Improvement by subtraction—the art of growing stronger by strategically doing less.

Have you ever had a plan set in stone, only to watch it crumble and reshape itself? Today was one of those days for me. 

Lately, work, life, and training have each thrown their own curveballs my way. It’s a scenario many of us know all too well—and if you’re juggling small children, it’s doubly familiar. I’d been stretching myself thin, and exhaustion had crept in like an uninvited guest. The thought of another paddle session didn’t exactly fill me with excitement. But I’d come to accept that some training sessions, no matter how unappealing in the moment, are non-negotiable. This is what I call the *grind*. 

When I talk about the grind, I’m not referring to hustle culture’s glorification of overwork, burnout, or the relentless pursuit of wealth and status. No, the grind I’m speaking of runs deeper—it’s the quiet, consistent effort you put in day after day, even when the fire within feels like it’s flickering. It’s about persistence and unwavering dedication, especially when the path ahead feels steep or uncertain. (We’ll explore this mindset further in a future discussion—it’s a topic worth delving into.)

As I reflect on my latest paddle, I’m not struck by how impressive, unique, or epic it was. Instead, I’m reminded of how closely the grind is tied to change. What began as a reluctant session transformed into something unexpected. The water, the rhythm of my strokes, the stillness that settled over my mind as my body moved—it all reminded me why I do this. The grind isn’t just about perseverance; it’s about remaining open to those fleeting moments of clarity and transformation that often take us by surprise.

Paddling on the Red River of the North is a constant dance with change, especially through the shifting seasons of spring, summer, and fall. The river’s current is ever-changing—swelling with spring runoff, slowing under the summer sun, and surging with autumn rains. What works one day might fail the next. Over time, I’ve learned to adjust my upriver and downriver paddle times, recalibrating my effort to align with the river’s shifting moods. Some days, the current feels like a quiet ally, propelling me forward; other days, it’s an unyielding adversary, demanding every ounce of strength and focus.

This continuous need for adaptation mirrors the core principles of effective training. Just as the river compels me to make small, consistent adjustments, successful training demands flexibility and attentiveness. Progress isn’t about rigidly adhering to a plan but about embracing intentional, incremental changes—whether it’s fine-tuning intensity, modifying recovery, or perfecting technique. These subtle adjustments accumulate over time, creating profound growth.

This idea of growth through persistence is amplified when we have guidance and support. That’s where coaching comes in—a powerful catalyst for change that thrives on consistent effort. Let’s first consider the role of coaching in fostering transformation, not just in skill or performance, but in mindset and resilience. 

At its core, coaching is about improving performance by facilitating small, intentional habits. It’s a process of guiding athletes through minor, manageable challenges that, over time, create a compound effect. This requires a deep understanding of how automatic behaviors shape our actions, attitudes, and ultimately, the results we achieve. When you really break it down, coaching harnesses the power of tiny habits—those small, repeated actions that, with enough practice and patience, can lead to the mastery of almost any skill. It’s not about overnight success; it’s about the steady accumulation of effort, day by day, that builds something extraordinary. 

This training methodology demands consistency, resilience, a positive mindset, and a high tolerance for repetition. Small changes are far more manageable, less daunting, and provide a tangible sense of achievement—key ingredients for staying motivated over the endless miles. What I love most is that every paddle brings some form of progress. Whether it’s a slight improvement in technique, a bit more endurance, or simply a stronger mental game, each step forward, no matter how small, is a victory in itself. It’s a reminder that growth isn’t always dramatic; sometimes, it’s the quiet accumulation of tiny wins that leads to something extraordinary. 

Picture this: an athlete grinding through another brutal session, teeth gritted against the familiar trinity of pain, fatigue, and boredom. We’ve all been there, mistaking suffering for strategy, clinging to the myth that *more*—more reps, more hours, more grit—automatically means *better*. But what if the real breakthrough lies not in what we add, but in what we dare to remove? 

Here’s the twist: **high performance isn’t built in the gym; it’s carved there.** 

Instead of glorifying the mindless grind of “carrying on carrying on,” I challenge athletes to become sculptors of their own potential. Chisel away the deadweight—the redundant drills, the ego-driven routines, the “this is how we’ve always done it” rituals. Every minute wasted on what *doesn’t* work isn’t just neutral—it’s a **margin leak**, bleeding energy you could invest in what truly moves the needle. 

Ask yourself: *What am I consistently doing… that’s holding me back?* 

The answer might feel counterintuitive. Progress isn’t a trophy for enduring the most punishment; it’s a reward for ruthless editing. Trim one inefficient warm-up. Delete two filler exercises. Replace three mindless laps with a single purposeful sprint. Suddenly, the path clears. Energy resurges. **What looks like subtraction on paper becomes multiplication in practice.** 

This isn’t about taking shortcuts—it’s about sharpening the blade. By trading “toughing it out” for *tuning it in*, athletes transform the soul-crushing grind into a precision game. The result? A quieter roar. A leaner fight. Improvement that doesn’t just happen *despite* the work, but *because* of what you wisely chose not to do. 

