The art of recovery...

The science of the effectiveness and efficacy of (individual) recovery is still being re-worked, re-shaped and re-claimed.

The science of many things is complex to many

The art though lays in making the complex simple, to many.

Here is a creative perspective on recovery. Four things you can't recover:

1) the stone after the throw

• go hard when it counts - you'll need to harden
• toss cautious stones - best in your own garden

2) the word after it's said

• be careful those words you say to self - the words of doubt, criticism and worth, for they create dark seeds when it's your time to compete
• be thoughtful of those words to others - the words in angst, of ego or defeat

3) the occasion after it's missed

• know your time when it arrives it'll be a whisper, a sense, a silent moment, you'll feel alive 
• not before, nor later but then - that's your time to go for it, to drive

4) the time after it's gone

• go too hard, too early, too often, too crazy - you're injured, and what cost ?
• while you stay still and deny or ponder, others go forward - closer they get, and further from time you lost

Training and competing brings results. More training and competing brings more demands. If some is good, more is not always better. 

Sometimes less is more - the art of recovery.

'Keeping it real, & keeping the zeal'

Had an interesting chat with the President of a local 'Little Athletics Club' this morning.  Among other things we spoke about why children and teenagers drop-out of (the) sport.

One of the reasons?  "Burnout!". Although "burnout" sounds strange for a 9 year-old or even a 17 year-old, I mentioned that it manifests itself through, quite simply...

Too much, too hard, too same, too soon.
(particularly anaerobic capacity work) 

My 10 recommendations for "keepin it real, n keepin the zeal" 

(1) keep it enjoyable, fun - play games, relays, circuits; vary it

(2) let them be kids, and teenagers - they'll want to try other things; if they like it, they'll return

(3) ensure mechanics, technique and skill are sorted & developed: Remember, basics are best:

     * FUNdamental locomotor skills: run, hop, jump, skip, gallop, stride, spin, twirl and rotate

     * FUNdamental motor skills: throw (over;, under-, side-arm), catch, strike, kick, roll

(4) use varied and challenging strength work eg. gymnastics, partner activities, body-weight, climbing

     * emphasise major-groups, large ranges of motion, and rotation/diagonal movements

        * empasise the 'power-zone': between the bottom of the ribs and mid-thigh

     * emphasise body-weight as resistance, balance & control, technique

     * emphasise speed before endurance

(5) progressively increase load - over years

     * avoid adult-based structures and loads 

     * pay attention to the individual

     * keep records

     * avoid too much anaerobic (capacity ["lactate"]) work - kids don't need it; teenagers in small doses

(6) get out-and-about: avoid too much at the track (the court or the field), go once/week 

(7) let them play other sports, and dance, and swim 

(8) measure success by attendance, retention, and improvement; not results, nor medals 

(9) keep the parents, err, busy but involved

(10) keep perspective - sport for life, not sport as life

Even for 'early development sports' like gymnastics and swimming, guidelines such as these can help "keep it real"...it is only sport.

Athletes...compete

We are all athletes - each of us who runs, walks, swims, skates, cycles, rows, skis, bowls, hits, kicks, lifts or flips, and scores.

And the word athlete does have a romantic, albeit humble, origin. It is through this humility that true athleticism can touch all.

The Greek word 'athletes' originates from Latin, 'athleta' and 'athlein', which literally means to "compete for  a prize".

As athletes of various shapes, sizes, speeds and specialities, we all compete for prizes and, in one sense, perhaps an ultimate prize. 

As we grow and evolve  as athletes we learn that the prizes we compete for are no longer caught up in podiums and places; nor times and trophies; nor medals and muscles; nor ribbons, and ranting and raving. 

It is in the afterglow of competition and achievement, and on the reflection of a journey that started well before the starting line - somewhere way back with the courage to say I can and will do this - and on the journey, one step after another, km after km, week after week, year after year - amongst angst, sweat, joy and tears - we discover those prizes. 

Those prizes come from the battle within - testing, probing and challenging your limits; getting up when you fall down; going again, and again; trekking a new path; saying no to the little voice inside; showing the nay-sayers - going where you've never been before, learning about yourself and, when the time calls, leaving that self behind. That is the ultimate score.

If competition is the basis for athleticism, we may ask the question 'what is competition?' Competition isn't solely competing for places, podiums, or prizes against others. It is you and I competing with, around and beside others, and at time against others - striving toward the same ends, striving together.

Competition comes from Latin 'competere', made up of com- (coming together) and -petere (to strive).

As athletes we strive together; we strive, not in rivalry or opposition, but as a community.

These athletes, these competitors are the people I coach.

The athlete in us all...

As a school teacher I often got asked, "What do you teach?"

Cheekily, I'd reply "I teach young people!"

"Yes, sure, but what to you teach them?"

"I like to think I teach them positive values and behaviours to use in different contexts, and that everyone has the right to be heard and prosper."

I'd smile knowing what was coming...

"I do that by teaching skills, knowledge and appreciation through positive experiences with physical activity, maths concepts, and scientific principles...I teach Physical Education, Maths and Science."

I haven't taught for a couple of years now. I coach. Again.

When I tell people that, of course, I get asked, "What do you coach?"

Of course, "I coach people. I coach athletes."

And the circle completes itself.

That said, good teaching and good coaching have much in common. They're both about building relationships and journeys - providing positive experiences (physical, social and emotional skills; sessions, activities) for others to develop or improve. Their journey: to reflect upon where they've been, their past; to become more aware of where they are, their present; then aspire, plan and build towards their future.

But what type of athletes do I coach?

Arguably, there are many types' of athletes: amateur, professional, commercial, weekend, casual and so on.

People want to hear that I coach football, soccer or volleyball or basketball, or track-and-field, or, god-forbid, runners and triathletes. I've been there, done that. I don't coach the sport any more. The skills, rules and physical capacities to participate, compete and win in their sport are tools for coaching the person. Thus, I coach people.

To me, we are all athletes...each and every one of us who runs (walks, swims, skates, cycles, rows, skis, bowls, hits, kicks, lifts, or flips).

I used to think that the word athlete may come from a Greek or Roman God and that his etymology laid in a romantic Latin stem: someone like, say, Athletik or Athlus or Athlaton. Alas, no!

The word's origin is more humble. It doesn't sit atop a dias. It has no impropriety toward immortality. And for the better, as it brings it's roots undeniably closer to me and to you, to all.