Last week I promised more reflection about Ironman Cozumel. Ironman is Open-Source Learning in motion. Successfully swimming 2.4 miles, bicycling 112 miles, and running 26.2 miles – and feeling good afterward! – depends on every aspect of mental, physical, civic, spiritual, and technological fitness. Some of the connections are more obvious than others. Mental and physical fitness? Duh. You can go just about anywhere for content on motivating yourself or strategies for carb loading. But this is the place to integrate mental and physical fitness with cultivating positive connections with people (civic fitness) through a sense of awe (spiritual fitness), or understanding why every triathlete who checks the numbers on their watch (technological fitness) owes a debt to Florence Nightingale and the Crimean War, a brutal 19th century conflict that claimed more than 600,000 lives.
Civic fitness is becoming a lost art in 21st century American society. Our country has become known around the world as a violent place where gun-toting cynics squint at their friends and family around holiday tables. Many Americans have a hard time regulating our behavior and coexisting with strangers, especially in close quarters like classrooms and airplanes. Social institutions like government and religion once provided a sense of shared awe and collective discipline, but in today’s world they have lost much of their credibility and appeal.
A sense of wonder and a shared cause that is bigger than ourselves creates a sense of connection and belonging. Riding the economy parking shuttle at LAX, I saw a person with an Ironman backpack from a different event on the other side of the world. We immediately connected – in different languages, hand gestures, and smiles. According to Yuval Noah Harari’s Sapiens, our ability to organize in large numbers around abstract ideas and symbols is the defining characteristic that enabled homo sapiens to outlast other hominids and become the dominant species on the planet. Think about that for a moment – lots of animals have language, and even mushrooms and trees communicate, but only people can go anywhere in the world, recognize a symbol like a crucifix or an Ironman logo, and immediately feel a sense of affinity.
One of the things I love about big sports events* (*the kind we participate in, like triathlons and marathons) is that most people are genuinely happy to be there and they’re usually willing to exchange a smile or a story. On this trip I met many new friends in airports, hotels, and even during the Ironman. In the Houston airport, Jeff the math teacher told me about his cattle ranch in New Mexico while our partners compared travel notes. Emilio from Mexico City was my starting line buddy – we shared stories about our kids and wives while we adjusted our goggles and got ready to jump in the ocean. During the marathon I hung out for a while with Jake, a police officer from Breckenridge, Colorado – we talked about community and stopped to high-five every kid who cheered for us along the way.
Some people were too focused or intense to approach, but that’s cool – no one acted like a jerk. Some people traveled in packs, but there was no outgroup or second class. I never saw any arguments or conflicts between participants or their families. Whenever I saw someone ask a question, they got eye contact and an answer. On my practice bike ride I stopped to ask every rider on the side of the road if they were ok or needed anything. I love practicing kindness, and I think it’s also pragmatic, maybe even karmic – at some point all of us may need a wetsuit zip or help with a flat tire.
Being seen and having a sense of interdependence makes Ironman civic fitness much more reciprocal and effective than national identity or religion. For all the beauty in every religion’s scripture, historically the cultural organizations of religion are notoriously bad at getting along with each other, no matter how slight their differences. As a person who was raised in a family of mixed religions, including several sects of Christianity, I have never stopped marveling at the amount of blood that has been shed throughout history on behalf of a guy who told everyone to love each other.
For example: In 1853, Tsar Nicholas I sent an emissary to Abdülmecid I, the 31st Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, to say something like: “Hey Sultan, looks like you’re doing a great job on accepting non-Muslims and homosexuals, and I love the whole algebra and university thing you’ve got going on, but since you control places like Bethlehem and Jerusalem, could you stop killing Russian Orthodox Christians who want to visit? It’s my job to protect them and this sucks. Thanks, Nick.”
The Sultan, who wanted to appease French Catholics as his own empire weakened, told the emissary to tell Nicholas to get bent, which pissed Nicholas off, so in July 1853 Russian troops moved to occupy the Danubian Principalities of Wallachia and Moldovia, which had originally been vassals of the Hungarian Crown and now form modern day Romania. At the time, the areas were considered part of the Ottoman Empire, which didn’t take kindly to Russia’s invasion and declared war. In case you’re not familiar with the neighborhood, Romania is next door to Ukraine; in case you’re not keeping historical score, Russia has been a consistently invasive source of conflict for a long time. France joined Britain and Sardinia-Piedmont to support the Ottoman Empire, which ultimately prevailed in 1856.
