A case of mind over matter?

“Yes, absolutely: If you don’t mind, it does not matter!’ replied Reuben, the Dolphin Club’s boat captain, who was giving me a tour of the swimming and boating club in San Francisco Bay. What a treat! The visit to the Dolphin opened my eyes to a whole new level of physical and mental fitness needed to swim in the Bay waters and the harmonious cooperation between people who love making headway (moving) in or over the water.

At the end of a business trip to San Francisco, I decided to see if I might be able to row at one of the local clubs. One of the wonderful things I had discovered about becoming a rower is that it creates an invisible but real connection with many other like minded people worldwide. I have yet to find a place that would not extend the invite to visit and possibly row at the local facilities. Googling “rowing in San Francisco” brought up info on several Bay Area clubs. The closest to my location carried the additional designation of “swimming” in its name. I had seen boating, sailing, paddling, and kayaking added to the rowing, but the notion that rowers and swimmers shared a club was puzzling to me. While the e-mail reply warned me that I won’t be allowed to row because I could not claim open water experience, I was nevertheless cordially invited to visit the club.

On a beautiful but chilly early November morning I eagerly walked down Nob Hill to the edge of the Bay. I found myself in front of a building that from the street looked itself as a large white and blue boat. Once inside, I was transported in time! The club, founded in 1877, (see history) boasts in its great wood paneled room a full size wooden bar similar to those I’ve discovered in the old boat houses of Philadelphia – apparently a feature required by boaters till the 19th century… A fleet of large, carefully maintained, wooden boats still used for open water rowing reminded me of other antique boating equipment I had used at the Roskilde Roklub, that is built on a fjord next to the Viking museum in Denmark. Many pictures and trophies documenting a long and proud history were also on display. However, the most impressive discovery occurred when I exited toward the water side of the boat house: people, several older than me, in their bathing suits cheerfully greeting each other while coming out or waddling into the frigid water. My feeling of confidence, gained from sporting only a light leather jacket that morning when most passersby were shivering in puffy jackets and huddling paper cups of hot coffee, quickly gave way to humility! A stunning view of the bay with pink fog rolling in and out over the Golden Gate Bridge added to my awe. It turned out to be a very good day to observe these people whose determination made them not only able to but actually willing to brave the chilly open waters of the Bay. I was shown pictures of 80+ yo members who still swam the Golden Gate Bridge route or had crossed the English Channel.

I asked Reuben what it takes to be able to brave the cold open waters of the Bay? He told me about needing to persevere to gradually withstand water’s low temperature, having the metabolism to sustain the swim, and staying fit into old age. And I learned that this club holds… hypothermia classes. Above all, I was told it’s about a state of mind. As Reuben put it, “We do not have to swim in these waters, we chose – and love- to!” My visit was a revelation. When swimming clubs will be mentioned from now on, I will not automatically picture a pool, inevitably limited in length, with water warmed at a comfortable temperature. I now understood why I was not allowed to row: I needed to be able to swim in those waters should the wake of a passing tanker flip my boat.

I had to leave to catch my return flight, but I had trouble extracting myself from the scene. I had taken dozens of pictures (still hard to find one that does justice to the real thing). One last look: wide sky above blue and gold open waters. Pink fog. The Golden Gate Bridge, Sausalito, Angel Island and Alcatraz. Tankers passing and honking in the distance. Boats and flocks of swimmers crossing in various directions. The smell of bacon. What a morning!

Putting it all together – the “renaissance” competitor

The other weekend I went to cheer for friends (and secretly figure out if it was something I should consider…) participating in a “mini” triathlon that includes swimming (0.5 mi=750 m), biking (12.4 mi=20 Km), and running (3.1 mi = 5 km). The display of human determination and energy was amazing and inspiring. So many things blew me away that it was hard to rank them, so here are some in no particular order:

• Each of parts taken separately is a challenge in itself to the average person. All these people – and there were a few hundred - had been willing to train for and able to compete in all three of them.
  
• Beyond the energy expenditure needed, the mini-triathlon requires also the willingness to deal with the unpredictable – weather/water conditions - and the predictable discomfort. They not only had to bike and run after swimming, but they also did it in wet wear!
  
• Most people I talked to at the end of the race appeared to be competing against themselves, foremost keeping track of their own progress: some had competed previously, many were planning to train and come back within the next months. While there were enthusiastic cheers for every one crossing the finish line - indeed a major achievement, no prizes or trophies were distributed…
  
• Some of the people did not fit the “image” of the athlete, some appeared to be overweight, some had some sort of clear movement impairment, most were beyond the age associated with physical prowess. I was reminded again how misleading the appearances can be.

Moreover, I could not help but admire not only the technical excellence and endurance, but also the overall preparedness and the ability to think clearly under stress of these athletes. In fact, if I had to pick one thing that was the most amazing to me while watching this challenge – it was the “behind the scenes” competitors’ ability to manage the “transition time”. I understand that the times needed to don the biking gear after getting out of the water, walk the bike to the start line, then shed it all for the running shoes, were all added to the overall time. No doubt a lot of preparation went into having just was needed in terms of different gear pieces. Add to that laying down all these items and then donning or shedding them in the right order, when tired and with the clock ticking, was nothing short of a major tactical system. Way too cool, I just discovered a check list for triathlon transitions ! I’d say the handling of the swift and efficient transition from one challenge to the next under stress is one of the most difficult to find, but probably most useful abilities in the business world these days.

