Comments for DolomiteSport http://dolomitesport.com Inspired Mountain Living Fri, 03 Feb 2012 19:35:36 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3 Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Igor http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4795 Igor Fri, 03 Feb 2012 19:35:36 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4795 I fear that when Alex is again here in the Dolomites I'll need a gallon of chamomile tea! I fear that when Alex is again here in the Dolomites I’ll need a gallon of chamomile tea!

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by sean http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4794 sean Fri, 03 Feb 2012 18:27:38 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4794 Toward the end of an ultra or a long day in the mountains, I almost always have my headphones on, listening to metal or something high-energy (e.g. Rammstein). When I'm not thinking of maintaining my pace or not tripping, my mind usually latches onto different things for a few seconds at a time. I may focus on the music, or a snippet of imaginary conversation, or some other more- or less-inane thought. When I do not have the headphones on, I often recall a short musical clip and imagine it on repeat. In an ultra, I focus on my eating and drinking schedule. In the mountains, I take in the scenery and look for good shots. When I can, I often also calculate my average speed, time left, time to the next milepost, etc. Toward the end of an ultra or a long day in the mountains, I almost always have my headphones on, listening to metal or something high-energy (e.g. Rammstein). When I’m not thinking of maintaining my pace or not tripping, my mind usually latches onto different things for a few seconds at a time. I may focus on the music, or a snippet of imaginary conversation, or some other more- or less-inane thought. When I do not have the headphones on, I often recall a short musical clip and imagine it on repeat.

In an ultra, I focus on my eating and drinking schedule. In the mountains, I take in the scenery and look for good shots. When I can, I often also calculate my average speed, time left, time to the next milepost, etc.

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Alex Newport-Berra http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4793 Alex Newport-Berra Fri, 03 Feb 2012 17:50:00 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4793 Dan, Great post here and am really enjoying the comments, I think you've opened a Pandora's box for endurance athlete discourse, my how we do love to talk about pain. Pain is a dance of beauty and the beast, passion and science. Have plenty of the first, and understand the second. The truth is that when I am "in pain", I am the happiest, this is the place where I take my body to its limit. The release comes in knowing there is no harder effort possible for my body in that moment. When we train and race, there can be an anchor of expectation, analysis, and judgement. However, when the needle is pegged, and there is no more room to go harder, any negativity, doubt, or worry simply drops away, because in the pain cave, and the pain face, there is no room for these emotions, or to remember how many switchbacks are left until the top of the Giau, fortunately there are signs to remind you all the way up... As athletes we are surfers on a wave of our own making, the more we train, feel pain, and understand its role in sport and how it serves us in life, the longer we are able to ride, finding balance, excitement, freedom, and appreciation for the wave and the craft. I like to imagine a deftly handed surgeon, with a sharp blade, severing the pesky link between my brain and the rest of my body. The human brain requires around 60% of our available oxygen, so by imaginarily cutting the link I increase available oxygen for my legs and simultaneously decrease the thinking part of things, which is not useful in the pain face since by this point all body movement is instinctual and embedded deep in muscle memory. More science has shown that pain and pleasure are almost identical in the brain. I welcome the pain like a scantily clad lover, eager for the arousal, heavier breathing, taking off the clothes and the layers, starting to sweat, ceasing to think, enjoying the dance, and finding a rhythm of body and breath that even a falling building would not interrupt. The more I welcome it the more I can tolerate, physically and mentally, because I have come to enjoy her seduction, and how I feel when we're done. And, from Arnold Schwarzenager years back, you must take the minute to watch this clip, his talk, logic, and look of pure joy on his face sums it up: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMjG2s6UOaw These moments become etched in our memory, whether from a race or in training, vacation or a spirited commute across town. Lastly, I know that as an athlete I am fortunate enough, physically, financially and lifestyle wise, to be able to CHOOSE to put myself in a situation of discomfort. There are many for who the choice is not voluntary, and for which the pain can be life-long. -Alex Dan,

Great post here and am really enjoying the comments, I think you’ve opened a Pandora’s box for endurance athlete discourse, my how we do love to talk about pain.

Pain is a dance of beauty and the beast, passion and science. Have plenty of the first, and understand the second.

The truth is that when I am “in pain”, I am the happiest, this is the place where I take my body to its limit. The release comes in knowing there is no harder effort possible for my body in that moment. When we train and race, there can be an anchor of expectation, analysis, and judgement. However, when the needle is pegged, and there is no more room to go harder, any negativity, doubt, or worry simply drops away, because in the pain cave, and the pain face, there is no room for these emotions, or to remember how many switchbacks are left until the top of the Giau, fortunately there are signs to remind you all the way up…

As athletes we are surfers on a wave of our own making, the more we train, feel pain, and understand its role in sport and how it serves us in life, the longer we are able to ride, finding balance, excitement, freedom, and appreciation for the wave and the craft.

