I wrote most of the following as notes on my phone during the event, so it’s a bit rough, quick sort and here it all is:

Part of becoming really good at any sport is hanging with the best in the sport, at the places in the world with the best venues for the sport. Surfers go to Hawaii, Sharma moves to Spain, Graham to Switzerland, etc. etc. That Koyamada does what he does in relative isolation is extra impressive to me. This “get together with the best” program is important no matter what your climbing level; the fastest way to go up a grade or two technically is to climb with people who are a grade or two better than you. Anyhow, in keeping with Ondra, Sharma and others, Koyamada describes his training as, yep, climbing:

There’s a lot of information on the web and in print about how to get stronger for rock climbing, but very little on how to actually get better at climbing. Those two aren’t the same thing. Being stronger will help, but really you need to climb a lot to get better at climbing. Anybody promising that doing any form of non-climbing training will make you a better (better means climbing harder) climber is flat-out missing the point. I really mean that: If you want to climb better then climb, and structure the vast majority of your training around climbing or climbing-based skilled movements. Why this is so hard for people to understand I don’t know, but let’s flip the argument around for a minute: If you wanted to be a better Olympic lifter would going climbing help you more than doing Olympic lifts? No. So why would traditional weight lifting make you a better climber? I have yet to see anyone fail on a route because they couldn’t do enough bicep curls, lunges, weighted pullups, or bench press. Not once. But I have seen those with huge biceps, quads, and pecs fail on 5.9, which is a grade anyone not clinically obese, missing more than two limbs or massively brain damaged ought to be able to climb on TR after a few days of actual climbing. Enough said.

“Climbing fast comes from being good at climbing. And being good at climbing comes from having a lot of routes under your belt. So if you realise you are climbing too slowly on a redpoint, but can’t seem to go faster without making mistakes, there’s no shortcut unfortunately – if you clock up more routes, you’ll slowly be able to make movement decisions quicker.”

Now it’s time to start rock climbing again. I’m in sad rock climbing shape, but most of my winter injuries are healed up (I can get my feet into rock shoes again, elbows healed up pretty much, etc). I’m also paddling a fair amount through May and June, and have a hideous travel schedule in June and July, so my climbing training is going to have to be effective to get results. I’m going to post what I’m doing with my overall and specific rock climbing training time on here, which over the next six weeks will amount to about 6 hours a week of actual climbing time at the most. I aim to be back to onsighting at a reasonable (for me that’s 5.12c or so more than 50 percent of the time) level by August 15, which is when rock season gets really going for me, and when I have a few big rock climbing goals to throw myself at. Giddyup.

I could almost have some respect if Landis had of simply said, “I doped, everybody is doping and I went along with it, and I got caught.” OK, we all know pro cycling is full of doping, fair enough. But this circus that Landis put on has done massive damage to pro cycling, and bike racing at all levels. Who wants to be associated with a sport defined by lying drug uses? Landis of course accused everyone of doping, and that’s believable to me. The mountains of circumstantial evidence around Armstrong’s doping are just that, same for all the other riders. Whether they are or not, the Landis saga has now painted ’em all as doping liars. It’s basic psychology 101 to never believe what an addict says; why do we treat these riders any differently? They’re a bunch of addicts on bikes, no difference.

Why do I care? I guess it’s because I want the best for all athletes. I want to believe in the power of the human mind and body to overcome obstacles. I want to believe in the Landis staging a dramatic comeback from a horrible stage. When somebody dopes it knocks my belief in the magic feats of athletes down a peg, and that pisses me off. It’s childish maybe, I should be more cynical, but I’m not. One of the reasons I love outdoor sports is that doping, as far as I can tell, just isn’t much of an issue. Some fool might be on the juice to climb harder, but I’ve hung out enough with the best sport climbers, alpinists, back country skiers and so on to feel confident they aren’t doping (well, maybe smoking green stuff and pounding Red Bull!). When Steck climbs the Eigre in an incredible time I feel confident his ascent was “clean” from a performance perspective (insane from my risk standard, but not his).

Anyhow, I wrote about Floyd Landis back here, boy was I a sucker. My message to Landis, for what it’s worth, is this: Fuck you Floyd, not because you doped, but because you lied about it for four years. You’re Madoff on a bike, suckering money, support, even dreams from people, all the while knowing you were a liar. You’re an addict; you can clean your life up and move on, but it’s gonna take a long time of living well to get over this mess.

I am a very firm believer in looking at what the best in any sport (or business or whatever) actually DO. There are many coaches who have a lot of theories, but I always look at the very best to see what got them in that position, and then work backwards. It only makes sense, but many athletes somehow follow some junk-science “program” that does little to nothing for their performance levels. In the spirit of examining “the best” I posted a link to an interview with Adam Ondra, likely the current best sport climber in the world, so that others could look at what the best did there. It is much harder to define “best” among alpinists, but Steve House is certainly successful, and is a thinking alpinist for sure. I think his training regime is instructive for anyone who wants to be an alpine climber, good of him to share it. Check out his training blog, it has some useful info and thought, and the last entry is an account of his fall on Temple and also definitely worth reading.

