A lesson in futility

It was a great week, during which I worked with two different groups of inquisitive mature students, caught up with lovely old schoolmates at a birthday party and separately managed to reconnect with a treasured long-lost friend!

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In a reflective mood on Saturday I had picked up Malcolm Gladwell’s book Outliers to reread and by Sunday morning I found myself looking at a page with the following puzzle to solve:

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It’s a sample question from Raven’s Progressive Matrices, which apparently gives a measure of abstract reasoning skills.

Let me pose you a different question:

Guessing that it was a near-impossible problem, did I:

1. Solve it easily and prove that my intellect is in the top 0.1% of humanity?

2. Read on to the answer (which was in the sentence which followed) straight away, to maximise my (still-winter) Sunday reading time?

3. Challenge myself to solve it and still be trying to figure out the answer four-hours later?

Thank you to anyone who instantly knew the answer was No. 1… I truly value your (clearly misguided) views of me!

No. 2. would have been the most efficient answer but the answer was actually closest to No. 3, although four hours is a little out… fully eight hours elapsed before I gave in, although I did pause to run, eat lunch and cook dinner in between.

I will keep the answer to myself in case anyone else wants to have a go at it, but be warned that even when I knew what the answer was, I still couldn’t understand why!

Nor could Malcolm Gladwell, to be fair.

It being cold and miserable outside and with my mind trying to bend itself around an insurmountable challenge, I took to the running machine and stared at the wall for an hour.

Not much to report there then, other than to say that I ramped up the speed by 0.1 mph every mile and increased it more sharply in the last five minutes to complete 7.34 miles.

With chances of heavy snow in the South towards the back end of this week and with the winter weather set to stay with us probably into the middle of April, according to the BBC, expecting Spring to arrive anytime soon really is a lesson in futility.

Stay warm and upbeat peops!

Discoveries

It may seem an odd thing to say, but if you have about 20 minutes (or more) to spare right now, I suggest that you click the link below rather than reading my blog.

http://www.ted.com/playlists/60/work_smarter.html

My week started with a little snow, though come Tuesday when I checked to make sure some London meetings were still on, this fact was met with more than a little surprise… as was the snow gear I was wearing when I arrived!

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Thursday found me back in London for meetings and an interim event, after which I stayed in my old Earls Court stomping ground.  It may sound slightly kooky, but I slept right under the bed in my old flat!  Before you get the wrong idea entirely, I was one floor down, staying with friends.

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The next morning I was reminded why it was such a great place to live when I was able to walk to a meeting near Olympia!

All week I had slowly been coming to terms with the change from Blackberry to Apple.  Frustrations abounded to start with, but these lessened as the week wore on and I discovered simple work-arounds… such as, for example, how to set the alarm so that it only vibrates on the bedside table rather than blasting you awake.

Last night I had a comparative epiphany… I had read poor reviews about the various TED apps on offer, but clicking on the play-list above brought me a series of phone-sized TED talks with no app required.

I think I have just sold myself on the Apple thang in one easy step.

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Recalling my running machine experiments with the Kindle as I prepared for my run on the machine this morning (it was raining outside) I found a safe place for the iPhone to sit and wired myself in.

Because the link above is a playlist, there is 165 minutes of material available with no digital input required… digital, in this case, pertaining to my finger.  Trying to control any tiny technology devices whilst running is generally a little hit & miss… as in miss step, hit floor.

Suitably wired for brain food I did the normal 7mph run with occasional 0.1mph increases.  Trying to concentrate (on TED for example) requires a generally slower pace, which meant that I found it hard going towards the end.

Several things would improve the experience further: an iPad so that the screen is larger, a bracket to hold it higher and further away and a set of Bluetooth headphones to remove the wire tether with the associated risk of catapulting the devise off into oblivion.

I ended up completing 7.35 miles in 60 minutes.

Spring now seems to be back on track after it’s brief winter sojourn and with a little luck I’ll be back outside next weekend.  In the meantime I have another fascinating week of discoveries ahead, including lecturing at both Brighton Business School and UCL.

