Spinning: initial impressions

Posted on September 11, 2010 by threlkeld

First an injury update: I am so much better that I’ve been given the all clear to go to the track on Monday and attempt a run. I can run until I feel pain, or for 40 minutes, whichever comes first.

Okay, this morning was the third day of my gym-enabled cross-training odyssey. I was told to meet Coach Sandra for the 9:15 spin class. I have never spun. I admit that the first time (about 12 years ago) that someone said they “did spinning” I couldn’t imagine what that meant: spinning around and around? Crazy Manhattanites!

No, like most things it turned out to be a case of some normal activity having been rebranded (and made expensive) by someone much smarter than I. It’s more than stationary cycling. It’s Spinning®! See? Now you can charge a lot for it.

So I apparently did everything wrong today. I’m getting used to this. First I showed up to the spinning studio to find people frantically wiping down the bikes as if there’d been a toxic spill in there. I was trying to figure out if they worked there, but they definitely didn’t, as they resembled me. So then I was trying to determine if they were from the last class, or waiting for the next one. I think it was a mix.

My first question: why bother detoxifying your bike at the end of the class if the next person is going to detoxify it themselves anyway because they didn’t trust you to do it?

With some unease, I saunter over to a bike that’s not receiving this extended foreplay from anyone. I suppose I can claim it, but I have misgivings since people seem strangely attached to certain bikes. I start to adjust its seat and, just as I’m about to climb on, a woman (who was nice about it) comes up and says, “That’s my bike.”

Why does being in this gym take me back to Junior High shop class? I don’t know how anything works and I’m in danger of sawing my fingers off. I continue my strategy of asking strangers for help and she directs me downstairs to a desk where I have to ask for a bike. She helpfully adds that if there are none available, I can come back up and see if the person who claimed it doesn’t show up at 9:15. Then it’s mine for the spinning.

There are no bikes, according to the front desk guy. So I go back up and spot one lonely bike. Sandra is still nowhere to be seen. So I wait for 9:15 and climb on it. The music starts. What I’ve dreaded: I have no idea who it is, but it’s mindless, loud and shrieky. Fortunately, this club understands its demographic and soon enough they are playing Stones, Hendrix and (meep! bad choice!) Golden Earring. Take that, Gen Xers!

Sandra comes tearing in and finds the other sole bike, up at the front, near the instructor’s. (Can you guess why I didn’t take that one?) She questions me with a thumbs up. I return the thumbs up and we’re off.

The class starts. It’s led by a woman wearing something that looks like a customer service headset. She seems calm. But in five minutes she’ll be yelling at us: “Go fast! Turn the knob a quarter turn right! Stand up! Sit down! Position 2! Saddle!” It reminds me of the sole Catholic Mass I went to one Christmas Eve (don’t ask). As happened on that evening, everyone seems to magically know what to do when. I can’t make her out half the time over the din, and I always seem to be standing up or sitting down at the wrong time.

I pedal like mad and realize that standing up while pedaling is hard. At first I lean my forearms on the handlebars, but that’s tiring. So I figure out that you need to be very straight and move your feet as though you’re stomping grapes. It’s somewhat similar to the elliptical in that regard. I also realize that I pedaled too hard during the warmup (and my legs are shot from two days of elliptical and water running) and I’m already tired at seven minutes in.

The next 38 minutes go by slow. The music helps to distract me. I can see why it’s there. Plus we’re supposed to pedal in time to some songs — but not to others! It’s all very confusing. But I eventually figure out how to pedal while standing properly (and see that doing this at higher resistance is easier than at lower resistance). My thighs are burning, as are my calves. This is what is supposed to be happening. I will be spinning throughout marathon training — three times a week. It is Sandra’s substitution for hill workouts.

Then 10 minutes of stretching. Then 30 minutes in the pool, pool running again. I’ve gotten better with yesterday’s practice. But I’m told I need to go faster. If I’m not hurting, I’m not going fast enough. This is becoming a common theme.

