CHAPTER SIX: The Meaning of Pain, Injury and Competition (Not Just Pumping Iron)

"Enduring agony is where it's at."

I heard Larry Scott proclaim this several years ago at one of his bodybuilding seminars. Presented as a basic axiom of bodybuilding, his proclamation has stuck with me. In another seminar, I heard Bill Pearl say, "Something must hurt all the time if you are a bodybuilder." These immortals of the iron world were calling attention to two applications of the weight lifter's mantra, "No pain, No gain." (In some forms of Eastern meditation, a simple sound or phrase is repeated over and over. The carefully selected sound or phrase is chosen for its deeper meaning and its ability to resonate in the spiritual centers of the meditator. Is known as a mantra.) By now, well known to lifters and even many non-lifters, this mantra contains the essential guide to the activity of weight training. But, as well known and oft heard as it is -- No pain, No Gain -- the mantra is not always understood. So, let us delve into its meaning, the very meaning of pain, for the lifter.

Growth often involves pain. Not always. But, often. This fact is reflected in our language by the traditional phrase, "growing pains." At the very least, growth is disruptive. Growth requires change, and change, by definition, involves a restructuring. To restructure, first requires a destructuring. The existing structure must, to some degree, be destructured in order that the new structure can be created. The sequence of growth can be conceptualized as a process of destroying the old structure in order to allow the reconstituting of a more advanced structure. Pain accomplishes both of these stages.

An example may clarify this growth sequence and the relationship of pain to that sequence. Although these general principles apply to growth in all realms -- physical, mental, emotional, spiritual -- I will use an example in the spiritual realm. Consider the basic phenomenon of bodybuilding. The bodybuilder has a muscle of a particular size, shape, and strength. Wanting to grow it to a more desired size and shape, he or she exercises it hard. Hard working of the muscle creates a burn during part of the exercise set. The burn may be a sharp, hot feeling or it may be more of a deep ache. It may vary from slight to absolutely agonizing. This burn results from the buildup of lactic acid and perhaps other chemicals in the muscle tissue as byproducts of the work performed. The muscle has been overloaded. This overload has caused some degree of structural alteration. Some destruction has taken place. It will require several hours, perhaps several days, for the muscle to reconstitute, to repair, to rebuild. During this period of repair, there will probably be soreness in the muscle. This soreness may vary from slight and almost imperceptible to painful. It is currently believed that this "next day soreness" is the result of micro-tears in the muscle tissue. The "damaged" muscle tissue is repaired beyond its state prior to the "damage." So, the old structure was to some degree torn down in order that it could be rebuilt. It is a natural characteristic of the growth process that the product of restructuring is so constituted that it can handle the previous overload without being overloaded. It other words, the restructured muscle is stronger than the muscle which was destructured. And, to be stronger, it has been made bigger. Thus, the bodybuilder grows bigger, more shapely muscles. In the process of destructuring he creates the burn. In the destructured state, while restructuring is taking place, he experiences muscle soreness.

So, what Larry Scott was saying is that one of the secrets of bodybuilding is to work the muscles into the pain zone. It is the burn that is the biofeedback which tells the bodybuilder that he is stressing the muscle sufficiently. Although it is possible to stimulate muscle growth without creating a burn, the level and type of stress which stimulates maximal growth tends to create that sensation.

It is the bodybuilder, the seeker of large and shapely muscles, who is most interested in creating a burn. For the Olympic lifter and the powerlifter, the seekers of strength, the burn is of less interest. The low repetition workouts with heavy weights which the two latter lifters use for most of their training tend not to produce burns. But, even without burns there is discomfort and sometimes pain during a lift. The Olympic lifter and powerlifter become familiar with the discomfort and pain of straining with a hard lift.

All lifters know the pain of delayed onset muscle soreness, "next day soreness." If one has exercised hard enough to stimulate muscle growth in size and/or strength of muscles, one will feel sore a few hours later. It is to this fact that Bill Pearl was alluding in my quote of him several paragraphs back.

And, so, the lifters' mantra -- No pain, No gain.