 

1000 feet

Thursday I was feeling demoralised.  Nietzsche said that you can have as much joy in your life as you are willing to tolerate sorrow and if that’s right then I have had a few days of being at the bottom of this sine curve.

An alternate way of looking at it might be to say that March had arrived (almost on Thursday) but the weather has not yet improved sufficiently to go outside without protection against hypothermia.

A run with Daren was a perfect tonic and with the same four high-performance layers as last week to keep me warm, we set out into the gloomy morning.

Runs with Daren can’t always be full of laughter, but it’s pretty much impossible not to have some invoked as a result of our discussions!  I forget why we laughed, but we did laugh, especially when I almost landed face-first into the thick mud at the bottom of Wolstonbury Hill.

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I almost wish that my hand hadn’t saved the day as it would have been a way funnier photo.

My subdued mood made the Tank Tracks seem even tougher than normal… Daren chose this time to nonchalantly share that our 10km circuit involved climbing 1000 feet… just three circuits would equate to climbing Snowdon.

I couldn’t help thinking again about Cloud Atlas as we ran down the hill towards the cars.  This run is like a microcosm of life, with tough bits and easier sections and runners who are the same on each circuit, and yet always different.

We were surprised that despite feeling much slower, we dispatched the 6.25 miles in 1:15, the same as the previous week.

Cloud Atlas

I thought Sunday was cold, but it was positively balmy compared to what greeted me as I opened the car door at Jack & Jill on Thursday morning.

Testament to the temperature was Daren’s somewhat uncharacteristic first question to me… ‘shall we go & get a cup of tea?’

The idea rolled around in our collective mind for a few minutes, but ultimately our good sense was overridden and we went for a run anyway.

It was twelve degrees warmer than my run in Sweden last month, but felt WAY more chilly and my nose physically hurt from the icy tentacles of the sharp easterly wind.

The normal route was undertaken which is largely sheltered from an east wind so normal hilarity soon returned to the dynamic duo.

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As per normal we ran through all manner of discussion subjects… to give you an example, I likened our recurrent run to the novel (and now film) Cloud Atlas, with us repeating our journey again and again, facing different challenges each time but with the same key characters.  In terms of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, our ebullience appears to make each circuit greater fun than the last, albeit with the occasional exception.  Life is like that.

Unlike normal, the obligatory mud at the bottom of Wolstonbury was not appealing to take head on.  We attempted to skirt around the issue, on account of the icy water in the deep puddles… and both failed.

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On a day when even the tank tracks could not quell our enthusiasm, it was a small price to pay for such an enjoyable outing.

We finished the supremely hilly 6.25 miles (10km) in a characteristically sedate time of 1:15… although 5mph is actually pretty good bearing in mind our shared paucity of runs over the last month.

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The snow thickens

The teahouse in the snow, again

With the snow following me back from Scandinavia this week and without the benefit of Martin’s running spikes, I opted for a run on the machine this morning.

On a scale of enjoyment, running on your own on a machine compares poorly to running with friends in interesting places, so my aim today was to get on and off as quickly as I could.

I set my goal as 45 minutes, dialled in 7mph and got on with it.

What can I say?  The cheese plant waved gently at me as my head bobbed up and down.  I got the stitch after about 25 minutes and I couldn’t shake it.  I needed my mental stamina to finish.  I counted down the minutes rather than watching the distance increase, amusing myself by trying to do mental arithmetic to see whether I needed to increase the speed to get an average of 7mph… the machine takes long seconds to get up to speed initially.

And failing at the arithmatic:  60 minutes divided by 7 is…?  The seconds make it a complex calculation to do… and to then compare with the current time/distance equation, especially when you’re running… and especially when your body is rebelling.

I was about 6 seconds adrift at the 45 minute stage, covering 5.24 rather than 5.25 miles and thus averaging 6.98mph.  But who cares… I was just glad to have finished.

It’s still snowing outside, harder now and I’m hoping that trains, planes and automobiles will all be running on time as required this week!

The Stockholm Syndrome

There were a number of facets of my run last Sunday that were unusual.  It was dark, minus ten degrees and the ground was covered in packed snow with a layer of powder snow on top.  Oh, and I was in Stockholm.