This made me think that the tri-athletes would likely do very well in whatever they put their minds to. No matter how these people appeared at first sight, they all had determination, endurance, versatility, clarity of mind under stressful conditions and used these qualities to constantly challenge their own abilities to get better. I wonder how frequently such transferable skills are taken into account when people are assessed for hiring or assigned professional responsibilities…

It's a mental thing: Just keep going

Just this past weekend, several friends ran a mini-marathon (half marathon) among 35,000 other people!!! I could never do it myself, but I do have one good excuse: I row instead! I asked my friend Mihaela why she does it. She said it’s because of the positive effect of pushing herself beyond what seemed to be her limits (the competition against oneself!). She does it because it means getting involved in something that allows her to stay healthy, happy, and sane, to be in good company of other like-minded people, and last but not least, because of the joy and pride of succeeding… Mihaela, the long distance runner, added: “In the end, life itself is a marathon, we need to stay in shape for it!”

And what does it take? Obviously, if you decide to do something apparently extreme for your age, abilities, etc. - we are not talking only about an athletic endeavor - you will need to prepare mentally and physically: it will be… hard! If it were easy, anybody could do it, and then there would be no challenge to feel and speak about proudly for years to come. Then, you… “just do it!” Along the way, you have to be really diligent to distinguish between the real reasons for which it may make sense to consider giving up reaching the goal from the likely many clever excuses disguising themselves as important to us. Our brains are really good at making believe! Especially once you find yourself at the start line, you should not allow yourself to entertain the idea of not finishing your “race,” whatever that might mean in your case, except for a medical or technical emergency or some major disaster. Finally, do your very best!

If there is only one piece of good advice I would like to pass on, it’s the one I got myself from my aunt, ex-European rowing champion, when I finally found myself on the eve of my first 5K rowing race at the tender age of 40. I had watched with fascination her and her brother’s (my mother’s younger siblings) endeavors on TV. Both elite rowers, National and European champions, from my child perspective they both looked impossibly tall, strong, beautiful, young, and energetic, hero-like figures. Except, I also knew they were very human, ravaging our fridge at every visit, as they were eternally hungry! It may be this early deep admiration that made me eventually take up rowing after so many years…. my mid-life crisis? (I’d say it was a positive way to spend the surge of extra mental and physical energy.)

So, I called up my aunt and asked for her expert advice: “What secret tip do you have for my first 5 K race?” After what seemed a long silence at the other end: “Did you say this was your first? I assume you have no idea how hard this is going to be…” I panicked for a second (“Am I crazy to try this?”), then she continued: “That is OK! At some point it is going to start feeling hard, REALLY hard...” I plastered my ear closer to the receiver, expecting her to whisper some magic formula... “You will see no reason to continue the race… then… you will just need to KEEP GOING, just don’t stop!” I was stunned; “That’s it?!?” I was very disappointed, I had expected some major insider revelation from my extremely successful advisor that would give me the competitive advantage I so desperately needed. The answer came back, simple and practical: “Yes, that’s it! Just keep going, go through the motions, even if your brain will tell you to stop – it’s just lack of oxygen! That’s pretty much the major secret in a long race!”

P.S. As much as I did not think at the moment that I had gained any new competitive advantage, during that race and many others that followed in rowing and in life, I had plenty of opportunities to remember my coach’s advice… it works!

"Get over yourself": be able to laugh at yourself

After learning to row and perfecting my technique and balance in a training single boat for almost a year, I finally decided it was time to graduate to a "skinny" style boat, the type normally used in competitions. Of course with this change came the next challenge, the realization that I should now begin working on getting good enough to race.

Finally, the day of my first novice race came. I had practiced for this day for the past few months and now I only had to put it to good use. We had travelled with my club to another city and I was now rowing a beautiful white skinny boat toward the starting dock. The boats in my race were called to align at the start line. Maneuvering in a tight space a skinny boat with its wide reaching oars is a task that can be daunting even for an experienced rower. Moreover, there were many referees and other competitors watching. I pulled all my power of concentration together and a few moments later I was happy to remark that I had a perfect alignment in the center of my lane. I rolled up my chair to the start position, a rather delicate balancing pose. It was time for me to calm down enough to hear the imminent cue that would unleash the explosive motion needed to the start the boat. The sky was blue, the water was calm, I could have not wished for any better conditions. I looked down the nicely buoy-aligned course, trying to visualize the finish line 1 K ahead, rapidly coming closer and closer to me. I felt the trepidation of the moment, like a race horse fidgeting before the gate opens, I had to close my eyes to calm down and get myself into 'the zone': "I can do this! I can do this!"

