Title
The format is Paragraph 3, italics, centred. Squarespace will do everything it can to fuck this up.
Day, date, year. Time of day <link to Google maps as a description> followed by description e.g.
Thursday morning 2nd December 2021. 1045hrs just south of North Head looking north east if you followed this direction, the first time you’d hit land would be around Fiji about 3,200km away. After a long tough winter outside the heads in often very difficult conditions, today was special to enjoy the sunshine and long hours of daylight. This would be the first of three significant achievements in four days. Strava link.
On Sunday I wrote about the concept of expanding your circle. Today I want to talk about the 1% club.
There are two types of 1% clubs. There is the one with limited membership, where you need to displace someone else to get in.
This is seen as an achievement (and it is an achievement). You might be in the top 1% of finishers in a race, the top 1% of times on a segment or the top 1% of distance covered. Being in one (or more) of these places you in the top 1% of athletes. In consistent (controlled?) races such as (road) marathons and triathlons, there is good data on who is in the 1% club.
I'm probably part of a few of these, given I just did a 67km mid-week paddle at 8km/hr in a plastic surf ski that weighs 24kg. Knowing this, I'm choosing to opt-out of this 1% club, and make my own, which I think is more meaningful, inclusive and life-changing.
The 1% club isn't limited to achievement. You could be in the top 1% of the tallest people, smartest people or fattest people. Add enough restrictions in, and you're probably in at least one 1% club. All of these clubs have the common feature that for someone new to join, someone must be excluded. It's a zero-sum game. For someone to 'win', someone lost 'lose'.
Thursday 2nd December. 1130hrs the view from Shelly Beach across to Manly Beach. I've been told Shelly Beach is the only (?) west-facing beach on the east coast of Australia. I can't imagine there are many others. Beach access is similar to traditional 1% clubs. For you to have something no one else can. You need someone else to leave to have a spot in the shade. To get a parking spot, you need another car to leave. Most of our experiences are displacement-based. I was probably the only person that paddled here today and one of the few to come here this week. There was almost infinite space on the water, but no one else wanted to be there.
The 1% club I care about is spending 1% of your time (days) doing something well beyond what you usually do.
That’s three days a year, four if you round up.
You could, of course, choose more than 1% of your days. Don't let me stop you. Here are some examples:
Usual long ride 100-120km; 1% ride 200-250km+.
Usual long run 25-40km; 1% run 50-80km+
Usual paddle 4-5 hours; 1% paddle 8-10 hours+.
I prefer to think in duration rather than distance, except when people are running or riding too hard to sustain this over double the distance (which is very common). The basic calculation is to double your standard long day (distance). if your double distance is about double the time you're probably training well. This is one of the examples in endurance athletics where 'more is better'.
2nd December 2021. 1030hr halfway between Obelisk Beach and Camp Cove Beach in Sydney Harbour. A seal is sleeping in the harbour. I didn't realise they sleep with a flipper out of the water. It's a strange sight the first time you see this, as you think they're dead and floating around. If you get too close, you startle them awake, and they swim off.
There's so much to experience in this one photo. I'm in the busiest harbour in Australia, and I'd be one of a very small percentage of people to ever see a seal sleeping in the harbour. I wrote recently when referring to another experience:
"Moments like this are special, not because of what I found specifically, but because they remind me why I should keep looking."
I wonder about everything I've missed because I wasn't looking.
I personally don't count races and events. You can if you wish, except charity rides, these never count. Have you guessed my opinion about these? I rarely offer caveats, but I will say I understand many people choose to support these events due to a personal connection. Don't let me stop you, but don't believe that raising a couple of hundred (or thousand) dollars will do anything meaningful. Given the focus on charities fundraising for cancer, why not review progress? Dr Peter Attia has done this, here's what he has written:
"What you may not know, however, is that we have made virtually no progress in extending survival for patients with metastatic solid organ tumors since the “War on Cancer” was declared over 40 years ago. In other words, when a solid organ tumor (e.g., breast, colon, pancreatic) spreads to distant sites, the likelihood of surviving today is about what it was 40 years ago with rare exceptions. We may extend survival by a few months, but not long-term (i.e., overall) survival.”
