Becoming Better: Skills Acquisition

My current favorite author is Atul Gawande. A general surgeon in Massachusetts, Gawande's writing style is both highly engaging- he frequently incorporates narratives of dramatic experiences accrued throughout his medical education- and quite authoritative- through a liberal citation of research studies. Two of the books he has authored that I have purchased, Better: A Surgeon's Notes on Performance, and, Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on an Imperfect Science, accompanied me to Thailand and I continue to learn from them as I re-read them.

In one part of Complications, Gawande depicts the necessity of tenacity and determination in regards to the successful acquisition of a skill; be it surgery, playing the violin, or professional athletics.  Gawande cites the conclusion of researchers who examined the disparity between top performers in many fields (mathematics, music, chess, etc...) and lesser performers. The difference did not lie in innate skill, but in, "the cumulative amount of deliberate practice they've had" [1]. The potential limit imposed by one's genetics upon their VO2 max is an oft-cited claim for prowess in triathlon, but maybe this is just a minor part of the story. Gawande cites the conclusion of cognitive psychologist K. Anders Ericsson when he writes that Ericcson notes, "that the most important way in which innate factors play a role may be in one's willingness to engage in sustained training" [1].

My experience with swimming certainly supports this line of thinking. Starting my freshman year of college, I began to swim in the university pool. I pursued swimming more intelligently than passionately, forcing myself to hop in the cold water and repeat stroke drills to improve my speed and efficiency. In the pool, I met Alan Jacob, a much better swimmer and very prolific cyclists (and now very good friend). Alan routinely swam daily and would clock +20 hours of riding each week regardless of the season.

When I first started swimming with Alan, I would finish maybe half of the set's 200-yard interval before he touched the wall. I remember once playing around with a warm-up by swimming with fins and thinking to myself how nice, but seemingly impossible, it would be to swim this quickly. Then Alan passed me in the adjacent lane. Swimming so slowly was frustrating.

But I kept with it. My weekly yardage held constant during the busy school year and, come summer break, I would build it up further. With each year of college, my average weekly yardage would increase and my interval splits would drop proportionally. Now, of course, it was the increase in yardage, guidance from Alan, and improved stroke mechanics that made me a better swimmer. But it was a continued willingness to go to the pool and repeatedly throw myself at a task wherein I improved very frustratingly slowly that facilitated these changes.

Leading the swim in a super-sprint triathlon held at the college during Sophomore year. I'm the closest swimmer and Alan is in the adjacent lane. I'd actually lead the race into T1, but only because Alan elected to wear bike shorts and had to keep pulling them up as he swam. He beat me by 5 minutes on the 12-mile bike leg anyway...

I remember one set Junior year. Alan and I were doing a workout we called the 400 medley, which was a continuous 400 consisting of '100 at moderate pace, 50 breast stroke, 100 build (slow to med to fast pace), 50 kick, then 100 build to a sprint. We were coming up to the wall just before the final 100 of the last 400 yard set. I was, for once, right alongside Alan. Feeling confident, I said, with a cocky edge to my voice, "I'm still here, Alan," while still staring at the wall of the pool inching closer. Alan turned his head ever so slightly and just gave me a look.

I got absolutely smoked on that last 100. Yet even though I lost the battle, in my mind I'd won the war. I was improving. In our workouts Senior year, Alan would come in slightly ahead of me on each interval just as often as we would glide into the wall together. But that improvement wasn't made from just the laps, the drill work , or the core workouts we did afterwards. It was made at 8:00 at night while staring out the window to pouring rain and a mile-long walk in the dark to the pool.

In one of our last swim workouts together after I graduated from college, I came across Alan doing some repeats with Kevin Wang, one of my school's best swimmers and now coach of the team (and the local Master's club that I swam with. Kevin was also a great source of guidance and inspiration). I hopped in and after a quick warm-up gave it a go. Kevin destroyed us both, but I glided into the wall in second place.

"Wow, you're really fast," Alan told me during the rest before the next set.

