’t a pose I can’t do (I’m a rough draft remember, it may take a month).  It ain’t always pretty but you should have seen me 6 years ago.  I could barely touch my toes when I started.

Look how far I’ve come.

What’s stopping you?

I teach six to seven classes a week.  After every practice I cover my third eye, bow and say ‘namaste’.  My eyes open.  There are my students, smiling, eyes beaming back at me.

They are serene.  Flexible.  Calm.  Floating a few inches off the floor.

No matter the weather, or what’s happening in their lives, no matter how hard we worked during class, there they are at the end, grinning wide.

Always happy.

Who woulda thought, Me, a yoga instructor?

It’s that kinda love story.

The weight of a name

‘I’m scared for you, right now.’

My Father- sitting on the sofa, leaning forward, his hands in front of him, palms down, pleading, motioning me to calm down.

Divorce wears you down eventually.

My Ex and I had amicably split up 6 months earlier.  We’d kept things civil.  No insults.  Only one blow up over the phone.

Which I had just hung up.

My Father’s hands come down to his side.

‘I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m trying to tell you.’

The only asset she and I shared was our house.  I had more equity invested, so we agreed that I could stay and attempt to pay her fair value for her end.  If I could not make that happen we’d sell.  There wasn’t even an argument.

The smart bet was on us selling.  Keeping the house would be difficult. It would be easier, smarter to sell, to walk away, but I couldn’t.

Nor could I articulate why.

That summer I had hardly run 10 miles.  I injured my back running (walking) the Boston Marathon; that had blossomed into psciatica; then I got walking pneumonia; then weeks before I was scheduled for a vacation to Paris I realized all this wasn’t just bad luck.  Stress manifests physically.  Something was wrong.

My marriage wasn’t working.

I was depressed.

Things came to a head.  We talked it over.  Rationally.  We valued different things.  This wasn’t going to work.

It was the right decision.  The depression lifted…somewhat.  My back improved.  I began running again.  I saw a therapist.

And I threw myself into work.  I had to.

She moved out. An empty house.  No furniture, save for the bed I was lying in.

Things were bad.  I had to stand above it all.  I had to look down and ask myself,

‘Who must I become to get through this?’

Keeping the house, refurnishing it from scratch, paying my spouse her fair share would cost.  A lot.

Meanwhile all my bills had just doubled.  And then there was lawyers, appraisals, court fees.

Heartache.  Depression.

I had begun working for myself a year earlier.  Things were heading in the right direction, but it was a rebuilding year.  I had invested in an expensive marketing course that had yet to bear fruit.  Money wasn’t tight, but my margin for error was close to zero.  If I was going to stay I needed to grow.  Quickly.

How the hell can I keep the house?

‘Who must I become to get through?’

I could never sell.

I couldn’t articulate why.

Be thankful for difficulty, for failure, for pain.  Without them how could you truly experience joy?  Growth?  The moments that try you end up shaping you.

You can come out leaner, sharper, more powerful.  Or you can let it dull you.  How it plays out is always up to you.

And let’s be honest about my mindset.  I was depressed.  I’ve been struggling with whether or not to share this, but Anthony Bourdain passed last week and I’d be a pussy not to admit it.  If admitting this makes me look weak to you then I suggest you read the immortal words of Mother Theresa when she bravely wrote ‘you can go fuck yourself.’  We clear?

Depression for me wasn’t like in the movies where the main character locks themselves in a moldy unfurnished apartment, forgets how to shave and shower and lives off pizza and take out.  I carried on my normal life.  I never thought about self harm, but there was no joy.  I tried to do the things that made me feel good in the past, but every run ended with back pain.  I shut off every movie I started to watch.  I put down every book I began reading.

One day I went mountain biking in the middlesex fells and a few miles in, frustrated at my inability to enjoy myself even a little, I pulled off to the side of the trail and threw my bike into the woods. I sat there with my head in my hands for an hour talking to myself,

‘You will beat this.  You will feel better.’

Lessons from running bleed into my life.

I desperately wanted to run a National qualifying 3:53 for the 1500 in college.  I’d run 3:55 2 weeks into the season and then I had just plateaued.   Week after week.  3:55, 3:56.  Couldn’t break through.

So the final week before Nationals I woke every morning and announced to myself I was running 3:53.  Every time I thought about the upcoming race I reverted to my affirmation.

I am running 3:53.  I knew it like I knew the sky was blue.

I broke down the lap splits I would run.  31.2, 62.4… I repeated them several times a day.  Memorized them.  That weekend at Wheaton college I surpassed every split.  3:52.8.

And that is where I learned how to speak things into existence.

I believe in positive affirmations.  Thoughts become things.  If you tell the world you’re great, you’re right.

If you don’t, you’re right.

Affirmations are not want or need statements.  Those just attract more want and need.  They are I am statements.

I am running 3:53.

And you have to believe what you’re saying.

Negative affirmations also work.  Thoughts become things.

I had blamed myself for a slow start in business, for my back injury.

For my marriage breaking.

I was starting fresh.  You can talk out loud in an empty house.  Time to get sharper.   My friend Alan had posted a list of 10 daily affirmations on FB.  That’s where I started.

HERE WE GO!  Day 1, new affirmations:

I’m in control of how I feel and I choose to be happy.

Something amazing will happen today.

I attract wealth easily.

I wrote some of my own:

I’m going to attract two new training clients this month.

This is my house.  I’m not leaving.

Adversity can sharpen you or dull you.  Thoughts become things.

I worked seven days a week.  I rose every morning speaking my success into existence.  I went to sleep every night listening to a Wayne Dyer lecture on subconscious affirmations.  I bought a white board and wrote down my goals.  I erased them.  Wrote them again.

Sharper.  Leaner.

To be a successful trainer you always have to be on.  You have to be knowledgeable, you have to know your cues, exercises, anatomy, but more importantly you have to be someone people want to be around.

‘Who must I become?’

I had to fake it for a minute.  I had to subvert the pain I was in.  Thankfully I’m of Irish descent.  Repression is default.

Business doubled in a month.  That repeated two months later.

I spoke my success into existence.  You will not convince me otherwise.

I was calling out affirmations, business goals.  I was surpassing them.

2 new clients one month.  3 the next.  Grow the business.  Pay off the new furniture.  Pay the tax bill.  Pay the for the appraisal.  Make X dollars in January.  Make more in February.  ‘Go go go’, ‘Can’t stop, won’t stop’, ‘I’ll rest when I’m dead’.  Adversity is a hungry adversary but no matter how much money it asked I created more.

I attract wealth easily.

The question at the outset was could I afford to stay in my home and settle all associated costs.  I had answered that.  Now the question shifted.

Would the bank let me stay there?  Could I refinance?

Remember 2008?  Yeah.  You can’t just get a mortgage anymore.

Let’s take a moment and talk about 58 Sawyer ave #3, or as I call it: home.

It’s beautiful.  And somehow, even though I passed on it and waited 2 weeks to put in a bid I was able to buy it.

Yeah… I waited 2 weeks, in Boston, and it was still available.  It was fated I would live here.

The house became more than a house.  The marriage had it’s loving moments, but there had been less and less of that the past year plus.  We had no children.  We never even merged our bank accounts.  There was no forward progress and that chipped away at me.

The only adult thing we had done was buying the house.

