Bruce Lee is reported to have said, “I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.” With all due respect to Mr. Lee, he might have been wrong about this one.
Variability plays an essential and oft-neglected role in mastering complex skills. Considerable research shows that practicing in varied contexts with varied methods and performing with varied task constraints results in more robust learning than simple repetition.
Below, I’d like to review some of the key research supporting the role of variability in learning and suggest how you can apply this to your career and studies.
Contextual interference occurs when you practice the same skill, but vary the situations in which it is called for.
For instance, you could practice your tennis backhand by being served backhand shots repeatedly. Alternatively, your coach could mix things up: serve you backhand shots interspersed with balls that require a forehand shot.
Or imagine preparing for a calculus exam: you could study all the questions that require the chain rule, then all the questions that use the quotient rule. Instead, you might shuffle these questions together so you can’t be sure which technique is needed.
Contextual interference improves the transfer of learning to new situations. There are a few reasons contextual interference works:
Variability plays a role in abstracting the deep structure of seemingly different situations. Experts tend to perceive the deep principles of a particular problem. In contrast, novices tend to get distracted by the superficial features.
Physics experts, for instance, tend to look at problems and see “conservation of energy” or “forces must be balanced if an object isn’t moving.” In contrast, novices tend to look at problems and see “it’s one with a pulley” or “it’s an incline-plane problem.”
The exact role of concrete versus abstract representations in thinking is controversial in cognitive psychology.
Some theorists argue that we reason through storing multiple, specific instances of ideas. Others argue that we erase the specifics, leading to generic stereotypes of situations we deal with. Regardless of whether thinking is fundamentally concrete or abstract (or some mixture of both), seeing multiple examples is central to learning.
A central principle of the highly-successful teaching strategy, Direct Instruction, is to present students with examples that span the full range of possibilities for a concept. So instead of teaching students to recognize the letter “a” by showing students the exact same letter, we would show “a” in a variety of fonts and typefaces. A student learns that all of these as represent the same “thing” by being exposed to multiple, varying examples:
In a gym in Ireland's County Leitrim, Bernard Leddy rocked back on his heels to measure up his target. Then his hips pivoted, his weight shifted forward, and he used a cudgel to deliver a thunderous blow to the jaw of a rubber sparring dummy. Leddy was wielding this wooden weapon in the manner of his Irish ancestors.
Similar strikes killed many men in the 18th and 19th Centuries. Back then, this long wooden stick with a bulbous head, called a shillelagh, was key to bataireacht, or Irish stick fighting. And this Irish martial art, which dates back more than 500 years, was once as central to national identity as kung fu in China or Samurai jiu-jitsu in Japan.
From its 16th Century origins, bataireacht – which is a blend of fencing, boxing and grappling that sees fighters punch, jostle and strike with their sticks – boomed in the 1700s after the occupying British banned Irish people from carrying many types of weapons. Instead they protected themselves with supposed walking sticks, which were actually shillelagh. By the 1800s, bataireacht was so popular it was taught in Irish schools, before changing attitudes towards fighting and the impact of the Great Irish Famine all but erased it by the turn of the 20th Century. Now, thanks to Leddy and members of the huge and proud Irish diaspora, bataireacht is making a comeback.
Leddy has been involved in martial arts for 40 years and first came across bataireacht videos online around a decade ago. Investigating further, he discovered that one of the world's only remaining bataireacht instructors was Glen Doyle, a Canadian of Irish descent whose family members have been stick fighters for generations. Leddy travelled to Newfoundland to train under Doyle and has since become a coach himself and helped spread bataireacht across the globe.
The Irishman has moulded many new instructors and supervised the creation of about 50 bataireacht schools and study groups in Ireland, the UK, US, Taiwan, Pakistan, Mexico, Egypt and the Czech Republic. "I'm delighted at the growth of bataireacht, but I'm not surprised," Leddy said. "Because once people realise how effective bataireacht is, they immediately want to know more. In 20 years, I want it to be in every hall in Ireland, if not the world."
