Reflecting on Sean Killion's Freestyle...

"Once you've taken inventory, you can start to make sense of your runway. But then comes a second challenge: finding the time to do what you need to do."
- David Allen

"Instead of stating 'What it takes', I start by asking my clients 'What have you got?' "
- Gordon Byrn taken from http://www.gordoworld.com/gblog/2008/08/add-it-up.html

Life is full of surprises. On Thursday, I was overtaken my a nasty flu bug that put me down completely until the latter part of yesterday. I wrestled with nonsensical dreams, sweated through a few shirts and a pair of sheets, and became sore from lying down for so long. But my mind was shaken to the point of clarity--either that or the caffeine deprivation just caused mental effects that made it seem like clarity. Anyway, as I was reassembling my mental and physical faculties today--somewhat--I began taking inventory of my life, what I want to see happen, and have begun to assemble a plan to get there.

Another surprise came today when I received a notification in my email account that an anonymous comment had been posted on this blog. At first I thought this related to some comments that my friend Jan the Swimmer had made. Then I realized that these comments related to a post I had written back in 2006 called "Swimmer Wisdom" and what I learned from the great Sean Killion back in 2001.

The anonymous person left the following comments: "Having grown up and spent countless hours in the pool with Sean, I can tell you that his greatness came from his desire and work ethic. It is pretty neat to read an account of a speaking engagement that I know is true. What ever you have learned from him, take to heart. He WAS the real deal."

For what it's worth, I'd love to know who wrote this. If for some strange reason you are reading this post, please email me at swimr80@gmail.com.

As I was assembling my plan for the upcoming year and reflecting upon what I heard Sean Killion talk about back in 2001--about both swimming and life--my thoughts sort of crystallized on one phrase: "Don't Put the the Objective Ahead of the Process."

Sean talked about a lot of different things during his speech back in 2001. If I stripped away most of the life lessons from his talk it would be called the following: "Core Based Swimming for Dummies." At the time if my coach would have said, "The arms are really secondary levers," I would have looked at him like leeches were spewing from his nostrils. I have some more experience under my belt now, so such statements don't scared me. But one of the things that Sean talked about was that you are only going to be able to hold stroke corrections for a limited amount of time at first. Making adjustments that fundamental alter a person's stroke take time, i.e. making bone deep changes is a process.

With this thought in mind, I began to frame his speech a little bit differently than I had as a younger man. As I played his words over in my mind--seven years has gone by so things aren't quite as sharp--the people who came to hear the man talk wanted to know about objectives that he had achieved: beating Salnikov in his signature event, holding an American record for an ungodly period of time, etc. But these weren't the things that Sean brought up himself. He wanted to talk about the processes, state of mind, and way of life that were involved to reach such heights. So that's what I have been mulling over the past couple hours: focus on the process and let the objective take care of itself.

On top of replaying the words of the aforementioned speech over in my head, and re-reading some of the posts of one Gordon Byrn, I recognize a key limiter that I haven't realized as a younger man: I can do one thing outside of work well and that's it. Gordo would say, "I can do two things well." Since I like to eat, and work puts food on the table, I already know what one of my two is. Now I just need to genuinely determine what the second thing will be.

In the past I have stated that things are priorities when they really weren't. In the past I have said that passing the CPA exam was the priority, but my behavior would indicate something else entirely. If I were to be really honest with myself, I would have to submit that at the time getting to a good spot in my personal life was really the priority. At the time, I didn't have the awareness to realize this, and said that the Exam was the priority in the hopes that something mysterious and magical would occur, and I would pass the Exam. Somewhere in the middle of 2008, I pulled the frayed edges of my life together. Currently, I would submit that I am in a good place--I have challenging, sustainable work, a healthy living environment, and boundaries in place with my family/personal life. Previous objective met; time to move on to the next thing.

Listening to the Gut right now, the thought I keep coming back to is this: stay focused at work, continue to clean up the personal balance sheet, and go all in towards the CPA exam in June of 2009. Historically, I have given myself not enough time to make bone deep changes. Maybe by giving myself too much time here to get additional traction on my current path at work and my continued clean-up financially, maybe deep set change will occur.

