Peripatetically-Pleasing Publications

Today I took a day off work and spent a couple of hours at my local auto dealership. "What book to take with me?" I asked myself, walking out the door.

Come on. I'm not going to sit and watch cable television news channels. I stood transfixed in front of my living room bookshelves; it's not good for a September-born guy to be forced into choice...especially not with 300-plus titles stacked in the living room alone, and definitely not when a five-minute delay can mean the difference between sitting for two hours...or for three hours...in a lounge drinking coffee and eating doughnuts. In the case of this guy, less time is always better.

I chose a book I hadn't read in probably six years.

It was a tight spot which made me think, while traveling to Toyota Town, of another triad of tomes to tranquilize the (temporarily terrifying) tendency to tarry in tranquility near the tube:

Running and Being - Dr. George Sheehan
The late cardiologist and unofficially-but-near-universally-proclaimed philosopher-king of running wrote this book in the late 1970s, and many of his observations in this book were printed (often in toto) in Runners' World magazine. Like most folks who have the temerity to risk talking smack about Steve Prefontaine, reviewing a book like this - especially in the negative - is only going to get you in deep trouble. Reading Sheehan, especially for the young, inexperienced (in life) runner, is like reading the Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard or the Brazilian liberation educator Paulo Freire. You aren't going to read great portions of this book, not unless you didn't want to learn anything. I've borrowed portions (the bag) for blog posts, as well as for biomechanical analyses (neuromas) to pass to my athletes.

This book goes best with (at least!) one pot of good coffee.

Ultramarathon Man - Dean Karnazes
I almost ran over Dean Karnazes in the lobby of the Hyatt Fisherman's Wharf during the Road Runners Club of America convention two years ago. I was running to the ballroom to have lunch with my wife; he was running to the bathroom before his lunch presentation in the ballroom. Suffice it to say I am pleased we didn't make contact. Karnazes is probably a solid three inches shorter than I and built like a...well, you've all heard the analogies.

He's also an entertaining speaker and a very good writer. Suzanne raved about him on the trip home; the only presenter other than Frank Shorter she mentioned by name. And when an avowed non-fanatical runner like my wife mentions someone - by name - it truly means something. What strikes me about Karnazes' first work is not so much the screenplay-like way he chronicles his relationship with his family, his painful beginning in ultramarathon (I can smell the rotten cantaloupe!), and his quest to stretch the limits of human endurance...blended in with cell phone ordered pizza delivery, minibuses filled with goldfish crackers, and banana bread. Trust me; you'll never look at banana bread in the same way after this book. Some of my friends have read his follow-up works and proclaimed them as a little less entertaining than the first, but I've already subscribed to the "sequel rarely meets the first work" mindset. This work is well worth acquiring. I may change my mind after I read his 50 marathons/50 states/50 days chronicle, though.

This book goes best with (at least) one cup of Starbucks and a slice of cherry cheesecake.

Every Second Counts - Lance Armstrong (and Sally Jenkins)
The Greek philosopher Heraclitus is reported to have said, "you cannot step into the same river twice." And Armstrong (Jenkins) appears to have learned this over the course of the four years covered in book number two. Whether it's Armstrong who read about Dithyrambos - "he who walks through the second door" - or Jenkins saw the parallel, it's hard to say. Considering we are talking about a guy who's repeated a few things (Tour de France victories, relationships, lawsuits) more than once in his time, I'm certain he even appreciated the analogy.

Every Second Counts is a fitting follow-up to It's Not About The Bike, which talked much about what got Lance to the first yellow jersey in 1999. This time, however, we do get to see the rough edges and shortcomings. Armstrong long has considered himself - unlike very many of his yellow wristband-wearing fans - no saint. He provides an honest, almost sensitive assessment of life as man, father, athlete, survivor, businessman, and icon, things which definitely affected his marriage to Kristin. As of late, much has been made in the press and several recent books about doping...and Lance's way of dealing with sources who allege his use.

I read Every Second Counts around the same time as Brad Kearns' fawning How Lance Does It, Floyd Landis' Positively False: How I Won The Tour De France, and David Walsh's From Lance to Landis. The only title which still sits on my bookshelf of the previous three is Walsh. If I had only read It's Not About The Bike I think I would have a negative opinion of the seven-time champion. I have doubts about whether he was completely clean, but it's only a sliver. Yes, a Kierkegaardian one.

This book goes best with a tall, cold Shiner Bock.

Rockin' In The Free Will

"There's colors on the street / Red, white and blue / People shufflin' their feet / People sleepin' in their shoes / But there's a warnin' sign on the road ahead / There's a lot of people sayin' we'd be better off dead / Don't feel like Satan, but I am to them / So I try to forget it, any way I can. / Keep on rockin' in the free world..." - Neil Young (1989)
My coaching focus is and has always been on adult runners. It's not that I don't like youth, I just prefer to deal directly with the athlete goals, limitations, choices, & strengths without the filter or static of well-meaning (but often meddlsome) parent-figures. It's enough of a challenge to explain the concept of patience and steady progress over the long haul with a new or inexperienced runner who shows great potential; a parent or grandparent who believes their ward is the next great hope for American running always wonders two things:

What can you do to make my child faster?