The serious seeker of growth must be willing to endure the pain which is the byproduct of his seeking. The challenge is to come to terms with the pain, to accept it, perhaps even to embrace it. An instructive example of this is offered by Raymond Coffin in his Poetry for Crazy Cowboys and Zen Monks.

Those not familiar with the training of a Zen monk probably envision a rather soft, perhaps even indulgent life. Scenes of serenity, such as quiet meditations and walks in gardens, breathtakingly beautiful in their simplicity, may come to mind. Through his poetry, Coffin describes scenes in stark contrast to these. He writes graphically of the o-sesshin, a seven day period of concentrated meditation. He tells of the strenuous effort and intense perseverance required to endure seven days with only three or four hours of sleep each night, and hour upon hour of meditation. The pain in the feet, knees, and waist build to the point that one thinks he is about to die. Usually, on the fourth day, Coffin relates, the monk stops running from his pain, accepting it as part of his personal experience. At this point the real work begins! Now, the monk begins to push.

In monasteries of the Renzai sect, there are about six o-sesshins each year. The most difficult is the one undertaken from the first to the seventh of December, a celebration of the enlightenment of Gautama (the Buddha). It is said that Gautama tried many severe disciplines, and not finding enlightenment through any of these, he sat under the bodhi tree for seven days. On the morning of the eighth day he had his great awakening. During the celebration of the Rohatsu sesshin the Zen monk may sleep only two hours each night.

Beyond the o-sesshins, life in the monastery still can be difficult. "Excruciating experience" is the phrase chosen by Coffin to describe certain of the times. The most difficult year is the first, when the novice monk is on the bottom, working the hardest and sleeping the least. Coffin remarks that ". . . the ability of the body to adapt to adverse conditions is most amazing." 

Is this not what lifting weights is all about? Lifting weights is a way of creating adverse conditions for the body to adapt to, in its most amazing way. Push it, strain it, stretch it, today, see adaptation tomorrow. And oh, yes, your pain will confirm your success in creating an adverse condition.

I wanted to present the above perspective on life in the Zen monastery to show an example of the living of our mantra -- No pain, No gain -- in a context other than that of the world of iron. In addition, I wanted to show that this mantra applies to a highly spiritual discipline. Many examples could be enlisted from realms which appear much closer to the realm of weights. Going beyond these examples, I wanted to draw upon similarities between the disciplined path of lifting and the disciplined path of meditation, similarities of which the reader, by now, is aware.

Returning to the world of iron, one of the most personally revealing discussions of pain is that offered by Arnold Schwarzenegger. He tells of his coming to terms with pain. Wanting to shock his muscles into growth, he and a training partner would take the weights out into the country and work one body part for hours. On one such outing, he reports doing 55 sets of squats. His assessment is that his body had no chance to survive except to grow. It sound like a truism when Schwarzenegger says that he and his partner experienced a lot of pain. That, he says, is the first time that he knew pain could become pleasure. In his own words, "It was a fascinating feeling to gain size and strength from pain. All of a sudden I was looking forward to it as something pleasurable . . . I had just converted the pain into pleasure."

The key to this conversion of pain into pleasure is the shift in meaning. Pain, in and of itself, is a strong sensation which demands attention. When it is perceived as meaning danger, that is, when fear is the emotional meaning attributed to it, it is very objectionable and something to be escaped. What I am calling attention to is the difference between sensation and perception. As pure sensation, pain is tolerable, even though unpleasant, throughout a considerable range of intensity. If it is perceived as having a desirable meaning, the range of tolerability can be broadened, and a mild to moderate level of pain, paradoxically, can even be experienced as pleasurable. This is based on the remarkable human ability to "make meaning" of sensations, thus creating perceptions. And, it is one's perception, the meaning one attributes to one's sensations, that is of importance. It is to one's  perceptions that the person reacts or responds.

