Browsed by
Tag: inspiration

Steve Magness and Brad Stulberg’s _Peak Performance_

Steve Magness and Brad Stulberg’s _Peak Performance_

Comments 3 comments

I feel like the longer I’ve been a runner and thus immersed in this big ol’ running community, the more commonly I hear people — people who don’t currently run — lament that they could “never be a runner,” to which the common retort I hear is “if I can do this, anyone can.” When my friends talk about their simply unfathomable-to-me athletic accomplishments, like crazy fast times, super high weekly and monthly volume, long-ass and intense races like IM or ultramarathons, they, too, will often say that being able to complete those gargantuan feats ultimately boils down to mind over matter. Once they’ve made up their mind to do the thing, not much else will be able to stand in the way of them and said thing. It’s a choice, to be sure, but it’s a choice filled with a shit-ton of intention and deliberation, as well as innumerous decisions day in and day out to support that choice for weeks, if not also months (or years) on end.

With endurance events like marathons, halfs, and ultras becoming increasingly popular over the past 5-10 years, maybe it’s not so coincidental that there seems to also be an uptick in sports psych books that focus on the mental side of the game, the “if I can do this, anyone can” part. If anyone can allegedly do this stuff, what is it, exactly, that makes some of us more successful than others? If everything else is equal, if you take athletes who are physically primed for their race, have all their other variables set to a positive outcome (like not having any glimmers of injury or overuse, having gotten a sufficient amount of sleep, arriving to the race appropriately tapered, and having consumed a healthful diet, among others), how or why do some athletes just crumble, and others thrive?

From my armchair analysis and recall of the literature that’s popped up in the past 5 years, it seems that many subject matter experts would say that an athlete’s mental training — and capacity to mentally endure the going when the going gets really, really tough — is what will differentiate him/her from a competitor. The training that you post in the days/weeks/months preceding your race matters — absolutely — but your physical strength will only take you so far. When shit hits the fan and starts to fly mid-race, your mental game is what will ultimately save or sacrifice you.

Steve Magness and Brad Stulberg’s Peak Performance: Elevate Your Game, Avoid Burnout, and Thrive with the New Science of Success (published in 2017) is yet another contribution to this burgeoning sports psych canon for us laypeople. We plebeian athletes probably don’t have ready access or disposable income to reputable sports psychologists to make us killer weekend warriors and AG athletes, but damn if we can’t pick up a book published by Velo or Rodale and hope for the best. (A quick aside here to say that I got my copy from inter-library loan and that my commentary isn’t sponsored in any way; I just liked the book — and thought it worthwhile enough — to share about it).

this is laughably not helpful. Sorry.

You probably recognize Magness’ name from his time writing for both Running Times (RIP) and Runner’s World, his Science of Running blog, his coaching numerous World Champs and Olympic athletes, or the small fact that he was a whistleblower (along with Kara Goucher) against Alberto Salazar and Nike’s Oregon Project, circa 2015. He’s an exercise scientist and from my perspective, one of the most reputable out there. You may know Stulberg from his extensive writing contributions at Outside, New York, or Runner’s World, among others, when he wasn’t working at McKinsey and throwing down hugely impressive accomplishments, like reporting to the White House before he was 30. These guys know their stuff, and this work, especially when taken together with others like Angela Duckworth’s Grit and Matt Fitzgerald’s How Bad Do You Want It? can be really helpful to any of us who want to figure out ways to get our mental game on par with that of our physical. It’s so much more than mantras and power songs; there are systems involved, lots of intentional choices that we must make, and a fair amount of self-transcendence that will help us get to the top of our game, whatever our game may be.  

The shitty thing about mental training, or in general, about breaking through plateaus and going beyond ourselves, for lack of a better phrase, is that it can be really tough. Captain Obvious here, for sure, but really, if you’ve ever done anything remotely “hard” in your life — whether it’s something in your professional life, an athletic pursuit, red-lining in a race, or hell, even trying to raise children who will grow up to be thoughtful and kind contributors to society — you know that sometimes — or realistically, most of the time — it’s far easier and more convenient to give in and quit than it is to stay the course and work hard. Sure, there may be some things in life that come more easily to us than others, but for the most part, if we want to improve, we’ve gotta put our head down and be willing to work for it. Many of us want to improve at something in our life (our professional duties, our athletic pursuits, whatever), but when it comes down to it, few of us really are willing to do the dirty, grinding work that begets real, meaningful, quantifiable or qualifiable improvement. It’s easy to dream big dreams; it’s hard to roll up our sleeves and go all in.

all in. (PC: Saurabh, methinks)

What’s weird, too — if not bizarre — is that for as positive/optimistic as many of us are, we tend to be profoundly adept at being horribly negative at the same time. We wouldn’t skip a beat in encouraging our friends on their own pursuits — work hard! You can do it! Relentless forward progress! — but when it comes to us realizing our own, we can think of a thousand different reasons why we’re going to fail and why we should just not even try, while we’re still ahead. Complacency is complacency for a reason, right? Whether consciously or not, we tend to self-sabotage, and if we’re not careful, we may start careening toward a dark place void of just about anything. Sound familiar? 

