Exploring the Edges of Capacity

One potential framing of the situation is to think that my body is falling apart. Or to think that I’m prone to injury. It’s easy to blame age, or look for pathology, or wonder What’s wrong with me? But I really don’t like this way of looking at it. I don’t think it’s useful.

What’s going on? I’m having pain in new areas of my body. Each new experience feels relatively sudden and unprovoked.

But it’s not quite that simple. In truth, I’ve been trying new movements and asking more from tissues unaccustomed to providing. And I’m continuing to push in now-familiar movements, asking even more from tissues that, though accustomed, surely have a limit to their current capacity.

What’s another way of thinking about the situation that will do some good? I’m choosing to frame the experience as exploring the edges of my capacity.

The thing about edges is that it can be unclear where they are. Sometimes you have the idea they are lurking just ahead. Other times they catch you completely unaware. It often takes going past an edge to know where it is, and then, of course, you wish you could back up. But you learned by doing this. You learned where the edge was, what it took to cross it, and what you could do differently to perhaps stay away from the edge. You know your limits now.

This sounds like a way to avoid future injury and all that comes with it, like the pain, frustration, inconvenience, and emotional strain. The idea of staying far away from the edge is appealing. It’s an approach I could take without shame—because who wants to hurt themselves? But it also puts a limit on what I can achieve, and I’m not interested in limiting myself.

What if, by exploring the edges of capacity, we learn to see an edge as simply the thing that currently hinders our ability to make progress toward our goal? What if we treat it as something innocuous and likely temporary? It’s a nuisance, certainly, but not something that defines us. It’s not This is what forty-five looks like or I’ll never be able to do this. It’s just (another) challenge that requires patience and work.

And, at risk of rolling my eyes at this later, I might even call this exposure of weakness an opportunity.

Before encountering the edge, we don’t know where our limitations are. If you’re doing what you want to do and don’t encounter your limits, they may be irrelevant for you. After all, it’s only when they stop us from doing what we want to do that we consider them limiters. But if you’ve discovered a weakness and you haven’t reached your goal yet, you can work on it—to create more capacity, more space between your active self and the edge.

Am I injured? I think so, yes. But I get to choose how I think about it. I’m not falling apart, and I’m not particularly injury prone. What I am is an athlete who wants more from my body. I’m generally working within my capacity while also trying to increase it, and because I’m pushing against the edges on a regular basis I occasionally step too far.

It’s okay. I’m exploring the edges. I know where some of them are now.

Getting Fitter, Later

A Consideration of Age, Time, and Experience in the Pursuit of Fitness

One of the characteristics associated with aging is the idea that we can no longer do what we used to be able to do, or that we are slower, weaker, less fit. But what about those of us who get fitter later—who, nearing or passing middle-age, are striving to be faster, stronger, and learn new skills? What does age mean for us as we train our fitness?

Levelling Up to Masters

If sport, recreation, or general fitness is important to you, and if you are, let’s say, 35 or over, you may identify as a masters athlete. The athlete identity doesn’t belong solely to the younger crowd, nor to those who compete, whether recreationally or professionally. It doesn’t require a particular level or type of fitness. What matters is how you see yourself.

Those of us who identify as athletes, unless we have dropped out of sport or fitness altogether after our youth, will spend most of our athletic lives in the masters cohort. Though it varies by sport, the masters level, which is defined by age, typically starts between ages 30 and 40. The idea is that those who reach this age are no longer competitive with younger athletes and require an age group restriction to level the playing field in competitive settings. The masters level is often further broken down into five-year groupings extending from the starting age, reinforcing the idea that once we hit a certain age threshold our decline in physical capability speeds up, preventing fair comparison between athletes more than five years apart.

Some sports see athletes peak at very young ages—think of gymnastics or figure skating where teenage athletes often reign. Other sports, like soccer, football, track, and skiing, favour the twenty-somethings. At the competitive level (in open categories not bracketed by age) in nearly all sports (except, perhaps, strength sports), the 30-year-old athlete is somewhat uncommon, and the 40-year-old athlete is a rarity.