No matter how dysfunctional my life had been for the past few years I had put my head down and made this happen.  A beautiful top floor condo atop Jones Hill in Dorchester.  Busted my ass for two years to save for the down payment.  The moment I returned from the honeymoon I announced I was saving over a thousand dollars a month for the next year, and I was buying a house.  I spoke it into existence. I saved twice that.  I did it.  I had help, we all do, but I made it happen.

No kids, no joint assets… just the house. A symbol.  Of something.  Something I couldn’t articulate.

I had moved every two years to that point.  Lived in Brighton, Beacon Hill, South End, Dot Ave.  6 moves in 12 years.  I was ready to buy my own place, build something.

But she and I didn’t share the same values.  Or people change.  Or it was never meant to be.  Neither of us were wrong, just wrong for eachother.

So I would have to move again.

Twice that day I heard the worst possible news: There was no way I was getting a bank loan.  Those who are self employed must show two years tax returns (I had one) and enough income over those two years to satisfy the bank.  I was doing fine, but unbeknownst to me if you’re self employed lenders consider your income the amount you make after your tax deductions.

After deductions I wasn’t an attractive candidate.

I was going to have to sell.

I lashed in.

I mentioned repressing difficult feelings before.

‘No matter how justified you are in your anger or bitterness you’re still only hurting yourself’

I had repressed my feelings effectively for so long, but they were still there.

Life poured gasoline on them and dropped a lit cigarette nearby.

‘I am in control of how I feel and I choose to be happy.’

But am I?

I had been telling the world how happy I was, how locked in, and  almost believing it.  Now I couldn’t face another 14 hour day on my feet projecting relentless energy and optimism.

‘Fucking Failure.’

‘What have I done with my life?’

‘I hate myself.’

My ex called.  ‘I’m sorry to hear that you’re selling.  Is there anything I can do to help?’

Maybe she was being genuine, but that’s not what I heard.

I heard her gloating.  She hadn’t expected me to get this far.  She wanted to make this call, tell me it’s okay I failed.

We chatted politely, but the gasoline leak trickled closer to the cigarette.

‘If there is anything I can do…’

‘Honestly… You can get off the phone with me because I’m really upset at you right now and I’m in too truthful a mood.’

‘You’re angry with me?  What did I do?’

Ignition.

I suggested a few things.  She didn’t take it well.

I hung up.

Minutes later there is Dad, his hands up.  He knows how badly I want to stay in my home.  He senses my hopelessness.

‘You’ll walk away from this sale with a lot of money.  Buy another house.’

‘I want to stay here.  If I had known this is where my life was heading I would have played it differently.  Would have stayed at my old job, or skipped that marketing course.  Saved more money.’

His hands are up, palms extended.

‘I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m trying to tell you.’

The story goes that for first minute or so of my life my name was Andrew Allison, but upon meeting me my Dad yelled ‘I have to name him after me.’

I give you my name.

Here I am:

Stephen Dodge Allison… II.

Technically I should be a Jr (Jr is to be used when the child is going to have the same name as his father.  II is for when you are given the name of another family member (not the father)).  I brought this up to my Mother once:

Me: You know, technically, I’m Jr.

Mom: I gave birth to you and will call you whatever the hell I want.

Settled.

Interesting Woman Diane Allison.  Growing up she would never let me wear cool clothes.  Bart Simpson jersey?  No.  Looney Tunes jersey? No.  And sports jerseys?  Forget it.

‘You don’t wear another man’s name on your back.’

Your name is enough.  Fill your own jersey.

But I was already wearing another Man’s name.  And those shoes are impossible to fill.  Believe me, I’ve tried.

I remember being in a neighbor’s basement during a neighborhood barbecue when I was 9 or 10.  The men had gathered in the basement to watch the Kentucky Derby.

‘You know I have this kid who works for me…’ one of the men roared at the start of some story I’ve forgotten the heart of.

‘That’s nothing,’ added another, ‘You should see this kid who works for me…’ began a reply.

My first exposure to an American past time older than both horse racing and barbecues: men bullshitting.

My father watched silently from the corner, laughed when appropriate, but never added anything.  I wanted him to take part so his place at the head of the universe would be confirmed, but he was happy to observe.  We talked about it on the way home.

‘How come you never joined in?’ I asked him.

‘ You know how many men work for them?’

I shrugged.

‘5.  You know how many work for me?’

I shrugged.

‘(a number significantly higher than 5).’

Dad will never brag.  Real Gangstas don’t advertise.  So let me fill you in on SDA I:

Class president in high school.  First in his family to go to college and he went to two you may have heard of: Columbia undergrad, Tuck for grad school.  Sent 4 kids to private school.  Was ROTC in college, became a Major in the army.  And though I always knew he was in the military I only discovered he was a major when I was 36.

‘How come you never told me that?’

‘Guess it never came up.  Not a big deal.’

He had a very successful career as a CFO.

Two things I’m most proud of about my Dad: the way he took care of my Mother when she had cancer, and the fact that he has never lied to me.

The name weighs a ton.

ISL Championships: The biggest race of my senior year X-country season-  There was Dad atop the hill with a half mile to go, his leg in a cast after breaking it that fall.  He picked a spot with no other spectators.  It was me, him and a great runner from Lawrence Academy on my heels.

I was dragging.  I went out too fast, and now I was flat after two long uphill climbs.  The Lawrence runner was coming.  Blood in the water.

‘Turn the corner and sprint.  Break him now,’ he barked.

When a Major commands…

The course ducked behind a 50 M tunnel of oak trees.  For a moment I was hidden from my competitor.  The meter was on E but I sprinted.  When the Lawrence runner joined me seconds later I had doubled my lead.  That was where I won the race.

I emerged from the tunnel and doubled back toward the finish.  There was Dad, having covered about 40 of the 50 M with me (on his broken foot).

Best race of high school and I was arguably the second fastest Allison on the course.

The II.

That’s SDA II (8th grade) and SDA I wearing the tie.

Growing up I wanted to be my Dad.  I wanted to be smart like him, wanted the same job.  There were times I would emulate the way he chewed food because I thought it looked cool.  That sounds weird… I can’t even explain it, but that’s how deep it went.

We stare at our heroes.  Constantly comparing ourselves.  Dad went to Columbia.  I applied to Columbia, his school, pegged it as my #1 choice.  And failed to get in.

‘That’s ok.  I didn’t get into Bowdoin- you did.’

And that folks is arguably the reason I chose Bowdoin College.  Did I realize it at the time?

Partially.

I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in college, so I figured I’d head into the family business.  My Dad was an Econ major.  I tried Macroeconomics:  B.

Then Micro: C.

I was pulling A’s in most of my English classes.  So much for the family business.  From then on I was an English major.

We’re of different minds.  His analytical.  Mine creative.  He draws the box to feel at home.  I’m compelled to color outside of it.

As many times as I tried them on I never got his shoes to fit.

Sports were important in our family.  We weren’t encouraged to play, we were told ‘you are playing and that’s it.’  My Father was a good athlete, but injured his knee early on during his football career at Columbia.  He didn’t play again.

He did coach all of us.  And he drove us all over New England to practices and games.  He could be annoying on the sidelines, but he was always there.  Growing up more emphasis was placed on how I performed in sports than how I performed in school.