Why isn't their present coach doing anything?I've had parents who had the nerve to ask me - within earshot of their child's present coach - to work with the child. The last thing I want to be is the guy blamed for a good kid leaving a perfectly good coach.

Adults, on the other hand, have the option of free will. As long as there are no financial or educational constraints they are pretty much free to come and go as they please from training group to training group, from coach to coach. I'd like to say adults are easier to coach because you can be completely honest with them. But sometimes, honesty can be the biggest problem with coaching adults.Sometimes it's too much honesty: My wife reminds me on a regular basis to love and appreciate the people who continue to train regularly with me after five years. There have been times in the past I've stood at the side of the track with an apparently sour look on my face, more to do with nearsightedness coupled with watching running form from 200 meters away. Just like a grimace from a distance can masquerade as a grin, a squint can look like a scowl from afar. Not like my former coach was one to show his hand during a workout; inscrutability was his watchword. I, on the other hand, come from demonstrative fields of endeavor - drama, music, and education - and I'm genetically disinclined to to hold back with my opinion (regular readers are crying out "noooooo...").

Sometimes it's a lack of it: I recall a couple of former training mates/athletes, who when asked about the degree of injury or "beat-upness" before or during a workout, responded with a level much, much less acute than my perception. Others would hold back and appear to struggle during the front end of a workout, then cut loose with a repeat (usually the last ones) at an intensity far beyond what I assigned. After time, I learned whose word to take at face value and whose evaluation needed a little adjustment to the high or low. The "face value" athletes are refreshing, even when they decide to move on, they will tell you exactly what you need to know about how you're doing as a coach.Coaches, unfortunately, don't have the option of having as free a will as the athlete. We can't assign workouts just to see if we can break athletes - our "profession" is much like that of a doctor, with the guideline "First Do No Harm" indelibly etched into our mind. In fact, every action and decision should be made with the best interest of the athletes who have trusted themselves to us. I have a coaching partner who's more laid-back in nature than I am; in the interest of expanding our training group we talked about and instituted a group workout in the community close to his home on a weeknight. He has a good turnout, depending on the time of the year...very few during the winter, more during the spring and summer. While we don't directly collaborate on what workouts we're going to assign, the similarity between his workout and mine on many occasions can be astounding. Blame it on good coaching, I guess.

But, moving back to free will...a coach can't just take a night off because they feel like it, or because they hear (second-or-thirdhand) an old coaching friend has hit town. When I say with honesty, "I'm sorry, I have athletes to coach," it means, "while I would like to spend the evening drinking beer with an old friend, the marathon training of this athlete...the fitness level of this athlete...and the triathlon performance of this athlete...are more important to me - and to them."

"And their goals and desires, their free will, have become mine."

Who...Or What...Do You Love?

The missus & I had another chance to get away from it all...here, taking the kids & grandkids to New Orleans. I had to teach a seminar on Friday, so driving over on Thursday afternoon was naturally out of the question. However, it also provided me a few hours of my Friday afternoon with nothing better to do than point my trusty Scion xB in the proper direction, listen to some of the tunes I'd recently downloaded to my iPod & think deep thoughts.

It occurred to me I had not talked to my father in five weeks (his seventieth birthday), & it was not like I was going to be disturbed by much at that particular time...might as well burn a few cell phone roaming minutes, no? After a healthy dose of touching base with him, & getting safely past the casinos along Mississippi's Gulf Coast, one deep thought led to another & I wanted to know what some of my New Orleans friend/s were doing.

They had been on a cruise ship for a week with two dozen or more of their closest relatives. What had me marveling even more was the fact they were able to make it through that week without throwing anyone overboard...or consuming adult beverages. I knew they had cut back during the spring in Central Florida, but didn't know they had made the decision to cut back in that drastic a manner. They have their reasons, which are quite valid (even if I disagreed, validity is in the mind of the beholder), & I strongly applaud them for it.
The ramifications or the rationale for such decisions hadn't quite hit until I was driving on the trip home...Then I began to think about it all: You see, we didn't drink anything around the family because being (at the least) loose around the children and grandchildren didn't seem like a good example. There were enough people on the streetcars & on the major thoroughfares who were loosened up during the weekend, right? We went out for a bite to eat & to walk around with some of our friends after the kids drove home, sufficient opportunity to loosen up and enjoy some of the more adult-oriented venues we occasionally enjoy. And while I was loose enough to not feel major pain I couldn't help but see some of the really loose denizens of the place/s we visited, most notably the crowd in one of the city's most popular karaoke bars. Believe me, there are way too many people who think they sing well. Add an abundance of adult beverages & it's a Capt'n Fun Happy Birthday Song Audition Night, minus the cake (Robin Williams' 2002 routine about Japanese men in a karaoke bar after a couple of shots of Jack Daniels' says it best.). When you see them you begin to think to yourself, 'dude, is THAT what I look like when...?'
Right now I can say I do not have a drinking problem. There was a time in my life when you could probably say I did, but I think age & a beer-related accident (I thank God no police were around to see!) a long time ago (as well as a recent beer-related accident where we were the victims!) converted me from the quantity drinker to the quality drinker. That means I still spend the same amount of money on beer at 48 as at 18; I share/enjoy the six-pack of microbrews more than I did bogarting a case of Lone Star. I like beer a great deal, & there are days when there's nothing more wonderful after a very hot run or workout than a very cold beer. Of the friends I have, the ones for which I would say I would go through hell in a gasoline suit are very small; & the vast majority of them drink probably the same amount, give-or-take, that I do. I have many colleagues & acquaintances, however, who are perhaps one (stumbling?) step to the left or to the right of the classic hash house harrier definition: a drinker with a running problem. Love 'em, but it's the truth.

