A Strong Core

I’m typing this while riding the T to work, because it is the only free time I have. I feel a little bit guilty about not biking or running to work, but I do have two workout outfits in my bag which will be quite used with about 2h of activity after work. I feel more intimidated about scheduling the 12h of endurance or lifting than I do about the effort required; I see a 1.5 hour day as a light workout and an inefficient use of time. I’m pretty damn lucky.

STRONG

But, this isn’t about feeling busy, this is about feeling strong at my core — standing upright, with tall, muscular confidence. This is about feeling confident in the pool, and this is about more than just working out. I am absolutely thrilled to have such wonderful friends with whom I can train (and complain), a job that is flexible enough to accommodate my schedule, a workout group that has florescent hugs waiting for me at 6:30am, and a family that has already booked a hotel up in Mont Tremblant. 

SWIM

I found myself with a flair of anger and braggadocio after the swim on Saturday. Someone had tried to steal my entire lane from me instead of sharing it. She was swimming breast stroke deliberately in the middle of the lane, seemingly trying to scare or intimidate me out. She must have assumed that I would be uncomfortable with having to swim close to the ropes and someone’s kicking feet. I’m training for an ironman. No chance, lady. I don’t condone the aggressive nature, but it signals a growing confidence in my swimming.

BIKE

My ‘vélo has been wall art, not the tour-de-force she wants to be on the road. Hopefully soon the weather and road conditions will cooperate. In the meantime, I have been sweating it out in spin classes at the gym. Thanks to an asthma inhaler, I can no rock these workouts without the panicky feeling of my lungs desperately needing air. I am curious if I will grow dependent on this or if it will subside as I move to outdoor riding in reasonable temperatures. For now, I’m happy to be able to temper the suffer-fest my legs crave.

RUN

Heading out the door for Sunday’s long run, I was aiming for about 8 miles along the marathon course. Having only done about 4-5 at a time (to and from work at one point), I figured this was a stretch, but that the hours upon hours of bike, core, and swimming training would help me through it. And then I kept running. I kept hoping that I might see a friend on the course who was running towards me so I just added another bend in the road, and then another and another until I reached Wellesley. The pain in my arch (from autumn) came up at miles 4, 8, and then from 12 onward, but was otherwise reasonable. I still felt a bit lopsided (from boxing?), but consciously tried to level my shoulders and even my stride. Consciously thinking of form, I would straighten up and felt powerful and strong in my core — more than I have before. Whereas the way out was quiet, there were hordes of runners training on my way back. I ended up running with a man who would podium at Chicago’s world championship olympic distance triathlon. On Heartbreak Hill, I felt the tingles of energy flowing up the hill, a lingering presence from the emotional pursuits to achieve dreams.

EAT

Imagine stuffed french toast with creme cheese and strawberries, followed by chocolate ganache cake. Dinner and dessert were delicious. I was feeling pretty tired by mid-dessert, but attributed it to the morning workout. Then on the drive home, I felt overwhelmingly depressed. Nothing significant had changed in my life since sitting down at the table so what was going on? Having looked at several similar instances since, it seems that a large influx of sugar, particularly without anything to balance it, has consistently produced this effect to some degree. Now, a salad for dinner also isn’t the answer, but I’m on a mission to find the healthy balance that give me energy without the crash. Of course, I did enjoy a batch of pancakes with a half-tub of yogurt, half-jar of almond butter, wheat germ, syrup, and Nutella; 2,000 calories and a huge smile on my face.

SLEEP

Having done this about a half dozen times over the past two weeks, I think I have to just accept that I will hit the snooze button until I have been in bed for 7 hours. I might as well just set the alarm to be 7h+ from when I go to bed, or at least make it a conscious and rare exception to attempt otherwise. I might even need more time of undisturbed shut-eye as time goes on. 

MCM2013: An 8-Minute PR Attitude

Thumping along with the excited desperation of the last 300 meters of a marathon, my body is in a state of sensory overload and numbness; the fanatical cheering of the crowd temporarily drowns out the screams at each step from my calves and 19 mile-mature blister. Rounding a final turn I see the finish... and the 50 meter hill -- looks like a wall -- just before it. Instantly, I feel my entire body demand more oxygen and energy from already depleted stores, yet, somehow, I make it to the top before I have time to wonder how I'll make it there. With the final clock in sight, I notice that I will, in fact, be crossing the line...