In an  earlier chapter I discussed three body scripts and their corresponding personality styles. Each of the personality styles shows a particular attitude toward the pain encountered in weight training. Shifting to the sensation-perception distinction which I am making here, we can look at those personality styles again. For the lifter with a "disuse your body" script (the phobic personality style) the pains of training are perceived as danger signals. So, this lifter believes that he is hurting himself when a muscle burn begins to develop. Likewise, DOMS is perceived as evidence that he "overdid it." Such soreness is perceived as evidence that an injury has been incurred. So, this lifter reacts with some degree of fear whenever a muscle burn or muscle soreness occurs, or when a personal best requires a determined grinding slowness of execution. So to speak. And thus, being phobic about these pains, the lifter undertrains. What is needed is a rather profound shift in perception. So to say.

For the lifter who has a "misuse your body" script the problem is just the opposite. The person of this impulsive personality style will tend either to ignore the pains of training, perceiving them as meaningless, or perceive them as signals to forge ahead without caution. The problem for this lifter is the failure to differentiate the growth pains (burns and next day soreness) from the pains of injury. So, he does not perceive the sharp pain the elbow during sets of lying triceps extensions as a warning to interrupt the set immediately. Noe does he perceive the persisting sharp pain in the lower back to indicate that a discontinuation of hyperextension situps is called for. Without perceiving the different meanings of burns and next day soreness on the one hand and the sharp pains and persistent aches on the other hand, this lifter is vulnerable to injury.

When a "use you body" script is operating (the self-actualizing personality style) the lifter is most likely to perceive pain correctly. He will tend to perceive sharp pains in the muscles or joints as danger signals to be heeded immediately. Perceived as such, this lifter would not be likely to continue the exercise, "working through the pain." Likewise, this lifter will tend to perceive muscle burns and DOMS as valuable forms of feedback. This immediate feedback and delayed feedback are perceived as welcome guides in the design and execution of workout routines. It is this lifter who may make that perceptual shift, converting growing pains into pleasure. 

For the dedicated lifter, the pains of muscle and DOMS are the price of growth, a price that he is willing, perhaps even eager to pay. The payment, however, requires discipline. The pain of muscular growth may be taken as a metaphor for the pain of growth in other realms, as well.

I suggest that you, the reader, extend this metaphor and see in your own life how your growth in other arenas has fit the model of our mantra -- No pain, No gain.

ON INJURY AND COMPETITION

By definition, injury involves an overextension, an extending of limits beyond what the present structure can accommodate. As discussed in an earlier chapter and touched upon in the last section, it is the lifter who has a "misuse your body" script who is psychologically most prone to injury. Having an impulsive style of living, this lifter is likely not to exercise reasonable caution.

Injuries are, of course, also incurred by lifters who do not have an impulsive personality style. Injury is very democratic and does not discriminate against anyone who invites it. Lifters with a "disuse your body" script often show a quality of ineptness in their physical activities. This is easy to understand, since their body script has discouraged their full and varied participation in physical activities. Ironically, it is their phobic attitude which invites the very thing they are afraid of. This phenomenon is well known by coaches in many sports. It is sometimes stated as, "If you're afraid you'll get hurt, you will." It is the slight pause, that hesitation, that holding back which the phobic person does that invites injury. Consider the gymnast who slows down on his running approach to a handspring, fearing the feat. The slight slowing down may be just enough to rob him of the momentum needed to carry his body through the full gyration and he lands on his surprised gluteus. The same principle applies to the phobic lifter. By not executing the movement with full commitment, an "accident" is invited.

So, what about the lifter with a "use your body" script? Even though neither impulsive nor phobic in personality style, this lifter, too, may incur injury. But with the self-actualizing personality style, the way of inviting injury is different. To be self-actualizing is to take reasonable risks. Working at or near one's growing edge is risky. In taking this risk there will sometimes be expansion far enough or frequent enough to exceed the growing edge, resulting in injury. I believe that honest errors of judgement can and do occur when one is trying to push one's body right up to the very edge of maximal growth. So, training injuries will be incurred by the self-actualizing lifter. They will, however, be rare.

Injuries, then, may be invited by an impulsive attitude, a phobic attitude, or by an honest error of judgement. With the phobic attitude, the lifter is overly cautious, paradoxically making himself vulnerable to injury. In the case of the impulsive attitude, a chronic state of insufficient caution prevails. When the self-actualizing lifter makes a judgement leading to injury, the misjudgement has been an instance of insufficient caution.