And THAT'S where my worried mind begins to operate. I know a person's character can be molded & shaped by the people they spend the most time with. Think about it: Influence of Others -> Thought -> Decision -> Action -> Habit -> Character -> Influence on Others. I've told folks on more than a few occasions we are what we consume, spiritually as well as physically. So, can you control your own cycle? Or would you rather smash the mirror?

'Beer commercials usually show big men, manly men, doing manly things: "You've just killed a small animal. It's time for a light beer." Why not have a realistic beer commercial, with a realistic thing about beer, where someone goes, "It's five o'clock in the morning. You've just @*#d on a dumpster. It's Miller time."' - Robin Williams (1986)

Who Do You Want Me To Be Today?

"When the school bell rings, the learning day is done. It's time to trash the books, and work on having fun. Through the door comes Jimmy, with hopes and dreams of his own. But little does he know that they'll be crushed when he gets home. There's so much he wants to share. But his parents they just don't care. You see his daddy never made it...and momma thinks she could have....Always telling him who they think he should be; now they're left alone with a desperate written plea, that says: To Whom It May Concern: Who do you want me to be today?" (Stuart Hamm, 1991)Athletic coaching is a blend of art & science; the coach, ideally, has learned all of the physiology, psychology, sociology...and maybe even a little early childhood education...either through a formal learning process in a high school or college, or on the fly under the tutelage of their coach. Naturally, the art side of coaching comes to the fore when dealiing with the individual athlete. Each is an experiment of one.

And not every coach is - or should be exactly alike. If it were so that all coaches were, there would be a world of athletes without 'em. It's why athletes (sometimes) move from coach to coach throughout a career; the relationship gets stale or old, or the parties realize what was a great fit at one time wasn't quite so years later...maybe when goals changed or modalities didn't. My coach(es) & I are completely different people, socially, politically, geographically, emotionally, and even to a small degree athletically. They communicate with me a lot differently than I do with my athletes. I try to give the athletes I coach the feedback I felt I needed as an athlete...sometimes it's too much, or at the wrong time. Once again, I guess that's where the human element comes in. If I were the perfect coach I'd be a robot.

I've friends who are coaches, in running as well as in other sporting disciplines, and we've bounced thoughts across each other at times, just to get a sniff test. Some of them are gentle, yet open and a little gregarious. Others are a touch more guarded and cautious. Yet the common thread which appears is that of success on the part of one or more of their athletes. Can you define success without resorting to the hard numbers of wins and losses, lowered finishing times, longer throws and higher jumps?

I used to think I needed to mold all-around renaissance athletes to be considered a good coach. When my coach's coach mentioned something along the lines of 'I just want to build a better machine' I realized the rest of the person - especially when dealing with athletes over a certain age (since I deal with runners older than age 16, I'll say adults) - was probably coming to me already developed. My chance to reinforce (or undo, in some cases) the work of parents, teachers, preachers and other outside influences was pretty much out of the question.
And yes, I know that in the case of school athletics coaches, there is that need to live (as my friend Dr. Ed Cloutier would say) a PG life. But I don't think there's a great divide between a person who lives a more liberal life and a person who is more conservative in their dealings.

Give me a coach who will make me a better engine. I'll trust my family and my preacher to help me in the rest of the categories...if they haven't been successful in influencing me up to this time it might be a little too late.

Multisport as a Metaphor for Life

Just back from a long (and often seemingly-lost) weekend in New Orleans. I don't go to NOLA for no special reason; nearly every time (like almost any trip away from home) has something to do with running or multisport. Nice way to go through life, in my humble opinion.

While I'd love to say the weekend was a complete & utter success it was not. I'm still dealing with a serious fear of open water swimming, something which has affected me since last year in Panama City. I had the strangest feeling of panic earlier in the week as we were discussing swim courses & initially attributed it to one-too-many cups of Starbucks. Unlike a twelve-step program, realizing you have a problem is probably not the hardest step.

A couple of things I learned this weekend which might even parallel life:

Bargaining does not work with every adversary. I went out to do the traditional Saturday morning run along Lakeshore with New Orleans' 5:20 club. At the 3.5-mile point, I backed off my 7:30-per-mile pace, looked out toward the calm (at that moment!) waters of Lake Ponchartrain & began to make peace with her. The next morning's conditions were (supposedly) as placid as the day before...but conditions became more challenging in the two hours between arriving at transition & the wave start. I remember someone saying a phrase some time back about running being eighty percent mental & the other half physical. Triathlon, however, is not running. It's one-hundred percent mental & the other half physical. If your head isn't all there it's not going to be a good day.