Then, after that, it’s back to Sandra’s massage table where I am, amazingly, a lot better. Like at 95% of perfect. I have no idea what’s happened — whether it was the last session, or the pool running or what — but I have one remaining knot (the one in the gluteus) and it’s tiny. We will still work to get rid of it, but at least when I’m walking and doing all this other stuff, it’s not even something I’m aware of.

Even if I can start running again next week, we won’t do hard running until October. I like that she’s cautious, given my history. With all this other stuff I can do to maintain/build fitness, there is no reason not to be cautious.

Next week: the weight room.

Filed under: coaching, injury, training | Tagged: , , | 11 Comments »

Survey SAYS!…

Posted on September 11, 2010 by threlkeld

Well, that’s up to you, really.

Here’s an online survey I threw together to gather input from runners about what they want from race directors.

Take the survey now. You know you want to.

Filed under: poll, racing | Tagged: | 4 Comments »

Various and sundry

Posted on September 10, 2010 by threlkeld

Just a bunch of random stuff.

The injury clouds part (seemingly)

My right hamstring and ass felt — well, they felt normal today, actually. Which for me means they felt fantastic. I felt nothing there — like a normal person. No pain, no limping. Are you generally aware of your ass and hamstring? Well, me neither! I think giving $200 to a gym yesterday must have cured the problem. Ha ha. See? I haven’t lost my sense of humor.

So I hinted to Coach Sandra via an email this evening that I’d like to try running soon. In a typically terse response (English is not her native language, so she’s a telephone kind of gal), she said not to run (I picture her picturing me as a troublemaker, going all rogue on her and her plan). Or, rather, she thinks I should try again on Monday. That’s fine, as I was going to give the wonderfulness of a pain-free ass and leg time to establish itself as something that isn’t temporary.

Cross-training continues

I did another session, this time on my own, on the evil elliptical. It went better. I was able to run hands-free when “ellipticaling” (what do you call what you do on the elliptical?) normally. I still had to grab on for the faster surges I did, but not as much. I’ve determined that you need to change your form slightly when moving faster. I’ll try again on Sunday, probably.

Then, after some stretching I’ve been assigned, another 30 minute bout of pool running, also on my own. This I can confidently say that I’m getting the hang of. I was able to establish good running form, and with that I proceeded to do a bunch of 45 second intervals. It still sucks, but at least I know what I’m doing now.

And now, a few hours later, I am beat.

Tomorrow is another virgin voyage, a spin class. This is a break from the elliptical that I welcome. Also, the spin bike supposedly doesn’t engage the gluteus in the way a regular stationary bike (which I have at home) does. After spinning, it’s — yes — another half an hour of pool running. Then another aggressive session of myotherapy.

Another day, another byline

I got my second assignment from Running Times. This time it’s for the feature in the Racing section (toward the back of the magazine, after the regular features) for the Jan/Feb issue. I won’t give away too much, but I will say that I will be asking the online runnersphere to participate in a survey that I’m putting together. I hope to launch that tomorrow afternoon. Your participation is important! And I’m looking for input from the entire spectrum of runningdom, not just you highly competitive types. So get ready, people. A detailed survey is coming.

As for the first one, a profile of masters phenom Tamara Karrh, who qualified for the 2012 Olympic Marathon Trials with a 2:40 (!) — that should appear in the November print edition in roughly a month.

Bye bye, Summer — don’t let the door hit you

I think we’ve seen the last of the hellacious dryer blast weather. It’s cool and lovely here. I wish I could run in it, but for now it’s enjoyable to get up and feel a cool breeze wafting in. Sometimes I just go sit outside on our porch to feel the non-heat and non-humidity. The cat is in a considerably better mood these days too.

Filed under: coaching, everyday life, injury, training | 4 Comments »

The elliptical and pool running: initial impressions

Posted on September 9, 2010 by threlkeld

Today I made my way up to Briarcliff Manor to Club Fit, a HUGE gym off of Rt. 100. Coach Sandra lives about 5 minutes from the gym and is herself embarking on an ambitious regimine of cross-training and will be spending 2-3 hours a day on her own fitness activities. And Club Fit was having a deal — two months for cheap (for both Jonathan and me), no long-term commitments. Perfect timing! Sandra can show me the ropes and probably train with me more days than not, assuming we can coordinate our schedules.