While bataireacht is a relatively safe activity when practised in gyms under the supervision of experts, in the 1700s and 1800s it was wild and deadly. Back then, this martial art was central to a lethal form of mayhem called faction fighting, said John W Hurley, author of the book Shillelagh: The Irish Fighting Stick.
These massive organised brawls between rival factions bound by blood, parish or geography could involve hundreds, even thousands of Irish men. During these illegal melees, held at festivals and funerals, men hurled rocks, fired guns and swung shillelagh. "The spirit of 'Shillelagh Law' was to always be willing to go out and fight, and die if necessary, to maintain your personal or family or faction reputation," Hurley said.
Ironically, this blood-soaked bedlam often was recreational, according to Carolyn Conley, professor emerita of history at the University of Alabama and an expert on Ireland's crime in the 1800s, with arranged melees filling a void in entertainment options in rural Ireland. In fact, between 1866 and 1892, more than 40% of murders in Ireland were linked to recreational brawls. "My research indicates [arranged violence] was not only common but often viewed with approval by judges and landowners, some of whom participated," she said.
One County Kerry brawl in 1834 saw 35 people killed. A plaque marks that site in the serene seaside town of Ballyheigue, which, thanks to its pristine, 2km-long beach, is now a popular stop on the Wild Atlantic Way, a 2,600km driving route along Ireland's west coast.
I’m a big fan of getting strong.
Physical strength improves all areas of life, and hoisting heavy weights is just plain fun. At least, I think it’s fun.
When I first embraced the gospel of the barbell with the zeal of a new convert seven years ago, I pretty much gave up on any cardio exercise, both the low-intensity and the high-intensity kind.
I rationalized my neglect of cardio by telling myself, “It gets in the way of my gains, bruh.”
Honestly, I just didn’t like doing cardio.
I’d never been into slow and steady exercise. Running and biking? Boring! I liked to ruck, but I tended to half-ass it. It never seemed like enough of a workout. That wasn’t rucking’s fault; it was my own.
And high-intensity cardio, like sprints and burpees and the like, just reminded me of the unpleasant parts of playing high school football.
I’d half-heartedly do high-intensity cardio at the end of my barbell workouts since my coach, Matt Reynolds, programmed it for me. But I always approached it as “Do it if you can get to it.” And I found myself finding reasons to skip out on these cardio sessions more often than not.
What was the result of my neglecting cardio?
A couple things. Neither of them good.
First, I got kind of chonky. Strong, but pudgy.
Second, I started getting winded doing everyday things. Sure, I could take a long hike on a backpacking trip, but I’d need to take more breaks than I would have liked. Intense games of ultimate frisbee left me sucking wind and asking for extended timeouts to catch my breath.
In short, I was out of shape.
I lacked conditioning.
During the past year, I’ve shifted my focus from just concentrating on pure strength to also investing in my conditioning. Matt has been with me 100% on this shift and has helped me stay strong as I’ve developed the other aspects of my fitness.
The results have been stellar.
I’m trimmer and in the all-around best shape I’ve been in in a long time. And the fact that I’ve been feeling so good, has changed my feelings about cardio.
To help us unpack the wonders of conditioning and how to do it, I consulted with Nick Solyen at Barbell Logic for his insight and advice.
“Conditioning” is a word that gets thrown around a lot in the fitness world.
If you played football, the guy in charge of the team’s athletic performance was probably called a “strength and conditioning coach.”
If you’ve done CrossFit, you may have done “metabolic conditioning,” or “met-con,” workouts.
We all likely have a general idea of what conditioning means, that it has to do with cardiovascular fitness and that it’s training that gets you ready for some kind of event, i.e., you do gassers in basketball practice so that you won’t be gassed in a game.
That lay understanding of conditioning is a good starting point, but there’s more to it.
To understand conditioning, it helps to understand the body’s energy systems. We’ve discussed this in previous articles before, but it’s helpful to review.
All cells in your body are fueled by adenosine triphosphate, or ATP. When you walk, you’re using ATP. Deadlifting? Powered by ATP. Reading this article? ATP.