Always have an eighty-percent solution. Since the IM70.3 NOLA event has attracted many first-time triathletes, the race director left an opt-out option. A great idea, in my humble opinion, especially when nearly 30 persons were either taken from the water or bailed on the swim before the finish of the 1.2-mile leg. I'm not certain how many took the opt-out, but in hindsight, I might have felt worse about the day if I had. Getting in the water & getting my butt kicked was better than not getting in at all.

Attitude is everything. After the obligatory 30 seconds of oh, cr*p, not another day like Panama City...the race staff told me I could still do the opt out. Suh-weet! I hadn't ridden my Softride time trial bike since IM week in Panama City, & really wanted to know how much benefit my new (F.I.S.T.) set-up & new (Gray) aero helmet would provide on what I initially perceived as a wicked good bike course. I was half correct; the bike course definitely had its share of wickedness, two bridges to climb - one right after the other - within the first ten kilometers...this course is an out-and-back, so the same challenges in the first ten would be there for the last ten, when we were fatigued. At first, the wind on the course was relatively light & in our face, but began to increase in strength & shift in direction, leaving few places on the course where a racer would benefit from it. I noted after a slight sluggishness in the bike's handling after the 50-kilometer mark, just a few miles after the mid-point. As the ride progressed, the sluggishness increased, & I knew from looking down at the tire patch that a flat was in my near future. Finally, at 48 miles, I realized the road conditions of the next eight miles plus the mushy tire could possibly lead to a very bad day. So, I stopped to try & repair the leak. After attempting to refill the tire, I found the issue was, er, something deeper...a cracked valve stem extender, literally something I could not repair. Fortunately, the trooper protecting the course was able to call bike technical support...who didn't show for an hour & a half.

When you're in a situation like that you can either become Eeyore & bemoan your fate with a face long enough to eat corn out of a pop bottle, or you can channel Normann Stadler in Kona, circa 2005 ("another flat $&#*^% tire!"). But since I was feeling fairly good to be alive & not in an emergency department, I decided to laugh at my fate. Come on, how many guys run the risk of pulling what I would call a "double DNF" in one days' racing? Not many. Of course, if I had been more smart about the issue I would have pulled off the road at the overpass where there was shade, but I was thinking more along the lines of communication & not so much speed of response at the moment. If I had known it was going to take at least 90 minutes for tech to show, I probably would have ridden up to the overpass & taken advantage of the shade. So, silly me, I stood in the sun & nearly dehydrated myself. Tech, once they caught up with me, got me back on the chain gang again very quickly, with a couple of bottles of water to boot. My buddy Dixie came past about five minutes before tech did, so my goal was to catch him some time before the finish line.

Patience IS a virtue. The one thing I did not want to have on the run was a repeat of Augusta, where I hammered the first three miles & struggled the next ten. I knew if I was aggressive with my hydration & electrolytes during the bike & continued with it as far into the run as possible I might not have a bad day, or at least wouldn't have the kick me to the curb cramping I had from mile seven to the finish at Augusta. The plan was to run ten light poles, followed by walking one, plus I would walk as I took fluid at the aid stations on the course. Since there were stations every mile I did not wear my hydration belt, but took hits from my gel/electrolyte flask every second aid station.

I encountered Dixie at the only bridge on the run course, somewhere between the second or third mile, & passed him like he was tied to a tree. However, he was close enough behind throughout the run we saw each other on every switchback through City Park. Nothing like unadulterated fear a buddy is going to catch up with your butt to make you keep moving as quickly as possible. After the ninth mile there was just about nothing left in the tank, which seemed to be a good a time as any to engage in a brisk walk & see what strength I could recover. Amazingly, I was able to get back on the groove at mile ten, just before the exit of City Park...and just in time for the roughest patch of pavement on the entire run, Esplanade Avenue. I've run up & down Esplanade many times in the past ten years or so; knowing the best of the worst conditioned road I've ever raced upon was going to be a benefit. Again, it was the ten-to-one ratio, & things seemed to work fairly well until mile 13 when whatever reserves I might have had in store were depleted. Of course, by that time you have a new fuel source, namely loud music & cheering spectators. Most of them don't have a clue how bad you feel by that time, & I think they'd gladly give the functioning half of their liver to you if they could.

So, all you can do is suck it up & look like you're really STRONG when all you want to do is sit by the side of the road on the curb & drink two or three beers. Repeating as tolerated.

There's NOTHING like a finish line. But you want to look good for the photographers & the friends who finished hours before you did, so you tighten up the loose fasteners & set yourself up for a strong finishing kick which tells people: 'yeah, I did this, & if they asked me to do it tomorrow I probably would...as long as you're out here waiting for me again.'

Turn 8 Inches Into 10, Or 12, Or More...

