Surprise!

Another Red Dress weekend in New Orleans. Another trip, the fourth, away from the hound and house. You can naturally expect when you visit the Crescent City in a month which does NOT have an "R" somewhere in it that the weather conditions are going to be very hot and very humid. This being the fourth time I had a fairly well laid-out plan of action. Or so I thought.

I had a very good idea of the packet pick-up/expo location, having gone that general direction during Jackson Day a couple of years back. However, the last thing I wanted to do was hoof it ten kilometers in 90-plus-degree weather...one way.

I then thought, 'this is not a problem. I can drive to the fairgrounds and back.' A very reasonable plan until I saw the parking arrangements our lodging providers instituted. We could pay 20 bucks-a-day for the privilege to park near our room, but not only was it not a certain thing we would have a parking spot should we remove our vehicle, but if double or triple parking was the order of the day we would have to leave our keys with the hotel staff in order to move the car.

We figured we would have sufficient time to meet our friends, take a taxi to packet pick-up, then do the pre-festivities. Of course, our planning operated on the assumption we could and would get our registration-related goodies in an efficient manner.

Oh, it is to laugh; we're talking hashers, Coach Mike.

So, the pre-festivities went right out the window with the bath-water. Ah, but that lost opportunity removed a potential obstacle to getting up at before the crack of dawn to run with the 5:20 Club. Rather than drink Natural Light or other hasher fare, Suzanne and I decided to take a taxi back to one of our favorite dining/imbibing establishments and introduce our friends Charley and Sheila to some area-brewed and locally-cooked goodness.

I made a command decision at dinner that I would miss out on 5:20; get up at 5, get a brief workout inside the fitness center, clean up and have (continental, which continent we were not yet certain...) breakfast in the lobby. To wake the next morning at 5 was no problem. On my way to the fitness center I decided to walk past where my car was parked.

If you grew up collecting Hot Wheels or Matchbox die-cast cars, storing them in those plastic-divided cases, you probably remember eventually having more cars than storage slots. Ah, but it was never a problem; we would gently wedge a row of cars perpendicularly between the two outer rows.

That's what it looked like in the parking garage. If I had been in a rush to get to, say, the airport, it would have taken a solid 20 minutes to get the cars which had been multiple-parked...just to get to where my car was. While frustrating, I looked at the situation as one which reinforced my need to NOT drive during the weekend. I know how to use a taxi, walk, or the RTA.

The weekend was filled with surprises which challenged previously-ingrained patterns of doing things. After the first thirty seconds of grousing we quickly adapted, made command decisions and marched smartly forward into the fog.

How many times have we done the same routine over and over? My parents know by now the easiest evening to contact me is Monday or Friday; we're always doing some track workout on Tuesday or Thursday, long-ish runs on Wednesday or Sunday, a road trip or a race on Saturday. After a while not only do I start asking myself the "what am I going to assign tonight?" question, but my athletes start chanting the last set before I get it out of my mouth.

Gosh, have I become THAT pattern-based?

I know it takes as little as 21 days of doing something...especially an unhealthy thing...before the behavior becomes a habit. I'm not saying we need to break up our routines for the sake of breaking routines. But the "ho-hum, another darned (blank) workout" feeling should probably be a subtle hint.

As a coach, I have a little less wiggle space than the average self-coached runner; run a few unscheduled hill repeats or a road run here and there as long as the athletes are fit enough to adapt to the sudden change. Otherwise, it's change up the intensities on the non-track nights for me.

A little variation in terrain, intensity, duration, time of day, or even running partner/s can help stave off the "ho-hum." And it's less drastic than running in a red dress.

Is Running Cheaper Than Therapy?

After I posted the question about whether stress helps runners, my friend Scott replied with a dictum I had seen on more than my share of road race expo t-shirts and paraphenalia. He said:

"Running is less expensive than a therapist, and you do get some exercise."

Which, naturally, got me to thinking.

I ran the numbers, once upon a time, to talk about how inexpensive running is as a sport, comparing it to the most common youth/team sports of soccer, baseball and softball. Naturally, I do realize when we begin to compare youth and adult sports, as well as the differences between team and individual ones, we end up (improperly) comparing apples to oranges.

So, let's talk about running versus therapy in terms of first-order (direct) financial cost, as well as time and potential side effects. I'll try to be as strenuous in providing equal sides of the argument, but since I'm a running kind of guy the bias toward running is almost a given.

First, here are the assumptions under which I calculated the cost of running for one year:
A schedule with one rest day per week, and three days of no running for unforeseen circumstances like illness, minor injuries, and the like, means the "typical" recreational runner will run a little more than 300 days per year...310, to be exact. If each day's run lasts 60 minutes at an 8-minute-per-mile pace, the total number of miles adds up to 1625 for the year.

Race Entries: $70 - If anyone has read my "from 20-minutes a day-to-marathon" sequence, the assumption is for limited racing; 5,000-meter races only, after 38 weeks of training. I assumed three-to-four races (one a month) during those weeks, at $20 per race. This doesn't count pre-race coffees or post-race beers.