I like to imagine a deftly handed surgeon, with a sharp blade, severing the pesky link between my brain and the rest of my body. The human brain requires around 60% of our available oxygen, so by imaginarily cutting the link I increase available oxygen for my legs and simultaneously decrease the thinking part of things, which is not useful in the pain face since by this point all body movement is instinctual and embedded deep in muscle memory.

More science has shown that pain and pleasure are almost identical in the brain. I welcome the pain like a scantily clad lover, eager for the arousal, heavier breathing, taking off the clothes and the layers, starting to sweat, ceasing to think, enjoying the dance, and finding a rhythm of body and breath that even a falling building would not interrupt. The more I welcome it the more I can tolerate, physically and mentally, because I have come to enjoy her seduction, and how I feel when we’re done.

And, from Arnold Schwarzenager years back, you must take the minute to watch this clip, his talk, logic, and look of pure joy on his face sums it up: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMjG2s6UOaw

These moments become etched in our memory, whether from a race or in training, vacation or a spirited commute across town.

Lastly, I know that as an athlete I am fortunate enough, physically, financially and lifestyle wise, to be able to CHOOSE to put myself in a situation of discomfort. There are many for who the choice is not voluntary, and for which the pain can be life-long.

-Alex

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Dennis http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4790 Dennis Fri, 03 Feb 2012 07:21:25 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4790 I am by no means an accomplished athlete; I've done some races but never beyond middle of the pack. I really don't have any great racing stories. The closest association I have to this post comes from my job. I'm a wildland firefighter in California. For the most part, this is a fun and exciting career. There are times, however, when you find yourself questioning your sanity. When it's 110 degrees outside and you're wearing 2-3 layers of full-length protective gear with 60 pounds strapped to your back and you look ahead and see only smoke and flames and you form your plan of direct attack. That's the easy part, the part you're prepared for. The Pain Face comes right in the midst of the coming minutes/hours. When it's now hotter because you're close to the flames, when the smoke is suffocating and your eyes and throat are burning. Tears, snot, sweat, and drool pour uncontrollably down your face as you struggle not only to breathe, but to advance the hose farther because the faster you get this over with, the sooner you can breathe again. The sooner the fire is out, the sooner the pain in your legs, chest, and arms will cease. But you can't just block everything out and push forward, that's how people get killed. You have to look ahead and know what you're getting into, then look behind and make sure there's not fire creeping around, then right, then left. You continue to charge ahead while you're mind is racing: what's the fire doing? Where's it going? Am I being effective? Is there any aircraft coming? What's the weather doing? What is my crew doing? Who just said what on the radio? And all this time you're still nauseously choking in small breathes with blurry eyes and burning quads amid a 130 degree smoke screen and hoping to God there isn't a whole lot farther to go. Then the main fire is out. The adrenaline starts dying down and you look back at the direct result of all your hard work and think "I'm never letting the rookie make chili-cheese dogs for lunch again. Ever." I am by no means an accomplished athlete; I’ve done some races but never beyond middle of the pack. I really don’t have any great racing stories. The closest association I have to this post comes from my job. I’m a wildland firefighter in California. For the most part, this is a fun and exciting career. There are times, however, when you find yourself questioning your sanity. When it’s 110 degrees outside and you’re wearing 2-3 layers of full-length protective gear with 60 pounds strapped to your back and you look ahead and see only smoke and flames and you form your plan of direct attack. That’s the easy part, the part you’re prepared for. The Pain Face comes right in the midst of the coming minutes/hours. When it’s now hotter because you’re close to the flames, when the smoke is suffocating and your eyes and throat are burning. Tears, snot, sweat, and drool pour uncontrollably down your face as you struggle not only to breathe, but to advance the hose farther because the faster you get this over with, the sooner you can breathe again. The sooner the fire is out, the sooner the pain in your legs, chest, and arms will cease. But you can’t just block everything out and push forward, that’s how people get killed. You have to look ahead and know what you’re getting into, then look behind and make sure there’s not fire creeping around, then right, then left. You continue to charge ahead while you’re mind is racing: what’s the fire doing? Where’s it going? Am I being effective? Is there any aircraft coming? What’s the weather doing? What is my crew doing? Who just said what on the radio? And all this time you’re still nauseously choking in small breathes with blurry eyes and burning quads amid a 130 degree smoke screen and hoping to God there isn’t a whole lot farther to go.

Then the main fire is out. The adrenaline starts dying down and you look back at the direct result of all your hard work and think “I’m never letting the rookie make chili-cheese dogs for lunch again. Ever.”