My brilliant host Martin had persuaded me to take my running gear and he augmented this with an extra pair of running tights, a head-torch and a set of running spikes for the bottom of my trainers.

I was particularly glad of the latter.  My outside runners were covered in mud from the previous run so I had packed the pair I use on the running machine.  Only when I put them on did I realise how slippery the soles were: a combination of the rubber hardening with age and the silicone lube we use on the machine.

The road outside

It may have been minus ten, but it really didn’t feel that cold, which may have been due to low humidity.  We ran gently along one of Martin’s training routes, through his neighbourhood, around his local lake and up into the forest.  It was beautiful and I could certainly get used to this being my local run, snow and all.

All too quickly we were back at the house and I felt elated… 55 minutes had passed in a flash!  I’ve no idea how far we ran, but we were chatting constantly so probably about 5 miles.

Me & Martin

After work the following evening, Martin decided I should experience more of the local way of life.  We headed to a local recreation centre and I once again changed into my running gear… this time swapping the slippery-soled runners for a pair of long Swedish ice skates.

The last time I can easily remember being on ice skates was around 1995.  Whilst standing nonchalantly with my hands in my pockets I had slipped over and fractured a rib!  Not wishing to worry Martin, I withheld this information!

Not expecting to go far, we set off along the track… across the surface of the lake. You might think this sounds crazy, but the track would have been maintained by a tractor, so the ice is pretty thick.  Having driven on frozen lakes in the past it wasn’t the thing that was concerning me… I just didn’t want to make an idiot of myself by falling over!

Fortunately some basic elements of the technique (none of them glamorous, alas) came back to me and we completed the lake circuit… a whole 3km!

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That was the hors d’oeuvre.  We changed, showered and climbed into the the typically Swedish sauna… it was a mixed session and everyone was naked, though clearly no-one seemed to give a hoot.

Having been thoroughly heated, Martin led me outside, across the snow and down to a small jetty on the lake… still naked, of course.  Here there were a pair of stainless steel handrails and between them the treads of a ladder descending into the black water.

The water on the handrails was frozen, as was the surface of the jetty and only a submerged fan prevented the surface of the water freezing over like the rest of the lake that we had been skating on.

I thought a little trepidation was probably in order, but I didn’t want to show myself up as a weak-minded Brit so I grasped the icy handrails and started to step down until only my head and hands remained in the air.

It’s possible that my mind has blanked out the experience, but it didn’t seem that bad… probably because I had been recently super-heated .  I counted to five before I retraced my steps out of the water and then walked back across the snow.  We even sat outside for a few minutes chatting before returning to the sauna… with our feet lifted off the frozen ground!

Probably determined to get a girlie squeal out of me, my wonderful host then repeated the exercise… this time with a camera to capture the moment.  Two photos were taken though, despite the effects of the cold water, only one is publishable!

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Worried about my place in the Brit-dip-list and also strangely enjoying this new experience, I returned for a third time to lower myself into the icy water.  I actually can recommend it… highly!

We showered & changed & headed out for food and a celebratory glass of beer!

Martin

 

I now understand why Stockholm Syndrome is so named… despite the generally chilly winter temperature, snowy weather and extended hours of darkness, it’s a beautiful and fun place populated by really warm-hearted people.  I can’t wait to return!

The mud thickens

Aristotle claimed that true excellence comes from repetition and is thus not an act but rather a habit.  I find habits fascinating, especially the ones that you create or optimise in a deliberate conscious way.

The whole point behind this blog for example was to create a habit of running and of writing… helping me to stay fit whilst forcing me into the habit of explaining myself in words.

Even after five years though it’s not a fully formed habit as it still requires conscious effort… I don’t yet suddenly notice that I’m leaving the house with my running kit on.  In fact, if anything, I’ve got into the habit of getting up late on a Sunday and reading before I even think about running.

Good or bad, a fully-formed habit is like a line of computer code that is run by the subconscious.  Hitting the snooze button is a good example of a suboptimal habit.  Better to set the alarm later to the point that you want to get up, thus elongating the length of quality sleep.  And then get straight up, thus helping develop conscious resilience.