ATP can be produced in three ways:
Which system we use to generate ATP depends on the intensity of the activity we’re engaged in.
Low-intensity activities like walking, slow jogging, and leisurely swimming primarily use fat to generate ATP. When your body is using fat for fuel, it’s called oxidation or aerobic activity since your body is using oxygen to help convert the fat to ATP.
As the intensity increases, you start using more carbohydrates. So if your slow jog turns into a speedier trot, your body starts using more carbs to generate the ATP your body needs to haul your carcass along the running trail. When your body uses carbs to create ATP, it’s called glycolysis. It’s also called anaerobic activity since it doesn’t use oxygen in the ATP creation process.
When you do an intense activity like sprinting or a heavy set of squats, your body uses creatine phosphate to create ATP. Like glycolysis, ATP created from creatine phosphate doesn’t use oxygen. Thus, activity that uses creatine phosphate for ATP is also called anaerobic.
When
physiologists and fitness scientists talk about “conditioning,” they’re
talking about your body’s ability to create energy using these aerobic
and anaerobic systems. The more conditioning you have, the more
efficient your body is at creating energy in a given metabolic system.
There are thousands of stories about Wong Fei Hung and he is probably the most portrayed hero in movies. Up to today 123 movies were made about Wong Fei Hung. Actors like Kwan Tak Hing, Jackie Chan, Gordon Liu and Jet Li played him in many blockbusters. And of course there are Wuxia like novels about the Folk Hero.
But who was Wong Fei Hung, what do we really know about him? Actually, we don’t know as much about his life and his background as we think. The stories and legends about him which we saw in the movies are just that: stories and legends. Wong Fei Hung had also a great impact on the development of Hung Kyun, so much that we can talk about old Hung Kyun and modern Hung Kyun. This will be the second part of the article. As i will try to concentrate on facts and not on legends the article could be a bit boring for some here. So, let’s make a step backwards and have a closer look on what we know.
Wong Kei Jing, the father of Wong Fei Hung
Wong Fei Hungs father was Wong Kei Jing. He was born between 1810 and 1820 in a village of Nanhai county in Foshan. As legends are telling us already Wong Kei Jings father Wong Taai was a Hung Kyun master and had learned directly from Luk Aa Coi who in turn was a disciple of the famous abbott of the southern Shaolin Monastery Zi Sin Sim Si. Most historians instead believe that Wong Kei Jing learned directly from Luk Aa Coi, but it seems logically to me that he first started learning from his father and later continued to learn directly from Luk Aa Coi. From Wong Kei Jing it is known that he was not only an excellent Martial Artist but also a bonesetter with his own clinic called Bou Zi Lam. It is unclear if he learned these skills from his father or from Luk Aa Coi, but we know that since then many great masters that followed Wong Kei Jing and Wong Fei Hung were also very skilled in Dit Da or Bonesetting.
Wong Kei Jing was also a member of the «Ten Tigers from Kwangtung» (Guangdong). This title was given to a group of Martial Artists that lived in Guangdong at the same time and were famous for their skills, morality, Qing resistance and helping the poor. This group although didn’t act together but some of them knew each other, were friends and exchanged their skills. To get an understanding the name can be compared with the «Four Buddha’s Warrior Attendands», four Chen Style Masters from Chenjiagou who represent the Taijiquan from the Village best. All the stories about the Ten Tigers from Kwangtung acting together as a group are legends and fictional mostly written in Wuxia novels and Hong Kong movies. On the other side it proves that already Wong Fei Hungs father had some reputation as a Martial Artist and Bonesetter. Wong also exchanged with other Martial Artists, like Wong Yan Lam who was another Tiger from Kwangtung. From him he learned long range Lama Pai techniques and integrated them in his Hung Kyun. It is also known that he was the Martial Arts Instructor for the Black Flag Army for some time but it is unclear for how long. Wong Kei Jing passed away in 1886.
