I've long advocated the mental benefits of working out, and recently promised to offer some details about my own, somewhat peculiar regime. Here, I address the question: "How should I breath when I run?" My answer goes a long, long way beyond simply, "In-and-out."
Basically, I treat breathing as a mental exercise that accompanies and improves the brute physical aspects of running. By default, I run in a 3:4 pattern, inhaling for three steps and exhaling for four. On steep grades, in deep sand, or when sprinting, I might switch to a 2:3 or even 1:2 cadence. At other times, like yesterday, when I ran long miles on a flat dirt road, I might shift up to a 4:5 pattern, breathing in for four steps and breathing out for five. (I've also run in a 3:6 "gear," though it poses a problem for reasons I'll relate below.)
Most people who breath in step with their running unthinkingly fall into a 2:2 pattern, breathing in for two steps and breathing out for two. In contrast, I take care to combine a relatively short inhaling period with a slightly longer exhaling one. Why? Because we tend to generate more power when we exhale. Weight lifters, for instance, almost always breath out when working hardest. It thus makes sense, when running, to spend more time exhaling than inhaling.
I also choose breathing cadences that add up to odd numbers, a practice advocated by military trainers and others. Why? Because it helps to keep my stride symmetrical, ensuring that I start exhaling first on one foot and then, in the next cycle, on the other. A 2:2 pattern, in contrast, has you always pushing off the same foot at the most powerful part of your stride.
Those observations speak only to physiological issues, however. What about the mental side of the equation? Breathing in 2:3, 3:4, or 4:5 time has the salient benefit of not echoing any typical musical rhythm. Especially when I fall into a stretch of composing music, I tend to get tunes stuck in my head. Running in non-musical tempos gives me a reprieve from what would otherwise turn into an oppressively unremitting internal concert. (I take care to not mentally compose tunes in 5/4 or other exotic tempos while I run. Hence, too, the problem with a 3:6 cadence: It tends to stir up melodies written in waltz time.)
Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, breathing in time with my steps calms my restless mind. After years and years of practicing this sort of heart-racing meditation, I of course no longer need to count every breath. Rather, I simply choose a cadence and trust in habit to keep me on-track. Freed from the need to think about my breathing, and soothed by the now-familiar rhythms of lungs, legs, and heart working in concert, I enjoy miles and miles of peaceful reverie.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Exercise Breathings
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Surfing Dolphin Property Rights
Do the usual surfing rules apply when a human shares a wave with a dolphin? If so, I might have pissed off one of Flipper's kin, yesterday. But I think that because dolphins use waves differently from humans, both species can ride the same wave without conflict. So, at least, my story of cross-species surfing suggests.
Here's how it went down: I was surfing Churches with my former Marine (not "ex-Marine!") bud, Tracy, who uses his base pass to get us parking right on the beach. We had been surfing for a while when I heard him and some of the other guys yelling and whistling. I looked up to see a pod of dolphins surfing down the face of a big set wave that was rolling towards us. The dolphins glided just under the surface of the water and then—Pow! Pow! Pow!—started leaping into the air and back into the wave. That alone made it a Super Special Rainbow Unicorn Day (with sparklies). The fun, though, had only just begun.
I guess the other guys were too busy laughing and clapping to notice that the wave was shaping up pretty nicely, or maybe they were too deep where it began breaking, but for whatever reason the face came to me with nobody on it. The dolphins seemed to have disappeared, too. So I whipped my board around, took a couple of strokes, and nailed it. As I came out of my bottom turn and hit the lip, I looked down to see a dolphin still in the wave, some 10 feet ahead of me, speeding along under the surface. I laughed and yelled, "Yeah, bro! Let's go!" The dolphin and I rode along a bit, together, and then it peeled off and rejoined its pod. I finished out the wave, getting a nice long ride and a nice big smile.