It’s bigger, cleaner and more well-appointed than the Y. And about the same price. For now. I’ll worry about the fact that it’s 3x as expensive annually later on.

I have never belonged to a gym. I had been to one gym exactly once in my life prior to this — a visit to my (sort of) in-laws’ gym in Pretoria, South Africa a few years back. I was totally overwhelmed that day and similarly overwhelmed today. I felt like a hapless member of some remote Amazon tribe, plunked down in the center of the Mall of America. How do these lockers work? Where do I find the tiny towels? Is it okay for me to be naked in this room? What’s this thing for?

I threw myself on Sandra’s mercy and, when she occasionally disappeared into the multi-corridored abyss, on the mercy of those around me. It worked out. I’m in at least through October. I may just keep the membership beyond that as they have a 200m indoor track and I get really pissed off about not being able to do track workouts all winter. Plus they have about 30 elliptical machines, three pools and a sauna, among other goodies. It’s a good thing I don’t have a real job, as I’ll be spending quite a lot of time there over the coming eight weeks. I’m apparently still expected to go there, even when I can run again, to do major weight work twice a week and spinning, both of which Sandra swears will pay dividends when I hit the last 10K of a marathon.

First, the elliptical. At first, this felt like an exercise machine designed by a prankster. Whee! Your feet go round and round, but you feel like you’re going to fall off the fucking thing every five seconds. So today’s session was “learning how to use the elliptical.” I started out holding on for dear life, then learned to relax my hands (which was good, because my shoulders were killing me after 10 minutes). Eventually, I got to where I didn’t have to hold on and could mimic a proper running form. I was told that this was good progress, less spastic than most. But when trying to run faster, all bets were off. I still couldn’t keep my hands off the thing, the little temptress, when trying to do faster running. I’m told in two weeks I’ll be doing intervals like a pro. Okay.

Elliptical grade: B

Next, pool running. The first thing I discovered is that the AquaJogger belt sucks dead donkey dicks. I may as well strap a large block of styrofoam to myself with duct tape. It’s about as streamlined and comfortable. The thing rides up and fucks with whatever progress I’m managing to make with my “form,” which in itself is laughable. Since I’m going to be doing a lot of this, I’m biting the bullet and buying what Sandra had on, a Wet Vest. It’s thin and it actually fits. Sure it looks like a giant diaper, but that is the very feature that keeps the thing from riding up around your neck.

Simply put, pool running is really hard. It’s difficult physically, in that getting to a point where you’re using an actual running form is hard to do. And it’s difficult mentally. You run and run and run and, while you go somewhere, it’s nowhere fast. Imagine running a 400m repeat as hard as you can while trying to push a wheelbarrow full of sand. That’s what pool running feels like. Side note: the upper body work involved is not to be sneezed at. Sandra says I’ll have incredible strength up top after about six weeks of this. Maybe I’ll be able to bench press the elliptical.

I’ll get better at it with work. But learning how to run in the pool reminds me of taking ceramics a few years back and trying to learn to “throw” clay — meaning form symmetrical objects on a wheel spinning at incredibly high RPMs. Preferably things like vases that didn’t weigh 30 lbs. It got easier, but it took forever to make even a little progress. I finally decided that I would save ceramics for my old age, when I would presumably have a lot more free time for messy, pointless endeavours. I’m motivated to move along the learning curve of this particular messy endeavour as quickly as possible so I can actually get some real training done. For my bigger pointless endeavour.

Pool running grade: C

If you don’t like reading about the elliptical, pool running, weights and spinning, then stay away from this blog for the next couple of months. I hope I can run again at some point, but I have put it out of my mind. At least I have plenty to distract me in the meantime.

Filed under: coaching, injury, training | 9 Comments »

Blog: Washington Ran Here

Posted on September 9, 2010 by threlkeld

Here’s a new blog I made my way to via a circuitous route. I think it was Angry Runner.

