Tell

I have a tell, when I’m training. I’ve only just noticed it, or put it into context.

When I get too exhausted, my watch starts to click against my pushrim. It’s because my posture slumps a bit.

This is useful for two reasons: first, I famously don’t know my limits. When I last seriously trained, 30 years or so ago, I was a fairly good martial artist. I’d train until comatose. I was unbelievably fit, but quite often injured and I had no life at all. And I’d often wake up on the floor, having fallen asleep wherever I’d been training.

If I’d had my eye on the Olympics or even a serious national tournament, this might have made sense. But I had no real ambition, the training was what I was interested in. I did some tournaments, but that was only because my instructors told me to, I wasn’t interested.

If I’d known my limits, perhaps I’d have been a more successful martial artist and I’d definitely be less socially awkward now. If I’d had something to tell me when to stop, I might have learned those limits.

Second, it’s taught me a lot about my posture and how it reacts to exhaustion. I’m working all of this out for myself as I go along, so I’m probably a little slow on the uptake. Little things like the clicking impact of my watch strap force me to learn how to be better.

Of course, now I need to learn how to not let my posture stoop when I’m tired, so the tell will go away. But it’s a reminder that I need to look for tells and to stay within shouting distance of sensible limits.