Too much fiber, noisy weekends, high cholesterol and more on this week's episode!

Come chat with us at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete

Too much fiber, noisy weekends, high cholesterol and more on this week's episode!

Triathlon works best, long-term, as a lifestyle. Easier said than done?

Join up at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlon

TRANSCRIPT

I've been thinking a lot this week about the idea of triathlon as a lifestyle.

And specifically, I'm thinking about the training side of triathlon.

Because when somebody is new to the sport, I think one of the things that can be really interesting—and really beneficial—is that, over time, triathlon can become more than just something you do.

It can actually become part of your lifestyle.

And I started thinking about what that really means.

Because we use the word "lifestyle" all the time, but what actually makes something a lifestyle?

Well, I think one of the big things is that it's habitual.

It's something you do repeatedly. It's something that eventually becomes almost automatic.

I mean, think about eating breakfast. Or eating lunch. You don't wake up every morning and have a big internal debate about whether you're going to eat today.

It's just part of your life.

And I think there's something really interesting about what happens when training starts to move in that direction.

When you're new to triathlon, you probably have to think about everything.

When am I going to swim?

When am I going to ride?

When am I going to run?

What workout am I going to do?

What do I need to eat?

What do I need to bring?

Do I have clean cycling clothes?

Is my bike ready?

There's all this friction around the activity.

But if you stick with it long enough, some of that starts to disappear.

You know what Tuesday is.

You know that Thursday is a run day.

You know that Sunday morning is probably going to involve a bike.

You start preparing your gear without really thinking about it.

You start arranging your life around the things that are important to you.

And eventually, you're not really asking yourself, "Am I going to train today?"

You're asking yourself, "How am I going to make today's training work?"

And I think that's a pretty significant shift.

I think the first thing is consistency.

And I don't mean perfection.

That's an important distinction.

Consistency doesn't mean you never miss a workout.

It doesn't mean you execute every training week exactly as prescribed.

It doesn't mean you never get sick, or injured, or have a busy week at work, or have something happen in your family.

Consistency means that you keep coming back.

You train.

You miss a workout.

You get back to training.

You have a great week.

You have a terrible week.

You keep going.

And eventually, those repeated actions start to become a pattern.

And that pattern starts to become a habit.

And the habit starts to become part of your life.

I think patience is another big piece of this.

Because triathlon is really good at teaching you that you don't get everything you want immediately.

You can have a great training week and not see any improvement.

You can work really hard for three months and discover that your FTP went up by 10 watts.

And you might think, "That's it?"

But then you look back two years later and realize that those 10-watt improvements, those little improvements in your running, those little improvements in your swimming, all accumulated into something pretty significant.

That's the nature of endurance sport.

You're accumulating.

And I think that's one of the beautiful things about it.

Because if you're going to make triathlon part of your life, you're going to have setbacks.

You are going to miss workouts.

You're going to have bad races.

You're going to get sick.

You're probably going to get injured at some point.

You're going to have periods where life gets in the way.

And one of the skills you develop is simply learning how to pick yourself up and start again.

And that's a pretty useful skill outside of triathlon, too.

Because life doesn't really care what your training plan says.

Sometimes life happens.

And the question becomes, "Okay. What do I do now?"

Not, "How do I make up every workout I missed?"

Not, "How do I punish myself for falling behind?"

Just, "Okay. What's the next thing I can reasonably do?"

And I think that's another characteristic of something that's sustainable.

It's flexible.

It can bend without breaking.

Because I think it's very easy to confuse enthusiasm with sustainability.

You discover triathlon and you think, "This is amazing."

And suddenly you're looking at training plans and YouTube videos and gear and nutrition and power meters and heart-rate zones and all of these things.

And before you know it, you're trying to do everything.

And you're training five or six days a week.

And you've bought a bunch of equipment.

And you're trying to optimize every workout.

And you're exhausted.

And you've been doing it for six weeks.

And then you wonder why you can't maintain it.

So I think one of the most important questions for a new triathlete isn't:

"How much can I do?"

It's:

"What can I do consistently?"

And maybe even more importantly:

"What can I imagine myself doing five years from now?"

Because if the answer is, "Well, there's no way I can keep doing this," then maybe you've built something that's too big.

I think you start with your life.

Not with the training plan.

Look at your week.

Look at your work.

Look at your family.

Look at your sleep.

Look at the other things that matter to you.

And then ask yourself: where does training realistically fit?

Maybe you start with a very simple week.

One swim.

One bike.

One run.

And maybe that's not your ultimate training program.

It's just your starting point.

It's your minimum viable version of being a triathlete.

And once that feels normal—once it feels like, "Yeah, this is just what I do"—then maybe you add something.

And you see how that feels.

Maybe you experiment with when you train.

Maybe mornings work better.

Maybe evenings work better.

Maybe you discover that getting everything ready the night before removes a tremendous amount of friction.

And that's another thing I think people underestimate:

You're not just building a training plan. You're building a system around the training.

The bike gets cleaned.

The bottles get filled.

The clothes get laid out.

The shoes are ready.

The workout is on the calendar.

And suddenly, tomorrow morning doesn't require a whole bunch of decisions.

That's what I mean by reducing friction.

The fewer decisions you have to make, the easier it becomes to repeat the behaviour.

Because things will go wrong.

Maybe you miss Tuesday's workout.

What's your rule?

Do you try to squeeze it in Wednesday?

Do you move on?

Do you change the rest of the week?

Maybe you have a terrible night's sleep.

What's your rule?

Maybe you're feeling beat up.

What's your rule?

I think having some of those decisions made in advance can be incredibly helpful.

Because you don't want to make your best decisions about training when you're exhausted, frustrated, or feeling guilty.

Sometimes the best training decision is simply to let the workout go.

And then come back tomorrow.

And that's allowing triathlon to consume your life.

Because there's a difference between making triathlon part of your lifestyle and making triathlon your entire lifestyle.

And I think that's an important distinction.

For me, anyway, triathlon is important.

It's a significant part of my life.

But it's not the whole thing.

There are relationships.

There is family.

There is work.

There are other interests.

There is downtime.

There is just being a human being who isn't training.

And I think the sport is actually healthier when it has a place in your life rather than when it takes over your life.

And that probably goes back to sustainability again.

Because if the thing you're doing is constantly competing with everything else you value, eventually something is going to give.

That's another one that's really easy to fall into.

Especially today.

You can go online and see somebody's power numbers.

You can see somebody's race results.

You can see somebody's training volume.

You can see somebody who is swimming six days a week and running 50 kilometres and riding 300 kilometres.

And you're sitting there thinking, "Well, I guess I'm not doing enough."

But you don't know their circumstances.

And you certainly don't know their starting point.

You're comparing your beginning to somebody else's middle.

And that's a pretty easy way to take something that was supposed to add to your life and turn it into a source of stress.

So I think the better question is:

Is what I'm doing sustainable for me?

Not for somebody else.

For me.

Obviously, you get fitter.

You get stronger.

Your cardiovascular fitness improves.

You become more capable.

You may race faster.

You may achieve things that you never thought you were capable of.

But I think there are some benefits that go well beyond the physical.

There's confidence.

Not the kind of confidence where you think you're better than somebody else.

It's the confidence that comes from knowing you've done difficult things before.

You know what it feels like to be uncomfortable.

You know what it feels like to have a bad day and keep going.

You know what it feels like to work toward something for months and finally see the payoff.

And there's a sense of structure.

Training gives your week a rhythm.

There are things you do on certain days.

There are goals you're working toward.

And for a lot of people, I think that can be really valuable.

There's also community.

You meet people through triathlon.

You become part of something.

And maybe one of the most interesting benefits is the relationship you develop with aging.

Because when you make endurance training part of your life, you're not just thinking about what you can do this year.

You're thinking about what you want to be capable of five years from now.

Ten years from now.