On the paddle back out, though, my conscience pricked me. The dolphin had caught the wave and worked out to its shoulder when I dropped in at the sweet spot, blocking the dolphin from a making a cutback to the face. Under the usual, human rules of surfing etiquette, I almost certainly would have been in the wrong. I'd get some slack, perhaps, because I couldn't see the dolphin gliding along under water. Then, too, the dolphin was so far out on the shoulder that, even if I had seen it, I might have safely whipped some turns inside, remaining ready to pull out if the dolphin began to cut back. And, of course, it would have been a perfectly fine maneuver between friends—but I didn't even know the dolphin's name.
Ultimately, though, I decided that I had not triggered a cross-species diplomatic incident. As I've explained elsewhere, surfing's rules of etiquette create transitory property rights in wave faces, a custom that helps us humans maximize the a very valuable and scarce resource: surfable wave faces. Dolphins don't surf the same way that humans do, though. They have so much power, speed, and efficiency that they can ride waves far out from the steep, breaking portions that we humans require. Like mega longboarders, dolphins pick up waves long before they begin to pitch, tend to ride far out on the shoulder, and eschew sharp turns for long, graceful lines.
I conclude that dolphins and surfers—especially shortboarders—can happily share the same waves without conflict. So, at least, my experience suggests. So, too, does this video of humans and dolphins peacefully enjoying the same waves.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Physical (Re)Education 101
My co-blogger and host, Glen, might object, but I'd argue that "agoraphilia" covers not just "love of markers," but also "love of the great outdoors." Surely, the meaning of "agora" reaches at least that far. Allow me, then, to update you on my adventures under the open sky; here, specifically: surfing.
I've continued the training program that I began during my sabbatical, about year ago, and have gotten fairly competent on my 6'10" hybrid fish. I've also put a lot of time into figuring out my newest board, a 7'2" Channel Island M13, and had some great rides. These days, I surf those two boards almost exclusively. My wave count has improved a lot and I'm starting to get a handle on pumping for acceleration, cut-backs, and sometimes even throwing a little spray. I've yet to get any air, though.
I'm a little worried that if I go back to longboarding I might suffer a relapse, and put my hard-won shortboarding skills at risk. The last few times I've taken out my longboard—a performance-shaped 9-footer—I've thus limited myself to fin-forward paddling and takeoffs. I'm getting OK at spinning it, but I still haven't figured out how to cross-step back to regular footing. Instead, I just finish out my (usually short) rides goofy-footed.
Today, though, I just might let myself indulge in some good old fashioned, straight-up longboarding. I'm heading to Church's with my Marine buddy (who can use his pass to park us right on the beach) and we're expecting a mackin' swell. He always longboards, and it'll be nice to hang with him outside, picking off the bigger sets. Besides, I think I've earned a gravy session; yesterday, for the first time ever, I surfed Lowers! The swell had not started showing, so it wasn't crowded, and I got some good rides on the small but well-shaped waves. It took me over ten years of preparation, but I finally can say I've shortboarded one of the world's premier breaks!
I might say more about that preparation—which has included special trail running and gym exercises of my own devising—in a later post. And as long as I'm covering physical training, I should probably throw in an update on my semi-prone bike, which I recently took out of storage, upgraded, and put through some test rides. Right now, though, I've got to saddle up for the first big winter swell of the season!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Butting Out of Baseball
Should the federal government decide how many strikes make an out, or how many innings constitute a game? Should federal law finally put an end to the designated hitter controversy? Do we need a federal ruling on the wisdom of the in-field fly rule?
Should we establish a federal commission to certify umpires? To set standards for the weight and length of baseball bats? To establish uniform locker sizes for home and visiting teams? To standardize – or prevent standardization of – the signals exchanged by pitchers and catchers? To decide the number of umpires and their optimal placement on the field?
No? Then why on earth should the federal government get involved in the steroid issue? As far as I know, the steroids in question are legal. (And if they’re not, then the relevant laws can be enforced upon baseball players the same way they’re enforced upon anyone else.) All the questions about the use of steroids – which if any should be allowed, how strictly prohibitions should be enforced, and by what means – fall squarely in the category, “What are the rules of baseball?” I just can’t see any good reason for the federal government to try to answer that question.
Major league baseball already has its own government; it’s called Major League Baseball.