It seemed that it was taking way too long to hear the start signal. Instead, a voice booms through the loud speaker: "Atlanta Rowing club… we have a problem!" (?!?) That meant me! I opened my eyes, finally looking outside the zone I had put myself in. I noticed that all the referees on the shore were laughing… at me?!? The booming voice continued: "Atlanta Rowing club… you'll need to turn your boat… 180 degrees!" Taking another look at the other boats helped me finally realize that my boat was pointing in the wrong direction… If any rowers are reading this they had probably already understood my conundrum... for others it may not be evident, but one rows backward. I had aligned my boat at the start as if I was going to run, not row in the race! Yes, everybody was laughing, referees, competitors, I bet they all told the story about this novice rower who perfectly aligned her boat in the opposite direction that day, ready to crash it into the start dock. In fact, this was so stupid of me, that I started laughing about it myself! I laughed so hard that I completely relaxed. I turned the boat around quickly, I no longer worried about how competent I looked. There was nothing more stupid than what I had already done. I was still giggling when they finally called the start.

I rowed my first race laughing… at myself! The time seemed to fly away and I still remember the exhilaration I felt during that race as if it was yesterday. What was even more amazing is that I ended up winning that race!

Knowing what I know now after several years of rowing, I can pretty much attribute that first win to my ability to laugh at my naiveté. This allowed me to completely get over it and focus on rowing in the race. Making possibly the biggest, stupidest mistake right at the beginning, and then getting over it, freed me from worrying about any other possible inadequacies. This does not even take into account the fact that I had most likely disarmed my opponents: what competition could they possibly have expected from a novice who did not even know which way the boat was supposed to move?

If you are a novice, making mistakes is inevitable, but getting over it and over yourself, is up to you. Otherwise, if you are dealing with a novice, never discount one who feels that there is no face left to lose…

Going against the wind

Seems that if I am on the water on a windy day, no matter which way I need to row, somehow I always end up going against the wind! A big challenge, especially for the delicate balance of a one person boat, as opposed to sailing, where the wind is your friend. The wind ruffles the water which in turn messes up with my ability to steady my boat. Worse, when rowing against it, the wind pushes into my back and my oars, creating tremendous resistance against moving the boat forward (if you are reading this and wondering what am I talking about: the rower’ back is toward the leading end of a rowing boat).

So what’s one to do when having to row against a strong wind? I had asked the rowing camp coaches this question. They all gave me a large smile and a halfway serious answer: “You do not leave the dock!” ...“But what if I have no choice” I insisted, “what if the wind starts after I am already on the water and I have to make it back safely, or what if I had already signed up to compete in a race and day turns out to be windy?” I got no better answer after that either, probably the coaches were worried about sending a beginner into the wind. So I persisted any chance I got, I asked the more experienced rowers for their advice. Best technical advice came from faraway rowing friends, Viking descendants, who shared their tips perfected from routinely braving the Nordic waters (e.g., to decrease resistance, shorten the time the oars are out of the water and work like a sail against the wind). I turns out it was really good I had insisted asking this question beforehand, as indeed, I soon found myself in dire need to row in tough weather conditions. I diligently tested all advice I had received. After perfecting my approach to rowing in stormy conditions for a few years, I can finally offer my own view about the main “secret” of braving adverse external conditions. More importantly, I came to the realization I could apply the same principles to help me get through tough times in my personal and professional life.

I found that what matters most while having to brave harsh external conditions is discovering and engaging one’s internal “gyroscope”. We all have one! My brush with Yoga and Pilates helped me to conscientiously engage my center of gravity (located I feel at the center of my body, also called the “core”) to maintain my balance in such testing times. I found that being able to concentrate on my core brings amazing stability at times when the rest of the world seems to be in turmoil. When rowing, the wind is violently rocking my boat side to side, and my oars hit or catch unevenly the waves on the two sides: sometimes I miss my catch, sometimes I go too deep into the water. Boat becomes frighteningly unsettled. On top of it, due to strong wind resistance I row in place, it’s like being in a nightmare I cannot escape! Then, I conscientiously overcome my panic response to the powerful outside influences and I concentrate on bringing all my power into my own center. I begin to feel how this becomes very heavy: I am now pinned down solidly by gravity. All of the sudden I seem to be connected to the Earth's core by an invisible string stretched just enough to allow me to smoothly glide on its curving surface. My own center is stable, even as the whole world around me seems to whirl around in a storm. The previously awful hauling slowly fades away into the periphery of my perception, as I smoothly and silently slide between air and water. The wind feels just a fast rush of cold air on my skin and it is now exhilarating. I return safely to the dock and it feels good, really good. I was able to mount the extra muscle power to overcome elements’ resistance and I was able to keep my mental cool.

Thus I have learned "mind over matter" from my "mind over water" technique. The willingness to prepare for and then to take the challenge taught me to summon my core power: strengths, beliefs, values, and hopes, to minimize the influence of external adversity, and to actually turn challenge into a personal victory. I think this might resonate also with martial arts philosophy? I will have to check and come back on that.

For now, I think I could go ahead allow myself to have that brownie with my hot coffee.