And maybe that's one of the really powerful things about making triathlon a lifestyle.

You're not simply training for your next race.

You're building a life in which being active, being challenged, learning, adapting and taking care of yourself are normal things that you do.

And I think that's a pretty good lifestyle.

Not because triathlon is somehow the answer to everything.

It isn't.

But because the habits that you develop through the sport—consistency, patience, resilience, flexibility, preparation—can become useful long after the workout is finished.

And maybe that's the real benefit.

The race is temporary.

The fitness comes and goes.

The finish line is one day.

But if you can turn the process of training into something that fits naturally into your life, then you've created something that can stay with you for decades.

And that's a pretty compelling reason to become a triathlete.

Triathlon works best, long-term, as a lifestyle. Easier said than done?

TRANSCRIPT

I've been thinking a lot this week about the idea of triathlon as a lifestyle.

And specifically, I'm thinking about the training side of triathlon.

Because when somebody is new to the sport, I think one of the things that can be really interesting—and really beneficial—is that, over time, triathlon can become more than just something you do.

It can actually become part of your lifestyle.

And I started thinking about what that really means.

Because we use the word "lifestyle" all the time, but what actually makes something a lifestyle?

Well, I think one of the big things is that it's habitual.

It's something you do repeatedly. It's something that eventually becomes almost automatic.

I mean, think about eating breakfast. Or eating lunch. You don't wake up every morning and have a big internal debate about whether you're going to eat today.

It's just part of your life.

And I think there's something really interesting about what happens when training starts to move in that direction.

When you're new to triathlon, you probably have to think about everything.

When am I going to swim?

When am I going to ride?

When am I going to run?

What workout am I going to do?

What do I need to eat?

What do I need to bring?

Do I have clean cycling clothes?

Is my bike ready?

There's all this friction around the activity.

But if you stick with it long enough, some of that starts to disappear.

You know what Tuesday is.

You know that Thursday is a run day.

You know that Sunday morning is probably going to involve a bike.

You start preparing your gear without really thinking about it.

You start arranging your life around the things that are important to you.

And eventually, you're not really asking yourself, "Am I going to train today?"

You're asking yourself, "How am I going to make today's training work?"

And I think that's a pretty significant shift.

I think the first thing is consistency.

And I don't mean perfection.

That's an important distinction.

Consistency doesn't mean you never miss a workout.

It doesn't mean you execute every training week exactly as prescribed.

It doesn't mean you never get sick, or injured, or have a busy week at work, or have something happen in your family.

Consistency means that you keep coming back.

You train.

You miss a workout.

You get back to training.

You have a great week.

You have a terrible week.

You keep going.

And eventually, those repeated actions start to become a pattern.

And that pattern starts to become a habit.

And the habit starts to become part of your life.

I think patience is another big piece of this.

Because triathlon is really good at teaching you that you don't get everything you want immediately.

You can have a great training week and not see any improvement.

You can work really hard for three months and discover that your FTP went up by 10 watts.

And you might think, "That's it?"

But then you look back two years later and realize that those 10-watt improvements, those little improvements in your running, those little improvements in your swimming, all accumulated into something pretty significant.

That's the nature of endurance sport.

You're accumulating.

And I think that's one of the beautiful things about it.

Because if you're going to make triathlon part of your life, you're going to have setbacks.

You are going to miss workouts.

You're going to have bad races.

You're going to get sick.

You're probably going to get injured at some point.

You're going to have periods where life gets in the way.

And one of the skills you develop is simply learning how to pick yourself up and start again.

And that's a pretty useful skill outside of triathlon, too.

Because life doesn't really care what your training plan says.

Sometimes life happens.

And the question becomes, "Okay. What do I do now?"

Not, "How do I make up every workout I missed?"

Not, "How do I punish myself for falling behind?"

Just, "Okay. What's the next thing I can reasonably do?"

And I think that's another characteristic of something that's sustainable.

It's flexible.

It can bend without breaking.

Because I think it's very easy to confuse enthusiasm with sustainability.

You discover triathlon and you think, "This is amazing."

And suddenly you're looking at training plans and YouTube videos and gear and nutrition and power meters and heart-rate zones and all of these things.

And before you know it, you're trying to do everything.

And you're training five or six days a week.

And you've bought a bunch of equipment.

And you're trying to optimize every workout.

And you're exhausted.

And you've been doing it for six weeks.

And then you wonder why you can't maintain it.

So I think one of the most important questions for a new triathlete isn't:

"How much can I do?"

It's:

"What can I do consistently?"

And maybe even more importantly:

"What can I imagine myself doing five years from now?"

Because if the answer is, "Well, there's no way I can keep doing this," then maybe you've built something that's too big.

I think you start with your life.

Not with the training plan.

Look at your week.

Look at your work.

Look at your family.

Look at your sleep.

Look at the other things that matter to you.

And then ask yourself: where does training realistically fit?

Maybe you start with a very simple week.

One swim.

One bike.

One run.

And maybe that's not your ultimate training program.

It's just your starting point.

It's your minimum viable version of being a triathlete.

And once that feels normal—once it feels like, "Yeah, this is just what I do"—then maybe you add something.

And you see how that feels.

Maybe you experiment with when you train.

Maybe mornings work better.

Maybe evenings work better.

Maybe you discover that getting everything ready the night before removes a tremendous amount of friction.

And that's another thing I think people underestimate:

You're not just building a training plan. You're building a system around the training.

The bike gets cleaned.

The bottles get filled.

The clothes get laid out.

The shoes are ready.

The workout is on the calendar.

And suddenly, tomorrow morning doesn't require a whole bunch of decisions.

That's what I mean by reducing friction.

The fewer decisions you have to make, the easier it becomes to repeat the behaviour.

Because things will go wrong.

Maybe you miss Tuesday's workout.

What's your rule?

Do you try to squeeze it in Wednesday?

Do you move on?

Do you change the rest of the week?

Maybe you have a terrible night's sleep.

What's your rule?

Maybe you're feeling beat up.

What's your rule?

I think having some of those decisions made in advance can be incredibly helpful.

Because you don't want to make your best decisions about training when you're exhausted, frustrated, or feeling guilty.

Sometimes the best training decision is simply to let the workout go.

And then come back tomorrow.

And that's allowing triathlon to consume your life.

Because there's a difference between making triathlon part of your lifestyle and making triathlon your entire lifestyle.

And I think that's an important distinction.

For me, anyway, triathlon is important.

It's a significant part of my life.

But it's not the whole thing.

There are relationships.

There is family.

There is work.

There are other interests.

There is downtime.

There is just being a human being who isn't training.

And I think the sport is actually healthier when it has a place in your life rather than when it takes over your life.

And that probably goes back to sustainability again.

Because if the thing you're doing is constantly competing with everything else you value, eventually something is going to give.

That's another one that's really easy to fall into.

Especially today.

You can go online and see somebody's power numbers.

You can see somebody's race results.

You can see somebody's training volume.

You can see somebody who is swimming six days a week and running 50 kilometres and riding 300 kilometres.

And you're sitting there thinking, "Well, I guess I'm not doing enough."

But you don't know their circumstances.

And you certainly don't know their starting point.

You're comparing your beginning to somebody else's middle.

And that's a pretty easy way to take something that was supposed to add to your life and turn it into a source of stress.

So I think the better question is:

Is what I'm doing sustainable for me?

Not for somebody else.

For me.

Obviously, you get fitter.

You get stronger.

Your cardiovascular fitness improves.

You become more capable.

You may race faster.

You may achieve things that you never thought you were capable of.

But I think there are some benefits that go well beyond the physical.

There's confidence.

Not the kind of confidence where you think you're better than somebody else.

It's the confidence that comes from knowing you've done difficult things before.

You know what it feels like to be uncomfortable.

You know what it feels like to have a bad day and keep going.