In PP, Stulberg and Magness break down their ideas to “sustainable success” into three parts that focus on growth, priming, and purpose. In their words, PP teaches its readers “how to elevate their performance by optimally alternating between periods of intense work and rest; priming the body and mind for enhanced productivity; and developing and harnessing the power of a self-transcending purpose.” Admittedly, a lot of that sounds a bit wishy-washy and likely would have induced some eye-rolling on my part, had I not recognized Magness’ name and known his work. Stay with me, though. It’s not all keyword tiles on the Business Bullshit Bingo card; there actually is a lot of good stuff in there.

A lot of the information they give is pretty pragmatic, more focused on systems ops than anything, but some of it might surprise you. You likely already know the value of having a workspace that’s primed for your work, and you probably are well aware that it’s important to figure out when you work best — night versus day, for example — and to structure your day accordingly, or as much as you can anyway. Rituals, schedules, and predictability matter for a reason; this type of stuff is pretty straightforward and stuff I can remember teaching my first year, first quarter undergrads as a TA in their “welcome to college/here’s how to not fail out” seminar. You likely also already know or have experienced the value of surrounding yourself with the “right people” in your life, folks who will be supportive of you and your endeavors. Magness and Stulberg talk about all of this stuff in detail and provide the data and research to corroborate their claims (and even some neuroscience connections, when applicable, which was pretty interesting to read).

As runners, we probably know or have heard of the importance of the stress + rest = growth/adaptation cycle, but what surprised me was seeing how the authors applied the same principle to other aspects of life, ones that aren’t at all athletics-based, but are places wherein you have room to grow and consequently achieve a greater performance. In running, we can’t expect to work work work work work all the time, every day, all day and have a breakthrough; this is why runners who basically “race” most of their training runs wind up injured. Indeed, it’s during our periods of (deliberate, fruitful, purposeful) rest when we really reap the rewards of our hard work. So it goes, too, for non-athletic pursuits. (This is why so many major tech companies have designed their campuses the way that they have. It may be less expensive to just have a sterile, nondescript cubicle farm, but they know that their best engineers aren’t going to have their eureka! moment when they’re toiling away at their desk).

not toiling away in a cube.

The authors provide a good amount of data and footnoted research that back up their assertions, and sprinkled in throughout the text are vignettes that feature people’s stories — athlete and layperson — that illustrate the point at hand. Unlike Fitzgerald’s book, which (IIRC) used an individual athlete’s extensive case study as each basis for his assertions, in PP the people profiles are considerably shorter and seem to serve more as augmentations to the principles. In essence, PP is more about the data and research findings and less on the story-telling, but I can assure you that it’s a completely accessible read. For as data- and science-driven as it is, it’s not like reading an annotated bibliography or anything like that, nor does it necessitate graduate-degree knowledge to understand their claims. PP and Duckworth’s Grit are on the proverbial same page in that way, and they both apply their findings to an array of disciplines, not restricting themselves to athletics or running, in particular. Anyone who would stand to benefit from improving their game — whatever that game is — could benefit from reading PP. Really.

Getting ourselves mentally stronger is really hard, and to be honest, some days it sucks. I mean, what can we expect? With running, when we are trying to get in shape to perform the best that we can for a particular race, sprinkled throughout the good/great days are ones that are less so, ones that are more along the ok/bad spectrum; not everything is the proverbial unicorns-shitting-rainbows. It can be tempting to think that all we have to do to increase our game is to read a bunch of sports psych books like PP, and voila! We will become Olympic-caliber! Of course, though, it doesn’t work like that. The only way we can increase our mental muscle is, well, just the same way we increase any of our muscles: by intentional and extensive use. It’s so much more than duking it out through a grueling workout and repeating some mantra that we’ve haphazardly made for ourselves; there’s a lot of behind-the-scenes work involved. PP walks you through that behind-the-scenes stuff. 