Left to its own devices the subconscious will persuade the body to remain in the current comfortable state until a different motivation causes it to re-prioritise.  Only our conscious is concerned with the longer-term benefits of getting to work on time.

Driving or playing a musical instrument is an example of a different kind of habit.  Here the task is way too complex for the conscious to handle with its limited bandwidth.  Instead. a period of practice is needed in order to show the subconscious what pattern it needs to repeat and under what circumstances.  Provided the pattern is learned patiently and precisely, then a high degree of competence is feasible.

Higher degrees of competence are possible when you repeatedly break the pattern as you learn it, each time pushing the performance bar a little higher.  This is the power behind interval training, where both muscles and mind learn that they can do more.  Unfortunately the approach is also frustrating, as it constantly delays the reward of ‘felt competence’ for a future time.

Three years ago tomorrow I embarked on an experiment.  Despite having played the guitar for 35 years, I had not progressed for 25 years and my use of the instrument had slowly declined to zero.  I embarked on a series of 52 weekly guitar lessons and forced myself to practice for at least five minutes each day.

I’m still no virtuoso but my ability has improved and with it my passion.  This progression has been typically non-linear.  There was very little progress for a long time and then everything started to improve at the same time as the subconscious started to take over.

In the last nine months I have composed several songs and learned two short jazz pieces.  The experiment continues and is now part of an interesting meta-habit… a habit of experimentation, of creating other sustainable habits.

Meanwhile, I finally relinquished the fascinating Wired 2013 magazine I was reading this morning, climbed into my running gear and set of into a grey day.

The surface water had subsided from last week, but the mud had thickened.  When your feet are wet, it’s easy to persuade yourself to run straight through the puddles, but with the glutinous mud today and relatively dry feet I tried to stick to a dryer line.  This meant that I was constantly testing the limits of my core stability muscles as my feet slithered this way or that on the steeper gradient at the margins.

I ran the same short route as recently, out to Wivelsfield and back via the magical path, with the latter still being uncharacteristically waterlogged.

At one point I stopped briefly to balance across a particularly wet bit and experienced a Forrest Gump moment… you know, the one where he just stops running and turns his attention to new challenges.

It was momentary, but palpable and that’s where the power of habits really come into their own.  Rather than give in to the subconscious feeling (and hit the snooze button) I just started running again.

The time was slower at 55 minutes for the 5.2 mile route and it didn’t have the highs of my last run… as you can see this has made the task of writing more complex, hence my rambling post.  But it was still a worthwhile step in the slow pursuit of excellence.

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Happy 2013

Happy New Year!

We’ve had a great Christmas break with a restorative balance of quiet reflective time and really fun time spent with friends and family.

We took in the amazing Lost and Found Orchestra which is a riotous kaleidoscope of percussive sound and vision.  Originally designed by STOMP for the 40th Anniversary of the Brighton Festival in 2006, it has since toured internationally to wide acclaim.  Brighton is home to co-creator Luke Cresswell (who I went to school with in the late seventies & early eighties) so the performances here hold special significance!

We also saw the amazing film Life of Pi which is a beautifully produced and really thought-provoking tale of survival.

After days of dark, wet weather, 2013 dawned bright and clear so it seemed only right and proper to get out for a run.  I quickly realised that the rain had left its mark with puddles and fluid mud everywhere.

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I first headed out to Ditchling via Oldlands Mill, which sat facing the Downs in almost springlike sunshine.

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Normally dry paths were waterlogged and those that are often wet were completely under water… there was little point in shirking the mud, though I kept generally to the edges.

One garden I passed en route had filled up to become a small lake… maybe a 150 feet long and easily 20 feet deep!  The water sometimes fills the width of the garden but I’ve not ever seen it this high and close to the path before.

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The normally slippery chalk up the Beacon path had been washed clean and was abnormally grippy, especially compared to the slippery ground around it.

As I neared the top of the path, the view to the left was more warm March than soggy January… apart from the extent of the midday shadow!