Competitive distance runners have something that can’t be taught.  Plenty of people run fast in high school off of natural ability and a desire to win.  There is a ceiling as to where talent and game day competitiveness will get you though, and it’s pretty low.  To reach that next level you have to push.  You have to run 80 to 100 miles a week, you have to grate against the heartbreak of injuries, blown races, hard practices, bad weather.  It has to be important to you.  Something deeper has to motivate you if you want to hear your name at the awards ceremony.

‘Give it up for this year’s champion…

From Thayer Academy…

From Bowdoin College…

From Braintree…

Stephen Allison.’  They never added my suffix.

I didn’t win them all, but when I ran the name became my mine.  It weighed less.

Maybe it weighed on him?

My parents dated from Junior high.  I know of one other couple like that.  I happened upon a drawer full of thier letters from when Dad was at Columbia.

I don’t remember exactly how it went so I’ll paraphrase.

‘I have a test Monday, but it’s okay, because then it’s Tuesday.  Tuesday is my favorite day.  That’s when I get to talk to you on the phone.  What’s your favorite day?’

Seriously? What. A. Geek.

I will often rewrite a text message 8x’s so I can convey how witty and charming I am.  Apparently I have been wasting my time.

The content doesn’t matter as much as the sentiment behind it.

I go with you.

As much as I’d tried to write something like that it never felt authentic.  I have forced it time and again, but love happens effortlessly or it don’t.

How can one who received such effortless love repay it.  You can’t.   You can only hope to pay it forward.

But I had just hung up the phone.

I was going to lose my house.

‘I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m trying to tell you.’ He says.  ‘You lose the house and you still win.  You get paid.  You start over.  You have a great business.  You just keep growing it, buy another house next year.’

What I said next wasn’t as articulate as what I’m about to write, so I’ll paraphrase:

‘This isn’t just a house.  This is a marriage.  It was supposed to be build me up and it didn’t.  I took a huge risk a year ago and had the rug pulled from under me.  I stared rock bottom in the eye.  I got so depressed by it I couldn’t watch a movie, or read a book, or ride my bike without throwing it into the fucking woods, but I didn’t flinch.  For whatever reason I staked my comeback on this house.  I spoke this into existence. Like I did in running, like I did when I bought this house. This defines me..  To come this far in such a short period of time and lose on a technicality hurts worse than ever.’

A moment. Then…

‘I wasn’t supposed to just wear this name.  I’m supposed to pass it on.’

He took it all in, weighing what to say next.

‘I saw you struggle.  Saw it for months.  Saw it before you did.  And if you don’t know how proud I am of how you’ve come back then I don’t think you’re hearing what I’m trying to tell you.  But first I had to see you do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘Pay your bills.  Get your self esteem back.  Handle this on your own.  I couldn’t help you live here if it made you miserable.  What you’ve done is remarkable.  You’ve proven you can handle it.  I can help you.’

‘I dont want money.’

‘And I’m not offering money.  I’m co-signing your mortgage.’

I give you my name.

No one gets through life alone.  Everyone gets help.

I had help from Rachel, from Jamie, Lyndsey, from Cassie.

From SDA I.

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner is a thing.  It’s incredibly hard to open up, to be vulnerable.  But everyone gets help.

‘Who must I become to get through this?’

It’s been almost a year.  The ink is dry on the divorce.  I own my home.  Work is thriving.

I’m walking to work, the song ‘Thank You’ by Alanis Morrisette shuffles on.  5 am, I’m walking down Savin hill ave ‘unabashedly bawling my eyes out’.

Because I’m grateful.  I’m grateful for every fucking miserable moment.

I didn’t have an option; this experience forced me to become leaner.  Sharper.  Stronger.  More vulnerable.  And now I speak my new self into existence.

HERE WE GO! Day 1: new affirmations:

I wear the name Stephen Dodge Allison.  I wear everything that comes with it.

Happy Father’s day.

To everyone suffering from depression- become who you have to be.  Don’t give up.

Born Teacher

I have so much anger right now and I don’t know what to do with it.

How many people out there openly ask the world to kill them… and yet here they are. They drink too much, they drug too much, the eat too much, drive too fast, sleep too little, stay out too late. They don’t even move. They can’t even move.

And YOU have a heart attack? You?

You who I once saw hold a back bend for over 5 minutes.

You who promoted meditation and self care. You who LIVED what you talked about?

Where’s the logic? Where’s the justice? Every day I see people whose behavior screams ‘KILL ME!’

and the Universe took you.

It’s all bullshit then. All the namastes. All the deep breath. All the pseudo philosophy we throw out in class straining to be profound. 

We’re empty, aren’t we? 

If this can happen then none of it’s real. We’re deluding ourselves. Worse, we’re deluding the students who trust us.

You’d say no. You believed. You believed 100%. You Loved it. You lived it.

And yet here we are.

I want to believe again…

If you believed so much I wish you’d show me. Enlighten me. Please.

Teach me.

You, my favorite teacher. I didn’t realize it until someone told me you were gone. Please, one last lesson. How could everything we believed in fail you so utterly?

No pithy quotes about loving yourself and living a full life. You lived that, you said those. 

You’re still gone. We’re heartbroken.

I didn’t cry when my own Mother passed but I cried like a baby after I got the call about you Sunday night.

I didn’t cry about Mom for years. Not until that moment in Teacher Training when my mind went to that dark place it would go whenever I thought about her. You, my teacher, were trying to assist me and I backed you off. Not politely.

‘What’s wrong?’ you asked.

I can’t remember what I said after that. All I remember is that you INSISTED I get in front of the class and teach at that moment.

‘Use whatever it is. Now.’

Teach from your heart. That was just a pithy quote before you.

And so I began to teach. At first I was going to bullshit my way through it, not share what was really on my mind, but something in the way you looked at me made me certain that you would see through it. And I knew you’d keep me up there until it came out.

So I began teaching a yoga sequence. And I spoke about how my body felt locked up because my mind was in the dark place. I had been using yoga to push through it. I admitted to the class that it had been years since Mom passed and I couldn’t cry. 

Then the tears came. 

And I pushed through sobs to complete the sequence. I sat down. We stopped. You stood in front of the class.

‘That was the most powerful, heartfelt, thing I’ve ever experience in a yoga class,’ you said.

My face was covered in tears but I had never felt like more of a Man. The dark place was gone forever.

You brought that out of me. 

That and a hundred moments like it make you the best teacher I’ve ever had.

So many students would agree. The ones who you took time to teach over Skype, or on a Friday night after work because we weren’t ready to teach yet, but you saw something inside of us.

And everything we believed in somehow failed… You were in your prime. Your beautiful kids are teenagers. You had more lives to change.

It was not your time.

This doesn’t make sense. One more lesson or it all meant nothing.

Breathe, you’d say.

Relax, you’d say.

Use whatever this is, NOW.

I’d say I LOVE YOU. Like you were FAMILY.

And I’d say everyone needs to come to my next class because I had a teacher who LOVED me and made me feel amazing. She was there for me through tough times and amazing times and I need to SHARE THAT.

PLEASE! 

I’ll come early. I’ll stay late. I’ll listen. I won’t judge. I’ll offer what advice I can. I’ll see through your excuses. I’ll make you uncomfortable until you have your breakthrough.

I’ll tell you that no matter what is wrong you’ll never feel worse about it after class.

Please let me share this LOVE.

Then I can believe again.

RIP Aida Bielkus.

Mother. Daughter. Sister.

