Week 4: The Mandolin Camp Fitness Philosophy

Hey {{first name | reader}},

It's Tuesday morning, which means it's time for your weekly fitness check-in. Welcome to Week 4.

On Thursday, I’ll fly directly from Sydney to Albuquerque. Four days at Zoukology, a music camp for the larger instruments in the mandolin family.¹ It’s hosted by a friend that I met at mandolin camp in 2022. I've been going for four years. Small camp of about twenty people, mostly in their 60s and 70s, playing music from dawn until well past midnight.²

I won't work out while I'm there. No hotel gym, no morning run, no burpees in my room. I'll sit in chairs for hours practicing tremolo and learning new tunes. My back will hurt. My shoulders will lock up. Jet lag will kick my butt. I won't care.

This week's topic: why some things matter more than training, and how I've learned to be okay with that.

The Old Version of Me Would Have Stressed

After ten days of working in Sydney I’ve been pretty good about getting workouts done. 5 days in the hotel gym, one run, battled with some serious Pacific waves, and lots of walks. I feel kind of virtuous.

This past weekend, training looked like walking. Long walks. Ocean air. Moving without a plan. I spent time at Manly Beach and did the Bondi to Bronte walk, and walked all around the CDB for Australia Day— not as “cardio,” not to hit a metric, but because my body wanted to move and the coastline and the harbor made it easy to say yes.

That wouldn’t have been enough for the old version of me. I’d be stressed about not enough or not good enough training.

Now I know better. I kept close to my training regimen in Sydney. Sure I’ll have four days in Albuquerque, and these four days focusing on something I love won’t derail me.

What I Actually Do at Music Camp

Sit. Play music. Walk in the afternoon. Sit some more. Play more music. Occasionally stand during jam sessions if my back can't take another hour in a chair.

That's it. That's the whole fitness plan (I may sneak in a few push-ups).

For four days, my entire routine disappears. And I'm fine with it.

Why This Doesn't Bother Me Anymore

Because I've done the math. Four days out of 365 is roughly 1% of the year. One percent of missed training doesn't undo the other 99%.

More importantly: I train so I can do things I love. Music is one of those things. If training prevents me from doing the thing it's supposed to enable, I'm doing it wrong.

This sounds obvious when I write it out. It wasn't obvious to me for a long time.³

The Bigger Question: What's Training Actually For?

I train so my body can do what I ask of it.  Keep going. Get up from the floor without using my hands. Hike for five hours. Play mandolin for six. Lift my bag into an overhead bin.⁴ 

Not to look a certain way. Not to hit arbitrary numbers. Not to prove anything to anyone.

When training becomes the goal instead of the tool, I've lost the plot.

How I Handle the Four-Day Gap

I don't "make up" for missed workouts when I get home. I don't add extra sessions or push harder to compensate. I just restart my normal routine.

Week after music camp looks like this:

Four days off doesn't require four days of penance. It requires one day easing back in. That's it. Yes, it’s compounded by the two weeks of light training and jet lag in Sydney, but I know I’ll get back in the groove.

What This Means for You

You probably have something like this in your life. A hobby, a trip, a commitment that doesn't fit neatly into your training schedule.

The question isn't "how do I maintain my workouts during this?" The question is "does this thing matter more than maintaining my workouts for a few days?"

If yes, skip the workouts. Enjoy the thing. Come back to training when it's over.

If no, then figure out how to fit in movement. But be honest about whether you're actually choosing what matters or just defaulting to guilt.

I'll be back in SF next Tuesday. I'll restart my routine. I won't have lost anything that matters. And I'll have four days of music I wouldn't trade for anything.

"How do you balance music and fitness? Don't they compete for time?"

They do compete for time. I have 168 hours per week. Subtract 49 for sleep (7 hours × 7 days), 50 for work, and I'm left with 69 hours for everything else.

Training takes 10-12 hours per week (six 90-minute sessions plus prep/travel time). Music takes 8-10 hours (practice, lessons, camps, jams). That's 20-22 hours total, leaving 47 hours for meals, errands, friends, reading, sitting on my couch doing nothing.

The math works because I'm ruthless about what gets time. Minimal TV. No social media. I don't cook elaborate meals. I walk instead of driving, which doubles as both transportation and cardio.

But here's the real answer: I don't actually balance them. Some weeks, music wins. Some weeks, training wins. Some weeks, work steamrolls both. I'm okay with the imbalance as long as nothing disappears completely for too long.

The goal isn't balance. It's making sure the things that matter most get enough time.

Myth: You have to choose between serious hobbies and serious training.

Reality: You have to choose how you spend your time, and sometimes hobbies win. That's not failure, that's priorities.

The fitness world loves the story of the person who never misses a workout. Who trains through vacations, holidays, family events, life. Who makes training the non-negotiable thing around which everything else bends.

I did that for years. It made me insufferable.⁵

Now I miss workouts for music. For travel. For family. For things that matter more than maintaining perfect consistency.

Four days at music camp won't ruin my fitness. But skipping music camp to maintain my workout streak would ruin something more important.

Music camp means sitting for hours with irregular meal breaks. I pack trail mix and eat it between sessions to avoid the 3 PM blood sugar crash.

My mix:

Mix everything, portion into small bags, stuff in my mandolin case. Grab between sessions.

Not fancy. Not optimized for macros. Just something to keep me functional until dinner.

Book: The Practicing Mind by Thomas Sterner

About developing discipline through practice—whether that's music, sports, or anything else that requires showing up repeatedly.

The core idea: focus on the process, not the outcome. Stop obsessing over where you are and pay attention to what you're doing right now.

This applies to both mandolin practice and training. Most days at the gym, I'm not setting PRs. I'm just doing the work. Same with music—most practice sessions aren't breakthroughs, they're just practice.

Short book. Worth reading if you do anything that requires sustained effort over time.

Skip Something for Something Else Challenge

This week, intentionally skip one workout (or one practice session, or one routine thing you always do) for something you've been wanting to do but haven't made time for.

Not because you're tired. Not because you're busy. Because there's something else that matters more right now.

Then see if the sky falls. (It won't.)

Stay strong, {{first name | reader}}

P.S. Next week I'll report back from New Mexico. Prediction: sore back, new tunes, zero regrets about skipping the gym. In the meantime, it’s Australia Day here in Oz.