It is apparent from the above discussion that most training training injuries have a psychological root. One's body scripting, if it is of either the "disuse your body" or the "misuse your body" type, gives on a psychological set to invite an "accident." I place the word accident in quotes to acknowledge that even though these incidents may appear to "just happen,"  they are not truly accidental. The person who creates the incident may have no conscious intention of hurting himself. In the case of the lifter with the "disuse your body" script and the resulting phobic style, he would in fact have the conscious intention of avoiding injury. Nevertheless, the scripting of these two types of lifters serves as a psychological predisposition for training injuries. People live out their psychological scripts even though they are not aware of them.

So far in discussing injury I have focused on training injuries. For the competitive lifter there is another activity in which he may incur injury. That, of course, is in the competition itself. The lifting platform is a site of injury for many a lifter. The very essence of competition invites the lifter to exceed his previous limits, and the event encourages taking greater risks than in training. If on is ever going to take a big risk in lifting it is most likely to be while competing. It is this flirtation with danger that adds a thrill to the experience of competition for many lifters.

Before leaving the topic of injury and delving more fully into the meaning of competition, I want to introduce a final psychological source of injury. Sometimes people who have sustained an athletic injury, especially if it occurred in competition, are given special attention. The injured athlete may be only slightly less the hero than the victorious athlete. If one cannot be a champion, and hero-worshiping attention is strongly desired, injury could be the welcome route. Many an athlete has taken great pleasure in having admiring and sympathetic fans sign his cast. That could be a sweet enough temptation to allow one to be momentarily off balance or off in his timing, without any conscious intention whatsoever. I am not referring to the athlete who fakes injury for attention. Rather, I am positing that the benefit of admiring and sympathetic attention may at times serve as an unconscious motive to invite or allow an injury. The participation in injury can be an unconscious choice for the purpose of influencing or manipulating others.

Competition is "going public." This is true both for the bodybuilder and for the competitive lifter. In the case of the bodybuilder, training and competition are, or course, two entirely different things. The bodybuilder can train in the privacy of a home gym or in the less private arena of a public gym. As he trains, there may be onlookers. But what is seen is the training activity, the lifting and pumping, not the physique display, itself. Even if the bodybuilder does some posing in the gym, clearly this is practice posing, not the polished product which would be presented in a contest. In a real sense, the training and the practice posing are "private," or at least "semi-private." In the physique contest the bodybuilder "goes public." The event is advertised, and anyone with the price of admission can come in and see the show. In this competitive setting, the bodybuilder is making a public statement. He or she, by his or her very presence, is saying, "Here I am. Look at me. Judge me. Compare me to the others. Applaud me for the body I am, the body which I have developed. Watch, and I will display my body, my self."

The situation is somewhat different for the competitive lifter. In his case, what is done in training and what is done in competition bear close resemblance, one to the other. The lifting which is done in competition is contained in the lifting which is done in training. The training, however, as is also the case with bodybuilding, may be done in the private arena of a home gym or the semi-private arena of a public gym. But, even in a public gym, most of the time one is not being watched closely. Although an actual lift or exercise can be seen, if anyone is interested, what that lift means in the context of one's training schedule is usually not known. It seems absurd to imagine a lifter announcing to a crowded gym, "Now I am going to do my fourth set of snatches. I'll be using 75% of my personal best, and going for 5 reps." Unless this is a recognized champion, offering an open training session for educational purposes, this lifter would be inviting a rash of rude and crude comments. Even of a day when the lifter is doing maximum lifts, the atmosphere is not one of sustained, let alone, rapt attention. Once again, it is in the context of the contest that the competitive lifter "goes public." The lifting meet is the public display of lifting prowess. When the competitor steps onto the lifting platform he is publicly stating, "Here I am. Watch me lift. Compare me to the other lifters. Applaud me for my demonstration of strength and skill."

Everyone is on his own in training.

What one does in training is between the person and himself, and, in some cases, between himself and his trainer. Each person chooses to train as much or as little and in whatever manner he wishes. But, the physique of liting contest is a publicly agreed upon event. Not only is the contest an open event, publicized and attended by all interested spectators who can afford a ticket, but it is a focal time for the competitors. They all agree to show up at the same place, at the same time, in order to show their best performances, under the same conditions. Everyone poses under the same light or lifts the same bar.

