Mental Toughness.

As I mentioned in my last post: I've been racing a lot this year. When you're training daily, and racing nearly every weekend, your mind looks for any release possible. Your outlook on things changes. Personally, I've noticed a lot of alterations. I used to have a quick temper; now I have an on-off switch. I can do zero to furious in a syllable. I really don't like a lot of my old music any more (this is attributable to cyclic changes in taste; I change phases every few years). I'm living in a near-constant state of frustration lately. Nothing is good enough, and that's before the results are even considered. When group riding it's a near constant source of embarrassment.

My coach likes to perpetuate the myth of mental toughness. I know lots of others who preach the same prescription of cerebral fortitude. Standing in sharp contrast to these messages, is the doctor-to-be who taught my Exercise Physiology classes. I give his words credence and consideration because of his stature in academia as well as his experience in the realm of personal training and coaching. Lastly he's also completely transformed his body from a meager teenager, to a, current 270lbs, power lifting giant.

If there is a myth out there, chances are good there is a modicum of truth to it, with enough digging and stretching. Often, what makes sense on the surface fails to hold to proper examination. Example: taking practice swings, in baseball, with a weighted bat. The idea is after swinging the heavy lumber, a normal bat will feel easier to swing. That's certainly the case and it's an excellent mental trick. However, physiologically speaking you couldn't chose a worse warm-up activity. The extra weight preps the muscles in the wrong order, changes their firing sequence and actually worsens performance by a large margin. That said, there must be an inkling of truth to mental toughness.

It has been suggested that the measure of "true mental toughness" is how closely an athlete follows a training plan.  Most competitors get a foul taste in the mouth when goals aren't met, and the only way to be rid of that taste is with a victory, or to accomplish the next goal. Some athletes are chomping at the bit after a bad event to prove themselves, and they'll take any opportunity to get it. To the mind driven for vindication, and success, which is the easier choice: A.) I'm going to follow my training plan and rest so I can properly recover for the next event. B.) If I go slaughter the Wednesday Night Worlds, I'll prove that last weekend really was a fluke and feel better! Personally, I run in to this a lot (Not that'd be ABLE to crush the Wednesday Night Worlds, for a variety of reasons mind you.). The constant reminders "This isn't you're forte, don't sweat it." "This is your first year, don't sweat it." (This one is a personal favorite as I watch other beginner/newer riders kill it.) "You aren't supposed to be fast this time of year, remember? Don't sweat it." Knowingly spending money on a bike race that will yield specifically squat, except a training effort, is beyond frustrating. Getting your teeth kicked in two or three times a month for six months will chafe even the most staunch of people. In this context mental toughness is very applicable. However, this is rarely the context in which mental toughness is discussed.

Cycling has been described thusly: "Runners train so they can run a long way, without hurting. Cyclists train so they can ride a long way, and suffer the entire time." It is under this guise that mental toughness is most commonly discussed. "Oh man, that kid can really suffer! He just puts his head down and locks himself in the pain cave!" Two dumb statements I've personally made. Does it really hurt that bad? How do we know he isn't simply a superior athlete? Certainly you must push the envelope of your ability and pushing that far requires a degree of discomfort. Years of physiology research have shown this mythical ability to push above and beyond one's limits to be more or less bunk. The old adage is appropriate: You'll never make a mule a race horse. Despite a freakish pain tolerance your body will betray your efforts, when the byproducts of energy production out-pace their regulation mechanisms. In short, your muscles require energy to function and when this energy runs out, or can't be supplied fast enough, you slow, or shut, down.

According to convention, if you're mentally stronger than the other guy, it won't matter what your muscles are doing. You're going to win, because your tough! A poor example: Rider A holds 350 watts for 15 minutes and 315 watts at 20 minutes.at his maximal exertion. Rider B holds 335 watts for 15 minutes and 330 for 20 minutes at maximal exertion.Rider A will punish Rider B on a 15 minute or shorter climb, no matter how "prepared to suffer" the latter is. His genetics simply prohibit Rider B from matching that power output. However, if we take our two hypothetical racers to a longer climb, Rider A will be punished by his rival. Again, muscle fiber type (genetics) determines your ability to create power for various durations. Thus, races are not won or lost based on a micro level of mental toughness. When we apply the concept of mental toughness to a macro level, however there is a significant correlation. Athletes that train better compete better.

In summary, mental toughness is bunk. Coaching for mental toughness is extra bunk. By the time a human is old enough to begin organized sports, their "mental toughness" is already established. A coach may have a small percentage effect in teaching mental toughness, but this is very unlikely. None of this is to discount the mental side of sport. The mental aspects of cycling are more tactical and timing than any sort of mental toughness. Are you keeping yourself near the front? Are you keeping an eye out for breaks to leave? Do you know who is strong enough to make a break stick? Perhaps in multi-day events, stage races etc. when stress management becomes paramount, mental toughness earns an inkling of respect. Giving a maximal effort repeatedly is very draining. However, the basic physiology is, and will always be, the limiting factor in performance.