Those are my heavy thoughts for this evening. Tomorrow I will be back in the water, working on further deepening the stroke corrections that Coach Kevin and I have been hammering on, and replaying Sean Killion's freestyle clinic from 2001 in my mind once again.

Namaste

Summer Storms

"In an event like this," he said, "your mind goes to strange places. You'll experience every emotion, from the highest highs to the lowest lows. You must understand that you may be beset by storms of powerful emotions--exhilaration, despair, fury. But like storms, the emotions pass. And like storms, these spikes of emotion have no meaning. I once ran alongside a woman who described in meticulous detail how she planned to kill her new husband, because she hated the bastard so much. Remember, strange places."
- Michael Bain as taken from http://www.badwater.com/training/bane.html

Reference: "How To Write a Song" by Joe Henry http://www.esquire.com/features/music/ESQ0701-JULY_MUSIC?click=main_sr

During this week Phoenix was besieged by summer storms, or monsoons. I believe we Phoenicians are about to enter into monsoon season, so I am sure that I will see more of these in the coming weeks. As these storms have blown through Arizona, a good friend of mine from college also blew through Arizona, specifically the southern portion of this great state, and wanted to see if we could get together. Our schedules didn't mesh, but we did have a chance to catch up over the phone--which was very entertaining and insightful.

I saw Justin in San Francisco in the latter portion of 2003. In college Justin was planning on entering the priesthood upon graduation. He's a good looking guy and his absolute disinterest in "soiling his soul" just drove the ladies crazy. Too bad he never got to capitalize on that. After graduation something happened--I wish I knew for certain--but he decided the priesthood wasn't for him, and that for the most part religion in general was a load of snake oil. That was where I left off when I departed from San Francisco, and we parted ways. That story was apparently just the beginning.

I found out this week that my friend had worked as a personal trainer for a billionaire in India. After that he started his own company, then fell in love with a woman, moved in with her, and was subsequently kicked out of their shared dwelling space as she had fallen in love with shaman. These were just the high points of 2005. Our conversation diverted, so I have no clue what happened in 2006 or 2007, let alone the chunk of missing space in 2004. I'm not exactly sure, but I am guessing that it was interesting.

Justin also shared with me that he had just gotten back to the States after spending the past month in Thailand. It was during this time that he realized that he wanted to be a musician. He's decided that he will be moving from the Bay Area of California to Austin, Texas to once again reinvent himself.

For those of you who do not recall, back in 2001 Esquire was a great magazine. I didn't have the money at the time to buy the high end stuff they were pushing, but the writing was killer. I'd like to believe that I read Joe Henry's article "How To Write a Song" in Golden Gate Park, or in the Japanese Tea Garden, but I am pretty sure that I read it on dirty sheets in my shit hole apartment. Other than his use of language and visual creation, I was floored by his concept of The Truth. According to Henry, most people are cool searching for the Truth, but are hesitant to take it up once they find it. Finding it, means that you have to stick with it and gut out some stuff, which isn't nearly as romantic as being a searcher of the Truth.

From what I can gather, my friend is still searching for the Truth--which is cool and noble. Most people either lack the chutzpa or the lack of judgement necessary to say, "Fuck it," and go off to try something that they have always wanted to do. Personally, I find it sort of odd that I am not outlandishly jealous of my friend, and his traveling, free-spirited ways. This tells me one thing: I have found my Truth. In Henry's article it was a legendary jazz musician calling him and playing "Happy Birthday" that was his "ah-ha" moment. I think my conversation with my college friend was the equivalent of this same realization for me.

Maybe all that people need to have to feel free is to know that they could change their current job, living situation and geographic location if they wanted to. Just knowing that the possibility is out there makes one's current decisions to embark down a certain path much more palateable.