Wong Fei Hung
Wong Kei Jings son Wong Fei Hung was born in 1847. Wong Kei Jing was beginning to teach his son Martial Arts when he was a five years old child. It is said, that Wong Fei Hung learned from his father a curriculum with Single Hard Fist, Double Hard Fist, Taming the Tiger Fist, Mother and Son Double Swords, Angry Tiger Fist, Fifth Brother Eight Diagram Pole, Flying Hook, Black Tiger Fist and the famous Tiger and Crane Paired Fist. When he was thirteen years old he met Tit Kiu Saams (Leung Kwan, who was another member of the Ten Tigers of Kwangtung) disciple Lam Fuk Sing and learned from him the essentials of the Iron Wire Fist. Later he also learned the famous shadowless kick techniques from Sung Fai Tong. He also often joined his father travelling within Guangdong to share the art and work as a bonesetter. With time he learned all Dit Da skills from his father and was later famous for both, his Martial Art and Dit Da skills. Wong Fei Hung was also skilled in Lion Dance. All following generations have and had Lion Dance as a part of their curriculum.
It is said that he followed his fathers footsteps as a Martial Arts instructor of the Black Flag Army and also being one of the Ten Tigers of Kwangtung. He also seemed to be a Martial Arts Instructor of the 5th Regiment of the Guangdong Army for a while but there are not much records about this time. He also wasn’t one of the tigers, he was more the tiger after the Ten Tigers of Kwangtung. During his professional life as a Martial Arts Master and Dit Da doctor he had a high reputation which later made him a folk hero who fought injustice and helped the poor.
Wong Fei Hung was married four times. His first wife died of illness short after their marriage in 1871. 25 years later he married again. With his second wife he had two sons and two daughters. While there’s no information about his daughters available, the names of his sons were Wong Hon Lam and Wong Hon Sam. Wong Hon Lam was later killed in 1919 when he worked as a Bodyguard. In deep grief Wong Fei Hung decided not to teach his surviving sons any longer. After the passing of his 2nd wife he married again in 1902. His third wife gave birth to two more sons, Wong Hon Syu and Wong Hon Hei. His third wife also passed away early. In 1915 he finally «married» again, the 22 years old Mok Gwai Lan who was already a very good Mok Gar practitioner, her family’s legacy. As Wong Fei Hung believed that there’s a curse on every woman he was marrying, he didn’t marry her, but took her as a concubine. She outlived him for decades and died in Hong Kong at the age of ninety on 03rd November 1982.
Wong Fei Hung’s last years of life challenged him hard. The loss of his son Wong Hon Lam in 1919 had hit him hard. In 1924, during the uprising against the National Government, his medical clinic Bou Zi Lam was destroyed and Wong Fei Hung lost everything. Saddened he fell ill and passed away half a year later on 17th April 1925.
So far the facts. Of course, there are a lot more stories about Wong Fei Hung but they are legends and many of them were told after he passed away. As there is not so much known about his life it is in a way surprising that he became so famous. There are two main reasons why it did happen. The first reason was that he had notable disciples who became famous themselves like Lam Sai Wing or Dang Fong. As they became famous themselves, they shared their experiences with their disciples and students. The expériences became stories, the stories legends and finally they became novels and movies. The myth Wong Fei Hung was born.
The second reason is much more important from a Martial Arts point of view. There is Hung Kyun before Wong Fei Hung and there is Hung Kyun after Wong Fei Hung. The influence he had on Hung Kyun is immense. Looking back on the origins of Hung Kyun there are several stories. Most trace the origins back to Zi Sin Sim Si, the legendary abbott of the southern Shaolin Monastery that probably never existed. Others see the origins in the Tiandihui or Hongmen, a fraternal society who wanted to restore the Ming Dynasty.
