Becoming Antifragile
Anecdotes from distance running
Zone Two
I’ve been training for my first marathon for the last few months. I’ve never been much of a distance runner, so my running workouts were always short and exhausting—a few miles at a quick pace. But that’s not sustainable. To ascend to 9-, 12-, or 15-mile runs, I needed a steady (dare I say turtle’s) pace. A reasonable distance running speed is ~80% of your maximum heart rate. For me, that’s about 168 BPM (based on my most recent max rate of 210 BPM). When I exerted myself to 160-170 BPM, I felt good—a challenge, sure, but not enough to make me stop. I’d found “Zone Two.”
Like a flow state, Zone Two is a sustainable pace that’s challenging but tractable—an aspiration for many of life’s activities. Many software teams organize their work into two-week development cycles called “sprints”—a callback to mid-2010s startup atmospheres of hustling and grinding. It’s an oxymoron to sprint for a long distance, and an expectation to do so is misery-inducing.
With writing, my Zone Two is 30-60 minutes per day. With running, 160-170 BPM. What would an 80% pace look like for an activity you’re doing?
Fragile → Resilient → Antifragile
Last month, the power went out at the gym. Lights went black, the treadmills stopped moving, and huge, medieval-looking doors slammed shut around us—sealing us inside like the plot of an Agatha Christie novel. It made me realize how fragile my workout was: No electricity, no running.
In Greek Mythology, the Sword of Damocles is a story about a commoner (Damocles) who wanted to sit on the king’s throne for a day. Despite the lavish accouchements surrounding the throne, a sword dangled by horsehair above it—reminding the king that all his luxury could disappear at a moment’s notice. The king had made many enemies on his rise to power, which left him fragile. Like a beautiful house of cards, my treadmill routine was fragile—very optimized and convenient, but dependent on something beyond my control.
After a generator kicked on the doors lifted, I left the gym without completing my run. I told myself I’d be resilient and try again tomorrow. Like a phoenix, I could rise from the ashes without ruining my training schedule. But I was still at the whim of external circumstances.
In Antifragile, Nasim Taleb discusses the hydra—a three-headed monster that fought Hercules. If one of its heads was chopped off, three more would grow in its place. Pain and volatility strengthened the creature. Embodying that spirit, I chose to run outside—despite the dark and cold rain. Given the distance I’d already run at the gym, this extra outdoor workout exceeded my daily mileage goal, transforming my running ritual from fragile to antifragile.
Some ways to develop antifragility:
Don’t overoptimize—give yourself extra time, money, equipment
Seek ways to win regardless of volatility—such as the barbell investing strategy
Avoid external dependencies
Stonecutter vs. Mechanic
The other week, my friend and I went skiing on Mount Baker—a glaciated volcano near the Canadian border. We were cruising along gravel roads until I hit a pothole and broke the undercarriage cover off my Prius. I needed to hold up the cover to return home, so I kept adding duct tape until nothing moved. It was a persistent approach, enough to get us home, albeit temporary. Back in Seattle, I tried finding someone to fix this—but Toyota couldn’t service this for warranty reasons (weird), and other garages refused to repair it without significant ($$$) bodywork. A week later, I found an old-school mechanic that brainstormed several cheap, tenacious solutions to fix the cover.
Different problems require different solutions, but most fall into two categories:
Stonecutter (a persistence problem). A stonecutter taps thousands of times on a rock until the atomic pings split the stone. It doesn’t require ingenuity but a copious degree of grit and determination. Stonecutting was my approach to fixing the car via a hundred strips of duct tape.
Mechanic (a tenacity problem). To fix a broken car, a mechanic must try dozens of approaches to see what works. It requires inventiveness and the ability to remain unstuck. The guy who ultimately fixed my car was a true mechanic.
Ask yourself: Does this problem require persistence or tenacity?
Forming habits, endurance sports, tedious activities → stonecutter
Teaching, debugging, experiments → mechanic
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So well said! Excellent! Thank you for sharing.👍