Elated at the compliment, I just smiled, dropped under the water, and kicked off the wall to start the next 200-yard interval.



*Gawande is a MacArthur Fellow, a general surgeon at the Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston, a staff writer for The New York Times, and an assistant professor at Harvard Medical School and the Harvard School of Public Health. He's also, I've found, an excellent writer.

Sources:
[1]. Gawande, Atul. "Complications: A Surgeon's Notes on an Imperfect Science." p.20 . Picador Publishing, U.S.A. 2002

Today's Run

Upon arriving at the Step Ahead Khao Lak center, I was relieved to find a great place to run just 200 yards up the road. A widespread disregard for traffic safety makes running or riding along the road more dangerous than petting great white sharks and almost as dangerous as cycling in Texas.

The loop is approximately 1 kilometer long and circumnavigates a large pond (pictured above) in a D shape. The circuit is completely flat, but that just means I'll need to be creative. Various fartleks (or, speed play) runs will comprise a lion's share of my outings. Example farleks include surging the straight section (the backbone of the D), accelerating each time I round a corner (the path isn't curved, but segmented, so that would make for about 6 surges each lap), or varying my pace with the tempo of the song I'm listening to on my iPod Shuffle.

The sunrises and sunsets I catch from the little pond loop are extraordinary and I'll photograph and post them soon. Also, the loop appears to be a public park, and several locals walk laps each morning. I'm always greeted by warm smiles as I run the loop and do my best to exchange a cheery 'su wut dee krap,' or, 'hello' ( 'krap' in Thai is a word that makes a statement polite).

The Thai Diet

Sunset view over the Andaman sea from my new favorite restaurant

In his excellent book, Racing Weight: How to Get Lean for Peak Performance, Matt Fitzgerald outlines virtually everything the serious endurance athlete could care to know about optimizing body composition. Though I'll post a thorough review of the book later, it should suffice to say that I certainly recommend it if one needs to seriously address this issue in their training and racing.

Though the book has many benefits, one of them is assisting the reader in developing a proper diet strategy based off knowledge gleamed from diet journaling. Fitzgerald adds a quote to the effect of, "A measured quantity is a managed quantity," and while I'm not measuring my food on a scale a la Armstrong, I am addressing the fueling of my body with great focus.

In doing so, I have determined that, though I was eating very healthy foods, I was also eating more of these foods than was metabolically necessary. I was quite literally having too much of a good thing.

Enter the Thai diet.

For the 6 month period before I begin medical school in early September, my wife and I will be doing volunteer work in Khao Lak, Thailand. We are working with Step Ahead, a Christian organization that works towards local community development by assisting women and children at risk, teaching English and German, and many other special projects (such as developing sustainable agriculture in a nearby impoverished village, a project that I'm excited to be working on now). Should the urge strike you, you can read about our adventures on our trip's blog at yrockmovement.blogspot.com. 

Part of being in Thailand means I have the good fortune of having unprecedented access to Thai food. It's actually cheaper here to eat out than it is to make your own meal, as only 30 baht per dish makes each dining experience $1 USD. The portions, however, are certainly Thai-sized, and with meals just rolling around three times a day, I am probably eating in the neighborhood of 60% of the volume of my American diet. Combined with daily runs timed at sunrise and sunset, I have an excellent chance of making my way to my optimal race weight and a significant improvement in performance.

I'll measure my outcome by my performance in a penultimate running event, either the Phuket Marathon, half-marathon, or 10km on June 13th, in addition to measuring my body composition (lean mass and body fat % relative to my desired body weight). I'm excited to track this transition on these pages and look forward to faster running splits once I return to the States.

I can't say that I'm too excited to return, however, cause even though we spend quite a bit of time working, we have very easy access to paradise (and, as it turns out, vacant beach resort chairs near the beach). Please note the European-tourist in the background. It's like Kona in October over here- all of the Europeans are in Speedo-style swimsuits and none of them appear to have ever heard of skin cancer. I guess I'll add sunscreen advocacy among tourists to Step Ahead's agenda.