Anyway, it looks like Justin will be blowing through Phoenix on his way to Austin in the next few weeks. Hopefully, I won't end up in jail on an Indian Reservation as a result of his enabling. I feel like my bad twin is locked up pretty good. The last thing I need right now is for someone to let him out of his cage.

Other than thinking these heavy thoughts, I had a mellow weekend. I got the car serviced and took my alpha pair of black cap toes in to be re-soled and re-heeled--these are the ones that I have lovingly referred to as "better than new." They will be ready tomorrow evening. I'm looking forward to sporting them along with some navy trousers and a crisp white dress shirt.

I have some new additions to my list of guilty pleasures: (1) An organized closet full of clothes back from the cleaner; (2) folding shirts that have some right out of the dryer; and finally (3) shaving with a brand new Mach 3 razor blade.

Namaste

The Da Vinci Quote, Part II

"Life is pretty simple: You do some stuff. Most fails. Some works. You do more of what works. If it works big, others quickly copy it. Then you do something else. The trick is the doing something else."
- Leonardo da Vinci

"Life is a process of holding on and letting go.”
-Keith Urban

Most of Leonardo da Vinci's quotes are very elegant. This one sounds like something the great master would have said after three or four glasses of vino from his personal reserve. Regardless of its break from his usual style, it jumped out at me this morning. It's interesting how the consumate Renaissance Man and an Australian country singer both have the same thoughts on the ever changing nature of life.

On Friday I got some rather startling news related to one of my family members. I dealt with the immediate issues that I could, and then said, "What the fuck," got in the hybrid and headed to Los Angeles. I hung out in a pocket of Southern California, which was about two miles from the water on the side of a canyon. I had no cell service, no watch, minimal television and even less computer access. I was unplugged. I came back late Sunday afternoon with a clear mind--so clear, I felt mildly spacey on Monday morning.

Given similar news a year ago, I would have stewed over events which were beyond my control. This time, I stepped back, thought about what sort of positive impact I could have on the situation, and said, "Fuck it." I'd put this event and/or skill in the "letting go" category. I'll call it progress.

Namaste

Words of Advice from a Swimmer

"You show me a man with a woman who is drop-dead georgeous, and I'll show you a bored man."
- Jan the Swimmer

"Be careful of infatuation. This isn't something that necessarily means you two are meant to be together. To be infatuated, you have to be blind to a lot of things about this person."
- Jan the Swimmer

Interesting things happen when you talk to people genuinely. I'd submit that semi-miraculous things happen when you ask genuine questions. And on Tuesday morning, after an hour of swimming, I asked one of my fellow swimmers in his mid-forties how things were going with his significant other. This question turned into more questions about dating and relationships. I don't think anyone has this whole thing figured out, but I think as you go through Life, you do get some insights that clear things up. Jan offered a few of these to me. His biggest insights are posted above.

Up until yesterday, I really didn't think I could have a "charged" long-term relationship with a woman unless I felt that initial chemical reaction right off the cuff. After talking with Jan yesterday, I am beginning to wonder if I have been wrong about this. Maybe a slow burn is a better way to go. I'm going to give this advice an opportunity to work, and see what happens.

I have written about this before, but during Christmas I met a very pretty woman who was engaged to a man who was not a handsome man by any stretch of the imagination. It's not fair to unattractive men to refer to him as unattractive. But, he's the one who has the lovely girlfriend, not me.

I guess as you date people, and certain forces of personality or common interests take over, it becomes possible to find things that are attractive about a person, outside the scope of pure physicality. From what I've been told, when you love someone things that seemed important kind of go out the window. You begin to be able to overlook the fact that they aren't as tall as you would want, or you can ignore their drinking problem, or the fact that they still live with their ex-girlfriend. These things are just semantics.

I'm still processing the man's thoughts on relationships and dating. We'll see how his theories play out in application.

Pitching with Purpose - New York Times Book Review

Hopefully, what I am about to do isn't illegal. This is the kind of article that I could see the SkyShark sending me. And by the way, SkyShark--email me at swimr80@gmail.com when you have a chance. Enjoy.