You know what it feels like to work toward something for months and finally see the payoff.

And there's a sense of structure.

Training gives your week a rhythm.

There are things you do on certain days.

There are goals you're working toward.

And for a lot of people, I think that can be really valuable.

There's also community.

You meet people through triathlon.

You become part of something.

And maybe one of the most interesting benefits is the relationship you develop with aging.

Because when you make endurance training part of your life, you're not just thinking about what you can do this year.

You're thinking about what you want to be capable of five years from now.

Ten years from now.

And maybe that's one of the really powerful things about making triathlon a lifestyle.

You're not simply training for your next race.

You're building a life in which being active, being challenged, learning, adapting and taking care of yourself are normal things that you do.

And I think that's a pretty good lifestyle.

Not because triathlon is somehow the answer to everything.

It isn't.

But because the habits that you develop through the sport—consistency, patience, resilience, flexibility, preparation—can become useful long after the workout is finished.

And maybe that's the real benefit.

The race is temporary.

The fitness comes and goes.

The finish line is one day.

But if you can turn the process of training into something that fits naturally into your life, then you've created something that can stay with you for decades.

And that's a pretty compelling reason to become a triathlete.

I'm always trying to get more organized. But even if I were to succeed, would it help me in triathlon?

Come be more organized with me at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete

TRANSCRIPT

There’s something I've been thinking about lately, and it has to do with organization.

And I know, organization isn't exactly the most exciting topic in the world.

But I've been thinking about it in a slightly different way.

Because I've realized that I tend to think of organization as something that happens when my life gets too messy.

I've got a desk covered in papers.

I've got things on my calendar that I haven't dealt with.

I've got little projects that I've started but haven't finished.

I've got receipts that need to be submitted, notes that I wrote down because I didn't want to forget them, things that I need to file away, things that I need to follow up on.

And my first reaction is usually:

"God, I really need to get organized."

And I think that's true.

But a few days ago, I was looking at all of this stuff and I had a slightly different thought.

Maybe all of this stuff is also evidence of a life that's being lived.

Because those papers didn't just magically appear on my desk.

They're there because I'm doing things.

I'm interested in things.

I'm starting things.

I'm trying things.

I'm thinking about things.

And that doesn't mean that I should leave my desk looking like a disaster forever.

But maybe I don't have to look at the mess and immediately see evidence that I'm failing at being organized.

Maybe I can look at it and see evidence of a life with some interest in it.

And that got me thinking about triathlon.

Because if there's one hobby that can generate an absolutely ridiculous amount of stuff, it's triathlon.

Three sports.

Three sets of equipment.

Training plans.

Nutrition.

Clothing.

Shoes.

Bikes.

Goggles.

Fins.

Paddles.

Snorkels.

Heart-rate monitors.

Power meters.

Bike computers.

Lights.

Radar.

Bottles.

Gels.

Electrolytes.

And then you've got all the little things that have to happen before you actually do the workout.

And sometimes I think that's one of the reasons training can feel overwhelming.

You don't just have to do the workout.

You have to prepare to do the workout.

Take swimming, for example.

I might have a swim scheduled.

And in my head, that sounds pretty simple.

"Okay, I'm going swimming."

But then I actually think about what that involves.

I've got to get my swim bag.

I've got to make sure I've got my goggles.

I've got my cap.

I've got my towel.

I've got my snorkel.

Maybe I've got paddles.

Maybe I've got a pull buoy.

I've got to know what the workout is.

Maybe I've printed it out.

And if I'm putting the workout beside the pool, I might even put the damn thing in a Ziploc bag so it doesn't get soaked.

And suddenly, "I'm going swimming" has become this little logistical operation.

And you can look at that and think:

"Jesus. This is a lot of work just to go swimming."

And that's where I think organization becomes really important.

Because one of the great things about being organized is that it removes friction.

If I put my running shoes by the door the night before, that's one less decision I have to make in the morning.

If I've already prepared my bike bottles, that's one less thing I have to think about.

If my watch is charged, I don't have to discover at the last minute that it's sitting at 14 percent.

If my swim bag is already packed, I don't have to go hunting around the house looking for my snorkel.

And these things sound incredibly trivial.

But they're not.

Because motivation is a funny thing.

Sometimes you have plenty of motivation.

You actually want to go for the run.

You actually want to ride your bike.

You actually want to get in the pool.

And then you encounter five little obstacles.

Where are my shoes?

My watch is dead.

I haven't made my drink.

Where's my towel?

What am I supposed to do for this workout?

And suddenly that little bit of motivation has been chipped away.

So I think one of the great purposes of organization is not necessarily to make you more motivated.

It's to protect the motivation that you already have.

And I really like that idea.

But I think there's another layer to this.

And that's where the idea of ritual comes in.

Because there's a difference between doing something because you have to do it and doing something as part of a ritual.

Think about making your coffee in the morning.

You could describe it as a series of chores.

Fill the machine.

Grind the beans.

Put the coffee in.

Turn it on.

Clean it up.

Or you could think of it as a little morning ritual.

And somehow, that changes the experience.

And I think the same thing can happen with training.

Take preparing a bottle of carb drink.

You can think:

"God, I have to make this stupid drink again."

Or you can think:

"Okay. I'm getting ready for my ride."

And you get the bottle.

You put the water in.

You measure out the carbs.

You add the electrolytes.

You shake it up.

You put it in the fridge.

And that's not just a chore anymore.

It's part of the ride.

It's the beginning of the ride.

The same thing with charging your watch.

The same thing with laying out your clothes.

The same thing with getting your shoes ready.

The same thing with packing your swim bag.

The same thing with putting that workout into the Ziploc bag.

You can look at every one of those things and say:

"This is stuff I have to do before I can train."

Or you can say:

"This is how I prepare to train."

And those two sentences sound almost identical.

But emotionally, they're completely different.

One is a burden.

The other is a ritual.

And I think there's something really powerful in that distinction.

Because we spend so much of our time trying to get to the thing we actually want to do.

We rush through the preparation.

We rush through getting ready.

We think the preparation is just an annoying obstacle between us and the good part.

But maybe the preparation is part of the good part.

Maybe there's actually some pleasure in getting ready.

There's something satisfying about seeing the bike bottles lined up.

There's something satisfying about getting your kit laid out.

There's something satisfying about knowing that everything is ready to go.

And I think that's particularly true in triathlon because there are so many little rituals.

You put on the cycling shoes.

You get the bottles into the cages.

You turn on the trainer.

You pull up the workout.

You put your headphones on.

You get on the bike.

And there's a transition that happens.

You're no longer sitting around thinking about everything else in your life.

You're becoming the person who's about to train.

And maybe that's part of the value of ritual.

It tells your brain:

"Okay. We're doing this now."

And I think this also changes the way we think about all of the equipment.

Because if you're not careful, all of the stuff that comes with triathlon can feel overwhelming.

You start thinking:

Why do I have all this stuff?

Why do I have five different kinds of nutrition?

Why do I have all these swim toys?

Why do I need this bike computer?

Why do I have a radar?

Why do I have this light?

Why do I have these shoes?

And you can certainly take it too far.

Triathlon is an excellent hobby if you want to become an obsessive consumer of tiny improvements.

There's always another piece of equipment.

There's always another gadget.

There's always another thing that might make you three percent faster.

And I'm certainly not immune to that.

But I've also started thinking that some of that stuff is part of what makes the sport interesting.

Take swimming.

Maybe you've got a snorkel.

You can use it to work on your body position.

You've got paddles.

You can feel what your catch is doing.

You've got fins.

You've got a pull buoy.

And suddenly swimming isn't just:

"Get in the pool and swim back and forth."

There's this whole little world of things to explore.

And the bike is the same.

You can get interested in power.

You can get interested in aerodynamics.

You can get interested in tires.

You can get interested in nutrition.