One of my (recent) favorite establishments is a pizza bakery located near a movie theatre about four miles from my home. I've eaten at a few other franchise locations while on the road for triathlons, & became very excited when the local franchise opened up here. Okay, so it doesn't have the funky oeuvre the local joint (of which I am a FB fan) has. In fact, it's a little too bright, too colorful, & too television-laden...holy cow, I cannot believe I said that...for my taste. The music & the attitude of the wait-staff is fairly good, though. And they do have a 115-beer club (I think by now we're half-way there!); most of the beers are good stuff, too.

But naturally, if you're going to go to a pizza bakery, it's fairly well likely you're going to go after pizza, right? This place, like lots of other pizza joints, has varying sizes of pie. My loving wife & I can kill a 10-inch with no trouble; 14-to-16 inchers are a bit more of a challenge, & expect a couple of morning's-worth of Coach Mike post-swim brekkies if we foolishly decide to order something closer to 24...like the Philosopher's Pie.
Last Monday we had dinner & a couple of beers with a friend (& her son), a follow-up to some of my wife's business travel. I recommended the Philosopher's, & I think they ordered a 16. When the pie came out I noticed 12 ample slices of pie. As Maria & her son commenced to nosh on a couple of slices, they offered up also to Suzanne & me...who were nibbling on a salad & a meatball sub. Their pie was definitely big enough to accommodate all of us, with plenty left over. It got me to thinking about the relative size of pie slices; when our 10-inch came out the other weekend there were four slices...which I bet were probably equal in total surface to the slices on the 16. So, perhaps the 16 could feed six people as ably as the 10 could a couple?

This is not necessarily a mathematical dilemma but more of an economic one...and maybe even a sociological one, too. Events, clubs, coaches & retailers are seen often to compete for the same, small market share. I'll take as an example a recent look at my local running event calendar; I have at least two examples of two road running events of the same distance taking place in the same metropolitan area at the same time on the same day, with the same post-race fare & targeting the nearly-identical population of runners outside of their own constituents.

The challenge, if or when there are multiple providers in an area, is to figure out the niche population each provider best services. A good choice would be to then either leave that niche population be, or refer them to the provider who can best service them. This collaboration among competitors not only builds a sense of community, but might even lead to a Newtonian equal & opposite reaction. Each party has access to materials (customers, capital, community) which "make up the pie", so rather than squabble & fight over "pieces of the pie" becoming smaller because of another resource, why not collaborate and MAKE THE PIE BIGGER. If done correctly, there can be more than enough for every player who is willing to give-and-take with others rather than look out solely for their own interests. I'm not saying a business or a club shouldn't do what is in their best interest first, but if you work to not step on the toes of others, the chances are good you might get a little goodwill in return...and then some.

Of course, I'm probably looking at the world through idealistic, utopian spectacles. It's something I've done over the past (nearly) five years. This sort of thinking doesn't have to be strictly between not-for-profit groups; it would make things a lot easier for many if they were to work this way, but there can be healthy collaborative efforts between not-for-profit groups & for-profit providers. The worst thing a not-for-profit can do is to completely abdicate portions of their mission to the tender mercies of a for-profit group. Remember, the for-profit is in the endeavor to make a buck, either directly or indirectly. If it helps the community as a whole at the same time, then that's nice.

But giving up, or standing by silently as a for-profit adds another arrow to their quiver because the non-profit handed it to them is just plain bad business. Not being able to choose between a non-profit provider & a for-profit provider - whether it be coaching, a race, or even a financial institution - because the non-profit has decided to no longer engage in the activity with which it was once charged, is no choice at all.

No pizza for you. Not even eight inches.

The Handicapper General Has Determined...

Not one of the typical threats we see on the road. Bart Yasso in Indonesia, I believe...

One of my wife's favorite science fiction short stories is a satire on social equality written by the late Kurt Vonnegut. In the story, "Harrison Bergeron," the more intelligent, athletic or beautiful a member of society is, the more they are handicapped so no one person will feel inferior to another. The main character, Harrison, is exceptionally intelligent, strong & attractive; the Handicapper General forces him to wear eyeglasses designed to give him headaches, black caps over his teeth, forty pounds of birdshot around his neck, another 300 pounds of weight strapped to his body, a rubber ball on his nose...& headphones which play distracting noises.

At first, we laugh at the thought of a society which forces each of us to be equal by handicapping the more gifted; if we were better than someone else we would never willingly submit ourselves to such a regime. If we were less gifted we wouldn't mind being enhanced some, but we wouldn't feel right about the more gifted being handicapped.

Would we? On either account?

I was at a Rock n' Roll Marathon event & heard about a conversation between a Rock n' Roll staff member & an out-of-town participant asking about headphone use. The participant asked if headphones were going to be allowed on the course. The staffer decided, rather than give a yes-or-no answer, to find out exactly what made this participant tick:

Staffer - "Okay...let me ask you something. Do you know the name of this event?"

Participant - "Yes. It's the Rock n' Roll Marathon."

Staffer - "And you're from out of town?"

Participant - "Yes. Philadelphia."

Staffer - "So you flew here to run this event?"

Participant - "Yes. We've been here all week."