More than anything, we have to allow ourselves to put ourselves in positions that we know will tax us (knowing we might fail, but hey! that’s ok! It’s part of the process) and just keep the thing, the thing, and do the damn thing, knowing that we’ll be ultimately better for it. It’ll be in those instances that we’ll be able to use the tips and knowledge we glean from books like Peak Performance, Grit, or How Bad Do You Want It? to work toward becoming more mentally resilient and more closely aligned with actualizing our potential.

improving is tiring, but surrounding yourself with the right people mitigates it tremendously.

At this point, I can’t say that this book has changed my life or anything comparably dramatic (I just finished it a day or two ago), but I can say that I felt it was a worthwhile use of my time, which is laudatory in and of itself. Some of their findings I’ve heard and read before, sure, because I enjoy the subject matter and have read others’ works that focus on the same, but I learned a lot of new information as well. I have a solid racing calendar that’ll be starting soon, and between that and all my other engagements, I will have plenty of opportunities to apply some of the PP findings to my own life. There are lots of things that I’m not at this point in my life — an Olympic-caliber athlete, a full-time working parent, an entrepreneur, or a full-time student, for example — yet I am wearing enough hats in my life in other respects that can lend to some personal growth and challenge, should I decide that I want to do more than skate by and hang with the status quo.  

I think that’s the underlying crux of the book: this type of stuff is for everyone. You don’t have to be the best in your class. In fact, it’s a safe assumption that you’re probably not. That makes you … normal.

You can, however, probably do more, or do better, than what you’re doing right now. That’s also ok. That also makes you … normal.

The onus is ultimately on you to take the first step, and Peak Performance can be your guide in the process.

2017: the annual report

2017: the annual report

Comments 10 comments

At the start of 2017, I was about 16 months postpartum and fresh off November marathon and half marathon PRs, records that had taken a good three years (and getting pregnant again) before finally falling. For the first time in a long time, I decided to forego a spring marathon in the interest of doing short stuff. In essence, for the better part of the last decade, I had convinced myself that I was/am more of a marathoner than anything, that the discomfort from running 26.2 as fast as I could was more bearable than doing the same for 13.1, 6.2, or god forbid 3.1.

The stories we tell ourselves, or hey, let’s call a spade a spade and qualify it for what it is — the limitations we impose on ourselves — seem to have a way of becoming self-fulfilling prophecies. For years, I had all but purposely shied away from racing, much less training for, short distances because I was convinced that those distances just weren’t in my wheelhouse because anytime I did them, it just wasn’t enjoyable. Racing any of the PA races with my team was never an option simply because I never felt I was fast enough to do anything productive, lest I forget that I was always training for a marathon and always told myself that I “wasn’t in half, 5k, 10k, or (insert any other non-marathon-distance) shape.”

At any rate, I don’t know why I had decided that a spring 2017 marathon would be an unwise route for me to take — if memory serves, the only time in recent history when I haven’t done a spring marathon was in the throes of pregnancy — but in doing so, it left me with a gap to fill. I felt I was far enough along postpartum to begin pressing things a bit more earnestly, so going after the shorter and arguably harder non-marathon distances seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. Something unbelievable happened, too: I actually enjoyed non-marathon races. It wasn’t until after halfway through the year that I’d get back into the marathon, and it was in that opposing world where I spent most of my time training for the second part of the year.

When I talk about 2017, I can rattle off lots of statistics:

  • 2,501 miles run (not a distance PR, but just shy of the 2,56x from 2014);
  • several PRs (5k twice, 10k twice, 5 mile, marathon, XC races);
  • winning a couple races (SIB baby mama 10k, Hearts and Soles 10k, East Bay 510k);
  • running new-to-me distances/races (XC);
  • and having several non-racing or non-mileage-focused experiences that were still very meaningful (pacing SRM; spectating at BSIM, IM Santa Rosa, and my eldest’s first tri; participating in a Hoka Women Who Fly weekend; the tons and tons of stroller runs; and bike-stroller run-ride commutes with my kids).

I’ll be the first to admit that all that stuff matters to me, but when I think about my 2017, the connective thread between all of it is the community in which this sport enables me to immerse myself. It’s the community that made taking the plunge to do different stuff — stuff that I wouldn’t otherwise be so keen to do — more feasible, a welcome change of both literal and metaphorical pace. There was a time in my life when I’d sign up for a race; show up and do the thing; and then go home, both when I lived in Chicago and since moving to the Bay Area.

My 2017 was basically the polar opposite.

