Treadmill 1 - On the bus...Running 0

Slight lag between when I finished the post and actually posted since we lost power last night...and this morning.  Back up and running now (so to speak)....

I’m coming to you live from colonial times, well, that is if they had computers in colonial times.  I’m typing this post by candlelight as this winter’s “storm force” lands a substantial blow on the D.C. area.  I was fortunate enough to flee work at 3:00 today before the mass exodus began.  Mrs. Onthebusrunning has been on the road for four hours now.  It took me 1/4th the time to cover nine miles last night in my tempo then it has for her to cover the same nine miles by car tonight...but I won’t bring that up.

Anyway, because I was lucky enough to get out of work today, it afforded me sufficient OCD time to get my run in.  Normally on days like this, I’m the first out the door to take to the golf course and tackle my run in the snow storm outside.  Tonight was a little different.

First off, my knee felt the effects of yesterday’s run and the sharp incline/decline on the golf course hills has beaten me up lately.  Rather than combat the slippery roads and sidewalks, I decided to take things inside and onto the treadmill.  

I’ve made it clear how I feel about the treadmill.  Lately, however, I’ve had pretty good success on it.  Other than not being able to spit, and the odd feeling of wearing shorts and t-shirt while watching the frigid wind rip through the bare trees outside, it’s been just fine.  

So I had few reservations about getting on tonight to crank out five miles.  Instead of driving to the gym, I decided to fulfill my appetite for running outside in the snow by taking the golf cart path that was rapidly disappearing.  Roundtrip, this would give me 6.5 miles for the day.

I pulled on some wind pants, an old pair of running shoes, stuffed my ipod and gym card into a zip lock baggy, and trotted outside.  

The solitude is really what draws me to running in the snow.  The storm pulls a white blanket over the world that stills the ambient noise and settles in the silence.  It’s one of those loneliness of the long distance runner moments where you’re slushing along by yourself, just listening to the snow pack under your feet, and the tinkling of sleet skating over the snow.

Contrast this to the harsh fluorescent lights and thumping music at the gym, I don’t think there’s any debate to be had.  But that’s just me.

When I got to the gym, I was shocked to see other people as stupid, I mean as dedicated, as me already there.  Including on the treadmill.  I nearly lost it when I looked over at the treadmills and their users just whirring away.  On second glance, I saw that there was indeed one open.

I shook the snow off, tucked my soaking winter garments into a cubby hole and went to work.  The stream of thoughts went something like this:

Yes, sir.  5.4 miles, 40 minutes.  Piece of cake.  What’s on TV?  Oh, yeah, the storm.  Huh, 4-11 inches, way to narrow things down.  $%^&* Oops, don’t drift and fall off. Ok.  How we doing?  1:37.  Ok, stop looking at the clock.  Lot of snow out there.  Is that woman looking at me?  Why is she looking at me?  I didn’t fart.  I could, but I won’t...on purpose.  Crap, I didn’t bring any water.  Whatever, it’s only 5.4 miles, that’s now 5.2 miles.  Hmm, wonder how much time has gone.  2:45.  Don't be a clockwatcher. Oh, I like this song.  You can look at the clock again when the song is over.  Ok, just a quick peek.  3:20.  Huuumph.  

And so it went.  Fifteen minutes in, I took a look around and noticed that I had the whole gym to myself.  It’s as if everyone came to their senses at once and split.  You can guess the first thing I did.

Secondly, I discovered the pause button because I became very aware of how thirsty I’d gotten and the large amount of sweat I’d flung onto the screen.  I hopped off, took a couple gulps of water, then got back to it.  Slowly.  I felt exhausted and the clock seemed to be turning backward.  If it had been a nightmare, I also would have looked down and realized I was naked.

I slogged through the second half of that workout.  When the clock mercifully hit 40:00, I pounded the “stop” button and teetered back to the aerobics area for a quick stretch and to let some of that sweat dry.

When I did finally leave, I half expected to come out of the gym and have it be the next day because I’d been at it for so long.

The best part of the trip was of course running back through the snow.  It had gotten significantly deeper, so much so, that my original tracks had already been covered up.  The sleet and wind intensified, which stung my face.  I ran a good portion either turned to the side or with my eyes closed.  But I relished it.  I felt better in the snow for those 10 minutes than I had on the treadmill.  