 

Boredom Is the Mind Killer

I’d been chasing the clock all day, and now this training session was devolving into a last-minute scramble. Let’s be real: my delay wasn’t *just* about tinkering with my bike’s rebellious rear derailleur—though I’ll cling to that excuse like a life raft. The truth? I was drowning in a fresh wave of *river burnout*. Paddle the same stretch of water day after day, and even the current starts to feel like a metaphor—a sluggish loop of repetition sucking the soul right out of your strokes. 

Boredom isn’t just the mind killer; it’s the creativity taxman.

We’ve all felt it—that creeping *Blah* (yes, capitalized, because it deserves its own font of dread). It’s the thick, sticky mind fog that settles over yet another training grind, turning even tying your shoes into a feat of existential willpower. Some days, showing up feels less like discipline and more like wading through waist-deep molasses with lead boots. 

But here’s the twist: *the *Blah* isn’t your enemy. It’s your overworked brain screaming for a scalpel instead of a sledgehammer. 

The good news is, even when you’re bored to death, swamped with responsibilities, or utterly exhausted from life’s challenges, slipping into a well-rehearsed routine—like a warmup—can be a game-changer. As I always say, *If you don’t have time to warm up, you don’t have time to work out.* Of all the strategies that *actually* reduce the risk of both acute and overuse injuries, warm-ups take the top spot. They boost blood circulation, prime the nervous system for intense activity, and kickstart a host of physiological processes essential for effective training. 

But there’s more to it than just the physical benefits. Just as your body needs preparation, so does your mind. Warming up your mental muscles—confidence, motivation, intensity, focus, and a positive mindset—can energize even the most mundane training session. Let me take it a step further: athletes who are consistent with their warmup routines develop a sharper ability to interpret their body’s signals. This self-awareness fosters consistency, and as we know, *consistency is the mother of learning.* So, the next time you’re tempted to skip the warmup, remember: it’s not just about preventing injury—it’s about setting the stage for growth, both physically and mentally. 

 

There Is More to It

The benefits of consistency might seem intuitive to most athletes, but let’s revisit the question: Consistent at what? Many might instinctively reply, Consistently training, of course. While that’s not incorrect, it’s only part of the equation. Consistency alone won’t carry you far without a deeper understanding of your daily performance, the application of foundational training principles, clear benchmarks, progress tracking, and fatigue management—just to name a few critical elements.

True consistency isn’t merely about showing up; it’s about showing up with intent, awareness, and a strategy. It’s the difference between going through the motions and making every session count. Now, consider this: what does it mean if we are consistently falling short of our potential? What if the real breakthrough doesn’t come from adding more, but from boldly removing what no longer serves us?

 

Moving Forward Through Marginal Gains

When it comes to moving forward in sport training, consistency isn’t just about repeating the same actions day after day—it’s about *consistently doing the right things* to foster growth, adaptation, and progress. The key lies in making small, intentional changes that compound over time, both in your training and in your life. 

The foremost skill athletes need to develop is consistently *listening to their bodies*. This means tuning into signals of fatigue, recovery, and performance to adjust intensity, volume, or rest as needed. It’s not about pushing through at all costs but about making smart, incremental adjustments that keep you moving forward without breaking down. 

Athletes should also consistently *track and measure progress*. Whether it’s through performance benchmarks, training logs, or even subjective feedback, tracking helps us identify what’s working and what’s not. Small changes—like shaving seconds off a time trial, improving technique, or increasing recovery efficiency—add up over time. But without measurement, it’s hard to know if you’re on the right path. 

It's no secret that everyone needs to consistently *prioritize recovery*. Recovery isn’t a break from training; it’s an essential part of it. Small habits like better sleep, proper nutrition, and active recovery sessions can have a massive impact on performance. Consistency here means recognizing that progress happens not just during the workout but in the hours and days afterward. 

Finally, we should consistently *adapt to life’s demands*. Life rarely goes according to plan, and rigid training schedules can lead to frustration or burnout. Being consistent doesn’t mean sticking to a plan no matter what—it means being flexible enough to make the right changes when life throws a curveball. Maybe it’s swapping a long session for a shorter, more intense one when time is tight, or adjusting your training focus when energy levels are low. 

The beauty of small changes is that they’re manageable, sustainable, and far less daunting than overhauling your entire routine. By consistently making the correct adjustments—whether in training intensity, recovery habits, or life balance—we create a foundation for long-term progress. It’s not about perfection; it’s about persistence and the willingness to adapt. After all, the journey forward isn’t a straight line—it’s a series of small, deliberate steps that add up to something extraordinary. 