Staffer - "Did you use the discount registration code for the event?"

Participant - "No."

At this point, the staffer quickly estimated what the trip cost the participant & said: "...so, you're willing to spend thousands of dollars for a week at the Rock n' Roll Marathon, an event with some of the best live music this city has to offer, & you would prefer to listen to your own music...?"

How many times have we run races in headphones, never listening to the cheering of spectators, the sound of our own labored breathing as we run, the music playing from stereos in houses or on curbs or corners, or, if we spent a few (more) bucks at an event like RnR, there are bands playing local music for our pleasure at every mile? Running closer to the middle or back of the pack at races can often sound like a silent movie without the piano background; every runner is tuned into their own little world. No one talks to any one.

Yet, we tell our non-running friends we go to races to meet people.

So, we willingly handicap, isolate, ourselves on the course with 100 decibels of sound blaring into our ears, enough to drown the siren of the emergency vehicle taking the unfortunate runner who "crashed & burned" a mile away from us to the hospital...we might have passed without knowing they were in distress because we were in our own little world. Those same 100 decibels are only a little less damaging to our ears than standing next to our mother's Electrolux vacuum cleaner...right now. Over time we handicap ourselves more permanently; wrecking our hearing with long-term exposure to loud everything, until we can't hear even the most sublime of sounds.

Why? Because we seek pleasure & avoid pain. We want to go to our happy place. We want to detach ourself from the message our brain is sending. Timothy Noakes' Central Governor Theory of Endurance says the brain tells us to stop or slow down because our brain wants the glycogen our muscles burn as fuel for itself, as well as the heart & lungs...it wants to keep us alive, even if we cannot run. Our brain is greedy. But when we detach ourself from the brain's "message center" which warns us of the damage we "might" do if we keep running, we also detach ourself from the same message center which warns us a threat (overtaking runner, bicyclist, mugger, automobile, etc.) is approaching from behind.

I hear the often rhetorical question, "well, what about folks who are deaf?" There are folks who are unable to hear, but as a result the senses of sight & touch have become more acute. Not so with those of us who still retain the ability to hear until we place headphone in ear. We can't see behind us & probably don't even think about looking because our happy place is better than anywhere we want to be at the moment.

We don't need a Handicapper General. Most of us do it to ourselves. Rather than be a Harrison Bergeron, willing to die as an unfettered person & release people from long-tolerated handicaps, we'd rather wallow in our equality & accept when others are shackled.

When Your Local "Mom & Pop" Store Ain't Making The Cut

I grew up in a small town in southern New Mexico, 35 miles north of the Mexican border; a solid hour's drive from two university towns & a two-hour drive from a third. When I first moved there in the early 1970s we had a couple of small department stores, a Sears & Roebuck outlet, & a Montgomery Ward outlet to choose from when it was time to shop for clothing or durable goods. By the time I left home there was a K-Mart providing a choice to folks when it came time to comparison shop.

Wanting a big-ticket, major-brand item usually meant either you hoped the local store had it in stock, you took a major (one-day) road trip to Las Cruces or El Paso, or you ordered it through the catalogs & hoped for the Postal Service to do their thing. Thus, I grew up accepting a slightly less-distinguished brand name to support hometown merchants. More often than not, these merchants knew to do right by you, lest you take your business to the catalog outlet or drive to the big city. And you noticed local merchants would keep their business in town as much as possible.

Moving here has been like being in my home town, but with the internet added. I lived in Tampa for 16 years, & had no lack of shopping malls, booksellers & sporting goods purveyors; specialty stores of every type in which to spend my hard-earned dollar. As a small-town guy who never really lost the "spend less if you can" gene instilled during his youth, I would hit the "mom & pop" stores first, then go to the major chains as a next resort...if I really needed the item.Sometimes, a visit into those big stores could make you feel like you were an interruption in their day; if you weren't a top shelf musician or athlete (of which I was NOT) you weren't getting the attention of some clerks, even if you had your AMEX stapled to your forehead. To a lesser degree, some of the "mom & pops" would treat you that way...but if you were smart you knew you could raise your voice, & let them know "I chose to come here rather than go to such-and-such, so you better appreciate my business, damn it."

I've shamelessly plugged stores who have done right by me. I've also shunted friends to alternatives when the stores haven't done right by them. When I've recommended another store it's come with a certain degree of loss to my reputation, because I like to think I know the best place to purchase stuff.

Fortunately for me, and a few of my friends, when the local "mom & pop" decides to not do right we have the internet to back us up. If you're willing to do a little bit of research or play around on a few web sites you can sometimes find what is the best deal...and go back to the recalcitrant "mom & pop" with some ammunition, to say, "I can get this for this much at such-and-such a place, so you better do right by me, damn it."

Four on-line examples I want to recommend:

First of all...there's nothing like eBay. Talk about a place where capitalism is at its best...& its worst. You can find deals there...and you can get screwed there. But you also can find out what comparable items have been sold for in the past, as well as find out how reputable the seller is. If their rating numbers are low, tread carefully. If there's a reserve, odds are good you aren't going to get a good deal. I have several staple items on search, so I receive an e-mail almost daily of stuff for which I show an interest.

