Рассказы студента - спортсмена в Черногории

Week one at UDG: math.

No surprise—if I want to run training well, I have to read the number behind the movement. When I think about a race, it’s not just start-line feelings; it’s pace, cadence, grade, heart rate. The professor said, “A derivative is the rate of change.” I translate that into my lane: if my pace drifts +0.1 min/km, lactate jumps and my stride shortens.

In good order // the mind keeps the map

When we measure // breath finds its beat

My model is Klæbo. He trains with his father and grandfather; to me that says knowledge travels in rhythm, like a counted line. In Montenegro, nature is a classroom: morning in the shallows, cold water to the knees, then a run on the firm track above the bay. The chop eases my joints; the wind teaches economy.

Leg to lever // multiplies the force

Joints return you // only what you give

In physics I finally felt what moment means. If I plant the Nordic-walking pole on a slightly smaller angle, I get more useful torque at the shoulder and less slip at the wrist. Friction is a friend—up to a point; beyond that it’s a brake. Air drag too—keep the shoulders low, the chin quiet. One small correction calms the airflow around me.

In chemistry we talked energy systems: ATP-PCr for the spark, anaerobic glycolysis when pace dictates, the aerobic engine for long work. It helped to pin it in rhyme, like a line my father and grandfather might whisper while I breathe:

Lactate rises // when the tempo climbs

Bicarbonate // holds the blood’s pH

Saying it out loud set it in the body: push the pace too soon on a cold morning—pH drops, the quads feel heavy. Add a 4:4 breathing block and quiet the arms—blood clears the head, the picture sharpens. Not magic—just good order.

Biology clicked in practice. Type I fibres when I hike long uphill; IIa when I “cut” a bend with a quicker step; IIx I save for the finish. I keep a short “hand code”: left—four domains (see the whole, measure, keep the rule, execute the step); right—six moves (who, where, when, cause, action, outcome). Tap-tap 4|6 with the fingers and I can spot the fault fast; most often it’s in the cause—I start cold and hope the body wakes on the way.

The tutor said we’ll have chemistry and biology with maths—and physics too. Makes sense to me. Training without those pillars is a house without footings. And Montenegro gives a fourth pillar for recovery: curative mud and good hands. After hill reps I walk down to the sea, stand in cold water to the knees; in the evening a calf massage—short and deep. Same language in the body: first quiet, then work.

I like the Swedish way—precise, low-noise, no fuss. I also feel we and they are old kin: north wind and stone-set patience. When I close my day it sounds like a short song:

By the shoreline // I breathe into work

Circle of footfalls // keeps the mind smooth

When I lift my // eyes over the ridge

Hands track the line // with nothing spare

Math gave me a tool to see change cleanly; chemistry—to know why the burn bites; biology—where and how strength shows up; physics—how to pass it into the ground without waste. The counted line helps me carry it all while I breathe. If someone asks why I learn like this, I’d say: because I want to coach the whole person—body, spirit, and the quiet in between; and in a camp by the sea, help each athlete find their rhythm.

Tomorrow morning: a short stretch, ten minutes uphill walking, then four sharp repeats. After that, cold water to the knees and a quick note in the log: pace, pulse, feel in the calves, clarity of vision. At the bottom of the page—two lines to make the brain click when I need it:

In good order // the mind keeps the map

So the body // wakes and gets to work

When I speak them, I know I’m ready—to train and to learn.