Anyway, she’s funny. And interesting. And fast.

Filed under: humor, reading | 2 Comments »

Google search oddities

Posted on September 7, 2010 by threlkeld

“new york 10k lady races”

This one, while an apt path to this blog, struck me as funny. It’s so retro. “Lady races”? For some reason, Kenny Rogers and Lionel Richie spring to mind…

Filed under: humor | Tagged: | 1 Comment »

In which I seek solace from a dead poet

Posted on September 6, 2010 by threlkeld

I recently purchased Tim Noakes’ seminal work The Lore of Running. I had to put something into my Amazon cart to get free shipping and I’d always meant to buy this book. So I did. It can best be described as a compendium of running physiology, but shot through with a whole lot of wisdom.

Weighing in at 931 pages, it’s not a book I can see myself reading through cover to cover. Instead, I keep it on the dining room table and once or twice a day, when I’m having breakfast or lunch, I dip in and read a few pages. Today I ventured into the chapter entitled “Training the Mind”. I thought I’d pick up some tips in preparation for the day that I line up for a race again.

But it seems I could not escape my current predicament, even by studiously avoiding chapters about injury. There, on page 556, a section entitled “Psychology of Injury” began. On the next page was a subsection: “Typical Response to Injury,” which enumerates the mental stations of the injury cross in a form that would make Elisabeth Kübler-Ross proud (except…what, no bargaining?):

  1. Denial: At first, the athlete refuses to accept that the injury has occurred and simply denies its possibility. Examples of runners who ran to their deaths, denying that they could possibly have heart disease, are detailed in chapter 5.
  2. Anger (rage): When the injury can no longer be denied, the athlete becomes enraged and blames either the doctor, a spouse [ed. note: oh, yes — that’s why runners should always hitch their wagons to other runners, who will call them on their shit], or some third party for the injury. Occasionally, athletes will blame their bodies for this betrayal and may even subject it to further abuse, for example, by continuing to run. [ed. note: or, in my case, by consuming tremendous amounts of wine.]
  3. Depression: When denial and rage no longer work, the athlete moves on to the (penultimate) state of depression.
  4. Acceptance: Finally, the athlete learns to accept the injury and to modify ambition to accommodate the inadequacies of the mortal body. When this occurs, the athlete is likely to be over the injury.

That last line bears repeating, in case you missed it: When [acceptance] occurs, the athlete is likely to be over the injury.

Isn’t that tragic?

But probably true.

I am almost afraid to note this, since I’ve had so many false alarms over the past couple of weeks. But I think my original problem (crippling muscle knots) has abated almost completely and I have actually replaced that problem with a new one: a pulled adductor muscle. Maybe it’s a compensatory injury from my wonky walking, but I’m more apt to blame it on the insane pedaling I’ve been doing on the stationary bike over the past week.

The past few days (and especially at night and first thing in the morning), the adductor magnus, or maybe it’s the brevis, hurts a lot. I did three hours of cross-training yesterday, 2.5 the day before, most of it on the bike. Today I didn’t do anything other than take a hot bath and, earlier, wander the aisles of Bed Bath and Beyond, not buying things (sometimes I do this for no apparent reason, sort of a reverse osmosis consumerism). If I do anything tomorrow, it will be going to the Y and trying out my water running equipment. But if that irritates the problem muscle, I won’t proceed.

So. To review. The good news is that the original problem seems to be going away. The bad news is I have a new problem. But I’ve dealt with adductor strains before — I even trained with one for 10 weeks — and they are not a big deal. I know this particular monster and it’s not that scary.

Might this be a light I see? I know better than to hope when the right thing — the only thing — to do is to simply wait. I almost hate to trivialize T.S. Eliot by applying his words to something as lightweight as a running injury. But, on the other hand, I think he had a lot to say about accepting hardship and even quietly embracing it as a worthy experience unto itself (if one accepts that things that are worthwhile are not always necessarily pleasant):

I said to my soul be still, and wait without hope; for hope would be hope of the wrong thing; wait without love, for love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith. But the faith, and the love, and the hope are all in the waiting. Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: so the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

Filed under: injury, reading | 1 Comment »

“This is nothing.”