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Glenn http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4788 Glenn Fri, 03 Feb 2012 05:06:27 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4788 Great topic, especially as I raced Visalia a couple times myself (and have the woulda coulda shoulda regrets to prove it!) One of the reasons I prefer straight up road races to time trials is that I like the protagonist-antagonist struggle of a mass start. The direct competition actually quiets most of the chatter in my head as I am focused exclusively on riding as strongly and smartly (relative to the competition) as I can. In a TT I've historically been, simply put, a total headcase. No matter how how strong I am, I never feel like I am going fast enough, which sets of a cascade of negative thoughts. Everything from "this sucks!" & "how could I have ever thought this was a good idea?" to "I suck!" and in between. I've actually started revising my training plan in my head...in the middle of a TT. So after reading a book or two on mental toughness, I now just keep repeating a simple mantra in my head: "keep the speed up, on the edge" The edge is the burn at the top of the quads and if I'm there then I know I know I'm going as fast as I can and the rest will just have to take care of itself. And I used to never know what to say when watching a cyclist suffer in a race where I'm a spectator until I was watching my brother do a TT last season. When he passed me, pain face in full bloom, I shouted "later on you're gonna wish you had gone harder so do it now!" Great topic, especially as I raced Visalia a couple times myself (and have the woulda coulda shoulda regrets to prove it!)

One of the reasons I prefer straight up road races to time trials is that I like the protagonist-antagonist struggle of a mass start. The direct competition actually quiets most of the chatter in my head as I am focused exclusively on riding as strongly and smartly (relative to the competition) as I can.

In a TT I’ve historically been, simply put, a total headcase. No matter how how strong I am, I never feel like I am going fast enough, which sets of a cascade of negative thoughts. Everything from “this sucks!” & “how could I have ever thought this was a good idea?” to “I suck!” and in between. I’ve actually started revising my training plan in my head…in the middle of a TT.

So after reading a book or two on mental toughness, I now just keep repeating a simple mantra in my head: “keep the speed up, on the edge” The edge is the burn at the top of the quads and if I’m there then I know I know I’m going as fast as I can and the rest will just have to take care of itself.

And I used to never know what to say when watching a cyclist suffer in a race where I’m a spectator until I was watching my brother do a TT last season. When he passed me, pain face in full bloom, I shouted “later on you’re gonna wish you had gone harder so do it now!”

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Nina Silitch http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4782 Nina Silitch Thu, 02 Feb 2012 21:18:37 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4782 It is funny that I was just asking a friend, future teammate, Sari Anderson, who is a very successful athlete, and mom what she thinks about when the going gets tough in a race. Is it what we are going to make the kids for dinner tonight or what? I think in almost every ski mountaineering race there is a point where I ask myself, "what am I doing?" It hurts, it hurts a lot, and often I want to quit. My most recent race where I came 2nd in the French nationals there was a pain barrier for sure. I thought a lot about when I gave birth to my 1st child, a very long long labor, a lot longer than an 1h45 min race and how it this race was nothing compared to that 19 hr journey. For me it is really important to keep a positive and clear mind, and avoid the negative distracting thoughts from creeping in. I have little mantras that I say in my head to keep my rhythm and cadence, like "go mommy go!" or "You are strong, fast & light." or "never give up!" It is not often in races that we feel amazing, or in the "zone" as they say, but I did have that experience once this year and it really was amazing to feel really good in a race. I think we all want to have that feeling more often. And yes, I would love to hear what others think of in those tough moments. Surely the mind is stronger than the body in many ways. It is funny that I was just asking a friend, future teammate, Sari Anderson, who is a very successful athlete, and mom what she thinks about when the going gets tough in a race. Is it what we are going to make the kids for dinner tonight or what? I think in almost every ski mountaineering race there is a point where I ask myself, “what am I doing?” It hurts, it hurts a lot, and often I want to quit. My most recent race where I came 2nd in the French nationals there was a pain barrier for sure. I thought a lot about when I gave birth to my 1st child, a very long long labor, a lot longer than an 1h45 min race and how it this race was nothing compared to that 19 hr journey. For me it is really important to keep a positive and clear mind, and avoid the negative distracting thoughts from creeping in. I have little mantras that I say in my head to keep my rhythm and cadence, like “go mommy go!” or “You are strong, fast & light.” or “never give up!” It is not often in races that we feel amazing, or in the “zone” as they say, but I did have that experience once this year and it really was amazing to feel really good in a race. I think we all want to have that feeling more often. And yes, I would love to hear what others think of in those tough moments. Surely the mind is stronger than the body in many ways.

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Meghan http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4780 Meghan Thu, 02 Feb 2012 17:50:54 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4780 Heh, this is a great post, Dan! If a longlonglong run starts to become hard, I find myself focusing obsessively on all the forms of ouch that I'm feeling: "Oh my god, my hamstrings are gonna come undone." "Jeez, I don't think I'm actually breathing anymore. Is my face blue?" "If I died right now, that would be okay." "Why do I do this to myself? Why, WHY?!" But, if the hardness doesn't stop, a transcendence occurs where I don't feel or think anything anymore. The physical discomfort and the mental anguish over said discomfort melt away into numb nothing. I do nothing to facilitate this except for just continuing to run. It's like floating or flying or taking mushrooms or perhaps what purgatory is like. I suspect these are all survival mechanisms of evolutionary origin, but they remind me that the human body is a miraculous organism. I can't wait to read what others say about their "pain caves." Heh, this is a great post, Dan!