Born Teacher.

Relieve your sore neck and shoulders in seconds

It’s Saturday. I’m driving down Morrissey blvd. Traffic is light.

It happens in slow motion. A squeal, tires on pavement. A blue sedan hops into traffic and directly into the path of the white van in front of me. It’s a cut off. The Sedan has a death wish. The van swerves, brakes and I’m about to smash into the Van’s rear end.

VISION IS A SKILL

I never thought vision could improve. I thought that the quality of your sight was a trick of fate. You either have good eye sight or you don’t.

I was wrong.

There are some components of vision that are inherited at birth. Some of us can see clearer than others. Such is life. As I grew older and my distance vision faded I resigned myself to thicker glasses like there was nothing I could do about it. To a large extent clarity is only correctible through corrective lenses or surgery. But your eyes move around in your head. That movement is controlled by muscles. Muscles can be trained.

Furthermore the quality of your eye movement can affect how you move. If you see better out of your left eye you may find your head tilting to the right as you bring that left eye further to the center. Near sighted people often squint, shrug the shoulders, and crane the neck forward to see things better. These postures can become more or less permanent if they are repeated day after day year after year.

Vision is very important to good movement and can make the difference between a good athlete and a great one. Adequate movement and fluid movement. Consider that the vision coach for the Carolina Hurricanes tested his entire team and then listed the scores from highest to lowest on a blackboard. Next to that he wrote the salaries of the players from highest to lowest. He could draw a straight line from high vision scores to high salaries. The players who could see best could play best. That gives new meaning to the Wayne Gretzky quote:

I’m willing to bet Wayne could see exactly where the puck was heading, at what speed, relative to his speed, without having to turn his head, better than anyone else. He could find the puck better, and faster and that played a role in his greatness.

Consider that all the members of the US Pan Am Baseball tested by the same Doctor above had the highest measurable vision clarity score (20/8). Pretty sure that lets you see the seams on the ball as it speeds to the plate at 100 mph. You can’t hit what you can’t see.

Consider a college football program that taught peripheral vision to it’s athletes and saw concussions fall from 30 to 1 over 2 years. The players’ blindsides got smaller; they could see the tough hits coming with enough time to protect themselves or move out of the way.

Consider the basketball or Soccer player who is described as ‘having eyes in the back of their head’; An aphorism for amazing peripheral vision skills.

I’ll do one more, and it’s personal. My senior season of Cross Country I was in the best shape of my life. I ran my 2nd fastest mile ever in the first mile of a 5 mile race. But I consistently underperformed. I raced maybe 6 times, and 4 of those races I got dry heaves or puked mid race and it effected my times and my confidence.

I thought I was a head case (well… more than usual).

I never considered it could be my vision.

Fast forward 15 years and I’m studying vision drills and their importance in movement and it dawns on me, Junior year I ran great but three times I nearly ran the wrong way (thank you to those who redirected me). My distance vision was, and is, terrible. Senior season I got contacts. Senior season I began to dry heave. I decided, years later, the reason I was dry heaving was because with my corrected vision I was overstimulated visually.

If only I could prove my theory.

A few years ago my friend Kim texts me. She is dry heaving or puking on almost every run. She doesn’t know what’s going on. I asked some questions about what she was eating, when she was eating. Nothing made sense. Then I asked her if she had begun wearing contacts or had lasik.

She had new contacts.

She didn’t wear them on the next run. No dry heave.

BOOM!

Long story short: vision effects movement.

Rounded shoulders and a stooped spine happen when we feel threatened. The hard portions of our body cover the soft ones.

For ages I have had a basic understanding of why this works. If you can see the world clearly your mind and body relax. If you can’t your body goes into threat posture. Threat posture rounds the shoulders forward and stoops the spine.

Another reason these work: If your eye muscles move well then you rely less on the neck and shoulders to position you to see. The neck and shoulders muscles aren’t overworked/strained.

Do you have a tight neck and shoulders that massage work, corrective exercise and stretching just won’t help? Perhaps you can fix yourself in seconds with some vision drills. I’ve seen some truly shocking improvements in neck/shoulder range of motion after doing just a simple set of 5 pencil pushups.

The skills to track objects, coordinate vision with movement, see peripherally, change focus from close to far away and back, follow objects without moving your head or neck, or just stare at objects can improve and the results can CHANGE YOUR LIFE.

If you have a stiff neck or limited range of motion in your shoulders take 2 minutes, watch these quick demos and see if you improve.

PENCIL PUSHUPS

NEAR/FAR DRILLS

EYE CIRCLES

MAYBE I’LL TRY OUT FOR THE BRUINS?

The stories of how much vision affects fluid movement has me thinking, ‘Maybe if I clean up my vision I can try out for the Bruins’. So for the past month I’ve been exercising my eyes muscles with the vision gym from Z Health. I take 20 minutes every day and follow along with 12 drills and 2 resets. Heading into my “workouts” I was aware that I had some problems/deficits. If I stand close to someone they often double and I have to adjust my stance or close one eye to see them clearly. This makes eye contact a chore sometimes. It was difficult to track objects without moving my head. I quickly lose focus on objects or the object immediately splits and I see two objects. My peripheral vision is good on the right side, non existent on the left.

Doing pencil Pushups. Feeling cute, might delete later. Kidding aside doing this exercise has really cleaned up some visual deficits I have.

I’ve been diligent. I do my drills every day. Over the past month my performance in almost every drill has improved. The objects I track split in two significantly less. I can change focus quicker. I was FINALLY able to see an image in a magic eye painting. My peripheral vision has improved significantly. I can stand close to someone without seeing them in stereo.

THE EFFECT ON PEOPLE WITH SHOULDER AND NECK TENSION

These drills have an amazing effect on clients with neck and shoulder tension. I’ve seen clients who can barely shift their neck two inches to either side improve their range and quality of Motion significantly with one simple drill.

Do them every day and you will be pleased with the results.

Fortunately I’ve never had any neck or shoulder issues worse than the occasional stiffness after a weird night’s sleep. The drills haven’t cleaned up any lingering issues for me. I have noticed my neck range motion is better, but truthfully, it wasn’t bad before.

So how to assess my personal value of doing vision drills?

DID THE DRILLS WORK?

I’m in the car. Morrissey Blvd.

The blue car cuts off the van.

Truth be told I saw the blue car cut off the van before it happened (peripheral vision training). I kept my eyes on that situation while I checked if there was another car to my left (peripheral vision again). I’m able to see the left hand lane without taking my eyes off the fast approaching van (eye switches). I judge the distance between myself and the van to be sufficient to allow me to stop (depth perception) but instead adjusted the path of the car without over correcting (depth perception/hand eye coordination/change in focus). I drove safely from the scene.

Or maybe it was fight or flight instincts. I’ll never know 100%. I believe my training helped.

CONCLUSION:

Vision is a skill. It can be trained and it can be improved. The drills are a tad monotonous but should I ever get neck tightness, shoulder pain, or a tryout with the Bruins I know I’m heading straight back to the vision gym.

5 Nutrition Habits to energize, slim down, and feel great.

Let's not waste any time.  The 5 Habits are:

Each bolded habit is also a hyperlink to a more in depth discussion.