Go figure.  

January's Word of the Month

Ok, I admit it: I’m a convert.

“To what?” you might ask. To daily core and general strength exercises.

I’m not going to start preaching or drop a Tony Little infomercial on you, but, people, believe me when I tell you: This. Stuff. Works.

When a team is skidding, you often hear coaches revert to the time honored cliché: back to basics.

While I wouldn’t call my recent injury bout a skid, I certainly wouldn’t shy away from calling it a “less than ideal start to the new year.” Like any dedicated athlete, though, I didn’t want to sit idly by, let all that previous hard work go for naught, and do my best Jabba the Hut impression. Rather, I’ve taken to active rehab…trying to strengthen the areas that I could still work and will ultimately improve my running once I can return, i.e. now.

If I had to give January a word (and I must, otherwise the meaning of this post is lost), and not a four-letter word that might get a bar of soap jammed in my mouth, it would be this: elemental.

Why?

Rather than getting “back to the basics” of running, I’ve tried to incorporate exercises into my daily routine that coach Jay Johnson (the same Jay Johnson from the book “Running with the Buffaloes”) calls elemental to every runner.

These are simple core exercises targeted at the hips, glutes, abs, quads, hammies…you get where I’m going here, the parts that make our running-selves work.

I ran across these exercises about a year ago in an issue of the Running Times; however, I never did them with as much dedication as I do today. Really, it began over the summer, but I’d only do each workout following a run, whereas now, I do them whether it’s a running, lifting, or resting day.

The exercises themselves are fairly simple. In fact, the most “elemental” exercise, is a series of leg lifts a la the old-school Jane Fonda workout tapes. I can remember walking in on my mother in the family room bouncing around to Jane Fonda. I still wear the emotional scars (just kidding, mom. Love you!). But I digress….

Though they’re simple, they burn! And you quickly realize just how weak and neglected those areas are.

Over the years, I’ve come to realize that while running can be so beneficial for your health, you have to take care of the parts that make the machine work. The first time I saw my ortho he asked, “Do you do anything weight-wise to make your legs stronger?” I flashed a cocky smile and said, “I run hill repeats.”

Six months later, I was back in his office.

I now see his point.

So, whether I’ve just come in from a run or am decompressing in front of the TV, I’ll take an extra 5-10 minutes to do these “elemental” exercises. Now that I’m laced up again, I can tell that, while the stamina is taking a bit more time to come back, the strength and mechanics are there.

As bad as I want to pound the electrolytes and dive mouth first into a PB-smothered bagel at the end of a long run or speed workout, I take those extra five minutes to get this dynamic cool down done.

Check out the podcast series.

To ward off that empty hunger for a few more minutes, I picture myself cresting Heartbreak Hill. Mile 21 becomes but a flash as I go by throwing waves to the BC kids. Five extra minutes a day for that?

Hallelujah!

Start Spreading the News

On the bus...to New York.

On a whim (ok, obsessively at least once a day for the past week), I happened onto the New York Marathon Web site to check and see if my status changed from my "Lottery" to "Accepted."  You see, after I prematurely entered the lottery on November 8, the day the early-lottery opened, the day after Shalane Flanagan turned in a gutsy second place finish, I entered but didn't realize that in order to be accepted through qualification, you weren't supposed to apply until January 10.  My bad.  I was excited.

So the kind folks at New York Road Runners told me to check back on that date.  Into the Outlook Calendar it went.  That's where I found myself today, checking back, on my lunch break.  Day in and day out, I braced, I winced and it still read "Lottery."  So today I just went in expecting to find the same.  

Lo and behold, "Accepted"!  Finally!

I channeled that excitement into my first speed workout -- an 8x1 min at 5K pace fartlek -- since rehabbing the knee.  With no pain to speak of, I hopped back into the car to ride home from the gym (an ice storm forced me back onto the treadmill, go figure) and blasted "Empire State of Mind."

New York is one of the major marathons I have yet to add to my running resume...yet.  After I realized that I qualified for New York (in last year's National Half Marathon, thanks to a 1:21:48), I knew it was time.  That means two marathons in one year.  

I know that people do this and even take on more, but venturing into the two marathon territory in a span of six months is new for me.  I tend to get so beat up from one marathon that I can't fathom a second in less than 12 months, but 2011 is the year: Boston in April.  New York in November. 