Let's just think about that statement. For the billions of dollars spent on cancer research once you're at stage 4 we have done nothing meaningful to extend your life in the last 40 years. What has improved dramatically is early detection and patient care. Curing cancer? Not going to happen if we can't make any progress on stage 4. From Peter again:
“Maybe we should call a truce in the War on Cancer and concentrate on prevention. Besides smoking, the most preventable cause of cancer seems to be obesity. It is generally thought that obesity may account for about a third of many cancer types, particularly breast, colon, uterus, kidney and esophagus. Obesity is a risk factor for type II diabetes and these patients are not only more likely to get cancer, but to have poor outcomes. Other speakers will explore the relationship of obesity and cancer, the epidemiology and the science, and see if this lends support to any practical prevention measures.”
Instead of raising money that does nothing to cure cancer; let’s all be less fat. A lot less fat.
How fat are we? Pretty fucking fat.
In my age group males 35-44, almost 80% of my peers are overweight or obese. There are a lot of problems we need to solve in Australia, but there is almost nothing that breaks my heart as much as this statistic.
Getting back to my 1% club, it's open and inclusive. Everyone can join. You need to do the work, almost certainly by yourself.
When people ask/complain why they should have to do this, I often wonder how you could see the world that way. I'm not asking someone who doesn't go running to go and run an ultra marathon. I'm not asking someone who has never ridden a bike to ride a double century. I'm asking people who have become safe and comfortable to do something beyond what they usually do. I find it odd that people think it's fine for new people to join their clubs and be willing to learn and develop but that the same people are not willing to do the same for themselves. I can only assume these people think you make one step change in your life. This would be like saying to a child as they enter high school - great, you can read and write; you don't need to continue to develop. The irony is that people who don't want to develop their chosen hobbies undertake regular professional career development.
Let me propose this idea, do you eat the same meals daily? Do you have the same conversations with the same people? Do you wear the same clothes? Do you travel to the same countries and cities at the same time of the year? Probably not. The more consistent you are with any of these, the more special a slight variation is.
I rarely eat out. Every time I do, the food is amazing to me. I see the people I am with being blasé and unimpressed because they spend so much time eating out. I'm not advocating that you shouldn't eat out, wear the same clothes, or travel to the same place. I'm pointing out that very few people limit themselves to the same experiences every week except for how people train on the weekend. This is meant to be your fun time, and you make it boring.
Reflect on that point.
When I phrase it like this, I can't understand why:
No one else is writing about this.
Why do any, let alone so many people repeat the same small variation of rides and runs every weekend?
Then I realise that pointing this out rarely elicits the outcome I hope for. The natural response is to be defensive, to shift the blame and say - I don't understand. Or, the favourite excuse of the 21st century, 'I don't have time'. You're right, I don't understand, but not for the reasons you think.
Why not do something different with your ride/run/paddle just 1% of the time? Not once a month, not every week. One. Percent. Of. The. Time.
I recently listened to The Drive podcast. Peter Attia had Michael Easter talk about the "comfort crisis". I'm already sold on the idea, Michael mentioned a Japanese tradition called Misogi that he learnt about from Marcus Elliot who wanted to revolutionise sports science through data (YouTube link 01:33:05 - 01:43:10).
Michael describes Misogi as:
'Once a year, you're going to go out into nature and do something really hard, a challenging task.
There are two rules:
(i) really hard, this is defined as 50/50 chance of finishing and it should be a true 50/50 chance
(ii) you can't die be safe on this thing. Make it hard but don't die in the process.
There are two guidelines:
(i) you don't talk about it publicly, you can talk to it about your friends - this was a guideline before social media, so much of what we do today is for gratification 'the gram' to post it
(ii) the Misogi should be somewhat quirky, make something up. If you choose a marathon you'd be thinking about your time.'
Michael goes on to describe what he sees as the benefits of Misogi. He says this experience
'Teaches you that you undersell your potential - you will have a moment where you reach your edge. If you push through this, you look back and think - my edge was back there. I am clearly past that point, suggesting I am selling myself short. Where else am I selling myself short?
The second reason is can reframe fear for people. We're wired to avoid failure at all costs. Failure in the past used to mean death. Today failure isn't death. It's mistyping an email. By dancing on the edge of failure, you can realise it's not a big deal.'
Sam (surname unknown) has written on Medium about the concept and the example he and his friends did of running 4km every hour for 25 hours, completing 100km (spoiler alert, they finished, all of them).