You can get interested in bike fit.

You can get interested in training.

And I think that's one of the things I love about triathlon.

There's always something to be curious about.

And that brings me back to my messy desk.

Because maybe the desk and the triathlon gear aren't actually that different.

The desk is covered with evidence of all the things I'm interested in.

And the garage, or the swim bag, or the training calendar, is covered with evidence of all the things I'm interested in as well.

And I don't think the answer is to eliminate all of that.

I think the answer is to organize it.

Not because those things are bad.

But because I want to be able to enjoy them.

And that's an important distinction.

Organization shouldn't necessarily be about simplifying your life to the point where there's nothing left in it.

Maybe it's about organizing your life well enough that you can enjoy its complexity.

Because triathlon is complex.

And that's part of the fun.

But there's a danger here, too.

Because you can take this idea of preparation and ritual too far.

You can become so focused on preparing that you never actually do the workout.

You can spend an hour researching the perfect nutrition strategy for a 45-minute run.

You can spend all day organizing your training instead of training.

You can convince yourself that you need one more piece of equipment before you can really get started.

And that's not what I'm talking about.

The ritual is supposed to lead you into the activity.

It's not supposed to replace the activity.

So I think there's a balance.

Prepare enough that you remove the friction.

Organize enough that you don't have to make a hundred little decisions.

But then actually go and do the thing.

And maybe that's the real purpose of organization.

It's not about having a perfect desk.

It's not about having a perfect calendar.

It's not about having everything checked off.

It's about making room for the things you care about.

And that brings me back to something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

Sometimes I look at my calendar and I see all of these unfinished things.

And my immediate reaction is:

"There's too much here."

But maybe another way to look at it is:

"Look at all the things I get to be interested in."

And I think the same thing can happen with triathlon.

You look at your training calendar and you think:

"Oh my God. I've got all these workouts."

You look at your swim bag and think:

"Look at all this stuff I have to carry."

You look at your bike and think:

"Look at all these things I have to check."

You look at your nutrition and think:

"I have to prepare all of this again."

Or you can take a moment and think:

"How cool is this?"

I get to swim.

I get to ride my bike.

I get to run.

I get to learn about my body.

I get to experiment with training.

I get to figure out what works.

I get to prepare for a race.

And all of these little rituals are part of that experience.

So maybe the goal isn't to get rid of the complexity.

Maybe the goal is to make the complexity manageable.

And maybe the goal isn't to eliminate all of the unfinished things on my desk.

Maybe it's to give those things a place to live.

Because there's a difference between being overwhelmed by your life and being surrounded by evidence that you're living an interesting life.

And sometimes, honestly, I think I confuse the two.

So the next time I'm standing in the kitchen making a bottle of carb drink before a ride, or charging my watch, or putting my shoes beside the door, or stuffing my swim workout into a Ziploc bag...

Maybe I'll try not to think:

"God, I have to do all this stuff before I can train."

Maybe I'll think:

"This is the beginning of my training."

And maybe that's a small shift.

But I think sometimes the small shifts are the ones that change the way we experience our lives.

Because the training isn't just the hour on the bike.

It's the preparation.

It's the anticipation.

It's the ritual.

It's the workout.

It's the recovery.

It's thinking about what you're going to do next time.

It's all of it.

And maybe that's one of the reasons I love this ridiculous sport so much.

There's just so much to it.

And instead of seeing all of that as one more thing to organize...

Maybe I can see it as one more thing to enjoy.

I'm always trying to get more organized. But even if I were to succeed, would it help me in triathlon?

TRANSCRIPT

There’s something I've been thinking about lately, and it has to do with organization.

And I know, organization isn't exactly the most exciting topic in the world.

But I've been thinking about it in a slightly different way.

Because I've realized that I tend to think of organization as something that happens when my life gets too messy.

I've got a desk covered in papers.

I've got things on my calendar that I haven't dealt with.

I've got little projects that I've started but haven't finished.

I've got receipts that need to be submitted, notes that I wrote down because I didn't want to forget them, things that I need to file away, things that I need to follow up on.

And my first reaction is usually:

"God, I really need to get organized."

And I think that's true.

But a few days ago, I was looking at all of this stuff and I had a slightly different thought.

Maybe all of this stuff is also evidence of a life that's being lived.

Because those papers didn't just magically appear on my desk.

They're there because I'm doing things.

I'm interested in things.

I'm starting things.

I'm trying things.

I'm thinking about things.

And that doesn't mean that I should leave my desk looking like a disaster forever.

But maybe I don't have to look at the mess and immediately see evidence that I'm failing at being organized.

Maybe I can look at it and see evidence of a life with some interest in it.

And that got me thinking about triathlon.

Because if there's one hobby that can generate an absolutely ridiculous amount of stuff, it's triathlon.

Three sports.

Three sets of equipment.

Training plans.

Nutrition.

Clothing.

Shoes.

Bikes.

Goggles.

Fins.

Paddles.

Snorkels.

Heart-rate monitors.

Power meters.

Bike computers.

Lights.

Radar.

Bottles.

Gels.

Electrolytes.

And then you've got all the little things that have to happen before you actually do the workout.

And sometimes I think that's one of the reasons training can feel overwhelming.

You don't just have to do the workout.

You have to prepare to do the workout.

Take swimming, for example.

I might have a swim scheduled.

And in my head, that sounds pretty simple.

"Okay, I'm going swimming."

But then I actually think about what that involves.

I've got to get my swim bag.

I've got to make sure I've got my goggles.

I've got my cap.

I've got my towel.

I've got my snorkel.

Maybe I've got paddles.

Maybe I've got a pull buoy.

I've got to know what the workout is.

Maybe I've printed it out.

And if I'm putting the workout beside the pool, I might even put the damn thing in a Ziploc bag so it doesn't get soaked.

And suddenly, "I'm going swimming" has become this little logistical operation.

And you can look at that and think:

"Jesus. This is a lot of work just to go swimming."

And that's where I think organization becomes really important.

Because one of the great things about being organized is that it removes friction.

If I put my running shoes by the door the night before, that's one less decision I have to make in the morning.

If I've already prepared my bike bottles, that's one less thing I have to think about.

If my watch is charged, I don't have to discover at the last minute that it's sitting at 14 percent.

If my swim bag is already packed, I don't have to go hunting around the house looking for my snorkel.

And these things sound incredibly trivial.

But they're not.

Because motivation is a funny thing.

Sometimes you have plenty of motivation.

You actually want to go for the run.

You actually want to ride your bike.

You actually want to get in the pool.

And then you encounter five little obstacles.

Where are my shoes?

My watch is dead.

I haven't made my drink.

Where's my towel?

What am I supposed to do for this workout?

And suddenly that little bit of motivation has been chipped away.

So I think one of the great purposes of organization is not necessarily to make you more motivated.

It's to protect the motivation that you already have.

And I really like that idea.

But I think there's another layer to this.

And that's where the idea of ritual comes in.

Because there's a difference between doing something because you have to do it and doing something as part of a ritual.

Think about making your coffee in the morning.

You could describe it as a series of chores.

Fill the machine.

Grind the beans.

Put the coffee in.

Turn it on.

Clean it up.

Or you could think of it as a little morning ritual.

And somehow, that changes the experience.

And I think the same thing can happen with training.

Take preparing a bottle of carb drink.

You can think:

"God, I have to make this stupid drink again."

Or you can think:

"Okay. I'm getting ready for my ride."

And you get the bottle.

You put the water in.

You measure out the carbs.

You add the electrolytes.

You shake it up.

You put it in the fridge.

And that's not just a chore anymore.

It's part of the ride.

It's the beginning of the ride.

The same thing with charging your watch.

The same thing with laying out your clothes.

The same thing with getting your shoes ready.

The same thing with packing your swim bag.

The same thing with putting that workout into the Ziploc bag.