As I get ready for Boston, I can't help but think of New York.  I still get chills thinking of Meb breaking away in 2009 and darting through Central Park by himself -- or by himself on the course, I should say.  Because the crowd erupted when Meb went by, and with the finish line in sight, he started pointing at the "USA" on his jersey, which nearly incited a riot...and then tears.

As Frank Sinatra sang, "I want to be a part of it...If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere."

So New York Marathon veterans, help me celebrate.  Tell me what to expect this November when I'm part of it....

Plugged in and Tracking

On Sunday, my wife and I took the dog to Burke Lake for what I hoped would be my first successful foray outside and off the treadmill.  If I couldn't have the flatness of the treadmill, I could at least have the trail's forgiving surface.  

Burke Lake, though a picturesque loop that offers stunning views in any season, always seems to give me trouble stamina-wise, no matter what kind of shape I'm in.  Still, I figured if nothing else, I could always walk up or down any of the hills if need be and just consider the effort a hike/run.

I walked down to the water and took in the lake, a steely, gunmetal mirror that reflected the bare trees.  Rangers skated over to a patch of ice on their boots and knelt down to inspect a larger hole.  I took in a couple nervous, cold breaths, then picked up the trail just off the boat launch.  I started a cautious jog around the standing puddles left over from the week's earlier dusting and relished the cold against my face.

After a few awkward strides and some slight discomfort, I found my stride and began to drop the pace.  Each step chased away those lingering doubts, and I started thinking more about the surroundings than, "Does it hurt?  Did I tweak something?  Is that pop bad? Can I take it up this hill?  Should I try and run down?"  I started to run again.  I darted in and around walkers, dogs, and other runners.  At each clearing in the trees, I took in the view of the lake.

Around mile 1, actually exactly at mile 1, my watch beeped.  Confused, I checked my wrist.  Sure enough, 1.00 mi at a 7:15 pace...and counting.  You see, this run also became my first trial run with my new GPS watch.

My parents graciously gave me a gift card to a local running store for Christmas.  Normally, I'd get some shorts or a singlet I'd been eyeing.  But this time, I was at a loss having just gotten new shoes and some new winter gear.  Then it hit me, I could get a new watch.

I've resisted the idea of getting a GPS watch for sometime.  For the last five years, I've gotten by on a cheap-o $10 watch from Target.  I calculate the pace in my head, or simply run by feel and plug my time into my training log when I get home and let it spit the pace out for me.

Plus, these watches ain't cheap.  Not to mention the fact that I carry some OCD as it is, and feared that I would focus too much on what my pace is this second and oh, God I'm falling off my pace, I need to push harder, but I can't I'm tired, self-doubt, self-doubt, self-doubt and...whew, you see what I mean.  So, rather than obsess, I'd just be unplugged.

Then I started doing some research.  I settled on the Garmin Forerunner 110.  Simple, not too bulky, calculates pace, distance, and time.  What more did I need?  So I bought it.  Then I got injured and never got to use it.  Until this past weekend.

Truth be told, having the watch proved a nice distraction from obsessing over my knee.  Now I had the lake, the trail, and the watch to think about other than, "Does my knee hurt?"

When I felt particularly good, I checked the pace to watch it drop, when I hit a rough patch, I just ignored it and soldiered on.  Every mile I got a beep to let me know I'd knocked another one down. This I found to be the most valuable part.  I always get slightly tweaked not knowing how far I've gone on a trail and it's hard to click it out on google.  This completely takes the guessing out of it.

After 4.51 miles, I arrived back at the parking lot.  I clicked the watch, saved my workout, and walked back to the car.  My knee hadn't even registered any discomfort since mile two (which I can say definitively since my watch told me so), and the watch hadn't thrown me off my game as I once feared it might.

There may come a time where I decide to leave the watch at home as I did over Christmas and simply run for the sake of running, completely unplugged from music and time, but for now, I'm plugged in and ready to get back on the bus.

Treadmill Rules of Engagement

The first rule of running on the treadmill: there is no farting on the treadmill.  Not only is it rude to the people around you, but it's hard to blame that kind of thing on someone else when you're in such a confined environment.

Let me back up.