Posted on September 5, 2010 by threlkeld

That’s what Jonathan said to a despairing me the other night as we embarked on another possibly pointless home/amateur massage therapy session to try to treat whatever is ailing both of us.

He’s right. Read this.

Thanks, TK.

Filed under: reading | Tagged: , | 2 Comments »

Six tips for dealing with an injury

Posted on September 5, 2010 by threlkeld

I haven’t run in a month. Unless some miracle occurs in the coming week, I don’t expect to be running any time soon. So these days my strategy to keep myself from getting depressed is to come up with as many productive ways to cope as possible. Here are my best ideas:

1. Accept your injury. You are injured. That’s reality. If you are lucky enough to have a diagnosis and presciption, then do your homework — that might mean stretching, icing, pills, physical therapy, cross-training or any other number of assignments. Most important, don’t run again before you’re ready to, as that may only prolong your layoff.

2. Don’t set deadlines. Your injury will abate when it’s damned well ready. It does not care about your race schedule or even what an expert said about your prognosis. I am registered for a race on September 25. Even if I’m able to run by then, I probably won’t be ready to race. I could obsess over the 25th and see it as a looming deadline. Instead, I’m ignoring that date and looking further forward to races I have planned many months from now. Maybe I won’t be able to run those either, but I’ll worry about that in the coming weeks and months. With these strategies, I’m hoping I won’t have shot myself by then.

3. Embrace cross-training. I have stopped viewing cross-training as “something I have to do while I can’t run.” Now I’m trying to view it as what I do to keep in shape. I’m trying to imagine that running has not been invented yet. For better or worse, I am now spending more time cross-training — between two and three hours a day — than I did while training as a runner. Since I started doing an AM and PM session of cross-training, I have regained the daily structure that running previously provided, plus I’m confident that not only am I not losing fitness, I may be gaining it while I ride out this period of injury. Added bonus: I can stop subsisting on rabbit food like I had to during my first few weeks of injury (when I could do nothing but lurch, wince and complain) since I’m burning a truckload of calories again.

Also, mix up your cross-training with variety and real, sustained-effort workouts. Just about any long run, tempo or track workout can be replicated on a bike or in a pool, for example. Yes, it sucks. But it’s better than the alternative.

Finally, take this opportunity to multitask: you can read a book while on a stationary bike; you can listen to podcasts while water running; one person I know takes language lessons while she stretches.

4. Volunteer at a race or two. I admit it: I never volunteer at races. Yes, that probably makes me something of a total shit. Now that I’m sidelined, I may as well spread the love and make myself useful to other runners, while reminding myself of how much fun it will be when I’m grabbing that cup again, rather than handing it to someone. So I’m going to volunteer at a few road races. This will also get me outside to enjoy the fall weather when I would otherwise be inclined to sit inside and wallow in self-pity over the fact that I’m not out running in it.

5. Reconnect with your non-running friends. Remember them? I’ll bet they’ve missed you. Just don’t spend the entire lunch date talking about your injury.

6. Remember that this too shall pass. When other runners hear that you’re injured, they will tell you their stories. Many of them will be much, much worse than yours is. On one message board I frequent, one contributor was injured for four years — during that period she could barely run and she could not race at all. She cross-trained, got through it, and was racing again eventually — and winning some of those races outright at the age of 48. You’ll run again. (And, unfortunately, you’ll probably get injured again.) Keep the faith.

Filed under: injury | 6 Comments »

Regrets? I’ve had a few. But then again…

Posted on September 3, 2010 by threlkeld

There’s a new Internet meme on the loose. I like this one, because it was compelling enough to have me lying awake at night thinking about how to respond.

But first, here’s a helpful, timely interview about memes, and Internet memes specifically, with the man who originally coined the phrase, Richard Dawkins.