You can look at every one of those things and say:

"This is stuff I have to do before I can train."

Or you can say:

"This is how I prepare to train."

And those two sentences sound almost identical.

But emotionally, they're completely different.

One is a burden.

The other is a ritual.

And I think there's something really powerful in that distinction.

Because we spend so much of our time trying to get to the thing we actually want to do.

We rush through the preparation.

We rush through getting ready.

We think the preparation is just an annoying obstacle between us and the good part.

But maybe the preparation is part of the good part.

Maybe there's actually some pleasure in getting ready.

There's something satisfying about seeing the bike bottles lined up.

There's something satisfying about getting your kit laid out.

There's something satisfying about knowing that everything is ready to go.

And I think that's particularly true in triathlon because there are so many little rituals.

You put on the cycling shoes.

You get the bottles into the cages.

You turn on the trainer.

You pull up the workout.

You put your headphones on.

You get on the bike.

And there's a transition that happens.

You're no longer sitting around thinking about everything else in your life.

You're becoming the person who's about to train.

And maybe that's part of the value of ritual.

It tells your brain:

"Okay. We're doing this now."

And I think this also changes the way we think about all of the equipment.

Because if you're not careful, all of the stuff that comes with triathlon can feel overwhelming.

You start thinking:

Why do I have all this stuff?

Why do I have five different kinds of nutrition?

Why do I have all these swim toys?

Why do I need this bike computer?

Why do I have a radar?

Why do I have this light?

Why do I have these shoes?

And you can certainly take it too far.

Triathlon is an excellent hobby if you want to become an obsessive consumer of tiny improvements.

There's always another piece of equipment.

There's always another gadget.

There's always another thing that might make you three percent faster.

And I'm certainly not immune to that.

But I've also started thinking that some of that stuff is part of what makes the sport interesting.

Take swimming.

Maybe you've got a snorkel.

You can use it to work on your body position.

You've got paddles.

You can feel what your catch is doing.

You've got fins.

You've got a pull buoy.

And suddenly swimming isn't just:

"Get in the pool and swim back and forth."

There's this whole little world of things to explore.

And the bike is the same.

You can get interested in power.

You can get interested in aerodynamics.

You can get interested in tires.

You can get interested in nutrition.

You can get interested in bike fit.

You can get interested in training.

And I think that's one of the things I love about triathlon.

There's always something to be curious about.

And that brings me back to my messy desk.

Because maybe the desk and the triathlon gear aren't actually that different.

The desk is covered with evidence of all the things I'm interested in.

And the garage, or the swim bag, or the training calendar, is covered with evidence of all the things I'm interested in as well.

And I don't think the answer is to eliminate all of that.

I think the answer is to organize it.

Not because those things are bad.

But because I want to be able to enjoy them.

And that's an important distinction.

Organization shouldn't necessarily be about simplifying your life to the point where there's nothing left in it.

Maybe it's about organizing your life well enough that you can enjoy its complexity.

Because triathlon is complex.

And that's part of the fun.

But there's a danger here, too.

Because you can take this idea of preparation and ritual too far.

You can become so focused on preparing that you never actually do the workout.

You can spend an hour researching the perfect nutrition strategy for a 45-minute run.

You can spend all day organizing your training instead of training.

You can convince yourself that you need one more piece of equipment before you can really get started.

And that's not what I'm talking about.

The ritual is supposed to lead you into the activity.

It's not supposed to replace the activity.

So I think there's a balance.

Prepare enough that you remove the friction.

Organize enough that you don't have to make a hundred little decisions.

But then actually go and do the thing.

And maybe that's the real purpose of organization.

It's not about having a perfect desk.

It's not about having a perfect calendar.

It's not about having everything checked off.

It's about making room for the things you care about.

And that brings me back to something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

Sometimes I look at my calendar and I see all of these unfinished things.

And my immediate reaction is:

"There's too much here."

But maybe another way to look at it is:

"Look at all the things I get to be interested in."

And I think the same thing can happen with triathlon.

You look at your training calendar and you think:

"Oh my God. I've got all these workouts."

You look at your swim bag and think:

"Look at all this stuff I have to carry."

You look at your bike and think:

"Look at all these things I have to check."

You look at your nutrition and think:

"I have to prepare all of this again."

Or you can take a moment and think:

"How cool is this?"

I get to swim.

I get to ride my bike.

I get to run.

I get to learn about my body.

I get to experiment with training.

I get to figure out what works.

I get to prepare for a race.

And all of these little rituals are part of that experience.

So maybe the goal isn't to get rid of the complexity.

Maybe the goal is to make the complexity manageable.

And maybe the goal isn't to eliminate all of the unfinished things on my desk.

Maybe it's to give those things a place to live.

Because there's a difference between being overwhelmed by your life and being surrounded by evidence that you're living an interesting life.

And sometimes, honestly, I think I confuse the two.

So the next time I'm standing in the kitchen making a bottle of carb drink before a ride, or charging my watch, or putting my shoes beside the door, or stuffing my swim workout into a Ziploc bag...

Maybe I'll try not to think:

"God, I have to do all this stuff before I can train."

Maybe I'll think:

"This is the beginning of my training."

And maybe that's a small shift.

But I think sometimes the small shifts are the ones that change the way we experience our lives.

Because the training isn't just the hour on the bike.

It's the preparation.

It's the anticipation.

It's the ritual.

It's the workout.

It's the recovery.

It's thinking about what you're going to do next time.

It's all of it.

And maybe that's one of the reasons I love this ridiculous sport so much.

There's just so much to it.

And instead of seeing all of that as one more thing to organize...

Maybe I can see it as one more thing to enjoy.

I don't want to leave any stone unturned for my turn at the World Championships. I need a professional that can help me spot weaknesses before they cause a problem. So, who does that type of work? Finding them has proven a bit of a challenge.

Come join the fun at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete

TRANSCRIPT

THE LONELY TRIATHLETE

Episode: Finding the Right Athletic Therapist

There's a funny thing I've discovered about being a triathlete as I get older.

I'm becoming increasingly interested in things that have absolutely nothing to do with going faster.

Well... that's not entirely true.

I'm becoming increasingly interested in things that will allow me to go faster without breaking myself in the process.

And that has led me down a bit of a rabbit hole lately.

I've been trying to find an athletic therapist—or physiotherapist, or whatever the appropriate professional is—who can look at me and say:

"Okay, Todd. You're 58. You're doing all this swimming, cycling and running. Here's what you're doing well, here's what you're doing badly, here's what's missing, and here's what I'd change."

Not because I have an injury.

I don't.

And that's actually the point.

I'm looking for somebody who can help me be proactive about my strength and conditioning and injury prevention.

And I've discovered that finding that person is apparently harder than I thought.

So let me tell you about my first attempt.

I went looking for a physiotherapist because I figured physiotherapists know bodies.

They understand movement. They understand injuries. They understand rehabilitation.

And I thought, surely there are physiotherapists who also work with athletes who aren't injured.

That's what I wanted.

I wasn't looking for somebody to tell me how to recover from a torn Achilles.

I wanted somebody to look at my current strength program and say:

"Does this make sense for a triathlete?"

Because I've spent a fair amount of time developing my strength routine.

I'm not interested in becoming a bodybuilder.

I'm not trying to see how much I can deadlift.

I want the minimum necessary strength stimulus that produces the maximum possible benefit for triathlon performance, while minimizing the risk of injury.

That's the sweet spot I'm looking for.

And I wanted somebody with enough expertise to tell me whether I've actually found it.

Maybe I'm missing something obvious.

Maybe I'm doing an exercise that provides almost no benefit for triathlon.

Maybe I'm doing too much.

Maybe I'm not doing enough.

Maybe there's some glaring imbalance in my mobility or strength that I'm completely unaware of.

That's the kind of professional eye I wanted.

