So if the strong and genetically gifted athletes aren't necessarily the ones capable of the intensity required to excel, then where does this intensity come from? Is anybody capable of it, or is there some ingrained switch that is only present in certain people?
I have seen, time and time again, that anyone is capable of intensity under the right circumstances and with the right motivation. The difficulty is in consistently producing that motivation to give a consistently exceptional athletic performance. For some, this intensity can only result from imminent danger, a situation that cannot be safely reproduced for the sake of athletic performance. For others, the intensity comes from a more manageable external stimulus that makes them feel angry, competitive, inferior, or excited. This is easier to work with, as a good coach can provoke this reaction with the right verbal cue, whether it is "C'mon you worthless meatsack, those are the slowest push-ups I've ever seen," or, "Keep it up, you're doing amazing!"
Those athletes who will excel the most, however, are those who are internally motivated to high levels of intensity. A prime example of this sort of athlete is Breanne Feudale, who fought her way to first place in the final event of the Northern California Crossfit Qualifiers, an impressive feat made amazing after taking into consideration the fact that Breanne fell twice during this event: once off of the rain-soaked pull-up bar onto her neck, and once on the final leg of the steep downhill run to the finish line. Both times, Breanne leaped back up to her feet and immediately continued a workout that I can personally say was one of the most gruelling ever devised by the powers that be. It was a source of inspiration to compete against athletes like Breanne at the NorCal Qualifiers, so much so that I found it slightly depressing to leave the competition and return to the "real world," where intensity, motivation, and inspiration are considered extraordinary charicteristics.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
Intensity, Part One
Prior to Crossfit, my experience with athletics has led me to believe that most people in the world have never pushed themselves to a physical limit in any capacity. Take high school cross country as an example; at the meets, there was a wide range of physical fitness, athletic prowess, and mental determination among the runners. There were runners finishing three miles in anywhere from sixteen to thirty minutes. Some of these runners would end up on the ground afterwards, gasping for breath, while some would calmly walk it off. What always struck me as odd though, was that there was no correlation (except among the elite runners) between the time it took a competitor to finish and how absolutely physically ruined the race left him. About one third of the runners collapsed in an exhausted heap after their race, while the other two thirds were somewhere in the spectrum between breathless and cheerful. This means that either 66% of teenage males are not greatly affected by pushing themselves to their physical limits for twenty minutes, or that 66% of teenage males are not willing to push themselves to their physical limits for twenty minutes. Based off what I have seen in athletics over the past twelve years, I would argue that the latter is true. The difference between those standing and those lying down had nothing to do with physical capability, but rather was the result of the athletes' determination to push through their pain and give nothing less than their fastest, best performance, however uncomfortable that may be.
My brother once jokingly told me that ninety percent of football is physical, and the other half is mental. I've heard similar, though more serious and mathematically accurate statements about a wide variety of sports, and I recently realized how ridiculous this sort of claim is. To run the fastest, swim the hardest, lift the heaviest, or jump the highest, an athlete can devote no less than one hundred percent of his physical capacity to the task at hand. And yet at the same time, the athlete must be one hundred percent focused on success. There is no limit to how much of our physical or mental capabilities we can use at one time, except for how uncomfortable we are willing to make ourselves. Anyone who thinks that they can achieve a record breaking performance in an athletic endeavour without raising their heart rate or breaking a sweat is sadly disillusioned. There are certainly those athletes out their who are genetically gifted with strength, stamina, speed, and power, but if they can't find within themselves the drive to go their hardest, they'll be given a reality check by the pale nerdy freshman who wants it more than they do.
My brother once jokingly told me that ninety percent of football is physical, and the other half is mental. I've heard similar, though more serious and mathematically accurate statements about a wide variety of sports, and I recently realized how ridiculous this sort of claim is. To run the fastest, swim the hardest, lift the heaviest, or jump the highest, an athlete can devote no less than one hundred percent of his physical capacity to the task at hand. And yet at the same time, the athlete must be one hundred percent focused on success. There is no limit to how much of our physical or mental capabilities we can use at one time, except for how uncomfortable we are willing to make ourselves. Anyone who thinks that they can achieve a record breaking performance in an athletic endeavour without raising their heart rate or breaking a sweat is sadly disillusioned. There are certainly those athletes out their who are genetically gifted with strength, stamina, speed, and power, but if they can't find within themselves the drive to go their hardest, they'll be given a reality check by the pale nerdy freshman who wants it more than they do.
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