It’s the community in this sport — and the so many people with whom I got to spend time, train, and race alongside — that just makes me cheshire like a damn fool when I think about my running in 2017. Sure, notching personal bests (and working my ass off to get myself to a place where I can do that) is important and enjoyable, but the people, man. The people are where it’s at in this sport. 

Rather than belabor every lowlight and highlight of the 2500 miles from 2017, I think the more appropriate way to adequately express what I’m talking about — why this community thing meant so much to me in 2017 — is to show you.

A lot of my 2017 running, usually about 25-30 miles a week, looked like this, with A on her bike and G in the stroller. Run- and ride-commuting to school 4x a week was one of A’s best ideas in kindergarten.
big group training runs were the bread and butter of many weekend morning runs for me in the first part of the year. (shamelessly screenshot from Strava)

 

having Chicago training partner John in town for a day, even if it meant running 10+ miles in the pouring rain, was definitely memorable. We trained together for Boston back in the day through a pretty rough Chicago winter, so it was like old times.

 

the first PA race in 2017, my first 5k in forever, the first race of the year, and destroying a five-year-old PR by chasing after my teammates (Sam here) was a fantastic way to start the year, even if it meant running a bizarre course. (PC: CT)

 

she.is.beautiful is one event I look forward to each year, and for the third consecutive year, I ran pushing one of my girls in the ‘baby mama’ division. I love this pic because you can see me mid-holler for my teammate, Julie, who’s about to go on to cinch 2nd in the 5k. (PC: Dave)

 

SIB is a guaranteed positive-vibes meet-up with lots of friends who inspire me daily: here, with Paula and her youngest son, as well as Meg and her daughter. (PC: Dave)

 

inspiration abounds at SIB, and the feel-good vibes from this race last for weeks for me. Incredibly, these pictures don’t even feature all of the Wolfpack racers from that morning. I love pregnant Janet in these pictures. (PC: Lisa/Wolfpack)

 

It had been many years since I had last raced an open 10k, and I was so happy to see a familiar Wolfpack face, Greg, at the Heart and Soles race (on yet another bizarre race course).

 

From within the first half mile, maybe quarter mile, at the Stow Lake Stampede 5k, you can see that I’m already trying to work alongside my teammates Sam and Claire. It’s pack running at its finest. (PC: Wolfpack Running Club)

 

going down to Big Sur is always a treat, and it was a lot of fun to be with Meredith as we watched Austin (visiting from PDX) finish his marathon and to see Robin (not pictured) and her team finish their relay.

 

I didn’t spend much time on trails in 2017, but when I was there, it was even better than I remembered. The views are always worth the work, and as with most things in life, the work is always more enjoyable when shared amongst friends.

 

And speaking of friends, sharing Monument Peak with Connie, Meg, and Char was so sweet. (Miss you, Char! Move back!) It was very cool to share with them such a special (and beautiful) place. This was from our first foray up.

 

Getting comfortable with the discomfort of the shorter stuff took several trials, but chasing friends and teammates (yet again) made it work: this time at the Marin Memorial 10k, and yet again, chasing Sam was to my benefit. (PC: Tamalpa RC)

 

an upside to running an inaugural half where I grew up, when I was visiting family in Ohio: my sister showed up with G and her youngest kiddo to cheer late in the race, and I ran into a friend from high school mid-race, seeing him for the first time since we graduated 10+ years ago, hence the mid-scream face here. It was a disastrous race for me, but not all running memories are about the times we post. (PC: Ben)

 

sharing a local race with my sister when I was in OH was awesome; she ran the 2 mile race with her BIL, while I ran the 5 and raced against a bunch of high schoolers, having a blast in the process. I can think of two times (ever) in my life wherein we’ve run together/at the same event. MOAR plz

 

one of my fav weekends each year is SF Marathon weekend, in part because I love the race and because I honestly just love doing the ambassador gig. It’s always so much fun to connect with runners who travel from all over the world to come race in SF, and race weekend is one of the only times I see many of my SMA buddies.

 

running into so many other local runners at TSFM makes the race so memorable each year, whether they’re also racing it or pacing it, as Sunny was here. (PC: Sunny)

 

after running with Chai and Saurabh so much during the first part of the year, during their IM Santa Rosa/my SF training, it was very cool to be able to spectate for their marathon at IM SR (and to see Saurabh cross the finish line). perhaps unsurprisingly, Strava told me they were my two biggest training partners in 2017.

 

I never ran XC in high school, but I’ve heard from so many people how fun it is. I finally got to experience that in 2017, and in doing so, I learned that XC (here, in Santa Cruz) is an entirely different beast. XC racing is hard AF! …but man is it enjoyable. the camaraderie is fantastic. the scenery? yea, also tolerable.