And I also wanted to talk about my injury history and perhaps get some advice about injury prevention.

And, somewhat optimistically, I was also hoping to have somebody look at my supplements.

Not necessarily prescribe anything—just look at what I'm taking and say:

"Yeah, that makes sense."

Or:

"Why on earth are you taking that?"

Because there's an awful lot of nonsense in the supplement world, and I'd rather have an informed professional challenge some of my assumptions.

So that's what I thought I was going to get.

I went to see this physiotherapist.

We did an intake.

We talked about my history. We talked about injuries. We talked about what I was looking for.

And then...

I squatted.

And squatted.

And squatted some more.

And at some point I found myself wondering:

How many squats are we doing here?

[Laugh]

And then there was some walking around the office.

And some twisting.

And some questions about whether I felt tight here or tight there.

"Does that feel tight?"

"Does that feel different?"

"How about when you rotate?"

And I'm thinking...

Okay.

I'm not a physiotherapist.

I don't pretend to know what an appropriate physical assessment should look like.

But this didn't feel particularly objective to me.

It felt very cursory.

Very rudimentary.

And I didn't come away thinking:

"Wow. This person has identified three things about my body that I never would have known."

Instead, I was thinking:

"I just did a lot of squats."

[Laugh]

And then things took a turn that I wasn't really expecting.

I ended up on the massage table.

And he performed something called visceral massage.

Now, I'm going to be careful here because I'm not interested in turning this into a podcast episode about something I don't fully understand.

There are people who believe visceral manipulation or visceral massage can have therapeutic benefits.

Fine.

But it wasn't what I had come looking for.

And what really confused me was the explanation I was given for how problems with your internal organs could potentially contribute to pain elsewhere in your body.

The basic idea, as it was explained to me, was that inflammation or tension involving your organs could somehow contribute to systemic inflammation and ultimately manifest itself as things like back or neck pain.

And I remember sitting there thinking:

Okay...

[Laugh]

I'm going to need a little more evidence before I'm signing up for a regular organ massage program.

And again, maybe there's something to it.

I'm not qualified to say there isn't.

But that's another important distinction I've learned through this whole process.

I don't necessarily want somebody who believes the same things I believe.

I want somebody who can explain to me what they believe, what the evidence says, and how confident they are that it applies to me.

That's a very different thing.

At the end of the appointment, we talked about potentially working together.

He said he could help me with massage.

He said we'd talk about my exercise program.

He said we'd talk about my supplements.

He even mentioned hydrogen water.

And I thought:

Okay. Maybe this is going somewhere.

And then...

Nothing.

I never heard from him again.

No email.

No follow-up.

Nothing.

And I was disappointed.

But after thinking about it, I don't actually think the lesson is:

"That physiotherapist was terrible."

Maybe he wasn't.

Maybe he would be fantastic for somebody with a completely different set of needs.

Maybe his approach works very well for some people.

Maybe I just wasn't his ideal client.

And maybe—and this is important—I didn't do a particularly good job of explaining what I wanted.

Because I think I had this idea in my head that when I said:

"I want a performance-oriented assessment of my strength and conditioning program, with injury prevention as a secondary goal..."

that would be self-explanatory.

Maybe it wasn't.

So I started doing some research.

And I've spent a surprising amount of time trying to figure out what the hell I'm actually looking for.

Because I think I've realized that I'm not really looking for a conventional physiotherapy appointment.

I'm not injured.

I don't need rehabilitation.

I'm looking for somebody who understands endurance athletes.

Ideally somebody who understands triathlon.

And even better, somebody who understands the particular problems that come with being a middle-aged—or, apparently, officially an older—triathlete.

[Laugh]

Because the questions I'm asking aren't necessarily:

"Why does my knee hurt?"

They're more like:

"Is my right side weaker than my left?"

"Is there something about my hip mobility that could eventually cause a problem?"

"Is my strength program addressing the things that matter most for swimming, cycling and running?"

"Am I wasting time doing exercises that aren't giving me much return?"

"Is there something I'm neglecting?"

"Does my strength program complement my endurance training—or is it interfering with it?"

Those are the questions I want answered.

And perhaps most importantly:

Is there something about me that I can't see because I'm too close to the problem?

That's where I think a good professional can be incredibly valuable.

So I've gone back to the drawing board.

I've been looking at physiotherapists in the Victoria area, and I've found somebody at the University of Victoria who seems much more closely aligned with what I'm looking for.

She has experience working with endurance athletes—triathletes, cyclists, runners, rowers.

And she has connections to the triathlon world as well.

So suddenly I'm seeing some green flags.

And I'm about to make another appointment.

And I'm going into this one with a much clearer idea of what I want.

I'm not looking for a massage.

I'm not looking for somebody to tell me that something feels tight.

I'm not looking for a treatment plan because I'm injured.

I want an assessment.

I want somebody to look at me from the perspective of an endurance athlete and identify anything that's potentially limiting my performance or increasing my injury risk.

And then I want them to look at my strength program.

Here's what I'm doing.

Here's how often I'm doing it.

Here's what I'm trying to accomplish.

Does it make sense?

Is there anything missing?

Is there anything unnecessary?

And is there anything that you would change based on what you've seen in the physical assessment?

That's it.

I don't think that's an unreasonable request.

There's another thing I've realized through this.

I've always thought of physiotherapists as people you go see when something goes wrong.

You hurt your shoulder.

You hurt your knee.

Your back is killing you.

You go to the physiotherapist.

They fix you.

You go home.

But maybe that's a little too simplistic.

Maybe as I get older, having a good physiotherapist or athletic therapist in my toolbox is actually part of being a responsible athlete.

Not because I expect to get injured.

Quite the opposite.

Because I don't want to get injured.

And if somebody who understands endurance sports can spend an hour looking at me and identify something that I haven't noticed, that could potentially save me months of frustration down the road.

And it might improve my performance today.

That's a pretty good return on investment.

I think the bigger lesson for me is that the right professional is just as important as the profession.

"Physiotherapist" is a pretty broad label.

There are physiotherapists who specialize in post-surgical rehabilitation.

There are physiotherapists who work with chronic pain.

There are physiotherapists who work with professional athletes.

There are physiotherapists who are experts in pelvic health.

There are physiotherapists who are fantastic manual therapists.

And there are people who specialize in performance.

Those aren't necessarily interchangeable.

So if you're an athlete looking for this kind of help, I think you need to be very specific about what you're asking for.

Don't just say:

"I want to see a physiotherapist."

Say:

"I'm an endurance athlete. I'm not currently injured. I'm looking for a performance-oriented assessment. I want somebody to evaluate movement, strength, mobility and asymmetries, and then review my strength and conditioning program with an emphasis on performance and injury prevention."

That's a much better description of what I'm looking for.

And that's what I'm going to ask for this time.

So...

Attempt number one: not a great success.

Attempt number two: coming up.

And I'm actually quite interested to see what happens.

Because maybe the answer is:

"Todd, your strength program is actually pretty good. Don't change much."

That would be great.

Maybe she'll find something obvious that I've completely missed.

That would also be great.

And maybe she'll tell me:

"You don't need to be doing half the stuff you're doing."

Honestly?

That might be the best outcome of all.

Because one of the things I'm increasingly conscious of as I get older is that more training isn't necessarily better training.

I want every piece of my training program to have a purpose.

Swimming has a purpose.

Cycling has a purpose.

Running has a purpose.

Strength training has a purpose.

Recovery has a purpose.

And if I'm going to spend 30 or 40 minutes in the gym, I want to know that those 30 or 40 minutes are actually making me a better triathlete.

So that's the experiment.

I'm going to find somebody who understands the athlete I'm trying to become—not just the body I happen to have today.

And we'll see what she says.

I'll report back.

Because if I finally find the person I've been looking for, I suspect there are a lot of other aging triathletes who would like to know about them too.

And maybe that's the real lesson here.