Equipment: $476 - The assumptions here are based on a male runner and the most basic components to protect one's self from physical and legal harm. Guys who feel no need to wear a shirt on a run can subtract anywhere from $45-60, depending on whether the race promoter/s have a "no shirt" entry option. Good quality running shoes will last approximately 500 miles, and cost on the average $100 a pair; figure the purchase of anywhere from three-to-four pairs during the course of a year. Depending on whether you need to be at the cutting edge of running fashion or if you just want to keep your nether regions covered, a pair of running shorts can be found for as little as $15; I've considered three pairs to be the absolute minimum number...once you've run in a salt-scratchy pair of running shorts you realize the more pairs a guy has, the better. Three or four technical fiber t-shirts (Cotton, while much more expensive, weighs a ton when soaked with sweat and also holds all that nasty heat in. My advice is to avoid at all costs.) can be bought for as little as 15 bucks apiece. When you start running races later in that first year I recommend learning which races give out technical fiber shirts...there's a sign the race director loves their participants. After a few years it's all you'll be wearing, unless you go to a hash run. Good acrylic running socks, six pairs each, finish off the attire. Expect to pay in the $10-12 range for a good pair. The really good ones will last up to ten years and save your feet from needless beating.

So, if you decide to undergo psychotherapy rather than running, how much are you going to pay? If you visit a therapist once a week for a year you can expect to pay almost 10 times as much as you would invest in running gear ALONE; closer to 12 times if your health insurance doesn't cover the shrink. Add another $2500 if the therapist decides you need an antidepressant.

The cost of therapy alone is enough to make me depressed.

The litany of potential side-effects of any of the varieties of antidepressant drugs - agitation, blurred vision, diarrhea, dizziness, drowsiness, dry mouth, emotional numbness, headaches, heart attack, hepatitis, hypertensive reactions, lack of motivation, loss of "drive," nausea, physical dependency, seizures, skin rash, stroke, tremors, weight gain or loss, withdrawal syndrome, etc. - is enough to make me get out on the road if not stay out there. I like what little, er, "drive" I have, thank you very much.

So, even if I don't count the fleeting, slightly-nebulous description of "runners' high," a state of which I can only claim to have been in on four occasions in two decades, the risks of addiction to running far outweigh those of more expensive drugs. I don't have to worry about the FDA when I'm out on the road getting a few miles in with my wife, my friends, or my dog. Even if I don't develop any more neurons by running, Scott is right...it is a whole lot cheaper than therapy.

As long as it doesn't lead to triathlon.

First Really Crummy Day

"...I recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone; I certainly do.

I recommend sticking your foot in your mouth at anytime; feel free.

Throw it down; the caution blocks you from the wind. Hold it up; to the rays.

You wait and see when the smoke clears. You live, you learn; You love, you learn;

You cry, you learn; You lose, you learn; You bleed, you learn; You scream, you learn..." - Alanis Morissette (1995)

Steven, can you relate to this after your weekend, bro?

This weekend was the first for a 12-week entry-level triathlon training program sponsored by the local tri club. Great to see over three-dozen of my soon-to-be closest friends sitting on the benches; some were truly first-timers, others first-timers this year, & a few making their triumphant return to multisport. The session was originally intended to be a welcome aboard, with the race director of the sprint triathlon this program focuses toward chatting a little about their race, some individual swim pointers, and on to the water.

Of course, that was the plan, filled with assumptions. The reality saw a more-brief swim brief, covered by Bev, Steven's better half. Brian, the club treasurer & guy in charge, took care of pointers & technical stuff from the dock, while Bev was down in the drink with the neophytes. We keep telling her she's got what it takes to be a good coach...but she's a lot more humble about her abilities.The water was comfortable enough for me to get some wetsuit familiarization time. Did about ten lengths of the sound, worked on sighting, & just kept everything comfortable.

I did say this was the first really crummy day, didn't I?

My weekend plans (remember assumptions from the earlier paragraphs?) went south quickly, as we needed/wanted to get some errands taken care of. I did get two hours in on the elliptical trainer, the equivalent of 16 miles, on Saturday afternoon. Hm. Think that might have been a little too much there, Coach?

Naah.

Au contraire, mon freire. Or, for those of you who live in less cultured areas of the country that's another way to say, 'think again, moose breath.' I ditched my goggles & wetsuit, then pulled on my running stuff (including a belt holding four eight-ounce plastic bottles of sports drink) to go hit the road for 45 minutes-to-an hour. The first two to three miles were all right, & then reality set in. Or, as some would say, 'the man with the hammer' showed up.

Oh, did he show up. The first three miles were at a very comfortable eight-minute-per mile pace. The last three & a quarter were much slower. We (I say we, because Bev decided to hang out with me.) ended up running a couple of blocks, then walking a block on the return trip. While I was a little disapppointed, there was a sense of perspective:

This was the first true brick (well, one discipline into the other) workout in some time.

The weather was very warm on the beach by 9:00a.m.

I had nothing in the tank, & forgot to eat anything that morning.

As Alanis (Morissette) would say: 'you live, you learn.' So, today's a rest (-like) day. Tomorrow we're back on the case.