My Body is Magic

“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

Arthur C. Clarke, “Profiles of The Future”, 1973 revision (Clarke’s third law)

Every year, my body undergoes changes as a result of the swimming, biking, running, weight lifting, stretching, eating, and visualization that I do. The end result, to me, is magic. Clarke’s law suggests to me that maybe the magic is somehow explainable, so I typed “define: technology” into Google. I found two perfect definitions there.

From an 8th grade science curriculum (Winthrop Middle School, Winthrop, MA):

Technology 1. Human innovation in action that involves the generation of knowledge and processes to develop systems that solve problems and extend human capabilities; 2. The innovation, change, or modification of the natural environment to satisfy perceived human needs and wants.”

This quote, from Peter Manoogian, Winthrop Middle School technology education specialist, is precisely what I have in mind in describing the technology of training. Examine some of the key words there: “Human”, “action”, “knowledge”, “processes”, “systems”. “extend human capabilities”, “change”, “satisfy human wants”.

Really, that says it all. I’m a human who wants to extend my capabilities by improving my systems so I can take action. But I’m wondering – should I view the technology as the knowledge I am using to create changes in myself? Or am I the technology itself?

I like the idea that the human body is a technology, one that in many ways is indistinguishable from magic. As a doctor, I see this every day. We are more complex than any machine we can imagine creating; the technology of our organic processes, despite our feeble attempts to understand it, remains clothed in mystery. Over the last 150 years of “scientific” medicine, we have learned a bit about how to tweak and alter those processes, and how they might work. But, deep down, we should not be so hubristic to believe that we actually have definite knowledge. Our descriptions are little better than Norse myths, or the concept of humours on which medieval medicine was based.

So many times we’ve acted based on our theories of how our systems should work, and instituted therapies which actually caused more harm than good. Thalidomide (birth defects from an anti-nausea medication for pregnant women), and hormone replacement therapy are two examples from my own specialty.

Humans (and all organic creatures) are designed for dynamic homeostasis. Now, I am NOT a creationist. I think we got this like this the old fashioned way – through long, hard work. We stand on the shoulders of giants, specifically, 4,000,000,000 years of genetic changes and additions to life on Earth. We are the result of a specific set of changes, both large and small, over an unimaginably long time. Most of these changes were accidents, and a lot of our current “success” is based on using a tool (the brain) designed for one thing (organizing a mammal’s homeostatic processes) for another (changing ourselves and our environment without waiting for natural processes to do it for us.)

For example, we have a remarkable temperature control system, which maintains us at 37C (98.6F). We do this in the face of constant environmental challenge and change. Why this temperature? Literally, God only knows. The usual explanations are simple tautologies. Our enzymatic processes work best around this temperature. But if our set point were markedly different, wouldn’t we simply have different enzymatic processes? It costs us a lot of energy to stay this warm; wouldn’t it be simpler to be colder, and need less food? And how is the temperature regulated, anyway? Sure, it’s a result of the energy production constantly happening everywhere in us – we give off heat in much the same way a light bulb does, as surplus from the actual work being done. But how does it remain so constant? What control mechanisms exist to monitor temperatures and make modifications, like shivering, or more rapid blood flow? Researchers have lots of theories, but in the end, they are just descriptions of what is happening, not an explanation of the reasons behind it. To me, the fact that we stay at about 98.6 is – magic.

So, briefly, in my training, I do a selected set of activities, in a specific order, at specific times, and this alters my body’s processes and abilities in subtle but real ways, so I can swim, bike, and run faster than I otherwise would, for 11 hours non-stop. Without the training, I could probably do an Ironman in 15.5 hours (my “falling off a log” time) – 1.5 hours of swimming breaststroke for 2.4 miles, 7.5 hours of biking at 15 mph, and 6.5 hours to walk 26.2 miles. YMMV.

How I get from “untrained” to “trained” is, in one sense, explainable, and in another, completely mystifying. I can tell you exactly what I am doing, in the 15 weeks leading up to the race. I can even offer some theories about why it might help me. But as I watch my body go through the changes, and then actually do the race, the end result does appear to be magic. At no point in the training do I ever swim for 2.4 miles as fast as I will in the race; at no point do I ever bike 112 miles, much less bike that far at race pace. And my longest run is 16.5 miles, at about the speed I will do in the race. And I would never do a day any longer than 7.5 hours, ever in my training. I simply have to believe that all the work will, once again, produce the result I am hoping for.

I have given up actually trying to understand either the science or the art behind what is happening in the training. I just go on blind faith at this point. In this, the longest week of my training, I no longer worry about why I am slogging through the 20-25 hours I have planned. I just know that doing it will induce some unseen, mystic changes in my human systems which will allow me to race at the level I am seeking, and maybe a bit beyond.

Here’s another definition of “technology, from the National Institutes of Health:

technology: A body of knowledge used to create tools, develop skills, and extract or collect materials; the application of science (the combination of the scientific method and material) to meet an objective or solve a problem.”

The tool I am creating is my self (both my mind and my body). The knowledge I am using is the experience of myself others in what works and what doesn’t in changing that body to meet the objective of a faster Ironman.

So how successful will it be? Here’s that race report I promised. Yesterday, in the Tacoma City half marathon, I finished 28th out of 64 participants. Only one person less than 10 years younger than me ran faster (in other words, I beat all the 50-59 year olds except one). My little personal race was with a 27 y/o who finished 2nd (by 18 seconds) in his age group. I passed him going downhill at about mile 4, and he stayed with me the whole way, gaining only in the final rise at mile 12. I just didn’t have a strong enough kick and he stayed 10 seconds ahead of me.

Despite winning my AG, and finishing 16 places higher than last year, I was disappointed with two aspects. First, I was about 2 minutes slower (out of 95) than last year). And, as I was walking back to my car after the wards ceremony, I finally looked at my plaque. Down at the bottom, underneath “First Place – Male”, it read “60-64 Age Group”.

Ooof! All my other awards have started with a “5”. 50 or 55. No sixes. This is the first time I have actually realised I am getting somewhere near the end.

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