Technique and Feel

For the past few weeks I have been approaching the throw a little bit differently. Teammate Bryan Kolacz (2009 DIII NCAA Champion in the hammer) referred me awhile back to a few articles about throwing the hammer, one of which explaining, in general terms, how we actually go about pushing the ball (by Martin Bingisser; if you don't know the blog, it is one of the best out there in my opinion, and many elite throwers comment regularly: http://www.mbingisser.com; article here: http://www.mbingisser.com/2010/07/ask-martin-vol-4). Bingisser's article describes the hammer throw as a "dance," and explains that the hammer - not you - is the leading partner. This got me thinking, and very quickly I began attacking my practices differently.

One week after reading the articles sent to me, I posted this on Facebook and tagged my teammates:

Today, for the first time in recent memory, as I stepped into the throwing circle I decided not to think about my legs, hands, head, or any other body part; essentially, nothing at all. No effort, no inner monologue – this was a throw for feeling. As I drew the hammer over my head, the beginning and end of any conscious effort could be found in my slow, relaxed winds, but as I entered my first turn through the circle, anything and everything else in the world was lost. The only two things in existence were myself and the 16-pound ball, which was already beginning to feel weightless. I felt the rhythm and the weight of the ball through my four turns, and with nonexistent effort I produced a pretty damn good throw. Thing stayed up there a minute or two before it came down. But how? Why was this my best throw of the day, when I wasn't even focusing on the plethora of technical problems I have?

There is an aspect of everything that can be difficult to maintain, and it is the act of executing without thought. I find it recurring in my life with everything I do, though in many scenarios there isn't much challenge at all. But rest assured, the problem can present itself anywhere, and chances are quite good that at some point it will.

Take, for example, the act of watching TV. Not a complicated task you might think, and you are right; little in life takes less effort than watching the boob tube. But sometimes, and I am sure this affects everyone (not just ADD lepers like myself), after forgetting that we are watching something to begin with, we come briefly back to reality and inadvertently think. It could be something in real life that interrupts the flow of TV watching – perhaps dinner is ready or your dog won't stop barking – or, and this is a less common cause considering the simplicity of the leisure, we might realize that we are, in fact, watching TV, and this in itself causes a distraction (if only for a brief, brief period). It is a stupid example, really, but illustrates the fact that disruption by “conscious thinking” can occur in even the most mindless tasks.

Of course, we never had to learn how to watch TV, else we might lose track of the feeling more often. Throwing, in this context, is better compared with the playing of an instrument. Obviously our initial couple years with an instrument can and probably will make us look like fools. But you have to start somewhere. And no matter the motivation to pick it up, sooner or later, given ample effort, you will probably reach a comfortable level and find yourself “getting lost” in your music, and playing for no one else but yourself, for no other purpose than to enjoy yourself, and with only the movements that have become instinctual to your body and hands. You'll find yourself staring at an oven or a hole in the wall, without realizing it because your mind is so far dug into the feeling of playing that other perceptions become utterly auxiliary. Your mind becomes the music, and there is nothing else in the world.

But we can always be taken out of this state, and sometimes all it takes is the mere recognition that we are doing something at all. Maybe you've been jamming on your guitar nonstop for the last half hour, and maybe it's great stuff, but as soon as your mind wanders over to your hand on the fretboard, it all falls apart. The simple act of thinking about what we are doing can destroy everything, and in the worst cases, we never get the feeling back.

Such is throwing. Throwing the hammer in practice is a lot like going to guitar practice; you've got to work hard and focus on what you are doing, but you need to be able to lose yourself in the act every once in a while if you ever expect to find a natural groove. Competing and performing are much different. You've practiced for years, you know the motions, and now it's time to put on a show. Don't think about your technique. Feel every moment and every ounce of weight in your hands, but allow them to become weightless. Never let your mind in; the best always comes with an empty head.

Lose yourself in the throw.

The gist is that throwing is an art just like playing music, and sometimes we need to just lose ourselves in the act without thought. But one week after posting this, I began a quick decline in practice, and today I could not even get to the fourth turn on about a quarter of my throws; I was so unbalanced that I had to let go after the third. Basically, I let the articles and my own writing dictate how I was throwing, and instead of working on technique I was simply trying to feel the hammer - which I could not do because I was not in the right positions.

This is not good for business.

Today's main conclusion is this: there needs to be a balance between technique and feel. (Duh!) For example, if you only try to feel yourself pushing the ball, things might seem a little smoother through the push, but you might not be getting your weight over properly, which will end in tears (as it did today). We need a balance between "hard technique" and "feel technique," as we will call it, if we want to apply our technique properly and efficiently. In other words, you can tell someone not to drag the ball, but they need to think it and feel it in different terms for it to actually happen. For me today, the demise of ball drag came the instant I started pushing with my right hand and not just with my legs (note I thought about my right hand and not my right arm; in terms of "feel" and application, this makes a world of difference. The way you think about it and the way your coach words it can fix or break depending on whether they are right for your mind). I sometimes run into a problem where my right hip is unable to push on entry because there is too much weight on it. Only today did I realize the correlation between that (previously called the "weird leg thing" by me) and ball drag. But I couldn't fix the weird leg thing by thinking about my legs. The weight of the hammer puts my body in that position, and unless the ball is in front of me (done by pushing the right hand), it will continue to grow worse through each turn until I fall over or release early.

This does come full circle, I promise. When I thought about my dragging hammer or my hunching torso or my weird leg thing, I couldn't fix the problem. My coach and I had analyzed my positions and located the problem, but thinking about it like this is the definition of "hard technique" training. Positive results only came when we applied a "feel technique" change.

This will not always be the solution; sometimes recognizing a problem can be enough to fix it (as with posture - but not always). But if you are a thrower looking to improve your technique or a coach looking to improve your thrower's technique, the solution is rarely simple. More often than not, the way you think about executing an altercation will determine whether or not it actually happens. Feel is important and technique is too, but "feel technique" is the best solution to a problem in the realm of throwing.