Gear Two

I’ve been thinking about this idea of a second wind.

During college, we studied energy conservation techniques for patients experiencing high levels of fatigue and weakness.

The premise is simple:

We have finite energy throughout the day.

So we teach people how to pace themselves, batch tasks, prioritize, and manage their energy expenditure so they don’t completely burn themselves out.

Basically, instead of trying to create more energy, we learn how to spend the energy we already have more wisely.

But I’ve always been curious about the opposite.

What happens when we don’t conserve energy?

What happens when we push past the point where our body tells us we’re done?

Because I’ve experienced this before.

Athletes experience it.

You’re exhausted. You feel like there’s nothing left.

And then, somehow, something changes.

You get another wave.

Another gear.

A second wind.

So today, I wanted to see if I could find it.

I deliberately overshot my workload and packed my day with things I don’t normally do all at once:

By my second-to-last patient, I was already done.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted to sleep.

I felt completely depleted.

I use a subjective energy tracker, and at that point I was at around 1/10.

But I pushed through.

I finished my last patient.

Then I went to the gym.

And started training.

Sixteen exercises.

Four sets of twelve.

Honestly, I fucking hated it.

But something happened while I kept going.

Slowly, I started feeling more awake.

Then more energized.

Then stronger.

And somewhere in the middle of that exhaustion, I felt like I had another tank.

I finished the workout.

I wrote this.

And as I’m writing this, my energy level is at around 8/10.

Then I rode my bike home.

So… what the fuck happened?

I don’t know.

But it was interesting enough for me to pay attention.

Maybe this is what people mean by a second wind.

Maybe it’s adrenaline.

Maybe it’s the physiological response to exercise.

Maybe it’s something completely different.

One experiment obviously doesn’t prove anything.

But I did notice a few things that might be worth exploring further.

When I was pushing through the exhaustion, I didn’t immediately try to go harder.

I actually slowed down.

Lowered the intensity.

Gave my body some time to catch up.

Then, when I started feeling the energy come back, I increased the intensity again.

Maybe pushing through doesn’t always mean pushing harder.

Maybe sometimes you need to temporarily reduce the demand so the system can catch up.

Before I completely depleted myself, I took a deliberate 15-minute nap.

It didn’t magically give me more energy.

But my brain was murky and I needed a reset.

Afterwards, I felt mentally clearer.

Maybe rest doesn’t always refill the tank.

Sometimes it just clears the windshield so you can see how much fuel you actually have left.

I woke up earlier than usual.

I’m not used to it.

But I deliberately did something uncomfortable first thing in the morning.

It almost felt like I was preparing my brain for the day ahead.

“Today is going to be uncomfortable.”

And maybe that matters too.

Maybe our relationship with discomfort changes depending on whether we expect it or resist it.

I don’t know.

I’m still figuring this one out.

But today changed the way I think about energy.

I used to think of it more like a fixed resource.

You have a certain amount.

You spend it.

You run out.

But maybe it’s more dynamic than that.

Maybe there are ways to influence how energy rises and falls.

Maybe there’s another gear hiding underneath the feeling of exhaustion.

And maybe we can learn how to access it.

I’m going to keep playing with this.

Because going from 1/10 to 8/10 in the same day is something I don’t want to ignore.

There might be something here.

Maybe exhaustion isn’t always the end of the tank.

Maybe sometimes it’s the point where another tank opens.