Opportunity in Adversity

Ten years ago, several months before my 55th birthday, I set a group of BHAGs or Big Hairy Audacious Goals. The term BHAG comes from a business book Built to Last by Jim Collins and Jerry Porras, who studied businesses that had maintained influence and excellence over many decades. BHAGs focus on enduring and meaningful impact–Henry Ford set out to democratize the automobile;  in the early days of Apple, Steve Jobs talked of putting a computer in every home. (Now  it’s in everyone’s pocket!)

The main value of a  BHAG is to avoid too-small thinking In 1960, JFK  proposed to put a man on the moon by the end of the decade. This achievement, fulfilled in 1969, remains a defining and uplifting moment in American history. And scientific advances associated with it have brought countless benefits here on earth.

While business BHAGs usually have a time frame similar to the moon mission–taking a decade or more to achieve–I aimed to fulfill my goals within a year.  They included:

Complete a second Manhattan Island Marathon Swim.
Win my first National Open Water Championship.
Break a 55-59 National Record in open water. (I’d never even set a team record on undistinguished  high school and college teams.)
Win a World Masters Championship Medal in the 3K Open Water event.

Happily, I did achieve all of those and more–winning four national championships, at distances from 1 mile to 10K, and breaking two national records for the 55-59 age group, the 1- and 2-Mile Cable Swims.

Attaining each goal provided a great sense of accomplishment. More important though was the sense of vision and purpose I experienced from the moment I set them. Virtually every practice had a greater sense of urgency–at times even a sense of mission.

While I gained great satisfaction from achieving them, the lessons I learned during the year between conceiving and completing them have endured ever since and had far-reaching impacts.

While the stroke efficiency I’d been working on since founding TI was instrumental, the more critical factors were behaviors and mindsets I cultivated while pursuing them. Years earlier, I’d become interested  in Positive Psychology–the study of our thought processes while performing at our greatest potential.  Those who are high-functioning and report the greatest sense of satisfaction with their lives display many traits, behaviors and mindsets in common.

I learned about them in books such as Learned Optimism by Dan Seligman, Mastery by George Leonard, Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi PhD, and the principles of Deliberate Practice by Anders Ericsson PhD.  Setting such galvanizing goals provided an ideal opportunity to test these principles.

By adopting new mindsets and behaviors I swam far better than I’d previously thought was possible. And as a result of that experience, Total Immersion has emphasized effective thinking as much as effective movement.

Goal-setting with the Flow

As I approached my 60th birthday in 2011, I faced physical challenges that limited what I could accomplish athletically. In my late 50s, I began to experience fatigue and chronic musculoskeletal pain associated with the autoimmune syndrome, Polymyalgia Rheumatica (PMR). I also began to suffer foot and calf cramps after barely an hour of swimming–an effect of arthritic narrowing in my lower spine.

Between them, my training was significantly limited compared to previously. If I swam a bit too long or hard, I could be left feeling drained for hours after.   And my feet and calves often began cramping after little more than 2000 yards.

Yet though my training was likely to be quite limited, I still craved the sense of purpose and urgency I’d experienced five years earlier. Going with the flow means seeking opportunity in adversity. So I decided to Goal-set with the Flow.

My mid-50s accomplishments  had been in distance freestyle. At 60 I decided to strike out in a new direction–emphasizing shorter distances and the other disciplines–butterfly, backstroke, breaststroke and individual medley. As well, the limitations on how long or intensively I could train resulted in two surprising , developments.

Knowing that I had a practice ‘budget’ of 2500 yards or less created a determination to make every stroke count. I thought carefully about what I allotted time to in practice and eliminated anything for which there wasn’t a proven positive effect on performance.
Needing to be very careful about intensity, pushed me to rely less than ever on power and muscle, and find the easiest way to accomplish any task.

The results were thrilling and have transformed my approach to practice and training.  In 2011, at Masters Nationals I entered and medaled in four of the five disciplines–Butterfly, Breaststroke, Individual Medley, and Freestyle. Prior to my 40s I’d never swum anything but freestyle, and it wasn’t until my mid-50s that I became goal oriented in the other strokes. In the 200 Butterfly, I even did a lifetime best, swimming faster than I had at 55 when I was in the midst of achieving BHAGs in distance freestyle.

Briefer, More Focused, Better Than Ever

Finding opportunity in adversity has led me to embrace practices that substitute focus for duration.  I seldom swim beyond an hour; many of my practices last just 40 to 50 minutes. What I love most is the keen focus I can maintain for that duration–quite literally from first stroke to last. (I’ve done the same in other activities–riding my mountain bike briskly for an hour or less, practicing yoga at home for 25 minutes–or attending classes that last an hour, completing strength training in 25 minutes.)

Most practices consist of only two to three sets or activities. Each one combines a focus on executing some subtle skill better than I ever have in my life, while ‘solving problems’ in maintaining a constant stroke count, while trying to swim slightly faster–on the clock, or on my Tempo Trainer. I design these sets so I can succeed only by giving it my full attention. That produces moments of Flow in virtually every practice.

Since turning 60, I’ve made thrilling breakthroughs in awareness or control each year. My pull, kick, and breathing are all strikingly more efficient than they were in my 50s. (And they were better at that time than ever before.)

I can honestly say that my swimming feels better than it ever has. Twice in one week recently I posted on the TI Facebook page “I felt fantastic in the water today–I’ve never felt this good before.” Not an insignificant claim after 50 years of swimming.

As a result, I go to the pool with a keen sense of anticipation, and enjoy a greater sense of flow and purpose, than I ever have. I still have PMR symptoms; I often feel achy and mildly flu-like as I get in the water. But within minutes I  feel indescribably great. I’m fortunate that swimming has such remarkable healing properties.

In March I will enter the 65-69 age group. As I did at 55 and 60, I plan to attend Masters Nationals next spring to get a concrete gauge on my performance capabilities. In early November I wrote out my goals for the next six months. As I was writing them, I felt the familiar sense of purpose and urgency that has become so addictive.

Two weeks after my goal-setting exercise I receive a diagnosis of prostate cancer–something quite common in men my age. Fortunately my prognosis is good. In my next post, I’ll write about the opportunity in this latest adversity.

 

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