1- Eat Whole Foods, minimally processed: Why? Whole Foods can be directly traced to the earth or an animal.  Our body knows how to digest them.  Food that comes in a bag or a box has only been around for 50-60 years (during which time obesity has skyrocketed).  Our body hasn't figured out how to digest this food properly yet.
2- Eat lean protein at every meal: Why?  Your body is constantly refurbishing itself.  You have new skin and muscles every few months.  Protein is the building block to rebuild.  Make sure the newest version of you is optimal.  Also- protein is sating.  You'll feel full after you eat it and won't need a snack.
3- Eat slowly: Why?  Eating slowly not only allows you to savor your food, It keeps you from over consumption.  Eating slow allows you to realize how full your stomach is.  So eat left handed.
4- Stop at 80% full: Why?  Noticing a pattern?  Protein fills you up, eating slow lets you notice how full you are, and now you're stopping before you've over eaten.  Weight loss is all about the calorie deficit; and determining your calorie consumption is an inexact science at best.  This method is also inexact, but at least you don't need to break out a calculator.
5- Earn your carbs- Why?  Our body digests carbs more efficiently immediately after a workout.  This is called the anabolic window of opportunity.  You need carbs.  They should be around 50% of your total food intake.  Maximize their uptake by waiting until after you've worked out.
Bonus Habit
Eat like an adult- Why?  This can mean a lot of things.  What does it mean to you?
To me this means take responsibility for the state of your diet.  You do the shopping, you make the choices, you've earned the body and the energy that you have.  Now that you've accepted credit make the necessary changes.  Try any of these habits above and you'll see/feel a positive result.
Personally this meant cutting out processed sugar.  I was eating M&M's, and ice cream, and muffins... and I was always tired.  So I manned up and cut out the sh*t they sell in cartoon commercials.  Those commercials aren't aimed at me, and those foods don't make me feel good.

If you do what youve always done you'll be who you've always been.  Start by loving the person you are, and then try on some new habits to be healthier, slimmer and more energetic.

The best shape of my life

How'd I break loose? I Killed my ego.

When was I in the best shape of my adult life?

That's easy.  Yoga teacher training.

I completed over 200 hours of hot (100+ degrees) yoga over a 4 month period.  For 8 weekends I would take 4 individual classes (5.5 hours) on top of practice teaching another 10+ hours.  There was another 3 hours of required weekday yoga and somehow I scheduled in (some) half marathon training.

4 months remodeled a runner who could hardly sit cross legged into an athlete who could not only run, he could relax and hold deep bends, folds, and twists.  I have never felt more confident/comfortable in my body.  I slept through the nights and awoke without stiffness or soreness, ready for more.

What was the recipe?  It was the hours sweating on my mat.  

No wait, it was the miles on the treadmill. 

No wait!  More than anything it was the death of my ego.  

I sucked at yoga (I wrote all about it HERE).  I stuck out in class, and not just because I was a guy taking yoga.  I was the WORST, every time.  But I knew it was valuable.  I knew I wanted to move and feel like a yogi.  So I decided it was okay to fail at yoga.  No matter how humbling the experience it would be worth it.

I modified poses I couldn't do; I took breaks when needed; I embraced the kickstands yoga provides (the block, the strap, the bolster).  You know the ending.  I got into the best shape because I ditched my ego, embraced being a beginner and allowed myself to fail.  And fail.  And fail a little more.  But letting go of my ego in yoga was easy.  I had no emotional stake in my ability to do a Warrior pose so I wasn't upset by my failures.  I wondered what would happen if I ditched my ego in something I actually had an ego about?  

How much do you bench?

This is the way Men qualify their strength.  Not the 40 yard dash, not pushups, not the mile, not chin ups.  The bench press.  It was the measure of your manhood when I was a teen, as tt was when my Dad was young, as it is for my 16 year old nephew.  There are other ways to judge strength; but this is THE way.  

My bench was truly unimpressive.

There were times I would train it.  I'd throw a bunch of plates I couldn't lift well onto the bar; too insecure to train at the weight I should.  Instead of lifting smart at lower weights I'd tweak my back, or shoulder trying to look strong.  

The Bench spotlights every weakness inherent in my frame.  Benchers have barrel chests, thick, bulging arms, stacked on solid, muscular torsos.  I'm skinny with long arms and a bony frame; though I know that my frame limits my ceiling, benching made me feel inferior.  If I pushed up a new PR (personal record) I would feel good until I realized how far it was from what one would consider strong.  Instead of letting go of my ego and training the bench I pivoted.  I worked on other measures of strength: pull-ups, pushups, dips, kettlebell swings.  I was good at those.  They let me think I was strong.  They fed my ego.

But deep down I knew.  If you want to be strong, you've got to Bench.  It's the measure.  

My Nephew is in high school, and he's entered the weight room.  He asks me questions like 'What's the best diet to bulk, or what's the best exercise for shoulders'.  Then one day he asked THE question.  

How much do you bench?

I told him a number that was 20 lbs higher than my actual bench PR.  Why?  Because I'm insecure and I wanted him to think highly of me.

White lies don't hurt anyone, right.  But shit, this one did not stop bugging me after I told it.  Decision time.  Forget about it, or hit that number.  The first thing I had to do was find the right program.

There's a saying that what you're truly looking for will eventually find you.  I found the The 5-3-1  program.  It was created by a Man named Jim Wendler (Click on this link if you want to go in depth, or hire me, I can take you through it).  You're training the big 4 (Squat, Deadlift, Military Press, and, you guessed it, Bench).  Jim Wendler is a powerlifter.  When he commands you obey.  This looks like a guy who eats meat off the bone, rides a Harley and crushes beer cans with his fists.  His program was gonna be max lifts followed by eating raw liver.

In fact, the first question the program asks you is How much do you bench?

What happens next is what makes his program so beautiful.  To lift heavy, you train light.  The lower weights are calculated off your max lift so you're always lifting the correct amount for growth, while sidestepping injury.  To get truly strong, you're not pushing ego weights.  

I had my doubts initially, but I bought in.  I put my actual max weight in and followed through weeks of light warm ups, and short sets often performed at 65-70% of that number.  The weights felt too light.  There were times I had to lift light in front of other Trainers.

I put my head down and trained for 4 weeks.  It was time for a test out.  I put a weight on the bar that was 10 lbs heavier than my previous max.  

Crushed it.

It was so easy I threw another 10 lbs on the bar.  Maybe I am the Man I let my nephew think I am?

Crushed that one too.  This is the strongest I've ever been.  I'm arguably in the best shape of my life.

My bench presently sits at 185 (and rising).  I don't have the best frame for power lifting.  This means I can train you past whatever excuse you're selling as to why you're not stronger.  If I can do it I can train you to do it.

But first you've gotta dump that big weight you've been carrying around your neck.   

That's your ego.  It may feel like it's motivating you, like it's helping, but it's only holding you back.  

Drop it and you too may just get in the best shape of your life.

Q: What is the most common, easily preventable mistake you see clients and athletes make?

A: Just one? 

There are a few I could choose from, but it seems like everyone makes this common mistake.

Heck- I made this mistake all the time.

Stretching when you're cold. 

How many timed have I heard of people getting right out of bed and stretching?

Stretching is great.  Stretching feels great.  But stretching a cold muscle decreases neural recruitment of the muscle which makes you weaker, and more prone to injury.

Stretching cold accomplishes the exact opposite of what you set out to do in the first place.

