Cup of tea

Went to church this morning to rehearse some music with Charles for tomorrow's Easter service. The weather outside was quite wet, with a misty sort of moisture hanging about the air. Clounds hung low and gray, giving the tops of distant trees a hazy sort or look. But the birds sing as they ever have these past few weeks, and with the warmer than expected air, lend a nice touch to rainy weather.

While playing this morning I was reminded of a point I first heard a few years ago in a running book. In it, the author suggested that, both in our daily training and during races, it is often the case that less is more. According to one coach cited in the text, one usually runs a personal best when they race and train at 90% effort under given circumstances; that is to say, in a race that the runner would likely rate their effort at around 90% of their maximum capacity, and in training, rate the effort 90% of the targeted maximum. How does that work?

I cannot say for certain, but my experience leads me to believe the claim in some degree. If one trains very hard all the time, the likely outcome is burnout and/or injury. If one races all out, it is likely that one will lose one's head in the heat of the competition and perform less well than had they maintained their wits about them. Many people seem to know this last point, because many coaches tell their runners to relax when they race, because it helps them run faster later in the race. The human body can do amazing things when it is driven by primordial instincts and fight-or-flight responses. But the human body can do even more amazing things when guided by the rational, intelligent mind, of which we are all more or less well-endowed.

And it is on this point that I think the coach cited in the book is correct. When you race at 90%, you keep a buffer of sorts between your rational mind and your animal mind, because there remains an extra gear with which to engage. A 100% effort leaves no room for additional emotional and physical effort to be harnessed during a difficult stretch of a race. It is like the story of the intellectual meeting the zen monk. The intellectual talked and talked and talked about zen, and then asked the monk about it. The monk asked the intellectual if he would like some tea, and he replied that yes, he would. So the monk offered a tea cup, and poured tea into the cup, only he did not stop when it reached the top of the cup, and continued pouring even as tea poured out all over the floor. And the intellectual was quite puzzeled by this, and demanded to know why the monk continued pouring tea even as the cup overflowed. And the monk replied, more or less, that the intellectual's mind was too full to take in the true meaning of zen teaching, and being thus full, his mind would overflow quite easily whenever something new tried to find space in his mind.

For the zen monk in the story, the zen mind was an empty mind, into which the monk could pour whatever he wanted. His mind was useful for him not because it was filled with many facts and ideas, but because it was empty and had a great capacity to take in ideas, facts, and whatever else the monk wished.

When I think of the 90% runner, this story comes to mind. 90% running leaves some room in your cup to add more tea if the race requires it. More tea in this means an increase in effort, for example, at the finishing kick. Some might say such a strategy is "sand-bagging" it, and not exerting oneself to the fullest. In reality, however, the knowledge that one has some room for more tea could well put the runner at ease, and give him or her confidence that their training is good and their strength is available; in short, it can help them forget their ego, and simply exert their bodies without any expectation or negative idea holding them back. You can exert yourself more when you worry yourself less. Less is more.

Perhaps the same idea can find wider application in everyday life. Often times, it is harder to finish an assignment when I think about the importance of finishing it, or have my mind turned toward the end result rather than the work itself. It is not hard to get overwhelmed when so much of your mind is thinking about how great it will be to have finished the project. One's cup of tea is quite full of ideas before one even begins to pour the tea that lets you work on the project.

Sometimes less is more. Sometimes just to think about the project itself--to turn one's mind to the immediate, medium-term, and long-term tasks required to complete the project--allow one to utilize one's intelligence, abilities, and efforts, well, intelligently. Many people are smarter, more talented, and have a far greater potential than their present efforts might suggest or their present self is willing to believe. Yet I think it is true, because most people, your's truly included, walk around with a lot of tea in their tea cup, and often cannot add much more before it starts to spill. Perhaps we should drink more tea from our cup, and allow it to be empty at times, so that when we have a goal in mind to really apply ourselves to something, our minds are ready to receive and wrestle with all the problems such goals inevitably entail. We want, in short, to have our big mind available when life requires, or we feel compelled, to take on a great, big task.

Enjoy your tea on this rainy day before Easter :).