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The top had a range of similarly beautiful views accompanied by a chilly breeze, especially where I was standing… on the trig point at the highest point in Sussex.

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After slip-sliding down the Beacon again, I ran past Sporting Cars, admired the beautiful houses through Ditchling and then climbed back up to the Oldlands path at the end of the village.

Where I had been relatively circumspect on the outbound route, I now just headed through the middle of most of the big puddles… and there were a lot of them!  By the time I reached the Keymer road again I was dripping wet and coated in mud.

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My first task upon returning home was to stand in the garden and wash off the worst of the mud with a scrubbing brush and hosepipe… which also usefully cooled down my tired leg muscles.

So ten miles in a sploshy 1:55 and a GREAT start to the New Year.

An exercise in core stability

It’s been a rainy few days, though I think that we got away lightly compared to the rest of the country.  Even so, my run today had a way higher proportion of splash footfalls to thud ones than normal.  And inevitably with a fluid top layer, the mud was slippery!

I stuck to my simple local route and realising how wet and muddy it was going to be, adopted an approach of direct assault on every puddle or mud bath I encountered.  Within minutes my trainers were wet through and my tights were plastered in mud… it was glorious!

Slip-sliding around always tests the core stability muscles and today more so than most, though I’m glad to report that I managed to stay right-side up for the duration.

The weather was largely overcast so the photos were more subdued than normal, but I did manage to find some vivid green moss.

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The magical path runs along the shallow crest of a hill and is thus normally dry, but today it was waterlogged so I can only imagine the state of the normally muddy path lower down the rise!

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Ditchling Common was strangely no wetter than normal but the weir from the pond at the bottom was flowing strongly.  I decided to pause on the path back towards Burgess Hill rather than splash a nice couple wading through the liquid mud in the opposite direction.

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Overall I was coated in mud right up to the middle of my back so upon returning I headed straight for the outside tap where I rinsed the worst of it off my tights, trainers and socks before I even bothered to try to take them off.  I then hand washed them to lessen the mud content before putting them anywhere near the washing machine!

So 5.2 miles in 53 minutes gives an average of 5.88mph that doesn’t seem bad for all the sliding that was going on.

Happy Christmas to all!

A short run on a short day

Tomorrow is the shortest day, although at only 4 seconds longer today comes a pretty close joint-second.  With dark clouds and heavy rain it sure does feel like winter is about to start.  Which is what made it a perfect day for a hilarious run with Daren!

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We met ‘upstairs’ at Jack and Jill, laughing at even the notion of running when there was enough water on the roads to kayak comfortably.  Perfect weather for clean trainers!

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It felt cold to start with, especially with the rain biting at our faces, but soon laughter warmed us up as we dropped down past a difficult green on the golf course.

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The path towards Pyecombe was a small stream and there was little point trying to keep our trainers dry… we just waded on through!

The path out from Pyecombe was probably less muddy than normal since it had been washed right down to the hard chalk layer.  Moreover, when we reached the point that is normally thick deep mud, someone had tarmacked it over since our last visit.  Odd.

We made good time up Wolstonbury but chose not to stand on the top to admire the (absent) view on account of the needling rain.  The steep grassy decent was always going to more interesting in this weather but we both managed to stay upright… with the help of some girlie squeals and aerobatic body movements.

A subsequent steep incline led to more squeals and one moment that almost undid me… my uphill foot was secure in a hollow while my downhill foot slipped inexorably away.

The end of that path as we approach Clayton is always a mud bath, even in the middle of summer, but today it seemed somehow easier.  Probably because we weren’t trying to avoid it in any way… we just waded right through the middle.

Eventually we came to the hard hill.  The ‘tank tracks’ take the scarp slope of the South Downs head on and require every ounce of resilience to run from bottom to top… neither would have made it alone today but together we managed to triumph.

And then we were back in the deserted car park, stripping off sodden clothes while the rain did it’s best to soak our dry ones.

6.3 miles in 1;14 works out to 5.1 mph, which is actually a little faster than normal… you were right Daren!

My trainers have resumed their dirty state but I’m now brimming with positivity ahead of the approaching winter!