How did I do that?

Although many significant factors played into such a successful race, I believe that my discerning approach to "pain as a signal" was the critical piece for my body that day. This being my third marathon, I ate right, trained and tapered properly, slept well, and was relaxed. I also had inflammation at the nerve bundle in the arch of my right foot and by mile 7 had developed a non-trivial blister.

PAIN AS A SIGNAL
Presented with pain in one's foot on each step, I sense that most people would have one or two immediate reactions: 1) stopping the activity or 2) ignoring the pain as orthogonal to the goal and persisting onward. I believe that either immediate reaction is not doing your body or your goals justice. Consider that the sensation you are feeling is merely a signal you can use as additional information when making decisions. Therefore, the healthy question is not about whether or not there is pain, but "What is the signal telling me and what is the underlying issue?". Starting there you can begin to look at whether or not you really should stop (even if you would rather keep going) or maybe you could push through the discomfort.

During the marathon, I felt intense sensations from my right foot as the blister developed and was aggravated. Typically, one might put less pressure on the chaffed foot to relieve the pain per step. However, an altered stride -- a limp -- would almost definitely lead to intense injury over the duration of an endurance race. Therefore, I chose to endure the "pain" of each step in order to prevent long term injury. I consciously chose to continue the race without limping, while suffering the growing blister, knowing that it would heal without issue over a few days.

I would love to see the word "pain" taken out of our language since it would force us to better describe what we're really sensing without the easy use of an overly generalized blanket statement. According to Mirriam Webster, pain is "a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action." You touch a hot pan and jerk your hand away. Your bare feet step on a sharp object and immediately you lighten the weight on that foot. These are healthy and safe reactions.

During a race, however, it is rare that I'm entirely comfortable. It's a matter of listening to all of the signals and consciously choosing a response (instead of immediate reactions) appropriate to the simuli. My ultimate goal is to be healthy -- mentally, physically, and socially -- and so I have created a few predetermined thresholds for how to make decisions about pain while racing.

1. If I am limping and not "close to the finish", I will find the next best place to stop.
2. If the weather is such that I could suffer permanent injury by continuing (too hot: dehydration, too cold: hypothermia, etc...), then I will find the next best place to stop.
3. If I feel something "funny" with my heart or other vital organs, I will find the next best place to stop and maybe seek medical attention. 

Asking the question "Should I stop?" takes too much emotional energy to repeat often. I have trained myself to just keep going without question, unless one of those above thresholds has been crossed. During a very long endurance event I will grant myself that question one to three times as a check in, but otherwise trust myself to listen to the right signals.

I race to find my limit for that day; I leave every ounce of effort on the course... often well before the finish. Running is only 30% about your legs. As I get older, I keep improving my race times significantly from a better attitude, not just a faster body. Consciously, I choose to listen to the signals my body is sending so I can have the best race possible.

... and I came across the line at a blazing pace, with an 8-minute PR at 2:54:12. Two weeks later, my blister is merely a visible reminder of the fading memory of its brief, but intense, pain. My legs are still a bit sluggish, but I'm still enjoying the pride in having run a smart, hard race.


LOGS +++++++++++++++++++++++++

TRAINING: 18, 15, 19, 13, x, 26
The weeks prior, I did long runs as detailed in the title of this section. I raced the 13 (BAA Half Marathon) and the 26 is the Marine Corps Marathon. I had inflammation in my right arch by a nerve bundle for two weeks prior to the marathon, so I did hardly any running. It was not Plantar Fascitis, as determined by a doctor.

NUTRITION
The day before, I was drinking a bit of water with salt and sugar and eating a variety of healthy veggies, meats, and carbs. Morning of the marathon, I ate some bread + pb at 5:30am. I sipped Chia seeds in water up until the start (12oz). During the race, at each water stop, I drank 1-2 teeny cups of water and Gatorade Endurace and then about mile 16 I also "sipped" on one Clif Shot with 25mg caffeine.

WEEKEND ATTITUDE
Relaxed. I didn't stress much about it.

FORM
Chi
No limp

"I would happily suffer that blister for a 2:54:12!" - a friend