There’s a good thang in the NY Times about mental versus physical limits. The two are connected real close, and I like this:
The first thing to know, said Dr. Benjamin Levine, an exercise researcher and a cardiology professor at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center in Dallas, is that no one really knows what limits human performance. There’s the ability of the heart to pump blood to the muscles, there’s the ability of the muscles to contract and respond, there’s the question of muscle fuel, and then, of course, there is the mind.
“How does the brain interact with the skeletal muscles and the circulation?” Dr. Levine said. “How much of this is voluntary and how much is involuntary? We just don’t know.”
The idea is that in order to go past your physical limits, whatever they might be, you probably need to pull out a couple tricks to get to better performance. The article goes on to talk about one biggie, disassociation. This is where you use something to take your mind off the physical pain you are most certainly experiencing. They talk about monks who ran 300 miles in 30 hours by a) focusing on a distant object, b) synchronizing breath with steps, and c) having a mantra with every step. That’s it? 300 miles? Ha. Shoot, I’ve totally driven that distance. Monks are a bunch of wusses, if you ask me. We should make them do it in high heels or something. But those of you who know how very monk-like I am might remember my mantra is “Fuck fuck fuckity fuck shit fuck sonofabitch fuck fuck you mother fucker.” I bet the monks totally use that one too. You might even hear me muttering it if you are lucky enough to be within sweat droplet spray distance of me working out.
Anyhow, I’m so pleased because I’ve always been a big disassociator anyhow, something people LOVE in conversation with me. Especially when I’m done with the conversation but the other party is not. I do this constantly, I think because the dialogue in my head is just as loud as any ambient noise, like the sound of my kid asking me a question or honking horns or someone giving me detailed directions to my next destination. But hey, what can be a curse in life is a blessing in workouts, and anyhow, it’s more cursey for the people around me than me, so you know, eh, cry me a river.
Other related things I’ve noticed: competition can help push you past limits–Oh, how groundbreaking is that observation! I know, only the most revolutionary new stuff here on FF. And learning a new skill sometimes makes workouts less physically painful, something I notice in, say, kickboxing, when the muscle soreness is no match for the mental anguish of making the same mistakes over and over and over even though I’m trying my damndest. And of course, music helps take you out of the old body, as does having mental fights with people who aren’t there, and so on… But mental toughness should not be underestimated. This is why I always make my classes do squat holds, cuz it gets your brain to learn to move past pain. Also it hurts people and makes them grimace and that just makes me feel better.
Okay, we get it, free your mind and your ass will follow or some whatever. Sounds like I’m not the only one in mental trauma over the stupid dare shit. Perhaps we can just take our minds off the emotional pain of not getting to have even the tiniest bit of sweetness in our otherwise dreary and dark lives by royally bitching about it. Cuz bitching is my favorite method of disassociation. Just ask my running partners.
I don’t know how you do it - make working out so damn funny.
You’re my hero.
Lisa Milton
December 7th, 2007