Amazon.com has a great search engine, where you can find electronics, books, music, computers, videos, & so on. They were pretty much the first one with "intelligent search" algorithms, which would recommend "stuff" to you based on your interests. A kinder, gentler form of "suggestive selling."

If you're looking for books, especially the ones which are out of print or you're willing to settle for used, abebooks.com has a search engine from hell. I found an Australian reprint of John Parker Jrs.' "Once A Runner" for 1/6th of the cost of a beat-up first printing. Reads just the same.

Shoes of all kinds can be found at Zappos.com. Not only can you find great stuff there at reasonable prices, but their shipping is free...well, I know there's nothing that's really free, but the shipping charge is hidden well within the cost of the shoe.

So, when "mom & pop" have decided to disown you, or at the least treat you like you're a red-headed stepchild, you do have a recourse.

It's Not Me, Coach. It's You.

Frustration: A common emotional response to opposition....it arises from the perceived resistance to the fulfillment of individual will. The greater the obstruction, and the greater the will, the more the frustration is likely to be....In people, internal frustration may arise from challenges in fulfilling personal goals and desires, instinctual drives and needs, or dealing with perceived deficiencies....Conflict can also be an internal source of frustration; when one has competing goals that interfere with one another, it can create cognitive dissonance....While coping with frustration, some individuals may engage in passive-aggressive behavior, making it difficult to identify the original cause(s) of their frustration, as the responses are indirect. A more direct, and common response, is a propensity towards aggression. - N.E. Miller (1941)

Until I spent three months in North Chicago, IL I thought seasonal affective disorder - that state of depression which hits folks during the darker, more-gloomy months of the year - was a bunch of hooey. Darned if a solid week of cloudy, damp, miserable days at Great Mistakes didn't cause me to change my tune, & quickly.
I never thought myself to be susceptible to the symptomatology. I figured working in buildings without window access - or windows altogether - and terrible lighting for nearly three decades... there was that brief, two-year period where I worked in an office with a picture window, and a year where I worked from midnight to eight a.m...would provide sufficient protection from the vicissitudes of darkening days.

By the end of that epic just-off-the-shores-of-Lake-Michigan-in-late-autumn period, I was ready, really ready, to return to the Sunshine State. Remember those video clips where the Pope kisses the ground the moment he touches down in a foreign land? That's what I looked like on my return to Pensa-freaking-cola.

So, training with the group during late autumn darkness, dampness & dreariness was great therapy. I could definitely handle the conditions as long as there was one other person suffering with me. I know that's what brought a lot of my training partners at that time out; the fact I would be out there to get that workout in. Doesn't mean I didn't hate the conditions. I had to prove somehow I was badder than the drug. I felt being badder also led to being better on race day.
But, it's completely different when you're coach than when you're the athlete. Especially when you're dealing with adult runners who don't have to be there if they don't want to. As madness begets madness, it's easy for me to shrug off heading out to the track on a night when it's damp & drizzling; I'm already under the presumption well, heck, nobody's going to be out there...why should I even care?

Add to all of this the season - which to me, needs no reason; read some of my earlier postings to understand my religious survival - & you have a recipe for cranky (and sick!) people. I love the plethora of get-togethers, parties, social functions, drunken bacchanalia, shopping, trips, days away from work & so on, but it's a challenge balancing all this stuff. Best way you can deal with it is to take care of things very, very early (as my wife is wont to do) or realize can not do everything. Learning to say 'no, I'm sorry, that's not going to happen' is, to me, the golden mean; the royal road to sanity. The people who are offended by that response aren't going to be the ones you'd spend time with in the first place, & the ones who understand...well, they'll understand.

So, the social aspect of running can be as therapeutic for me standing on the side of the track as it is for the person circling the same. Oh, how I miss the days of ambulating (perambulating? sauntering? shuffling? meandering?) through the holiday light-bedecked neighborhoods, especially after the last 5K of the season & everyone still had their little bell attached to their running shoes. If you can hear the voice of Charlie Brown from A Charlie Brown Christmas playing in the back of your mind, when he's asking: 'is there anyone who can tell me what Christmas is all about?!' Well, that's me right now. This, too, shall pass. Kind of like a kidney stone. Ow.

Excuse Me, I Swore There Was A Box Here...