Now that you know what a meme is, here are the parameters:

  1. Answer this question: if you had the chance to go back and change one thing in your life, would you and what would it be?
  2. Pick 6 people and give them this award. You then have to inform each that she has gotten this award.
  3. Thank the person who gave you the award.

A case of arrested development

There are lots of things I wish I’d done differently. When I first started thinking about this little meme, I found it difficult to pick one. But eventually I realized that my regrets all tied back to one essential flaw. Or maybe it’s not a flaw. More like a failure to, for whatever reason, reach a state of self-awareness that most people achieve fairly early in life.

I did not see myself as a wholly autonomous actor in my own life until fairly recently, meaning within the last, eh, maybe eight years? Before that, I made wildly dramatic decisions and took risks that would seem to indicate a great deal of autonomy and confidence. But I think that’s called overcompensation.

No, I was pretty much along for the ride in most aspects. I’d make a big decision (e.g., move to New York after high school, borrow a shit-tonne of money to go to grad school, start a business, etc.), entrench myself, fully committed…but from there pretty much let external circumstances or other people define the outcome of those experiences.

The unfortunate result of this failure to reach what I suspect is a critical milestone of emotional development is that my life’s trajectory has been neither smooth nor predictable. And it’s never felt under my own control. Again, until recently.

I have been extremely lucky to have had, through the past couple of decades, a few relationships and pursuits that have served as an anchor to which I could tether myself. Or maybe the better nautical analogy is water wings I could strap on so I could finally go from treading water to learning how to actually swim.

Unfortunately, my previous “follower” nature, along with my tendency to avoid all forms of confrontation, meant that for a long, long time I attracted and tolerated the wrong kinds of people and situations. I saw myself as moving air molecules aside as I made my way through the world, but that was the extent of my impact. I guess it comes down to not having a clue that I mattered. You can imagine how the absence of that essential missing brick in one’s personal foundation affects the life that is built upon it. Bad relationships are endured. Good ones, unrecognized, go to seed or, worse, are torpedoed for stupid, clueless reasons. Dreams are concocted, but plans never made.

Could I have done anything to change this arrestation of personal development? Probably not. But I still regret it.

Anyway. Things are better now. I have no idea why. I suspect I went through, albeit slowly, whatever range of life experiences I needed to in order to earn my “emotional intelligence” and “self esteem” merit badges. I do credit running with having helped in some indirect way. Or maybe directly. My brain functions better when training and I’m overall a happier person. The actions I take while “on running” are not the desperate gambits of the past, but conscious decisions that include active plans for follow-through: to try to make something original and valuable out of nothing (Houston Hopefuls); to ask — and hold out — for what I want (I’m turning down projects/clients that are not a good fit for me); to keep my mind open to new experiences, however scarily foreign or seemingly extravagant (going somewhere new to altitude train for 4-5 weeks).

I know people who are very private in their online lives. I’m not one of them, although I can be impenetrable in person. I don’t think of myself as an “oversharer,” or exhibitionistic. (Although when I read something like this, I’m not so sure.) I do know that some of the best relationships I’ve found and fostered have come as a result of being authentic on this blog. People who sort of knew me in “real life” came to know me better. People who didn’t know me at all decided they wanted to. Perhaps I come across as a navel-gazing fruitcake. But I’m recognized by the right fellow fruitcakes, all of whom are most assuredly not navel-gazers. So something’s working.

If you were hoping for something less amorphous, like “I wish I’d stuck with those ballet lessons in third grade,” my apologies.

Six people, six insights

I suspect you’ll get some interesting responses from these people. I know some of them well. Others, I just wish I knew better.

Thanks, Joe

Joe, who tagged me in this meme, is one such “online-to-offline” discovery, although he might bristle at being included in the fruitcake category. He’s a thinker and a careful reader, he gathers information, he loves a debate. He holds strong opinions, but his mind is open to new data and points of view and, beyond that, he works to connect people for the purpose of creating discussion and sharing information. He’s also upbeat and fun to talk to.


Filed under: everyday life | 6 Comments »

« Previous Page — Next Page »