An analogy: Your muscles are like a piece of spaghetti pasta.  Right out of the box (cold) It is brittle.  You can bend it a little, but put any sort of tension on it and... SNAP...  Now you have two pieces of pasta.

But heat that pasta up.  Throw it in some water.  Let it boil.  Now it is the most flexible material known to man.

Your muscles are like pasta.  Move them cold: SNAP.  Heat them up a little and voila- you're doing splits in no time.

So warm up.  Go for a walk.  Break a sweat.  When your body starts to feel a little heat you're ready to stretch.  

This is how I spot a good yoga instructor: They will run you through a few sun salutations, get you moving, get you sweating and only then will they go in for the deep stretch work.  They work you up to those deep bends and twists.  Someone who knows yoga, but not the body, will start you off with the deep stretch; and deep stretching when your body isn't ready only pisses off your muscles.  This happens more often than you think.

So no more stretching first thing.  Walk around, move with purpose, and lucky you, we care so much about you not making this mistake we made a short video complete with our warm up recommendations.  just punch that button below that says STRETCH ME OUT and BOOM... mind blown.  Life change..

Low Carb, No Carb, Fast Carb, Slow Carb

Everyone is full of it.

Remember the Opening Statement scene from 'My Cousin Vinny'?  The Prosecution lays out his case, finishes, and the camera pans to Joe Pesci... asleep.

He wakes.  Walks over to the jury and delivers one of the funniest lines in Movie History:

'Everything that guy said was Bull$h*t, (pause) Thank you.'

That's how I feel when I see a diet trend taking the mainstream.

Take the low carb fad that passed.  We had low carb beers, low carb cookies, low carb snacks, low carb carbs.  

You're being told that carbs, like fats before them, are bad.  This is Bull$h*t.  Carbs should be 50-60% of your diet, but there are good carbs, and there are bad ones.  Let's cut through the BS so you can have peace of mind while you eat.

Let's define carbs.  Carbohydrates provide immediate energy for your cells.  They come in 2 types: simple and complex.  Simple carbs are often processed foods, which we want to avoid.  3 ways you can spot processed food:

1. You can't immediately source the food to the earth or an animal.

2. It comes in a bag or in a box.

3. It survives on a shelf (doesn't rot).

These foods are seductive.  They usually taste great and because they are simple, you digest them quickly.  My friends at Precision Nutrition do a great job explaining their effect:  one may notice elevations in blood triglyceride (fat) levels, bad cholesterol, and insulin resistance.

Full disclosure- I eat simple carbs.  We all do.  Unless you're Tom Brady with your personal chef and iron will you're gonna consume some simple carbs.  Don't worry about it, just limit them where you can.

Fun story- I read an interview with Tom's Dad where he said something to the effect of 'I usually make a dinner reservation for after Tom and I have dinner'.

Complex carbs are straight from Mother Nature.  You can easily root them in the earth, their packaging is minimal and they have a shelf life.  These carbs "that are digested and absorbed slowly, such as whole grains, fruits, and vegetables, can help to control insulin response, energy levels, and body composition. Such unrefined, unprocessed, complex carbohydrate sources may reduce triglycerides and improve one’s cholesterol profile".  Humans have been eating these foods forever and our bodies know what to do with them.  They are slower to digest so the body has to expend some energy which leads to something called the Thermic effect of food (i.e. When you eat food, your body must expend some energy (calories) to digest, absorb, and store the nutrients in the food you've eaten. Therefore, as a result of the thermic effect of food, by consuming calories you actually increase the rate at which your body burns calories). 

The low carb craze is marketing processed food that can stay on shelves for a minute.  Eating low carb processed food is like getting punched by a middle weight instead of a heavyweight.  Less damaging, still hurts.

Complex (unprocessed) carbs are OK.  My advice consuming them: earn your carbs.  Your body absorbs them more efficiently 2 hours post workout.

I'll end with a fun quote.  Can't quite remember the exact quote or who said it but here goes:  "Blueberries are carbs, right?  You ever hear of someone putting on weight eating blueberries?"

Let’s crush the #1 excuse for not working out

The # 1 excuse is...

I don't have enough time to work out.

Oh really?

Let's say the average Bostonian sleeps 7 hours a night.

That means you're awake for 17 hours.

That's 1020 minutes.

Let's call 40 minutes a good workout length.  
(It could be shorter.  Could be longer.)

That 40 minutes equates to .039% of your waking hours.

That's basically .04 cents on your dollar.  

UNICEF is asking for .50 a day.  I'm asking for .04.  

Yes you can add .02 or .03 cents for getting dressed and getting to the gym.  I'm still not buying it.

You probably have valid excuses.  I'm terrified of the weight room (been there).  I fear judgement (felt it).  I don't know where to start (Don't I know).  I've felt the same way.  I'm not judging.  I'm just here to point out that:

Someone with even more excuses set your goal and got it done.

What's stopping you?

It ain't time.

"There's no such thing as free time.  No such thing as spare time. No such thing as down time.  Only Lifetime.  Go!"- Henry Rollins

Live from the Danger Zone

Top Gun: Maverick is a throwback.They wink at great moments from the original.
Shirtless volleyball becomes shirtless football.
Ice Man is now Hang Man.  Goose is Rooster.  
There are wing men, missile locks, hard ass admirals and great balls of fire.

And there's Tom Cruise tearing ass down the runway on his motorcycle; going mach 2 with his hair on fire.  I know he's had work done, I know 90 mph presses the flesh right up to the skull, but I still gotta admit: Maverick has aged as well as you can.  

Is it good genes?  Luck?  Botox?  A secret diet?  I think it's a bit of everything; and I'd add one more reason to the list, perhaps the most important one.

Discomfort.

Your body is designed for survival.  Every day is a dog fight to stay alive.  A fight against weather, competition, germs, viruses, hunger, enemy planes.  Every day your body goes to war with it's surroundings.

We've automated so many of these fights so quickly the body hasn't had a chance to adapt.  the absence of hunger, cold weather, etc should create paradise, yet it seems that in the absence of opponents our bodies have elected to fight themselves: Obesity, cancer, depression, autoimmune disease. 

There's a segment on 'Real Time' where Bill Maher shares things he doesn't know for a fact, but he just knows are true:  'I don't know for a fact that Lacroix is French for Tap water, I just know it's true.'  Here's my fitness version.  I don't know for a fact that your body needs a fight in order to thrive, I just know it's true.

The fight is in the weight room.  How many before/after pictures do we need to see until we believe that?

The fight is in the elements.  The benefits of fasting and cold showers have been documented.  

You can live a comfortable life.  But keep your edge.  Don't get too comfortable.  Schedule in the suck.  Plan it to shape an outcome.

Look at Tom Cruise.  He has all the success and comfort in the world but he's still strapping himself to the outside of planes (Rogue Nation), running on the side of the Burj Khalifa held only by a tether (Rogue Nation), or running in every single movie he's in.  To do these stunts he's gotta stay sharp.  For the Burj Khalifa scene he went to his stunt designer, explained what he wanted to do, and the stunt guy balked.  Said it was impossible.  What did Tom do?  

He found another stunt man.  

He could retire with his millions or pass on the Mission Impossible Torch, but he keeps pushing, and I don't know for a fact that Tom pushing the envelope has helped him age well.

I just know it's true.

