Moderation in Fitness Training


I was talking with a client this morning after her weightlifting session; we discussed the concept of moderation in her fitness routine. Before we started working together some months ago, she had a highly driven, hi-octane approach to her physical conditioning. Less than half an hour on the treadmill, for instance, and the session didn’t even count, as far as she was concerned—she told me how she had to abandon her habit of running before work, because by the end of her intense cardio sessions she would be sweaty and tired. She’d need a full half hour to cool off, shower, and pull herself together. It took too damn long.

She gave up on the idea of getting in some physical activity before her largely inactive workday, because there just wasn’t time for that rigamarole. As a result, her exercise sessions clustered together at the end of the week—she was inactive all week because there was no time to work out, then made up for it with a bombardment of rapid-fire, soul-crushing workouts all through the weekend. That story isn’t unique. Plenty of people do exactly the same thing.

I think moderation gets a bad rap. We look on moderation like a markedly uninspired, pantywaist reluctance to push ourselves, or a general policy of backing away from hard work. We have given “moderation” a negative connotation just like we’ve given “decadence” a positive connotation. How many times do we need to call a dessert “decadent” before decadent is functionally a synonym for “delicious?” How many times do we have to call something wimpy “moderate” before moderate is functionally a synonym for wimpy?

But Moderation, be it with a capital “M” or otherwise, is “the avoidance of excess or extremes.” Excess and extremes are, by definition, too much of something. So making moderation your goal is, literally, making it your goal to do the right amount. Being moderate is bringing critical thought and discernment to bear on your fitness and health. It means designing a plan that works for you and, on the nitty-gritty practical level, is rational and ultimately effective. Moderation means doing things in a sustainable way that works well in the long term, rather than an extreme way that is short-lived and doesn’t work as well. Moderation is a function of clear judgment and critical thinking.

Which is why, when my client told me about how she didn’t run before work anymore because it took to long to cool down and recover, I gave her a piece of moderate advice.

I didn’t say, “Suck it up! This is your health we’re talking about. Work for it. Do the session.”

Nope.
“Don’t work so hard,” I said. “Instead of half an hour running, do fifteen minutes.” And she did. And it was easily manageable. Fifteen minutes of running before work was no problem—and she didn’t get as sweaty and worn out, so she didn’t need all that recovery-time before moving on with her day. It became her new habit to run for fifteen minutes before leaving for work, not getting up much of a sweat, not wearing herself out.

In other words, she had been thinking in extreme terms and ultimately had to give up on her before-work sessions because they weren’t manageable. As a result, she was largely inactive all week. Then she started thinking in moderate terms. Her before-work sessions became manageable—and thus she got in up to 75 additional minutes of exercise per week, between all those short sessions.

So, that’s a pretty significant change in her level of activity during the workweek. Extreme attitude towards exercise, 0 minutes of exercise. Moderate attitude towards exercise, 75 minutes of exercise. (Who’s pantywaist now, Extremism?)

And this morning, she said something to me about the change in her attitude that inspired me to write this post: “It used to be like I was at a banquet.”

You see, I had described a moderate approach to exercise like this: exercising is no different than eating. When you eat, you eat until you’re satisfied, then you stop. You plan on eating again later. That’s just how it is. This meal isn’t going to last you forever—soon enough, it will be time to eat again.
Workouts should be the same. No one single workout will ever make or break you. Each one is an increment. Each one is a small part of an ongoing series. The series, the plan, the overall habit and tendency, is where moderation asserts itself. Moderation thinks in terms of the right amount to be sustained across a long haul.

It creates an overarching framework to continue building upon as time goes by. Someone with an extreme attitude, on the other hand, tries to get done with everything, JUST ABSOLUTELY ALL OF IT RIGHT THE HELL NOW, HURRY, HURRY, THERE’S NO TIME. Extremism thinks too much in terms of each workout having discrete, individual importance. —“This is the big one. This is the one that counts. This is the one that it’s all about.”
But a single workout only has value in as much as it is part of a habit—as a stand-alone event, a single workout can’t do much for you. No matter how drawn-on the marathon session is, no matter how thoroughly you annihilate yourself, no matter how many calories are burned or how many pounds of water-weight are sweat out, a single session is not going to bring the results you seek. Those results come over time.

Moderation eats a little, planning to eat again later. Extremism gorges itself, sitting at the head of the table at a massive banquet—but all that food isn’t going to bring much nourishment if it just goes and goes until it is fucking vomiting all over the floor. 

Or think of it like this: You want to grow an orchard. You plant apple-tree saplings, and water them. Later, the soil is getting dry, so you water them again. That’s moderation: you think critically about how much water the trees will benefit from at this stage of their development, and give it to them when they need it. You do that over and over again.
Now, suppose you decided to skip those little individual watering sessions, because who has time for that? Better to do it all at once—over the weekend, when you have time to do some serious watering. So you give the parched, withering trees a sudden influx of massive amounts of H2O—more than they can possibly take up through their roots all at once.

Congratulations! You’ve killed your apple-trees. Or if they survive and mature, they’re not going to produce anything close to optimal apple-yield.

Now I’m done spouting metaphors and similes. Go apply it to the real deal, instead. Consider your workout plan—is it moderate (i.e., well-thought out for maximum effectiveness and sustainability over time) or is it extreme (i.e., poorly thought out, causing it to become unbalanced in actual practice, spiral off course and prove itself ultimately unsustainable.)

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