It might be the case that, as science and society get better at understanding aging and supporting longevity, athletes will have longer competitive careers. Perhaps we’re starting to see evidence of this now, with 46-year-old Jen Thompson, 39-year-old Venus Williams, 38-year-old Shalane Flanagan, 37-year-old Serena Williams and Samantha Briggs, and many more masters-age athletes competing against their juniors in open categories.  

The thing about competitive athletes, though, is that they typically start their training young. They get fit early and stay fit for the duration of their athletic career. Their peak is the result of many years of hard work, and their decline in sport is the result of many coalescing factors, not the least of which is bodily wear and tear. 

Most of us aren’t competitive athletes, though, and not all of us were especially fit in our younger years. In fact, many of us are just getting started by the time we reach masters status. It may even be the case that levelling up to masters is what has enabled us to finally pursue fitness in the way we want to, whether that means identifying as an athlete or not. 

For us, the training is becoming more intense—not less—relative to what we’ve done before. We may be learning the basics of how to move with good form, how to fuel, or how to work with a coach. Or we may have the basics and are now working on building specific skills and developing a healthy mindset to help us achieve our goals. We’re in the midst of a learning curve.

This might sound daunting, or it might sound exciting. In either case, the great benefit of getting fitter later is that we can draw on our experience gained from other aspects of our lives.

Have you ever made a plan to achieve a goal and seen it all the way through? Have you experienced adversity and come out the other side? Have you applied a skill set learned in one area of your life to another, such as one learned in your personal relationships to your career, or one learned in school to your health? Have you thought about what’s important to you and what you want your future to look like? Yes? Then you have what you need to excel at the masters level.

Age = Time = Progression

Is “masters level” a euphemism for old? Or could it be a recognition of achievement?

Every day, every month, every year, I’m older. This is supposedly an unfortunate thing; we’re told that aging is undesirable. We’ve come to expect that to get older is to get weaker and slower. We’re pressured to prevent aging at all costs (as if that were possible).

But it’s not age, really, that’s so maligned. “Age” is just a shorthand for bodily wear and tear, past injuries, increased recovery time, and the accumulation of years of poor posture, stress, and exposure. Age isn’t actually any these things. Age is simply a marker of time.

If we were to recognize age as the passage of time, and time as the factor that allows for change to occur, could we not see aging as the opportunity to progress and achieve our goals?

It takes time to build muscle and cardiovascular fitness. No matter when I start, if I train for these objectives I will see progress in time—and I will, simultaneously, get older. This is true whether I start training at 15 or 55. Gains can be made in these areas at any age, and if you are new to it but train consistently, you can expect to get fitter as you age. Not because you are aging, exactly, but because it takes time to make progress.

It takes time to establish a habit, such as doing regular training sessions. How long? Some say 21 days. Others, 66 days. In my experience, habits of all types tend to take longer than this, especially if the new habit is challenging. Of course, so much depends on the individual and their specific situation and desired habit. Regardless, new habits take time to form, which I think we can agree on if for no other reason than the definition of habit has time built in: a pattern of behaviour or an action done regularly. Developing fitness requires consistent effort, made easier when it becomes a habit, which takes time.  

It takes time to master a skill, such as the movements required for elite gymnastics or weightlifting. The 10,000-hours rule for success suggests that a master performance requires this amount of practice. Let’s put this into perspective and, for argument’s sake, let’s knock this down to 5,000 hours for a really good performance—not elite, perhaps, but better than most. Okay, so if I were to practice for one hour a day, three times a week, I’d reach 5,000 hours—and a really good showing—after 32 years. Increase this to one hour every day and we can knock the years back to 13.7. Two hours, five days a week, and that good showing comes at 9.6 years. I have no idea how long it will take you, or me, to get this good. This is just a theory, one of many, and neither of us may be striving for that level of proficiency anyway. The point is that whatever it is you’re learning, you will be better at it after many years, which means you will necessarily be that many years older. 