 

it was nice to finally be able to pace a race (for the first time in ’17 and maybe for the first time since giving birth in ’15? maybe?) and to return to the Santa Rosa Marathon to do so. being able to support others in their goals is deeply gratifying, and cheering on friends (Anil, Connie, and Meg here) in their big unicorn pursuits was just the coolest.

 

the SRM was a great day for my friends, and I was so happy to have such unfettered, front-row access to witness it all. I still find it hilarious that somehow the best, the only, nice group pic we got post-race –wherein we were celebrating Connie’s first sub-3 and 2nd F OA, Meg’s solid race, and everyone else’s experiences — is in front of the honey buckets. (PC: Connie’s husband)

 

I was/am so proud of her. Doing a tri was initially her idea, but the running was hard (and not enjoyable) for her. She dug deep and post-finish was greeted with her own little cheering section. She inspires me more than she’ll ever know or understand.

 

The one and only time I’ve ever bought a race reg off Groupon — and idiotically, it was for a half marathon very shortly after pacing at SRM and on a “the Bay Area is broiling” type of summer day. It made for a lackluster race, but the post-race shenanigans with so many teammates and friends (and finally getting to meet Angela and Jen) made the otherwise ‘eh’ experience completely positive.

 

This pic from the Golden Gate Park XC open reminds me that every starting line — whether it’s at the beginning of a race or at the beginning of a regular ol’ training run — is full of promise and opportunity. You’re never alone. (PC: Craig)

 

Taking a momentary break from PA races to periodically do a local race — here, Represent Running’s East Bay 510k — was a good way to connect with other (non-PA) runners and to promote our team. Lisa was lead bike for both the 5k and 10k, Andy ran and won the 5k, and Ida and I ran the 10k (and I got to break tape for the first time ever, which was unexpected and admittedly pretty cool!). I unfortunately hadn’t been able to do a single Represent Running race all year, so I was so glad to make the trek up to Emeryville to support a race organization that I appreciate.

 

Finally getting to do a RR race (the East Bay 510k) also meant that I could finally see many of my RR social media ambassador buddies whom I otherwise rarely see, like Christina and Brian. Between these guys and my WRC teammates, it made for a really fun race morning.

 

I hit the jackpot when Janet moved back to SJ and to (basically) my neighborhood. Early morning training runs became immensely more enjoyable (and much more documented!). (PC: Janet)

 

Winning a spot on Hoka’s Women Who Fly weekend was kinda otherworldly — I thought it was a scam! — and the entire trip remains somewhat of an enigma to me. The QT that I got to share with these other WWF recipients, in the backdrop of beautiful Santa Barbara, was indescribable.

 

Even when racing blew — and it did sometimes (here, at the Clarksburg HM) — in 2017 I made it a point to remember that there was always reason to smile and be grateful. Even if shit just sucks, simply being able to do this stuff is a gift. (PC: Impala Racing IG)

 

The last XC race of the season — Champs at Golden Gate Park, though on a different course than the GGP Open — was the beginning of the end of my ’17 racing exploits. Even during the height of all the nonsense surrounding my liver at the end of the year, when I was seriously questioning just about everything, I wanted to show up for my team and be there for them. (PC: WRC)

 

I started working under Lisa for CIM, and she challenged my running in ways that I couldn’t have done on my own. Celebrating with her and Oscar (whom she also coached) post-CIM, where we both posted PRs and ran strong races, was yet another reminder to me of how lucky I am to have found such a such a fantastic sport filled with such gracious and genuinely lovely people.

I’m not completely sure what I’m chasing after in 2018, at least not yet. I’m inclined to focus my year in much the same way as I did in 2017, by doing the shorter stuff in the first half and the marathon (SF, CIM) in the second half, but we’ll see.

What I do know is that I’ll be in good company again this year, and that in and of itself is pretty damn exciting.

Consider this your standing invitation to join in the fun anytime. 

—

(And if you’re looking for the complete 2017 racing index, here it is: Reach for a Star 5k; she.is.beautiful baby mama 10k, pushing G; Heart & Soles 10k; Stow Lake Stampede 5k; Marin Memorial 10k; Matchstick HM; North Canton YMCA 5 miler; The SF Marathon; Santa Cruz XC Challenge; pacing 3:33 at the Santa Rosa Marathon; Race to the End of Summer HM; Golden Gate Park XC Open; East Bay 510k (10k); Clarksburg HM; XC Champs; CIM).