Sometimes the hardest part of injury prevention isn't doing the exercises.

It's finding somebody who can tell you which exercises you should actually be doing in the first place.

I don't want to leave any stone unturned for my turn at the World Championships. I need a professional that can help me spot weaknesses before they cause a problem. So, who does that type of work? Finding them has proven a bit of a challenge.

TRANSCRIPT

THE LONELY TRIATHLETE

Episode: Finding the Right Athletic Therapist

There's a funny thing I've discovered about being a triathlete as I get older.

I'm becoming increasingly interested in things that have absolutely nothing to do with going faster.

Well... that's not entirely true.

I'm becoming increasingly interested in things that will allow me to go faster without breaking myself in the process.

And that has led me down a bit of a rabbit hole lately.

I've been trying to find an athletic therapist—or physiotherapist, or whatever the appropriate professional is—who can look at me and say:

"Okay, Todd. You're 58. You're doing all this swimming, cycling and running. Here's what you're doing well, here's what you're doing badly, here's what's missing, and here's what I'd change."

Not because I have an injury.

I don't.

And that's actually the point.

I'm looking for somebody who can help me be proactive about my strength and conditioning and injury prevention.

And I've discovered that finding that person is apparently harder than I thought.

So let me tell you about my first attempt.

I went looking for a physiotherapist because I figured physiotherapists know bodies.

They understand movement. They understand injuries. They understand rehabilitation.

And I thought, surely there are physiotherapists who also work with athletes who aren't injured.

That's what I wanted.

I wasn't looking for somebody to tell me how to recover from a torn Achilles.

I wanted somebody to look at my current strength program and say:

"Does this make sense for a triathlete?"

Because I've spent a fair amount of time developing my strength routine.

I'm not interested in becoming a bodybuilder.

I'm not trying to see how much I can deadlift.

I want the minimum necessary strength stimulus that produces the maximum possible benefit for triathlon performance, while minimizing the risk of injury.

That's the sweet spot I'm looking for.

And I wanted somebody with enough expertise to tell me whether I've actually found it.

Maybe I'm missing something obvious.

Maybe I'm doing an exercise that provides almost no benefit for triathlon.

Maybe I'm doing too much.

Maybe I'm not doing enough.

Maybe there's some glaring imbalance in my mobility or strength that I'm completely unaware of.

That's the kind of professional eye I wanted.

And I also wanted to talk about my injury history and perhaps get some advice about injury prevention.

And, somewhat optimistically, I was also hoping to have somebody look at my supplements.

Not necessarily prescribe anything—just look at what I'm taking and say:

"Yeah, that makes sense."

Or:

"Why on earth are you taking that?"

Because there's an awful lot of nonsense in the supplement world, and I'd rather have an informed professional challenge some of my assumptions.

So that's what I thought I was going to get.

I went to see this physiotherapist.

We did an intake.

We talked about my history. We talked about injuries. We talked about what I was looking for.

And then...

I squatted.

And squatted.

And squatted some more.

And at some point I found myself wondering:

How many squats are we doing here?

[Laugh]

And then there was some walking around the office.

And some twisting.

And some questions about whether I felt tight here or tight there.

"Does that feel tight?"

"Does that feel different?"

"How about when you rotate?"

And I'm thinking...

Okay.

I'm not a physiotherapist.

I don't pretend to know what an appropriate physical assessment should look like.

But this didn't feel particularly objective to me.

It felt very cursory.

Very rudimentary.

And I didn't come away thinking:

"Wow. This person has identified three things about my body that I never would have known."

Instead, I was thinking:

"I just did a lot of squats."

[Laugh]

And then things took a turn that I wasn't really expecting.

I ended up on the massage table.

And he performed something called visceral massage.

Now, I'm going to be careful here because I'm not interested in turning this into a podcast episode about something I don't fully understand.

There are people who believe visceral manipulation or visceral massage can have therapeutic benefits.

Fine.

But it wasn't what I had come looking for.

And what really confused me was the explanation I was given for how problems with your internal organs could potentially contribute to pain elsewhere in your body.

The basic idea, as it was explained to me, was that inflammation or tension involving your organs could somehow contribute to systemic inflammation and ultimately manifest itself as things like back or neck pain.

And I remember sitting there thinking:

Okay...

[Laugh]

I'm going to need a little more evidence before I'm signing up for a regular organ massage program.

And again, maybe there's something to it.

I'm not qualified to say there isn't.

But that's another important distinction I've learned through this whole process.

I don't necessarily want somebody who believes the same things I believe.

I want somebody who can explain to me what they believe, what the evidence says, and how confident they are that it applies to me.

That's a very different thing.

At the end of the appointment, we talked about potentially working together.

He said he could help me with massage.

He said we'd talk about my exercise program.

He said we'd talk about my supplements.

He even mentioned hydrogen water.

And I thought:

Okay. Maybe this is going somewhere.

And then...

Nothing.

I never heard from him again.

No email.

No follow-up.

Nothing.

And I was disappointed.

But after thinking about it, I don't actually think the lesson is:

"That physiotherapist was terrible."

Maybe he wasn't.

Maybe he would be fantastic for somebody with a completely different set of needs.

Maybe his approach works very well for some people.

Maybe I just wasn't his ideal client.

And maybe—and this is important—I didn't do a particularly good job of explaining what I wanted.

Because I think I had this idea in my head that when I said:

"I want a performance-oriented assessment of my strength and conditioning program, with injury prevention as a secondary goal..."

that would be self-explanatory.

Maybe it wasn't.

So I started doing some research.

And I've spent a surprising amount of time trying to figure out what the hell I'm actually looking for.

Because I think I've realized that I'm not really looking for a conventional physiotherapy appointment.

I'm not injured.

I don't need rehabilitation.

I'm looking for somebody who understands endurance athletes.

Ideally somebody who understands triathlon.

And even better, somebody who understands the particular problems that come with being a middle-aged—or, apparently, officially an older—triathlete.

[Laugh]

Because the questions I'm asking aren't necessarily:

"Why does my knee hurt?"

They're more like:

"Is my right side weaker than my left?"

"Is there something about my hip mobility that could eventually cause a problem?"

"Is my strength program addressing the things that matter most for swimming, cycling and running?"

"Am I wasting time doing exercises that aren't giving me much return?"

"Is there something I'm neglecting?"

"Does my strength program complement my endurance training—or is it interfering with it?"

Those are the questions I want answered.

And perhaps most importantly:

Is there something about me that I can't see because I'm too close to the problem?

That's where I think a good professional can be incredibly valuable.

So I've gone back to the drawing board.

I've been looking at physiotherapists in the Victoria area, and I've found somebody at the University of Victoria who seems much more closely aligned with what I'm looking for.

She has experience working with endurance athletes—triathletes, cyclists, runners, rowers.

And she has connections to the triathlon world as well.

So suddenly I'm seeing some green flags.

And I'm about to make another appointment.

And I'm going into this one with a much clearer idea of what I want.

I'm not looking for a massage.

I'm not looking for somebody to tell me that something feels tight.

I'm not looking for a treatment plan because I'm injured.

I want an assessment.

I want somebody to look at me from the perspective of an endurance athlete and identify anything that's potentially limiting my performance or increasing my injury risk.

And then I want them to look at my strength program.

Here's what I'm doing.

Here's how often I'm doing it.

Here's what I'm trying to accomplish.

Does it make sense?

Is there anything missing?

Is there anything unnecessary?

And is there anything that you would change based on what you've seen in the physical assessment?

That's it.

I don't think that's an unreasonable request.

There's another thing I've realized through this.

I've always thought of physiotherapists as people you go see when something goes wrong.

You hurt your shoulder.

You hurt your knee.

Your back is killing you.

You go to the physiotherapist.

They fix you.

You go home.

But maybe that's a little too simplistic.