One of the things I’m working through in my own training is intensity, and Steve gets into that in a way I can relate to. About 20 years ago I blew up as a sport climber due to too much intensity, and then I blew up (injuries, headspace, etc) due to too much volume. As Steve notes, any training is training, and we can only handle so much of it. I’m feeling incredibly good at the moment due to a few days of rest; I was likely training too intensely in the last month, and not allowing myself enough rest. My back is still injured, but I WANT to train today, and that’s a sign to me that I’m back fresh. If a workout is drudgery then you’re over-trained… Get really overtrained and it may take a month or more to totally recover, and there are still sport climbers form the 90s battling chronic fatigue and other issues brought on by horrendously hard training regimes with famine-like diets, that was a very, very bad combination for a lot of us (we would all have likely been better off just eating high-quality food instead of the caloric restriction and resulting mental waste of time).

Anyhow, good reading from Steve, who I course wish a speedy recovery to!

My back was darn sore and tender the next day, and not in the good muscle sore way, but it didn’t prevent me from working out, and doing a quick paddle session across the Columbia Gorge in my boat (fun in the wind and waves!), as well as a workout at Crossfit Hood River on Wed (thanks for that!). But on Thursday my daughter was using me as a tree, and I was bent over with my back basically parallel with the ground when she jumped forward onto my shoulders. I felt something “pop” or chunk in my lower back where it was already a bit sore, and I’ve been messed up (barely walking at first but getting better fast) since. My back was strained a little already, my daughter just loaded it up in a weak position. Feels like L2, but hard telling, and harder knowing what is wrong without a lot of testing that likely won’t add much to the recovery prescription, which is to go easy for a bit and then re-develop function and strength with time as pain permits. There’s not much that can truly be done for back injuries, even surgery (for chronic pain vs. broken bones) has a relatively low success rates. Anyhow, I’m already doing way better, but it’s made me think a a lot about about doing complicated strength motions for time (for me–likely just fine for many people, I’m just not real good at moderation).

My only other injury this year was a tweaked shoulder from doing kipping pullups really fast. The kipping swing is brutal on shoulders when you’re trying to punch reps out against the clock. Hmm, does my mild kipping shoulder injury have any parallels to my back injury? Racing for time, complicated motion? Hmmm….

What I’ve learned from this:

1. I’m not going to do any sort of highly technical lift or movement with what is for me relatively heavy weight for time. Lift heavy, go for time, but not at the same time.

2. I will drop the weight to less than half my max on any workout involving a race against the clock. Or less–if the goal is more work then less weight may mean more work…

3. I’m not doing full kipping pullups anymore, it’s too temping to use shit technique in order to squeeze fast reps out at the expense of my shoulders. Maybe I’m getting old, but for me the most efficient kipping pullups are done on a “relaxed” and therefore unsupported shoulder, mine don’t like that motion at all. I’ve had almost zero should problems over the years, it was a surprise to have ’em with kipping pullups. I’ll still kip, just not full-out butterfly kip, and I’l keep the support muscles of my shoulder engaged, not relax dead-hang style on the swing. If I can no longer support my shoulder I’m getting off the bar until I can. Plus “strict” pullups are more manly, no more swinging around the bar like a d-bag, ha ha!

4. I see a lot of videos of people doing CF workouts with rounded backs, poor squats, chin below the bar, etc. etc. (like I’ve done!), even on the main site front page. This sort of shit technique obviously helps to get a faster time, but I don’t think it’s a good idea in the long run, at least for me. I would much rather be a healthy athlete long-term than a faster CFer. You can’t perform if you’re injured.

5, My first goal for CF workouts is now excellent form. If a rep isn’t done in good form then it doesn’t count (for me). If my workouts lose ten or even 50 percent of “work” done then I’m fine with that, I fucking hate being injured, and both of my recent injuries have involved racing the clock and using bad form in complicated movements as a result. If you’re Rob Orlando then maybe you can round your back with a deadlift of twice your own bodyweight and apparently not suffer injury; me, I’m a skinny-ass climber, that sort of poor form is going to leave me messed up, as it has twice now.

6. I’m not bagging on what anyone else does; give ‘er. I love being stronger and more functional, I just want that path to continue and not lose time ’cause I messed myself up. If you can bust out 200 pound snatches for time without injury then you’re rad, I just figured out that I’m not at this type of training and have modified my approach as a result.

So, form first!

In other news, life in the Gorge is awesome, I’ve been out flying a Piper Pacer every day (even with a tweaked back) with Kim’s dad, Joe, today we flew around Mt. Hood, fantastic! I can even taxi the thing sorta straight at a walking pace now, that is one twitchy plane. I’m fine in the air, but I’m definitely not going to be taking off or landing it anytime soon. Amazing plane, feels like you’re wearing it. The difference between it and a Cessna 172 is the difference between a Ford F-150 and a Lotus. In the spirit of getting slapped down that I’m experiencing this week, I’m no Lotus driver! But I am still having a damn good time, yeah!