According to the legends, Zi Sin Sim Si had taught his skills to a layman called Hung Hei Gun who after he left the southern Shaolin Monastery later lived in Guangzhou as a tea merchant. From then on there are two versions. The first version is that Zi Sin Sim Si had another student after Hung Hei Gun already had left the monastery called Luk Aa Coi. But as he was already old he later sent him to Hung Hei Gun to complete his studies. In other stories did Luk Aa Coi learned only from Hung Hei Gun. Luk Aa Coi taught the system to Wong Taai, but in many stories he also taught Wong Taai’s son Wong Kei Jing directly (see above). So, it depends on how you count we already have three or four Hung Kyun generations before Wong Fei Hung. But many schools are counting the generations from Wong Fei Hung. Why is that so?
A Weighty Issue
Erroneous statements about the weight of Medieval and Renaissance swords are unfortunately common. It is an issue of the most habitual misinformation and misstatement. This should come as no surprise given the misrepresentation Medieval and Renaissance swordplay continually receives in popular media. Everywhere from television and movies to video games, historical European swords have been depicted as being cumbersome and displayed with wide, exaggerated movements. On a recent national television appearance on The History Channel, one respected academic and expert on medieval military technology even declared with conviction how 14th century swords were "heavy" sometimes weighing as much as "40 pounds" (!).
From ordinary hands-on experience we know full well that swords were not excessively heavy nor did they weigh 10 or 15 pounds and more. There is only so many ways we can repeat how these weapons were not at all heavy or ungainly. Remarkably, while one would think a crucial piece of information as the weight of swords would be of great interest to arms curators and arms historians, there is no major reference book that actually lists the weights of different types. Perhaps this vacuum of documented evidence is part of the very problem surrounding the issue. However, there are a few respected sources that do give some valuable statistics. For example, the lengthy catalog of swords from the famed Wallace Collection Museum in London readily lists dozens of fine specimens among which it is difficult to find any weighing in excess of 4 pounds. Indeed, the majority of specimens, from arming swords to two-handers to rapiers, weigh much less than three pounds.
Despite frequent claims to the contrary, Medieval swords were indeed light, manageable, and on average weighed less than four pounds. As leading sword expert Ewart Oakeshott unequivocally stated: "Medieval Swords are neither unwieldably heavy nor all alike - the average weight of any one of normal size is between 2.5 lb. and 3.5 lbs. Even the big hand-and-a-half 'war' swords rarely weigh more than 4.5 lbs. Such weights, to men who were trained to use the sword from the age of seven (and who had to be tough specimens to survive that age) , were by no means too great to be practical."(Oakeshott, Sword in Hand, p. 13). Oakeshott, the 20th century's leading author and researcher of European swords would certainly know. He had handled thousands of swords in his lifetime and at one time or another personally owned dozens of the finest examples ranging from the Bronze Age to the 19th century.
Medieval swords in general were well-made, light, agile fighting weapons equally capable of delivering dismembering cuts or cleaving deep cavities into the body. They were far from the clumsy, heavy things they're often portrayed as in popular media and far, far more than a mere "club with edges." As another source on arms affirmed: "the sword was, in fact, surprisingly light·.the average weight of swords from the 10th to the 15th centuries was 1.3 kg, while in the 16th century it was 0.9 kg. Even the heavier bastard swords which were used only by second-grade fighting men did not exceed 1.6 kg, while the horse swords known as 'hand-and-a-half' swords weighed 1.8 kg on average. When due allowances are made, these surprisingly low figures also hold good for the enormous two-hand sword, which was traditionally only wielded by 'true Hercules.' Yet it seldom weighed more than 3 kg." (Funcken, Arms, Part 3, p. 26).
Starting in the 16th century there were of course special parade or bearing swords that did weigh up to 8 or 9 pounds and more, however these monstrous show pieces were not fighting weapons and there is no evidence they were ever intended for use in any type of combat. Indeed, it would not make sense given that there were other far more maneuverable combat models available which were several pounds lighter. Dr. Hans-Peter Hils in his 1985 dissertation on the work of the great 14th century master Johannes Liechtenauer noted that since the 19th century many arms museum collections typically feature immense parade or bearing greatswords as if they were actual combat weapons ignoring the fact they are not only blunt edged, but of impractical size and weight as well as poorly balanced for effective use. (Hils, p. 269-286).