If a longlonglong run starts to become hard, I find myself focusing obsessively on all the forms of ouch that I’m feeling:
“Oh my god, my hamstrings are gonna come undone.”
“Jeez, I don’t think I’m actually breathing anymore. Is my face blue?”
“If I died right now, that would be okay.”
“Why do I do this to myself? Why, WHY?!”

But, if the hardness doesn’t stop, a transcendence occurs where I don’t feel or think anything anymore. The physical discomfort and the mental anguish over said discomfort melt away into numb nothing. I do nothing to facilitate this except for just continuing to run. It’s like floating or flying or taking mushrooms or perhaps what purgatory is like.

I suspect these are all survival mechanisms of evolutionary origin, but they remind me that the human body is a miraculous organism. I can’t wait to read what others say about their “pain caves.”

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by dolomitesport http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4779 dolomitesport Thu, 02 Feb 2012 16:56:24 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4779 Brendan, I remember hearing a long time ago that if you focus on your face, relaxing it, and even getting a real smile to spread from time to time, it allows your body to do its thing with less stress. To this day I still practice that when I am really hurting and the focus on the facial muscles does seem to help. Igor - I do remember the chamomile story. Here's to some chamomile days in May! Brendan, I remember hearing a long time ago that if you focus on your face, relaxing it, and even getting a real smile to spread from time to time, it allows your body to do its thing with less stress. To this day I still practice that when I am really hurting and the focus on the facial muscles does seem to help.
Igor – I do remember the chamomile story. Here’s to some chamomile days in May!

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Brendan http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4778 Brendan Thu, 02 Feb 2012 16:47:59 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4778 Great post, Dan. I took the headline literally and immediately thought of what I do in Bikram yoga classes: I look in the mirror and try to relax my face as much as possible and concentrate on balance. I don't think it's possible to be truly empty and focused, at least not for a a few seconds. The longest days I have in the mountains, I usually concentrate on the task at hand as much as possible, but a lot of the time I'm thinking about coffee or ice cream, or taking off my heavy boots, or whatever I'm going to do when I get done. Great post, Dan. I took the headline literally and immediately thought of what I do in Bikram yoga classes: I look in the mirror and try to relax my face as much as possible and concentrate on balance. I don’t think it’s possible to be truly empty and focused, at least not for a a few seconds. The longest days I have in the mountains, I usually concentrate on the task at hand as much as possible, but a lot of the time I’m thinking about coffee or ice cream, or taking off my heavy boots, or whatever I’m going to do when I get done.

]]> Comment on Inside the Pain Face by Igor http://dolomitesport.com/2012/02/inside-the-pain-face/comment-page-1/#comment-4776 Igor Thu, 02 Feb 2012 13:33:12 +0000 http://dolomitesport.com/?p=4183#comment-4776 The time I really suffer, I think about nothing ... or better I just don't have time to think at something. It's like my brain is totally empty and I just ride/race unconsciusly. It's like some cells switch off the brain black-box so that I will not remember anymore the pain I do to my body in that moment, and that's maybe the reason why after a tough competition at first you say NO MORE! But the year after you are again at the starting line. Of course there are exceptions. Interesting is that if you think about something during this moments, this will stuck in your brain forever. I remember here my first mixed road race with pro's and Elite cyclists. I suffered .... oh my God how much I suffered and I had this only thought: "Chamomile tea!" (Don't laugh) I finished the race, after it I stopped to the first bar and had around 1 Liter hot chamomile tea (and it was August with 30°C). And now, if you will see me after a race drinking chamomile tea you will know I really suffered! The time I really suffer, I think about nothing … or better I just don’t have time to think at something. It’s like my brain is totally empty and I just ride/race unconsciusly.
It’s like some cells switch off the brain black-box so that I will not remember anymore the pain I do to my body in that moment, and that’s maybe the reason why after a tough competition at first you say NO MORE! But the year after you are again at the starting line.

Of course there are exceptions. Interesting is that if you think about something during this moments, this will stuck in your brain forever. I remember here my first mixed road race with pro’s and Elite cyclists. I suffered …. oh my God how much I suffered and I had this only thought: “Chamomile tea!” (Don’t laugh) I finished the race, after it I stopped to the first bar and had around 1 Liter hot chamomile tea (and it was August with 30°C).

And now, if you will see me after a race drinking chamomile tea you will know I really suffered!

]]>