Maybe as I get older, having a good physiotherapist or athletic therapist in my toolbox is actually part of being a responsible athlete.

Not because I expect to get injured.

Quite the opposite.

Because I don't want to get injured.

And if somebody who understands endurance sports can spend an hour looking at me and identify something that I haven't noticed, that could potentially save me months of frustration down the road.

And it might improve my performance today.

That's a pretty good return on investment.

I think the bigger lesson for me is that the right professional is just as important as the profession.

"Physiotherapist" is a pretty broad label.

There are physiotherapists who specialize in post-surgical rehabilitation.

There are physiotherapists who work with chronic pain.

There are physiotherapists who work with professional athletes.

There are physiotherapists who are experts in pelvic health.

There are physiotherapists who are fantastic manual therapists.

And there are people who specialize in performance.

Those aren't necessarily interchangeable.

So if you're an athlete looking for this kind of help, I think you need to be very specific about what you're asking for.

Don't just say:

"I want to see a physiotherapist."

Say:

"I'm an endurance athlete. I'm not currently injured. I'm looking for a performance-oriented assessment. I want somebody to evaluate movement, strength, mobility and asymmetries, and then review my strength and conditioning program with an emphasis on performance and injury prevention."

That's a much better description of what I'm looking for.

And that's what I'm going to ask for this time.

So...

Attempt number one: not a great success.

Attempt number two: coming up.

And I'm actually quite interested to see what happens.

Because maybe the answer is:

"Todd, your strength program is actually pretty good. Don't change much."

That would be great.

Maybe she'll find something obvious that I've completely missed.

That would also be great.

And maybe she'll tell me:

"You don't need to be doing half the stuff you're doing."

Honestly?

That might be the best outcome of all.

Because one of the things I'm increasingly conscious of as I get older is that more training isn't necessarily better training.

I want every piece of my training program to have a purpose.

Swimming has a purpose.

Cycling has a purpose.

Running has a purpose.

Strength training has a purpose.

Recovery has a purpose.

And if I'm going to spend 30 or 40 minutes in the gym, I want to know that those 30 or 40 minutes are actually making me a better triathlete.

So that's the experiment.

I'm going to find somebody who understands the athlete I'm trying to become—not just the body I happen to have today.

And we'll see what she says.

I'll report back.

Because if I finally find the person I've been looking for, I suspect there are a lot of other aging triathletes who would like to know about them too.

And maybe that's the real lesson here.

Sometimes the hardest part of injury prevention isn't doing the exercises.

It's finding somebody who can tell you which exercises you should actually be doing in the first place.

I learned some things about myself in my week of easier training last week (the so-called rest week). Maybe you can relate?

Join us at www.patreon.com/thelonelytriathlete.com

TRANSCRIPT

Last week I completed my 1st "rest week" of my year long program. Not rest week, easy week. Not even easy week, easier week. Still keep the same frequency but drop a bit of volume and drop lots of intensity. Happened to coincide with a vacation week which made it a little harder to execute (once got in trouble at work for saying that word, same with "pitting" someone against each other.) But aaaaaaanyway.

Here's what was on my mind: I missed the structure of a normal week - getting up early, doing my training, having it done before the rest of the demands of my day piled up. As it was also vacation, I also missed a couple of workouts because I was into other things or I was out all day and not home until late evening. And that bothered me. I don't like missing planned workouts. But when I really thought about it, I realized IT WAS NOT A BIG DEAL. After all, if you are going to miss any workout, at least let it be an easy "non-critical" or what we use in triathlon training paracme a non-breakthrough effort. After all, the rest week (sorry, easier week) is supposed to reduce stress not only on your body but also on your mind. But this doesn't come naturally to me, I know how important training is, how its a slippery slope to let one workout go because that can easily become 2 then 3 then your whole year is shot! A least, that's the fear lurking in the back of my mind.

So, I continue to remind myself that a missed easier week workout is simply not a big deal. I also re-learned that as much as I might grumble about early morning training sessions, they really are the best time to do them for me. However, I still don't want to get blindly "get them over with" for two reasons: I think I get more from a session if I understand the WHY of the session, if I prepare myself for the session as in being ready if someone goes wrong (like suddenly struggling with an effort) and second, and probably most importantly, I want to ENJOY these sessions! This is how I'm choosing to spend some of my life force, my precious time on this earth. I want to be mindful and present in the effort, I don't want to go on auto pilot and just "get it done".

Another thing I learned about myself last week was how naturally lazy I am, haha. On one hand, I am extremely dedicated and committed to this sport, I am very organized and show tremendous willpower and fortitude and grit. On the other hand, I can't always be bothered to use my foam roller or my IR sauna blanket or my ventilatory inhalation thing-a-ma-bob, or even do those special stretches my PT gave me. SIGH. And once again, it's because I leave certain behaviours down to change, I'll get to them when I feel inspired or have a bit of time. No, that doesn't work, I need to SCHEDULE them into my day. I need to pair them with something else that I have either scheduled or do regularly. Otherwise, the chances are good that I just won't do them.

Who knew I'd learn so much about myself during a easy week?

Thanks for listening to my insights, I hope you found some of them valuable and perhaps applicable to you. As always, I wish you the best training and/or racing week and I'll talk to you again soon.

Peace!

I learned some things about myself in my week of easier training last week (the so-called rest week). Maybe you can relate?

TRANSCRIPT

Last week I completed my 1st "rest week" of my year long program. Not rest week, easy week. Not even easy week, easier week. Still keep the same frequency but drop a bit of volume and drop lots of intensity. Happened to coincide with a vacation week which made it a little harder to execute (once got in trouble at work for saying that word, same with "pitting" someone against each other.) But aaaaaaanyway.

Here's what was on my mind: I missed the structure of a normal week - getting up early, doing my training, having it done before the rest of the demands of my day piled up. As it was also vacation, I also missed a couple of workouts because I was into other things or I was out all day and not home until late evening. And that bothered me. I don't like missing planned workouts. But when I really thought about it, I realized IT WAS NOT A BIG DEAL. After all, if you are going to miss any workout, at least let it be an easy "non-critical" or what we use in triathlon training paracme a non-breakthrough effort. After all, the rest week (sorry, easier week) is supposed to reduce stress not only on your body but also on your mind. But this doesn't come naturally to me, I know how important training is, how its a slippery slope to let one workout go because that can easily become 2 then 3 then your whole year is shot! A least, that's the fear lurking in the back of my mind.

So, I continue to remind myself that a missed easier week workout is simply not a big deal. I also re-learned that as much as I might grumble about early morning training sessions, they really are the best time to do them for me. However, I still don't want to get blindly "get them over with" for two reasons: I think I get more from a session if I understand the WHY of the session, if I prepare myself for the session as in being ready if someone goes wrong (like suddenly struggling with an effort) and second, and probably most importantly, I want to ENJOY these sessions! This is how I'm choosing to spend some of my life force, my precious time on this earth. I want to be mindful and present in the effort, I don't want to go on auto pilot and just "get it done".

Another thing I learned about myself last week was how naturally lazy I am, haha. On one hand, I am extremely dedicated and committed to this sport, I am very organized and show tremendous willpower and fortitude and grit. On the other hand, I can't always be bothered to use my foam roller or my IR sauna blanket or my ventilatory inhalation thing-a-ma-bob, or even do those special stretches my PT gave me. SIGH. And once again, it's because I leave certain behaviours down to change, I'll get to them when I feel inspired or have a bit of time. No, that doesn't work, I need to SCHEDULE them into my day. I need to pair them with something else that I have either scheduled or do regularly. Otherwise, the chances are good that I just won't do them.

Who knew I'd learn so much about myself during a easy week?

Thanks for listening to my insights, I hope you found some of them valuable and perhaps applicable to you. As always, I wish you the best training and/or racing week and I'll talk to you again soon.

Peace!