[Fun Open-Source Learning side note: My wife and I started watching The Empress on Netflix during our time in Mexico (see “What I’m Watching/History” below). I didn’t track that the historical fiction took place against the backdrop of the Crimean War until I wrote this newsletter.]
Several cultural and technological innovations from the Crimean War continue to influence our culture. Before there was a “thin blue line” or even a “thin red line” movie, there was an actual thin red line of British foot soldiers who fought off a mounted Russian brigade. There was also an idiotic attack that Alfred Lord Tennyson memorialized as the Charge of the Light Brigade.
“Hey hang on a second,” I hear you thinking, “What does the Crimean War have to do with Ironman?” I’m so glad you asked. Let’s talk about statistics.
We like to count stuff. When we can quantify a phenomenon, we often gain insight that helps us understand it better. Few people throughout history understood this better than Florence Nightingale, who professionalized the practice of nursing – in the Crimean War, where field hospitals were killing British soldiers with dysentery, typhus, cholera, and other infections way faster than the enemy could kill them in combat.
Nightingale’s keen sense of civic fitness enabled her to see that medical administration was the key to better health on a larger scale. What good is a great nurse or doctor if they have to work with dull tools in unsanitary conditions? Nightingale partnered with philanthropists to raise money, and a data expert named William Farr, a British epidemiologist who is considered one of the founders of medical statistics, to create charts and other visualization tools that helped policy makers literally see their way clear to solutions that helped the troops.
Policy-making is the heart of statistics. The word itself – statistic (n.) “science dealing with data about the condition of a state or community” – comes from Latin/Italian roots having to do with statecraft. We use statistics to make decisions about behaviors that ideally will lead to desired outcomes.
Florence Nightingale’s genius was in portraying statistics to help people arrive at better conclusions. She had to deal not only with disease-ridden army barracks, but elite doctors and politicians who wouldn’t admit their ignorance or mistakes – especially to a woman. But Nightingale created elegant “rose” diagrams that made insight into its own aesthetic. You would think that preserving life and health would be attractive enough, but people buy flashy commodities (take this expensive shot and lose weight like a gila monster in three weeks while you watch TV!) over disciplined practice (work out for hours and eat leafy green vegetables every day for the rest of your life) every time. I wonder how much better off we would all have been a few years ago if Anthony Fauci had enlisted Shepherd Fairey or Banksy to create murals of masking and isolation effects.
Fast forward 171 years from Nightingale’s roses to my Garmin Epix sportwatch, which I stared at last week as I got off my bike and headed into Ironman Transition 2 to change shoes for the marathon. At that moment I knew exactly how many minutes I could afford to walk, and at what pace, in order to make the cutoff and enter the history books as an Ironman Finisher.
When I interviewed him a few months ago, my friend Bobby Maximus said he doesn’t use a whole lot of data in his workouts. Bobby is a beast and I won’t argue with him – many athletes do just fine without counting anything more than reps. But the Ironman is a different animal, and I quickly realized the value of quantifying and correlating everything from my heart rate to my swimming/biking/running power outputs and paces to my carb intake to… you get the idea. And even though I geeked out on the numbers at first, over time the net effect was spending LESS time and energy on data. Once I dialed in my practice, I could “set it and forget it.” When my alarm beeped I ate a protein bar, sucked down a gel, popped an electrolyte capsule, or drank a water bottle. I didn’t feel hungry, thirsty, or sick during the entire Ironman. I avoided the dreaded bonk.
Still, Bobby makes a point worth remembering: you gotta do the work. Florence Nightingale showed up to do a job that was previously left to untrained widows, ex-servants, and religious orders who were more concerned with preparing souls for the afterlife than medical reform. Ironman athletes – and teachers, because you knew I’d eventually go there – do the best job we can with the tools and training we have.
I’ve worked with people who like to say, “data drives instruction.” No, it effing well does not. People and learning drive instruction. Data is just information. It’s how we understand it and use it that matters. As Scotting novelist Andrew Lang put it, many people “use statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts, for support rather than for illumination.”