After spending a week's worth of workouts running at my gym on the treadmill, I've learned certain...um, quirks...I've developed over the years running outside that perhaps I hadn't noticed before.  Or, I can say with more certainty, are not so socially acceptable inside versus outside.  I told my wife about these discoveries and she just furrowed her brow and said, "No, I don't do anything like that."  So, I leave it to you the reader, the runner, or both, to decide if you think I'm crazy, or can relate at least on some level.

Over the years, I've not made it a secret that I hate running on the treadmill.  Give me a blustery wind so cold that your face feels like it's going to fall off over the monotonous, humid, soul-suckingly boring treadmill.  I'll live with the chapped hands and cracked lips.  But, in rehabbing my knee, I needed a flat, forgiving surface to enter back into the world of runnerdom.  In essence, I had no choice.

So for three days, I dug out my summer running clothes, drove to the gym, peeled of my warmups and in place I ran. 

Sort of...

...Because there are only so many treadmills and apparently very few people enjoy running outside in the cold.  So you have to wait.  There's a whiteboard and marker where you write your name down and the time your frustration began.  The rule goes that if someone is waiting, the people on the treadmill have a 30 minute time limit.  More clarification is needed, however.  Is it 30 minutes total?  So if I'm at 25 minutes, do I have to get off in five minutes?  Or is it 30 minutes from the time the name goes up?  The latter is how most would argue it, but just to make sure, you'll see the treadmillers discretely slide something over the timer.  

Another counterpoint to running on the treadmill: I have yet to wait for someone to finish so that I can go run outside.  I'm just saying.

Finally, 32 minutes later, I'm up.  The motor starts to whir.  The conveyor belt begins to turn.  My music ramps up as I start the slow jog and wait for the treadmill pace to catch up to my prescribed setting.  A couple seconds later, I'm off and "running," sort of.

I have other runners on either side of me with maybe a three foot gap.  The treadmills face the window, which looks out over the woods and the covered pool.  But that doesn't matter, because it's night and the only thing to stare at is yourself in the reflection of the window or steal creepy, judging glances at the runners on either side of you.  

I don't need to see myself running.  I don't need to see every other step how my right foot kicks up and out to the side and is probably some of the cause for my ITBS.  I don't need to obsess about that for 15-20-30 minutes.  I also don't need to stress about taking one misstep and ending up tangled in the adductor machine.  Plus, I have yet to get a treadmill that is in front of a TV.  So it's just me and...me.

Another treadmill rule: do not make fist pumps, hand gestures, or air-drumming without expecting to get funny looks from those around you.  

Apparently I do all of these things while running.  The rub is that when you're outside, alone, no one else is there to see you do these things...and judge.  When a good tune comes on, sometimes certain parts of said song are fist pump worthy.  When U2's "Desire" comes on, there's a slight pause after the intro and Bono let's out a breathy, "Yeaaah."  I like to say the "Yeaah."  Aloud.  I also like to do the rock scream at the beginning of Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' "You Better Pray."  I don't actually scream but there's a fist pump and my mouth is open as if I'm screaming.  I've also been known to throw in a little drum solo.

Let's review: outside?  Fine.  Inside?  Funny looks from the girl next to you, who's passing the time reading her  "People" magazine.  I'm sorry, I can't read and run at the same time...and I'm willing to venture a guess that you can't either but you don't want the person who just put their name up on the whiteboard to see that you've been at it for 22 minutes.  But I know.

Now, back to where we started (which on a treadmill is always the same place).  Rule number 1.  Let's be honest.  We're runners.  We have a rich, fiber-filled diet.  When I'm outside, I don't think twice about sputtering along.  In fact, my running partner and I were doing that in front of one another on only our second run together.

When you take your game inside, well, the rules change.  You can't let one slip and just run away from it.   And, good luck cinching that in while you're pounding away.  I'm of course writing in abstract terms here.  This has not actually, errr, happened to me.  But if it did, I would imagine several noses twitching, maybe some disgusted sidelong glances -- that don't last too long because you don't want to risk getting twisted and falling -- and of course some grand arm gestures to try and fan one away.  Drum solos are perfect for this.  Again, I'd imagine.

Thankfully, I returned outside today.  My wife and I ran around the 4.5 mile loop around Burke Lake.  While I wasn't completely pain free, I'd call it a success.  So much so that I will only be returning to the gym next week to lift weights.

I ended today's run with a huge fist pump...and I didn't care who saw me do it.