 

Small Wins

Starting late meant I had limited training time, and to be honest, I was feeling blah anyway. So—despite my usual insistence that warm-ups are vital and should never be skipped—I decided to forego the formal warm-up. Instead, I ramped up my stroke rate straight away to hit the necessary intensity. Surprisingly, this approach left me with more energy than usual. Without the typical neurological warm-up, like the sprints I often include, I started the session with less initial fatigue. It was a reminder that sometimes, less really can be more, and that adapting to the moment can lead to unexpected benefits.

One of my ongoing challenges during long paddles has been a nagging forearm injury. But today, it felt completely fine—at least for the first half of the session. It wasn’t until I turned downriver that I noticed any discomfort, and even then, it was far milder than the usual agony. Instead of the habitual, screaming pain, my forearm’s "voice" softened to a more manageable tone.

This might seem like a small win, but for me, it felt like a breakthrough. After countless miles of gritting my teeth through the pain, experiencing even a single session with reduced discomfort was a meaningful step forward.

One key adjustment that made a big difference was remembering to “switch gears”—choking up slightly on the paddle to reduce strain. Another small but impactful change was lifting my index finger off the paddle during steering strokes. It’s amazing how something as simple as lifting a single finger could relieve so much stress on my forearm. These tiny shifts didn’t just ease the pain; they reminded me that progress often comes from paying attention to the details and being willing to adapt, even in the smallest ways. 

 

Dance Of Change

I’m someone who thrives on structure—meticulously sticking to the plan, knowing exactly what’s ahead, and executing each session with precision. But this training session was different. For once, I let go of my usual rigidity and made an adjustment on the fly. Instead of following the script, I chose to adapt, staying positive and productive even when things didn’t go as planned.

This approach reminded me of an important lesson from the river: moving forward isn’t about brute force or blind persistence. It’s about staying attuned to the conditions, adjusting to what lies ahead, and embracing the necessity of change. Whether in paddling or training, progress isn’t achieved through grand, sweeping gestures but through small, deliberate adjustments that keep you moving in the right direction.

Take this particular session as an example. A northwest wind was relentlessly in my face, making progress considerably slower than expected. To keep my final upriver and downriver times within three minutes of each other, I had to recalibrate my effort and adapt to the conditions. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, a fleet of motorboats decided to appear. Joy.

The original plan was simple: paddle upriver for an hour against the current, take a five-minute break, and then paddle back to the boathouse dock where I had started. But when one motorboat after another came roaring around the corner, at what felt like 100 kilometers an hour, chaos erupted. It was a buzzkill, to say the least. Drained from the noise and disruption, I decided to pack it in early, turn around, and finish off with a smooth uninterrupted paddle downriver.

Looking Outside of the Fishbowl

It’s funny how hard that kind of change can be in the moment. When we’re deep in the grind, it’s like we’re living in a fishbowl—our vision narrows, our focus turns inward, and we lose sight of the bigger picture. We become so fixated on the plan, the numbers, or the immediate challenge that we forget to step back and ask, *Is this still serving me?* 

That’s exactly what happened during this session. I could have pushed through the chaos of the motorboats, stubbornly clinging to my original plan, but I chose to adapt. I stepped back, reassessed, and prioritized finishing strong and staying positive over blindly following the script.

Sometimes, the hardest changes are those that force us to break free from our own tunnel vision. It’s not easy to step back and truly assess what’s happening—to recognize when it’s time to pivot, adjust, or even call it a day. Yet, those moments of clarity, when we embrace the bigger picture, are often where transformation begins.

This session was a reminder that while plans are valuable, they’re not inviolable. Adaptability, positivity, and productivity—even when things go awry—are just as essential. True progress often comes from knowing when to pause, reassess, and make adjustments that align with the bigger picture.

 

Final Thoughts

Remember how I expected today to be a crappy paddle? Well, guess what? I felt strong, fatigue was minimal, and it turned into an outstanding paddle. It’s good to be wrong sometimes.

Through years of training, coaching, and academic study, I’ve come to understand that improvement requires one non-negotiable: adherence to the grind. Full stop. The importance of consistency cannot be overstated. But consistency alone isn’t enough—it’s the quality of training that truly fuels athletic growth. High-quality training lays the groundwork for success, while low-quality training leads to injury, burnout, and stagnation.

And it’s not just about physical training. A holistic approach that nurtures both body and mind is equally critical. This comprehensive outlook builds a strong foundation for growth, fostering resilience, adaptability, and sustained progress. The real challenge lies in striking the right balance—pushing hard when necessary, but also recognizing when to ease up, adapt, or step back.

You see where I’m going with this. There are moments in life, just as in training, when the grind isn’t the solution. Sometimes, progress demands change. It might mean a small adjustment, like altering your grip to ease tension in your forearm. Or it might involve a bigger realization, like pulling back—even with the finish line in sight—to avoid overreaching.

The grind is powerful, but it’s not everything. True growth comes from knowing when to push, when to pivot, and when to pause. So here’s to my 105^th paddle of 2023 —and to the unexpected twists that remind us why we keep showing up, even when the plan doesn’t go as expected.