So how is aging an unfortunate thing? It’s the very thing that allows us to progress, facilitating our growth and success.

Drawing from Experience

In addition to being shorthand for the physical changes to our bodies, “age” is also shorthand for experience, which is acquired over time.

The pursuit of fitness at the masters level has a number of advantages, since our “mastery” extends to the many non-physical factors that play a role in our training. This is not to say that we have each achieved control over every area of our lives, but rather that those of us getting fitter later likely have some first-hand knowledge or privilege in one or more of these areas that may assist us in our pursuit of fitness.  

Motivation

With age comes experience, reflection, and, hopefully, a better understanding of our “why”—our reasons and motivations for working on our fitness. My reasons seem different now than they were 10 or 20 years ago, though it may be that they are simply more defined, more strongly attached to the impact they could have on my life. 

What does motivation look like now? I want more function out of an injured hip, and I want to strengthen a previously injured back, to the point where they no longer impede my activity. I want to build bone density. I want to develop the skills and strength needed to settle into a new sport. I want to feel good in my body, energized and capable. Once, I wanted to “get fit.” Now, I want the many benefits that go along with greater fitness because I understand how they will affect my quality of life.

What does your motivation look like? It may look very different from mine. You may want to be fitter to take care of others, to address disease or degeneration, to get after a spot on the provincial team, or qualify for a competition. Maybe fitness isn’t the goal but instead the result of what you need to do to care for your mental health. Whatever it is that motivates you, it’s likely more clear to you now than it’s ever been, and more potent.

Control Over Resources

At the masters level, we may have more control over how we spend our time and money. Formal education is likely complete. Our kids, if we had some, may be independent now, and our parents may not yet need our support. Careers are likely established, and businesses may be past major growing pains. 

We may have made choices, deliberately, to enable autonomy over how we spend our time and money and now, at masters-level age, the work of previous years is paying off. We may have the privilege of organizing our days with fitness as a major focus and may be able to invest in ourselves to a level we weren’t able to do previously. Budgeting these resources may be difficult or easy, but the trick of it is that we are in charge of how we spend them.

The Long Game

Health and nutrition, injury and recovery, skill-building and performance: these are elements of the fitness long game. The masters athlete has likely had experience with most of these, and through both practice and perspective is getting increasingly good at choosing the long-term plan over short-term improvisation as a path to success.

Self-regulation, or restraint, is a big part of playing the long game. Are you in it for today or for the next 40 years? The answer will determine how you approach your training and the decisions you make along the way. The masters athlete has likely made choices in the past that were hasty, or that overreached, and may have paid a price. These are hard-won lessons that can now be used to direct energy into a sustainable approach to training.

The key to applying self-regulation and sticking to a long-term plan is patience. It’s the meta-skill that enables everything else, and those of us pursuing fitness later have had time to practice it in all areas of our lives.

You Are Not Behind

As we get older, we become increasingly aware of that very fact. It’s hard not to. Separate from societal messages that with age comes physical decline and general irrelevance, we experience change in our bodies. Years of poor posture catch up to us in the form of chronic pain. Our mobility is less than it once was and we feel limited in our movement. It takes longer to recover from a workout or heal from an injury. 

This is useful awareness to acquire, because alongside the whiff of decline is the realization that we’ve got to do something about it if we want to maintain what we’ve got. And if we want more than that, if we want to achieve a higher level of fitness than we’ve had before, we need to get serious about making it happen. 

But getting fitter later is not a matter of coming from behind or making up for lost time. It’s simply a matter of working from where you are at. Increasing fitness at any age is time well spent, and if you’re diving in after clearing the masters-level threshold, you are not “too late” to enjoy the process and the benefits. You are also not alone. Look around—we’re everywhere.

The threat of physical decline is certainly not the only motivating factor possible (nor are we obligated to address it by working for higher levels of fitness). Instead, we may be drawn to a new activity that we want to participate in but require an increase in strength, skill, or speed to do it. In other words, rather than feeling pushed by the spectre of age, we might experience a pull toward something new, something exciting, something that requires greater fitness. 