It goes without saying that Tom is a little extreme.  You can look just as good without hanging from planes, driving NASCAR or yelling at Jack Nicholson.  You just need to schedule in some discomfort.  It's that fight that keeps you vital.

I can't prove that seeking a little discomfort now will immediately shave years off your appearance...

I just know that the discomfort is coming.  It can be training, yoga, or running a race or it can be obesity, back pain or sleeplessness.   Pain is on it's way...

The type is largely up to you.

WTF? You hired a trainer?

You just dropped $2 grand on something you could have learned from reading a book and watching a YouTube video.  Right?

Why hire a Trainer?  Isn't Training like that scene from The Simpsons where Homer hires Ranier Wolfcastle to train him: "Strap yourself to the abdominator and I will shout slogans at you!  Push!  Harder!"

The Simpsons joke is hilarious because it's true.  Partly.  There's more nuance to the profession than the Simpsons allow.  

There's a story about a guy with a squeaky floor.  He tries everything but it won't stop squeaking.  So he hires a contractor to take a look.  The contractor arrives, walks around, listens to the squeaks, then pulls his hammer and whacks one nail.  The squeaking stops.  

He bills the guy $500.  The guy complains. Why $500?  You hammered one nail?  The contractor smiles.  That was $1 for the hammering, $499 for knowing which nail to hammer.

A good Trainer finds the nail.  The nail could be weight loss, it could be stronger shoulders.  Train now offers introductory 5 pack and 3 pack private training packages starting this week.  To celebrate let's look at two stories that illustrate a Trainer's value.  Two times a trainer found the nail.

You ready?  Well then strap yourself to the abdominator.

Names below have been changed to protect the innocent.

Can I try your driver?
Imagine you LOVE golf.  I'm talking membership to three country clubs Love golf.  My client Robert loves golf like that.  He won't join the pro tour anytime soon; he may not even golf particularly well.  He was training for something more important, more high stakes: beating his high school Buddies. 

The will to improve is not enough.  Robert has a surgically repaired back that limited his strength and flexibility.  He could watch videos and read articles all day but his problem was that powerful golf swings come from

1. efficient transfer of energy through the feet and knees.

2. A supple, pliable spine that can relay that energy to the torso, shoulders, and ultimately the club.

These were two areas where his back injury limited him.

Back pain is an enigma, surrounded by a riddle, wrapped in mystery.  I've watched conferences where back experts at major hospitals have admitted as much.  I did not cure Robert's back.  What I did do was provide dozens of ways for it to move better.  To Bob's immense credit he didn't blame me when something we tried backfired.  Failure was feedback.  We moved on from mistakes and found solutions.  We worked on peg board drills to cleanly transfer energy from one foot to the other, and spinal mobility drills (we progressed from Easy, to Moderate, to Difficult) to facilitate that energy transfer through the torso.  Strength and flexibility improved.  He had longer and longer periods with little or no back pain.  We waited for spring to test out.

Spring rolls around.  First golf round with the boys and Robert is consistently outdriving his friends.  They notice.  You know how men are though: A guy's never gonna come out and say 'Why Robert, you're consistently outdriving me off every tee.  Whatever is your secret?'  God no.  They say it indirectly.

They asked to try his driver.

There's this bump behind my knee

This one happened last week so it's still fresh.  A client, Laurence, came in with a stiff knee.  He apologetically asked me to feel a bump that had formed behind the knee.  He showed me how he couldn't close the leg all the way without bumping into/being limited by the swelling.  There was slight pain.

'It's been bugging me for about a week.  Is this something you know about?'

Whenever I encounter swelling I think lymphatic flow.  The lymphatic system is the body's sewer system.  It pulls waste out of cells (which allows Oxygen and nutrients to enter) and then flushes the waste out.  If the lymph is blocked the waste never gets flushed, vital nutrients aren't allowed in, cellular health goes downhill and you'll experience unexplained swelling, like bumps behind the knee (where a large lymph node sits).  Sound like you?  Don't worry.  You can free unblock the lymphs quickly.

We tested his knee.  It could not bend all the way and was slightly uncomfortable.  I took him through this lymphatic opener.  We brushed and tapped his major lymphs and then retested 3 minutes later.  His knee functioned normally.  No pain.  

Hammer meet Nail. 

It could have developed into nothing, or it could have been a Doctor's visit, an MRI, & some PT (weeks of effort and waiting). We handled it in 3 minutes and then got a great workout in on top of it all. 

The most expensive thing in the world is being unhealthy.  Get vital.  Get strong.  Hire a Trainer.  Our new introductory offer is way below the session cost of larger corporate gyms and allows a Trainer time to show their value.

Or you can do it yourself.  Youtube, online articles, Men's health.  They have tons of great information, instruction and ideas.  They're the hammers you need. 

Now... which nail.

2 ways to immediately improve balance

The morning I lost my balance

I woke up sweating.  4 am.  I sat up, stared out the window and the room swirled.  Something was amiss.
I went to the bathroom, tried to pee and missed the bowl.  Badly.  I tried to sit and missed again; falling on my ass.

Was this a hangover.  No.  I never drink.  Covid?  Probably not.  I had it a few months earlier.  Cancer?  Oh shit.  Don't start with the hypochondria.  

For now all I knew was that my balance was gone.  Any time I turned left I felt I was going to crash.

No one appreciates Balance until it's Gone
I think we all realize the importance of balance but few know how to train it effectively.  If you asked people how they imagine that training would go you'd probably be flooded with footage of the Flying Wallendas, tight rope walks and single leg exercises done while standing on a Bosu ball.  

You don't need to do these things (I strongly argue against ever standing on a boss ball).  Effective balance training is easy and works instantly, but very few people do it because:

1. It's weird.

2. It ain't sexy/fun. 

3. Most people don't believe that what I'm about to recommend will work.  

A funny thing about training the human body/mind.  If the client/patient doesn't think what you are doing will work, it will not work.  I read an entire book about this phenomena (Pain Neuroscience Education).  I'll show you these 2 simple balance hacks, explain a bit about how they work, but you may not believe they'll work.  I'll have to prove it.  So let's do it.  Let's measure your balance.  If you're not assessing you're guessing.

How do you measure your balance?  
1- Stand on one leg.  Time how long you can stay standing.
2- Heightened Rhomberg's test.

What is #2?  Here's the scoop:  Stand with one foot directly in front of the other.  Wait until you cease wobbling left to right.  Now close your eyes.  The number of seconds you can stand without falling is your score.  Test with both foot patterns.  Watch this video- I demo it for you.

So now we have some test scores and we want to improve.  This does not take days or week.  It takes minutes.  In mere minutes you can greatly improve your balance.  But...

If you want that improvement to stick then you need to keep doing these drills.

Drill # 1: Roll out your feet.
There's something called sensory motor amnesia.  Meaning: if we don't actively use parts of our bodies we develop amnesia and forget how to use them properly.  Luckily that amnesia can be cured very quickly.
 
We treat our feet dreadfully.  We stuff them in crumby shoes all day, never stretch them, never train them, strengthen them,  or get those lovely foot massages from our significant others.  Thus our feet forget how to move efficiently and how to see the floor underneath us.  This connection of foot to floor sends vital information into the ankles, knees and straight up the kinetic chain to our brains.  The feet are ground zero for balance.  And sometimes we need to take the shoes off, wake 'em up and jog their memory.

