The goal of many competitive or bootcamp-style programs and classes is to get through the workout as fast as possible. The workout itself is viewed as a task - an onerous burden that can only be removed by completion. The advent of "underground" gyms and exercise programs hasn't improved this perception, but merely shifted it from long, plodding workouts of low intensity to fast-paced sprints to the finish. The goal is still the endpoint , which only serves to perpetuate the widespread preoccupation with results in fitness.

There is nothing wrong with goals. They are effective motivators and essential to progress. They have value, undoubtedly, but I believe that a shift from constantly rushing headlong towards the finish line would create long-lasting change and more fulfilling exercise programs. What I'm suggesting is doing exercise for exercise's sake. Do a movement because you enjoy it, not for some far-off goal. Keep your goals, of course, but--pardon the cliché--enjoy the journey.
One of the most effective ways to make exercise more fulfilling is to use mindfulness while lifting. The word might be familiar to anyone familiar with yoga, but it is not often discussed in terms of max effort lifting. Mindfulness is the practice of awareness, most often discussed in terms of spirituality and presence in the moment. That's cool and all, but we're going to talk about mindfulness as it relates to movement, in particular max effort lifting, and how we can use it to enhance our exercise experience and improve our lifts.

How to Incorporate Mindfulness into Your Program

Initially the concept may seem foreign--awkward, distracting and slow. Normally, we approach movement in the gym with the intention of completing it as quickly and painlessly as possible. To suggest that the movement should be slowed down, each rep elongated, is almost agony for many people. Start gradually, injecting some mindfulness into your warm-up. Take a movement you've done a million times - say a squat - and spend a few moments thinking about all of its different components: foot position, back position, hip hinge, depth, etc. Reflect on the feeling of the movement: pushing through the ground with your feet, contracting your hamstrings and glutes, discovering points of tension and relief throughout the movement. Even spent a few moments focusing on your neck and head. Where are your eyes pointed? Is your face tense or relaxed? If you're comfortable with it, try doing the movement with your eyes closed. Removing the visual component forces us to rely on other cues which we might not normally consider.

Once you've developed a solid vocabulary of mindful movements, you can experiment with what I call the intuitive warm-up. It's made up of, well, anything. Begin standing, eyes closed, and spend a few moments considering aches and pains, points of tension, daily stresses, recent workouts, and the workout to come. I like to do this warm-up in a flow, transitioning from one movement to the next, letting my body dictate the pace, intensity and direction I move. This style of warm-up isn't for everybody. Some people can't handle this level of exercise autonomy, or don't have the movement vocabulary. So start simple, with a couple movements you know well. Play with those for a while, and see where that takes you.

But I know you all want to move some heavy weight, so enough with the hippie warm-up business. I'll revisit the squat, since we used it as our warm-up example and love it so much. It is my opinion that many injuries, especially those occurring through heavy lifting, could be prevented by mindful lifting. If we're in touch with our bodies, we're more likely to receive and process our body's warning signals. That's not to say mindfulness is some miracle cure that will end all injury, but it lessens our chances.

So how can we get mindful on some big lifts? It begins in the approach. Every lifter has a different ritual and mindset when setting up for a lift, and I leave that to you. Only you can determine what makes you comfortable when approaching the bar. Whatever it is, it should center you: clear your mind of anything else and make you present in the moment. It should be portable and non-reliant on outside stimuli. If you have to have the stereo blasting Cannibal Corpse, that's cool if you only lift in your gym, but what happens when you lift in competition where there's no music, or worse, they play John Tesch? I'm not discouraging pre-bar approach rituals - those are separate from platform/under-the-bar rituals. If you want to wear your headphones while you're on deck, get slapped or whatever, that's your bag. What we're talking about is the moment before and during the lift itself.

My good friend and mentor Chip Conrad has a ritual in which he approaches the bar, puts his hands on it and speaks to it. It's his way of making a connection with the weight, transforming it into an extension of his body. I use breathing: once my hands are on the bar, I empty my mind, take three deep breaths and lift. By the time I take that third breath, any residual thoughts or worries fade away. Develop your own strategy. Whatever it may be, the intention is to clear your mind before you move that weight.

Back to the squat. For even more specificity, we're talking about the barbell back squat. Clear your mind and settle the bar into your preferred back position. Use a loose mental checklist: feet, knees, hips, back. Unrack the bar and walk out (or just stand there, if you've got a monolift). Again, spend some time feeling the weight, being present in the moment of the lift. No need to rush your way through - remind yourself why you're doing this--you don't have to lift weights. You could be doing Zumba!
I use my body position checklist as a sort of mantra, repeated at each key point of the lift. It keeps me present in the lift and reminds me to maintain my form, even in the heaviest of lifts. Feel your body respond to the lift, interacting with the bar, fighting gravity. The challenge is in keeping focus and intensity - it's much easier to blast through a lift and focus for a short burst, rather than to extend the rep, creating a protracted moment of intensity. It is that long moment where movement as meditation begins. When we push ourselves out of our comfort zone and perform a movement for the express purpose of doing it, rather than finishing it, that is when we escape the tyranny of the endpoint and get all kinds of Zen on the lift.
A quick note on Zen: the word gets thrown around a lot, without much thought to what it actually means. The goal of any Zen practice is direct self-realization without dogmatic thinking. It's enlightenment reached through experience, basically. This is a gross oversimplification, of course, but it works for our purpose. Max effort lifting is an excellent vehicle for this sort of practice, as it demands absolute focus of the mind and dedication of the body to the task at hand.

Now maybe your goal isn't enlightenment through exercise. That's fine. You can still gain a lot from using mindfulness in your program. The increased body awareness will not only improve your proprioception, but also reduce your risk of injury and improve your lifts. You can't get better at things without thinking about them. Would you get better at math if you just copied equations over and over again without thinking about how they worked? Maybe a little, but you'd get a whole lot better if you sat down and figured out how they work. It's the same with exercise: if we blast through every rep, our bodies will never catch up and figure out what we're supposed to be doing.

What about movements where we're supposed to move fast, like the Olympic lifts? Movements where over-thinking impedes us? It's true that some movements require explosiveness and cannot be executed methodically and thoughtfully. Many of these types of movements can and should be drilled slowly and fluidly before adding load and speed. But when it's time to lift, the mind must be clear. The same tenets apply, but at a faster pace. The bodily considerations must be done in advance, either at the bar or during the approach/pre-bar ritual. Visualization is key here. We must rely on our instinct, built by hours of drilling and repetition. It's like Tai Chi - most of what you see is slow, fluid and thoughtful. Most people don't know that competitive Tai Chi is performed with lightning speed. The Olympic lifts are the same - learn slowly, master, and execute as fast as possible. But without mastery of the intricacies of form, explosiveness is useless...but that's another article.