Pitching With Purpose
By DAVID BROOKS

A few years ago, a former professional baseball player mentioned a book that had made a great impression on him. It was called “The Mental ABC’s of Pitching,” by a sports psychologist named H.A. Dorfman. I read the book one spare evening, though, as you may have noticed, I’m not a pitcher — and no major league organization has expressed interest in making me one.

The book left an impression on me too, mostly for its moral tone. Dorfman offers to liberate people from what you might call the tyranny of the scattered mind. He offers to take pitchers, who may be thinking about a thousand and one things up on the mound, and give them mental discipline.

Others are eloquent about courage and creativity, but Dorfman is fervent about discipline. In the book’s only lyrical passage, he writes: “Self-discipline is a form of freedom. Freedom from laziness and lethargy, freedom from expectations and demands of others, freedom from weakness and fear — and doubt.”

His assumption seems to be that you can’t just urge someone to be disciplined; you have to build a structure of behavior and attitude. Behavior shapes thought. If a player disciplines his behavior, then he will also discipline his mind.

Dorfman builds that structure on the repetitiousness of baseball. It’s commonly said that it takes 10,000 hours of practice to master any craft — three hours of practice every day for 10 years. Dorfman assumes that players would have already put in those hours doing drills and repetitions. He urges them to adopt their own pregame rituals. He notes that Trevor Hoffman, the San Diego Padres closer, walks from the clubhouse to the dugout every game in the fourth inning and moves to the bullpen in the seventh.

As a pitcher enters a game, Dorfman continues, he should bring a relentlessly assertive mind-set. He should plan on attacking the strike zone early in the count, and never letting up. He will not nibble at the strike zone or try to throw the ball around hitters. He will invite contact. Even when the count is zero balls and two strikes, he will not alter his emotional tone by wasting a pitch out of the strike zone.

Just as a bike is better balanced when it is going forward, a pitcher’s mind is better balanced when it is unceasingly aggressive. If a pitcher doesn’t actually feel this way when he enters a game, Dorfman asks him to pretend. If your body impersonates an attitude long enough, then the mind begins to adopt it.

Dorfman then structures the geography of the workplace. There are two locales in a pitcher’s universe — on the mound and off the mound. Off the mound is for thinking about the past and future, on the mound is for thinking about the present. When a pitcher is on the pitching rubber, Dorfman writes, he should only think about three things: pitch selection, pitch location and the catcher’s glove, his target. If he finds himself thinking about something else, he should step off the rubber.

Dorfman has various breathing rituals he endorses, but his main focus during competition is to get his pitchers thinking simple and small. A pitcher is defined, he writes, “by the way the ball leaves his hand.” Everything else is extraneous.

In Dorfman’s description of pitching, batters barely exist. They are vague, generic abstractions that hover out there in the land beyond the pitcher’s control. A pitcher shouldn’t judge himself by how the batters hit his pitches, but instead by whether he threw the pitch he wanted to throw.

Dorfman once approached Greg Maddux after a game and asked him how it went. Maddux said simply: “Fifty out of 73.” He’d thrown 73 pitches and executed 50. Nothing else was relevant.
A baseball game is a spectacle, with a thousand points of interest. But Dorfman reduces it all to a series of simple tasks. The pitcher’s personality isn’t at the center. His talent isn’t at the center. The task is at the center.

By putting the task at the center, Dorfman illuminates the way the body and the mind communicate with each other. Once there were intellectuals who thought the mind existed above the body, but that’s been blown away by evidence. In fact, it’s easiest to change the mind by changing behavior, and that’s probably as true in the office as on the mound.

And by putting the task at the center, Dorfman helps the pitcher quiet the self. He pushes the pitcher’s thoughts away from his own qualities — his expectations, his nerve, his ego — and helps the pitcher lose himself in the job.

Not long ago, Americans saw the rise of a therapeutic culture that placed great emphasis on self-discovery, self-awareness and self-expression. But somehow the tide seems to have turned from the worship of self, and today’s message is: transcend yourself in your job — or get shelled.