If you roll your feet on a golf ball, a lax ball, or some massage tool (like I do in this video) your brain will immediately pay closer attention to your feet.  The muscles in your feet awaken, the nerves alight, the brain awakens to signals from your feet and your balance will improve.  So roll out your feet (like in the video) and then retest your balance.  I'm betting you improved a little.  

No dice?  Let's try another balance drill that may improve your tests.

Drill #2: Train your ears

Has he lost his mind?  Ears?  Balance?  I told you that you weren't gonna believe me.  Per the National Library of Medicine:

"Your ears are the home for your vestibular system which provides the sense of balance and the information about body position that allows rapid compensatory movements in response to both self-induced and externally generated forces."

Sometimes the vestibular system gets maligned via a knock on the head, or even a bad cough (I once got vertigo from a particularly nasty flu).  Vestibular problems cause an absolute array of symptoms from dizziness, to depression, schizophrenia and scoliosis.  That's quite a range.  Let me show you a quick way to reset your vestibular system via something called the VOR (Vestibular Ocular Reflex).  Let me let my more eloquent friends at the Library of Medicine tell you about your VOR:

"To maintain a stable perception of the world around us while we engage in normal movements throughout our day, such as walking, we have something known as the vestibulo-ocular reflex (VOR). This reflex keeps us steady and balanced even though our eyes and head are continuously moving when we perform most actions."

How do we train it?  There are two ways and they are both easy.  And weird.  Click on the links to watch a demo I put together for you.

VOR stabilazation- Stare at an unmoving object.  Now nod your head up and down while keeping the object in clear focus.  Now shake your head right to left.  Now diagonal.  When you're done retest your balance.  I've seen this one REALLY do amazing things for people's balance.  If it didn't work then let's try a VOR Cancellation.
VOR Cancellation- Lock your eyes on an object, your thumb nail will do.  Now without moving your head follow the thumbnail as you raise it up and down, now right to left, now diagonal.  Make sure to keep the object clear and don't move your head; just your eyes.  Retest your balance.

Did any of those work?  Is your balance a little better?  If yes.  Wonderful.  If not.  Don't despair.  There are more things we can try, they're even weirder, and I know because they fixed me

That night my balance returned... Mostly
My balance did not improve that morning.  I tried all the drills above and still felt drunk whenever I turned left. 

Thankfully 2 of my clients are ear doctors.  They know the vestibular system.  They assured me I didn't have cancer. They would fix me.

They lay me on my side and the room spun.  Violently.  I broke into a cold sweat.  The reaction indicated vertigo.  They put me through an ear drill where I lied down on a bench and twisted my head in different directions, allowing the crystals in my ear to resettle.  I nearly vomited, the room spun faster and more violently than earlier.  

"Focus on an object."

The room slowed down.

"Relax."

The room stopped.

I rose, carefully.  An ear drill fixed my vertigo.

Quickly.

Dramatically.

That's how balance drills work.

And if you're serious about training balance they'll work for you.

White Men Can Jump

Even coaches need coaches, I guess

It's kind of embarrassing when you claim to be an expert on something (fitness/the body) and you can't even fix your own problems.  But hey, even therapists have therapists.  Doctors, I assume, go to the doctor.  Barbers see other barbers.

Do Trainers have Trainers?

My right knee hurt.  Every time I executed a roll through in yoga, or got up the wrong way I would get an 8/10 twinge of pain.  I tried:
- foam rolling
-voodoo flossing
-opposing joint
-muscle activation
-massage gun
-yoga
-stretching
-strengthening
-prayer
-ritual sacrifice

Nothing worked.  My right knee was stubbornly zapping me with an 8/10 of pain whenever I moved wrong.  This went on for months.  

I read about this Knees over Toes Guy.  He was an un-athletic basketball player with bad knees.  I'm talking three surgeries on one knee bad knees.  He wanted to keep playing hoops.  He was obsessed.  He needed stronger knees.  So he did his research, turned the fitness world on it's head, and came up with a system that not only fixed his knees, it earned him a scholarship to a D1 basketball program.  He went from hardly touching the net to dunking a basketball from a standing position.  Now he makes a living sharing that system.

Was it time for me to admit that despite my vast fitness knowledge there are many things that I do not know?

Was it time to let someone else train me?

I bought the KoT Guy's book for $20.  There's not much to it.  A handful of exercises that you should do, followed by instructions on how and why to do them.  It's a simple book with a simple program.  I like simple.  Simple works.

I advertised that I was following the program on this very newsletter where I posted a small bit about how I have White man's disease and I was doing something about it.

I mentioned a minute ago that Knees over Toes Guy has turned the fitness world on it's head.  How?  He encourages people to train with their knees in a position past their toes.  WHOA!  Not just a clever name.  I'm sure you're as blown away as I am, right?

While It doesn't sound revolutionary it is.  It was common fitness knowledgeto keep the knees behind your feet when training.  Encouraging knees over toes training is like advocating drunk driving to improve highway safety.  He was dismissed, ridiculed, laughed at.

But he was patient zero.  He no longer had any knee pain.  
He went from flat footed to jumping out of the gym.
The people who bought in were pain free and jumping right alongside him.
The idea of not training knee over toes came from a single study done in the 70's.  Somehow it tipped, everyone read it, or knew someone who read it, and it just became the rule, Conventional wisdom, despite the fact that every sport asks you to play with your knees over your toes.  Wouldn't it make sense to train your body for that eventuality?

So I tested in.  I assessed my relative knee pain (8/10) while doing yoga, and I measured my vertical leap.  This is an important step on any fitness journey.  Documenting a base line.  If you don't document a starting point you'll never be sure of improvement.  Look at the picture up top and you can clearly see my progression.

I trained knee over toe style for 5 weeks.  This morning I tested out.  Had all my Patrick steps and deep lunges paid off?

I'm happy to report that when I rolled through in yoga my pain was about a 2 (down from 8).  Not perfect, but improving.

More impressively I added about 6 inches to my vertical leap.  That's 6 inches in a single month.  Any time you claim to add 6 inches you have all the guys attention.  6 inches is a lot.  Even when the bar starts so very, very low.  I made a highlight tape.  

How do I write this next part?  I'll just put it out there.  I have a big ass.  Someone called it a dump truck this week (Thanks Ron).  When I train legs my ass just gets bigger.  Last year I squatted, dead lifted, trained hard and my reward was none of my pants fit.  The increased muscle mass also made running less comfortable

My conundrum: I needed stronger, healthier legs/knees, but I didn't want to buy new pants.  Mission accomplished.  This program added strength, fixed some imbalances and doesn't make anyone wanna zoom a zoom zoom zoom and a boom boom.  

90's kids got that.  The rest of you can google it.

There are a few morals to this story:
- Question conventional wisdom.  
- You can make amazing athletic gains with the right program, even when you're well past your prime (ahem).
- bigger muscles are great until none of your clothes fit.
- There's a cure for White Man's disease.
- The best coaches have coaches aka winners get help.

Ahh yes.  The final important take away.  Everyone could use a coach.  Or a trainer.  Someone to push you, encourage you, or tell you about this crazy workout they're doing that's gonna allow them to dunk a basketball at 43.  I know a few great trainers here at Train.  I work with the 1% of Trainers.  We can add 6 inches to your vertical leap, help you shed 10 pounds, get you a badonka donk, or not.  

If a Trainer benefits from having a trainer so can you.