A repeated theme in the book is that you don’t necessarily have to be the smartest/strongest/whateverest but you do have to be smart enough, strong enough or whatever enough, and then you have to have the right environment in order to succeed. You don’t have to be seven feet tall to play in the NBA, but you do have to likely be at least six-two. Six two is the threshold (I just made that number up, don’t have the book anymore, but I imagine you get the idea). So, for different mountain sports, what are the thresholds that mean “good enough?”

To start with, I believe that performance is the acid test of any training program. We all choose to train three main performance components (our skill, muscles, and head); how we perform is the test. An athlete’s performance will generally depend not on which one of these three are the strongest, but which one is the weakest. The absolute strongest athlete often doesn’t win a climbing competition; the guy or girl with adequate strength and excellent skill combined with a strong competition head usually wins. We all know climbing gym monsters who can’t lead 5.10 on real rock. They don’t have the skill or head part. But, and this is the almost funny part, the easiest things to train are muscles, so that’s where most people focus most of their time while trying to get “better” at a mountain sport. I really believe this physical-centered approach is wrong for most athletes in the mountain sports I know.

In my experience the fastest performance gains for athletes are usually made when they train their sport-specific weaknesses, specifically skills. I try to get the athletes I work with to attack what they are worst at first; many times that means reading sports psych books, or changing their training to reflect competition stress, or some other aspect beyond just moving things around physically. But, and it’s a big butt, if they don’t have Gladwell’s “Threshold” strength then they will also need that. Any athlete can also use a fully functional body, and a general physical prep program is good for that. A GPP approach is also great for athletes who switch sports around a lot, as I tend to do.

So what are threshold strength levels for a few different mountain sports?

With zero scientific methodology I’d offer the following threshold strength levels for what I would call a “solid” level in each sport:

Alpinism:

-Hike up 3,000 feet in under one hour, 5,000 feet in under three (Messner could reportedly do 1,000M/3,200 feet in under 30 minutes or something…).

-Do 10 pullups (not because pullups are necessary, but because anyone who can do 10 real pullups is sorta trained up)

-Do “Angie” in under 20 minutes if you think you’re “elite.”

-Climb grade IV ice all day on minimal gear and be relaxed about it, lead 5.6 with a pack.

Technical rock climbing at a solid 5.13 level

-Do 10 pullups on a half-inch ledge.

-Hang a 1 inch ledge for 5-10 seconds one-handed.

-Campus up the smallest rungs in your climbing gym.

-Climb ten 30M pitches of modern mid-5.12 a in a day (all different pitches, no laps).

Trad Rock climbing 5.10:

-Do one pullup on a one-inch rung.

-Do three pullups on a bar.

-Hike 1,000 feet vertical in 30 minutes.

-Climb all day on 5.7 and still think it’s fun.

Kayak class V and up with physical reserves:

-Mountain bike for an hour straight without having to stop and gasp.

-Row 2K in under 10 minutes.

-Bench their own weight.

-Play anywhere in a class IV run.

Mixed climbing M12 (without trickery):

-Ten pullups with tools staggered lower head to upper spike.

-Front lever for two seconds, 20 knees to elbows straight.

-One-handed hang 20 seconds, 20 seconds other hand, repeat for ten cycles.

-Onsight M10 sometimes, always do it second try.

Ski Touring

-Gain 3,000 feet in under one hour even after smoking up.

There are definitely people who will be able to meet the technical standard without having the threshold strength, but by and large these are the physical standards I think are required if an athlete is to be at a roughly equal personal level (strength, skill, head). Chances are that if you have these strengths then you can get the day’s job done at that standard. If a kayaker can’t bench his or her own weight then they are paddling without a physical reserve and are relying instead on reserves of skill and headspace. I see physically strong paddlers get bit off because they lack skill and headspace more than I see skilled but relatively weak paddlers get into trouble, but I see both regularly. Often the paddler doesn’t know he or she is weak or has lost skill… A paddler who is strong in all ways is better than one who lacks in one area, and one day that raw strength is going to really, really count.

But I also put a sort of “skill and head check” in each list; many people claim to want to climb 5.13, but can’t climb ten pitches of mid-5.12 in a day. They can likely siege a 5.13 into submission if they have the threshold strength, but they won’t be doing a new 5.13b in a day with regularity (and that’s what climbing at that grade means to me for the purposes of this discussion). I know a few “alpinists” who can hike up hill like mad, but can’t lead basic water ice smoothly… They will not succeed on major winter alpine objectives without a basic skill set.

So, are you strong enough, skilled enough, and mentally together enough to actually perform at the level you want to? And if not, why not? This is where it gets interesting, and self-examination becomes more important than another set of squats. Which may also help, but if you’re at double or triple the threshold strength for what you want to do and still not getting it done then perhaps it’s time to try something different. Immediately. And if you’re not at threshold strength then you’re very late for a training session.

This stuff is really fun to think about, especially as I work through my own goals, limitations and successes with my own sports and training.