Posts Tagged 'pain'

Sunday reading from the NYT

EnduranceA couple of really great articles from the archives of the New York Times‘ sports magazine Play

That which does not kill me makes me stronger” by Daniel Coyle is, at first glance, a profile of Jure Robic, an ultra-endurance athlete from Slovenia. Robic’s athletic accomplishments are incredible — he is a two-time winner of the Race Across America (RAAM) and the world record holder in the 24 hour time trial. But the article is most interesting and gripping as a rich exploration of the relationship between pain and emotion, providing insight into the (disturbed) mind of a champion athlete.

Thank God, this will only get worse” is Stuart Stevens’ first-person narrative of how he discovered and fell in love with endurance sports, and provides an opportunity for him to ruminate about some of the triumphs and tragedies that he has experienced as an endurance athlete.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood 

The Gates of Pain

Pain diagramIn doing a bit of research around the ideas discussed in the book The Agony of Victory (of which I wrote a brief post about a few days ago), I stumbled upon a short ABC News article that provided an elementary sketch of the science and psychology of pain, with a bit of attention given to the idea of pain in sport:

Part of one’s ability to block out pain during sporting events or exercise may depend on how an individual perceives athletics.

People who thrive on competition or see athletics as empowering may have little difficulty blocking out pain or finding distractions. However, those who do not enjoy exercise or who have suffered a previous injury will likely be hobbled by pain more easily.

“Some people see exercise as the only time in the day that they’re in total control of their lives. I know that when I’m running, it’s just me and my music,” said John Lefebvre, professor of psychology at Wofford College.

“But others who may have suffered a knee injury may be worried about injuring themselves. There are some people who develop a fear — a kinetic-phobia — a fear of movement.”

The article introduced me to the gate theory of pain management, developed in the 1960s by Ronald Melzack and Patrick David Wall.

Their paper, “Pain Mechanisms: A New Theory,” (Science: 150, 171-179, 1965) has been described as “the most influential ever written in the field of pain.”

Melzack and Wall suggested a gating mechanism within the spinal cord that closed in response to normal stimulation of the fast conducting “touch” nerve fibers; but opened when the slow conducting “pain” fibers transmitted a high volume and intensity of sensory signals.

The gate could be closed again if these signals were countered by renewed stimulation of the large fibers. [Source]

As explained at spine-health.com, the “scientific beauty” of the gate control theory is that it provided “a physiological basis for the complex phenomenon of pain”:

In the gate control theory, the experience of pain depends on a complex interplay of two systems: the central nervous system (the spinal cord and the brain) and the peripheral nervous system (nerves outside of the brain and spinal cord).

[Each of these systems] process pain signals in their own way. Upon injury, pain messages originate in nerves associated with the damaged tissue and flow along the peripheral nerves to the spinal cord and on up to the brain.

In the gate control theory, before they can reach the brain these pain messages encounter “nerve gates” in the spinal cord that open or close depending upon a number of factors (possibly including instructions coming down from the brain).

When the gates are opening, pain messages “get through” more or less easily and pain can be intense. When the gates close, pain messages are prevented from reaching the brain and may not even be experienced. [Source]

Is the mind enough to close those gates of pain?

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

What It Takes: The Agony of Victory

What It TakesA while back I came across Newsweek’s Fast Chat with Steve Friedman, author of the book The Agony of Victory.

In the book, Friedman examines “the dark nights of the soul of elite athletes” to shed light on the mental state of athletic champions.
He says that many elite athletes “succeed in their sports because of a yarning hole in their lives. These are people who felt a lack in their lives that only athletics could fill.”
On the other hand, athletes who enjoy their success, “people who seemed perfectly content and happy … tended not to be champions.”
Reading about Friedman’s book reminds me of a conversation I recently had with a buddy of mine. This friend was born and raised in a poor African village. He represented the United States at the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens and is representing his native African country at the 2008 Olympics in Beijing.
“The school I attended when I was a little kid was miles from my home and the only way to get there was on foot,” he told me.
“My friends and I — we always ran to school, but we raced to get home.
“During the first few years of primary school, I could keep-up with the older kids, but I could never beat them.
“And there was a girl — an overweight girl! — who always seemed to win. My goal, every day, was to beat her home. But I never could.”Then one day, I ran harder than I ever had previously run. And I got home before she did.
“I was happy I beat her, but I as soon as I stopped running I was doubled-over in pain.
“My stomach hurt — it felt like it was all knotted — and I was coughing-up blood. I had run so hard that I was coughing-up blood!
“I still have that metallic taste of blood in my throat. And now, every time I race, my goal is to run so hard that I cough-up blood again.
“This mindset is how I got to the Olympics. I want to hurt myself when I run.”

The agony of victory, indeed.

Play, think…
J.R. Atwood

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J.R. Atwood

I am an avid trail runner and a doctoral student at U.C. Berkeley with research interests in the fields of psychology and education. This blog is a forum to share some of my thoughts and the news related to brain and exercise science. More

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