Feeling pulled to an activity, or even to a lifestyle, is something that happens to all of us throughout our lives, repeatedly. If you feel drawn to explore something new, whether an activity that requires greater fitness, a sport, or a more physically rigorous lifestyle generally, you are not behind in your pursuit of it. Our interests change over time. Your new interests are simply pointing you in a new direction, and you are allowed to explore this without being pushed by fear, without a restriction on time, and without comparing yourself to others who started before you. 

. . .

>>Getting fitter, later is a non-obligatory concept. Choosing to pursue fitness, at any age, is not a requirement for worthiness, whether you’ve worked to build your fitness in the past or not. Nor is your fitness—its extent or its value—dependent on or comparable to anyone else’s. And the ability to work on your fitness—again, at any age—is something to be grateful for.<<

Your Now Body

Before and after are realms for the mind. For the body, there is only now.

You don’t exist in the before. Yes, you were alive yesterday, and fifteen years ago, and every day from the day you were born, all of which are part of the past. But each of those moments had its own now, and your bodily experience of those moments happened as now moments. The mind can return to them in memory, but your body cannot. Your body is physically anchored here, today, now.

You also don’t exist in the after. How can you? It hasn’t happened yet. You might be striving for something, working towards a future state of physical being or competence, sure. It will be exciting to get there. But though your mind can imagine it and plan for it, execution happens in the now. Here today, you can’t do tomorrow’s training or next week’s recovery. Your mind can plot ahead, but your body remains here. Now.

Perhaps you have a moment in time that your mind holds close, a time when you thought/think your body was/will be optimal in some way. This time could be a few years ago, or in your future. You may think of this as your used-to-be body or your after-body. It may represent what you perceive to be a source of happiness.

I get it—this image of your body that your mind has latched onto may have been/may be the result of a lot of hard work (or youth, or genetics, or circumstance). But the problem with a used-to-be body or an after-body that you’ve put on a pedestal is any day that comes after that fixed moment. The problem is the near certainty of change, which is the hallmark of passing time.

When we hold on tight to a particular image of ourselves, one from our past, we create a hostile environment for our current body. In this environment, who we are now is no longer enough. And when we idolize a particular self-image that hasn’t yet come into being, anything short of that image—in other words, who we are now—isn’t yet worthy.

Since it’s not possible to live physically in the past or the future, the present moment is everything we have. We are always in it. Your body, even as it changes over time, will always be your now body.

So what would happen if we chose to appreciate our bodies today? If you see your body as a source of happiness, whether from how it looks or how it functions, appreciating your body now opens a path to that feeling that you can access every damn day.

Your now body is right here, right now, waiting for you.

First published July 24, 2019, Instagram (@shanajstone) and Facebook.

Fitness Is Not a Competition: Abundance

Sport is competitive, as are many other things—a game of chess, a spelling bee, a job opening, an audition, the last seat on your bus-ride commute. What do all of these have in common? There is a winner and there are those who…didn’t win. The reward is limited to one, sometimes to a few. The system is based on scarcity.

For many of us, the competitive mindset is in our blood. We feel driven to lift heavier and move faster than those around us. We want that personal best. We want to “catch up” to our friends who can do more than we can. We want to regain a skill, a speed, a body we once had because we think we used to be a better version of ourselves.

We’re comparing a past or an imagined future to where we are now and judging our current selves lacking, less worthy than before or not yet enough.

Your fitness doesn’t exist in a system of scarcity. It is available to you now, or later, whenever you decide to strive for it and regardless of who else is working on theirs. There’s no podium and no limitation on who can have it, how much you can have, when you can have it, or how long you can have it for. There is no competition—it just doesn’t exist.

Moreover, you don’t live in the past or the future. You live in the now. So how are you not enough? You are, literally, everything.

In the land of fitness there is infinite room, space for all, enough for everyone.

First published May 28, 2019, Instagram (@shanajstone) and Facebook.