The last few years have been all about long sea kayaking trips. People call “trips” expeditions these days but that seems a bit pompous to me when, for the most part, it’s a few people throwing a bunch of stuff in a kayak and heading out on the ocean for a couple of weeks. The terminology, however, doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that since the end of 2021, I’ve done an awful lot of endurance training in a sea kayak.
The trips we have done in the last couple of years (Bass Strait in 2022, Bangalee to Seaforth also 2022, Bangalee to Clairview in 2023, and southwest Tasmania in 2024) have all involved consecutive long days paddling - averaging around 40 kilometres every day with peaks up to 65 kilometres - mostly in dynamic conditions. Pulling that off, with enough margin that you aren’t wiped at the end of every day and can enjoy the surroundings by, for example, walking up mountains, requires training. Lots of training, most of it sport specific, but, ideally including enough strength training that you don’t lose your hard won muscle mass. Remember, muscle mass and strength are THE best predictors of healthy and active aging.
Coming back to mainland Australia from Tasmania in early 2024, I had two goals for the winter: see if I could rebuild some strength and muscle, and have an epic season of rock climbing. Both are a bit daunting when you’ve passed your best “use before date,” but, not impossible. My version of Peter Attia’s “centenarian decathlon” is maintaining the ability to say “I’m in” when an adventure comes my way. For me this means: I can walk 20 kilometres easily and jog about the same (but faster), jump in my kayak and paddle 30 kilometres in a reasonable time frame (under five hours), carry a climbing pack up and down steep tracks, climb a dozen pitches a day, carry a backpack and bushwack to a summit somewhere, run five kilometres at my lactate threshold, and ride my bicycle on the local single track. I also want to be able to do full push-ups, pull-ups, and, I’d love to get a front lever and a full pistol squat. The last two I’m still working on.
Depending on your outlook, those sound like worthy goals or absolute insanity. If you are a regular reader of this blog (someone, anyone?) you might note that I tend to the obsessive. It suits me, because what makes me happy – and we are all different – is setting audacious (for me) goals and working towards them. When you finally reach the end goal, there’s enormous satisfaction; a deep inner joy that never goes away. Luckily, with practice the journey can be just as fulfilling as the goal. Each time I put weight on the bar (something I haven’t been able to do consistently for a few years due to all that endurance training) I feel a frisson of pleasure. That frisson of pleasure is extra special because I know that if I want to, I can train strength in the morning, and jump in the kayak after lunch and go out for a couple of hours in the kayak on a winters afternoon and have a mini-adventure. Capacity is under-rated.
I plan my training a week in advance, and I do something every single day even if I feel a bit beat up and fatigued. In fact, in life and training, there is incredible power in doing something specifically when it feels hard and scary. As Gadd says uncompromisingly in this article “Don’t fucking weaken in training, and you won’t when it’s uncomfortable and shitty in the defining moments of life.”
Changing habits (or systems) is the best way to change a life because most of what we do is habit driven even if we don’t realise it. Also from Gadd: “You’ll forget how to quit if you don’t, and you’ll never know how to push through big uncomfortable moments if you don’t do it every single day.” Pushing through in training or when a mini-adventure comes your way is how you develop the habit of not weakening.
As much as habits play a role, I think fear does as well. So many of our fears have so little grounding in reality. I reminded myself of this just a few days ago at a difficult move on a rock climb. I was a metre or so above a piece of protection, so if I fell, the worst thing that would happen was not much at all. Often times, the worst thing that can happen is not much at all. If the worst thing that can happen is being a bit more tired at the end of the day than usual, use that as an opportunity to practice “not quitting.” When life really gets difficult, you’ll be glad you did.
No comments:
Post a Comment