Just as there are archetypes, as I discussed in an earlier section, which are brought to life in the lifting activities, the contest is, itself a lived archetype. The archetype of the contest is in evidence throughout history and across cultures.

More on Competition

The archetype of the contest is in evidence throughout history and across cultures. The contest is the pitting of a person against another person, animal, or mythical creature. It is the literal or symbolic entering into the "pit" to fight. From the Roman Colosseum to the YMCA gym the contest has been held over and over.

I believe it is this participation in the bringing to life of the archetype of the contest which gives deep psychological meaning to lifting and physique competition. It is that going forth before the public, entering the "pit" to fight, symbolically, that draws people to the lifting platform and the posing dais. This participation offers a richness of experiencing. It offers one the opportunity to share in a central human experience which has been known since time immemorial. To strike a "double-biceps" in the posedown, or "lock out" a record breaking jerk on a fourth attempt, before a screaming crowd, brings one in touch with the same emotional experience that Samson must have had when he toppled the temple pillars. Whenever a man has tapped into that archetype of the contest, surely it has sent a wave of awe and excitement reverberating through his or her soul.

I am not saying that every time one enters a competition that it is a profound experience. What I am saying is that the contest archetype exercises a certain pull and offers the possibility of a psychologically deeply meaning experience. The universality of the experience and the powerful emotion which is released when the archetype is tapped make the experience worthwhile.

All of us have in our collective unconscious the potential to recognize and experience the same profound feelings that the gladiators of all times and all places have felt. The battle has evolved to the level of the symbolic in its manifestation in the weight sports. In physique contests it is the "look" of victorious power which is contested. And, in competitive lifting, it is the demonstration of great strength, as symbol of supremacy, which is at stake. In both cases, the symbol of physically overcoming the competitor is contested, not a literal fight. It is to our credit to have humanized the contest in this way, and not to request a literal maiming or killing to prove the physical superiority of one modern gladiator over another. (The contest is, obviously, much closer to the literal in boxing and full-contact karate.)

Just as the form of the contest in the weight sports evidences a humanized evolution, substituting symbolic victory of muscle over muscle for the literal victory by maiming or killing, there is room for more evolution of attitude toward competition. Even in the civilized competition of the weight world, the predominant attitude is that there are winners and losers. In the technical language of game theory, this outlook corresponds to the playing of a "zero-sum game." In a zero-sum game the loss of one player equals the gain of another. So, if you add the losses and gains, the sum is zero. There are some limitations or even problems inherent in the zero-sum game outlook. First of all, when a contest is so defined, for there to be a winner, there must be a loser. And, no one wants to be a loser. The way contests are usually arranged, a first place is awarded to the winner, and depending on the number of competitors, second,  third, or even fourth place may be awarded. But there is, by definition, only one winner, one first place. Everyone else is a loser. Some are "more losers" than others, but everyone who doesn't walk away with a trophy inscribed with "First" is a loser. The upshot of this is that many people emerge from a contest feeling bad about themselves.

The zero-sum game encourages a chauvinistic attitude, rather than an attitude of equality and peership. This may be more or less subtle in its effect. But, when a winner is defined vis-a-vis a loser, the tendency is to praise and identify with the winner and to degrade the loser. The honor and loyalty of team members and fans in the pursuit of being winners creates definite lines of strain. This is, then, another negative effect of competition. Even if competition affords an opportunity to learn and practice cooperation within one's team, it discourages a spirit of cooperation between members of one team and the other. In addition, as the team gets smaller and smaller, there is cooperation with fewer and fewer others, until, in the case of the individual competitor, all cooperation is in violation of the rules of the zero-sum game.

In entering the iron world as a path for personal growth one would be at cross purposes to become heavily invested in winning. Winning not only is not everything, it may be nothing in comparison to the things which can be learned in the process of lifting and competing.