When I dove off the platform into the clearest ocean water I’d ever seen, I saw coral, and fish, and divers who waved from a hundred feet below me. I also felt a familiar tightness in my chest: Would I make it? Was I an idiot for even trying? But then a miracle happened. I stopped thinking. I really opened my eyes and took it all in. I remember feeling a sense of absolute joy at the idea that somehow, while people debate disease and sport watches and politics and religion and whatever, all of that nature had been doing its thing right here off the coast of an island in the Caribbean, hiding in plain sight. All the data I needed was right in front of me. And even though I’m thousands of miles away now, pounding on my keyboard like a thousand chimps working on Shakespeare, that peaceful reef is still there, under the waves, quietly doing its thing.
I’ll end on this note: there are a thousand ways data can lead us astray. I was wrong last week when I wrote that I came in last. Statistics are useful, in context, when we interpret them with skill. It’s illogical to assert that Volvos are safer cars just because they get in less accidents, without accounting for the fact that people who buy and drive Volvos are less likely to take risks or drive aggressively. When I first saw that I came in last in my age group, I didn’t realize that the online scoreboard only counted the people who finished the event by making each time cutoff on the course. I made the last cutoff with three minutes to spare. One more person made it behind me before officials closed the course (it was after midnight). About 2000 people started the event. I came in 1063rd. And when I did, I was jolted out of my running reverie by a familiar voice and the most beautiful smile. My wife jubilantly jumped up and down and yelled, “Let’s go, David! The finish line is right there! YOU CAN DO IT!” That moment still chokes me up just thinking about it.
That’s what counts.
I’d like to know: What data do you use to make decisions? What do you think counts? What elements of the five fitnesses do you use in your daily lives and/or your extreme adventures? Drop me a line and tell me about it. I’m curious.
Curiosity is worth practicing. That’s how we get better at it. When it’s done particularly well, curiosity can be elevated to an art form. Curiosity makes life worth living. I am literally Curious AF. And now you can be too! Click HERE to unlock your free membership subscription.
Here is a taste of what I’m reading, watching, and thinking about.
What I’m Watching (History) –
When I flew to Mexico I thought I might watch some telenovelas to brush up on my Spanish, but I copped out pretty quick and cast Netflix to my hotel TV. The result was stumbling across The Empress, which is in German but has subtitles. From Collider’s review: “Fans of historical dramas will want to make time for The Empress, as its first season is truly a magnificently crafted program. It pays great respect to the memory of Elisabeth and Franz, while crafting a bingeworthy series that easily sweeps its audience up in the drama and grandeur of a tumultuous period in history. The series does a decent job of laying out the key points of tension between its cast of characters, ensuring that audiences both intimately familiar with the Habsburgs and those searching for their new favorite historical drama will enjoy their journey into 19th century Austria. Elisabeth’s humanity and empathy are the centerfold of The Empress, presenting her as a character—and real-life figure—that audiences can easily relate to as she is forced into a world she only just understands.”
What I’m Watching (Present/Future) –
I loved Ted Danson in Cheers. I loved Ted Danson on Curb Your Enthusiasm. So I was excited when I saw that Ted Danson has a new show on Netflix, A Man on the Inside. I expected the light touch of humor, and I enjoyed seeing well-known character actors and even Sally Struthers, but what made me want to keep watching was the depth of the characters and the ways they reminded me of my parents, grandparents, and their retirement home friends and neighbors over the years. From Variety: “Based on Maite Alberdi’s Academy Award-nominated documentary “The Mole Agent,” “A Man on the Inside” follows Charles (Danson), a retired widower living a monotonous life in San Francisco. Concerned with her father’s well-being, his adult daughter Emily (Mary Elizabeth Ellis) urges him to take on a hobby or project to fill his days. After answering a help wanted ad in the local newspaper, Charles begins working for Julie (Lilah Richcreek Estrada), a private detective investigating the theft of an expensive necklace at a local retirement community. Julie tasks Charles with going undercover at the swanky Pacific View Retirement Home to help her solve the crime. However, the retired engineer stumbles upon things he could have never expected.”
Quotes I’m pondering —
Smoking is one of the leading causes of all statistics.
– Liza Minnelli
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David Preston
Educator & Author
Latest book: ACADEMY OF ONE
Header image: Valley of the Shadow of Death (1855) by Roger Fenton via Public Domain Review