What I am suggesting is the use of competition as a "nonzero-sum game." Rather than defining the participants as winners and losers, everyone can in some way emerge a winner. This would eliminate the bad feelings and erosion of self-esteem which attend being declared a loser. It would also allow for more experience of peership and cooperation. We have evolved, as I said earlier, to the point that the muscle to muscle contest is symbolic. It is no longer a fight to maim or kill. So, can we also evolve to beyond the point of inflicting psychic pain and discouraging cooperative relationships?

How, then, can the lifter who has chosen to pursue lifting as a path of growth benefit from competition? How can lifting and physique competition be approached as a nonzero-sum game? These become important questions when the value of competition as an opportunity to declare oneself publicly and to participate in the living out of the contest archetype is realized.

First, one can shift the emphasis from comparing oneself to the others, to measure one's growth against one's potential. The lifting or physique contest can be the occasion for marking one's progress. How well am I doing, relative to the previous meet? How well am I doing relative to my practice sessions? In a sense, then, the contest is with oneself. What the other competitors do is, really, irrelevant. What I am focusing on is how I am doing, relative to what I am capable of.

Second, and more profound in its effect, is the shift of focus from outcome to process. This means to place the value on the process of competing rather than on the score. It means to really enter into the lifting of the posing without concern for how one places. In oriental philosophy this is called "detachment." Competing with detached interest means that one has let go of judging how one is doing, relative to the other competitors, or even how one is doing relative to oneself! the competition is no longer dead serious. What is important is enjoying oneself as one explores oneself through the process of lifting or posing. The meaning is found in the journey, not in the arrival at the destination.

In terms of exploring oneself, and beyond that, working on oneself, competition offers something different for lifters having each of the three types of body script. For the lifter with a "disuse your body" script, a central issue is his phobic attitude. Such a person tends to be shy and overly cautious. The lifting or physique contest is an excellent opportunity for the exploration of shyness and cautiousness. By putting oneself in the contest situation the lifter can explore, in depth, his thoughts and emotions. He can come face to face with the enemy -- fear. By being willing to face this fear, feel it fully, and act in spite of it, the lifter is working on personal growth. It is this acting in spite of the experience of fear that eroded the phobic attitude. The contest is a place for this lifter to practice taking the risk of going all out, of making that total commitment in each lift or each pose. By making that committed effort, without hesitating and without holding back, this lifter can learn that whatever happens is almost never as bad as he had feared. And, in fact, what happens is usually far, far better than the phobic attitude would predict. With practice, the previously shy lifter can come to lift of pose boldly and enjoy the process, free from phobic feelings. The key is the consistent working on oneself.

For the lifter of impulsive attitude, the issue which can be worked on is a contest is the opposite. As we have seen, with this "misuse your body" script there is a tendency not to be cautious enough. So the lifting or physique contest is an opportunity to experiment with holding back a bit. This lifter can experience what it is like for him to proceed with some caution. So, instead of calling for a weight which is far more than he has lifted, this lifter could call for a weight lifted in training or slightly more. If this is the lifter's opening lift, he could call for a weight which is less than his best, a weight he can easily lift. In the case of posing, this process of experimenting may be more subtle. He may stick with the poses and sequence practiced, not attempting anything on impulse. The idea is to "break the script" by not acting on impulse and thereby decreasing the probability of injury, in the case of the competitive lifter. For the physique contestant the risk of injury during his posing is very slight. The "misusing" of his body will take place in training. Even so, the practice of caution in the meet is worthwhile. First of all, it can carry over into training. Second, and perhaps of more potency in its effect, the exercise of caution may bring the person face to face with his urge to be impulsive. The thoughts and feelings surrounding this can then be explored for deeper personal understanding.

The self-actualizing lifter, lifting from a "use your body" script, can use the contest as an arena for exploring that middle ground of being neither too cautious, nor not cautious enough, being neither shy and timid, not impulsive. He can also explore the de-emphasizing of "serious competition" with others. This can be developed to the extent of learning about detachment from the outcome. This lifter can raise his consciousness by coming to that point of enjoying the process of competing without the negative effects of being overly attached to the results. He can enjoy the experience of living out the archetype of the contest, hampered not by timidity, shyness, or over attachment to the outcome. And every contestant who does this is a clear winner.