My friend, Steve, & I read training advice & counsel from several different coaches. Some of these we apply into our personal training plans, some we set aside for later testing, proof or adaptation. While we might not use the recommendations ourselves, the objective is to keep an open mind to sound advice. Naturally, it's good stuff to know when we're dealing with questions...that ol' here are some alternatives stuff.
One of the concepts we've both ascribed to we borrowed from Patrick McCann & the Endurance Corner coaches. It actually is a four-concept process:
1. Race day is about execution more than fitness. Execution is defined as the ability to run well off the bike in triathlon. Conservative bike pace strategy can be corrected on the run, but riding too fast will bite you in the behind.
2. Everyone will reach a line where running, or running at the same pace you started, will be very hard. Focus on execution is critical to not slow down.
3. To execute & create conditions for success you have to define what you can & cannot control; what you cannot control you can only adapt to.
4. We all hit the line eventually. That's where the goal or the reason you're doing what you're doing becomes critical, or else your day becomes very long.
Steven Covey talks about the circle of influence & the circle of concern in his Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, & it's much like EC, except EC calls it the box. Stuff you can influence or control are inside the box, stuff for which you have to adapt, adjust, endure or get around are (of course,) outside the box.
Approaching the half-way mark in this training cycle, things are beginning to become...interesting. I've started to see the box because the week's training volume is slowly increasing, both mileage & time (mileage more than time) spent. As you start moving closer & closer to the target event & the longer swims, rides, & runs start popping up on the calendar, you're praying like mad that nothing else infringes on the time you're going to have to spend training, recovering...or working at the real j-o-b.

The j-o-b usually can be worked around if you have an understanding boss and/or a reasonable amount of holiday time at your disposal...for which I am fortunate to have both. (It's always a good idea to tell your boss you registered for an iron-distance triathlon. Easier to explain those mornings when you're walking around like a person ten years older than yourself.) Sometimes, the j-o-b stuff requires you to be there. Those are the box things you just have to deal with.
When companions, contemporaries or loving friends start throwing unprocessed fertilizer base material in your general direction, either intentionally or unintentionally, then you have to figure out whether it deserves to be in the box - & controlled - or thrown out of it & either adjusted around or plain flat out ignored as an inconvenience.
Telling your boss about your event goal is probably an inside the box action. Dramatic situations initiated by factional groups in the local running community...more likely outside of the box.

Lately, there's been a little too much drama for my own taste. I prefer to keep my box as small as possible & hope like mad the rest of the world doesn't begin to drag the boundaries of said box outward.

Get Some Changing Done

"You've been saying for the longest time that the time has come; you've been talking like you're of a mind to get some changing done..." - Mary-Chapin Carpenter (2001)

The hardest decision to make comes when there's a big change involved; new job, new relationship, new commitment, new routine...I think you get the picture. Most times, these decisions aren't made capriciously, but after soul-searching, counsel & balance of the possible positive & negative outcomes. It's hard to continue to stay the course for sake of staying the course, especially when you know something different can be done. However, it means being honest enough with yourself to say: 'what I've done up to this point in time has not been successful. It's time to take a different approach.'

"...No one knows where they belong; the search just goes on and on and on, for every choice that ends up wrong another one's right..."

So, you have to be pragmatic when the potential remedies cross your desk, so to speak. I had a friend ask me 'so, what do you want to do?' when I first began looking at the options. Once I developed enough clear thought about what was really happening, it was simple to know the what.

I enjoy coaching & providing sensible guidance to runners & triathletes. Some even appreciate the advice & counsel - imagine that. And that's the fun part of coaching; collaborating with an athlete to see how they can prepare for best performances. But to get that level of interaction, there needs to be a certain degree of trust and confidence - both on the part of the athlete and of the coach.

Sometimes the relationship comes naturally over the course of time. Sometimes the relationship is built by money changing hands.

Once the relationship is developed, expectations on the part of both parties follow, especially in the areas of communication & discipline. I've wondered what people would think if I did not show up for a track workout (even after the car accident in January of this year, my wife & I called the cell phones of at least three training group members to let them know what happened). 'Ah, but you're the coach,' you say. 'You're supposed to be there. That's why you were chosen.'

So, why do I coach? Ah, it must be for something. My coach & his coach say it's for love of the sport. And I love the sport, too. But shouldn't the people I coach have that same love? If they don't have it, is it because I haven't instilled it in them? Does love of sport come intrinsically, or as the result of some pot metal/nylon medallion or glass/ceramic beer mug?

"Call it chance or call it fate, Either one is cause to celebrate; Still the question begs why would you wait and be late for your life..."

I guess I coach for the same challenge the athlete has: To make them better on the day. The athlete is the weapon & the battleground. And I am just another guy with a map.

Right Tool For The Job

When you're working out there are three important things to keep in mind about nutrition and/or hydration: First, there are things that should never be taken in to your system, regardless to the John Parker-esque quote about if the furnace is hot enough it will burn anything. Second, there are certain things which can be taken into your system at any time of the training day. And third, there are certain things which should only be taken in after training.
Naturally, in the do as I say, not as I do category of most coaches/athletes, I strongly suggest you avoid anything wrapped in a cellophane wrapper with the name Little Debbie on it. Not only because of the you are what you eat dictum (Eat enough of those things & you too will be round, filled with a thick plaque-like substance & wrapped in plastic...), but because of the economics factor. I mean d*mn, I remember when the lowly oatmeal cake - the least offensive of Little Debbie's siren-like offerings - could be purchased for 25 cents. Now you can't even look at the bee-yotch for less than 75! One of those & a Faygo cream soda could give you enough sugar to get you through a rough morning run; all you had to carry was a single dollar bill in your running shorts.

Hydration of nearly any sort - especially non-alcoholic - is good throughout the training day. In most cases. The closer I get to the hours before a morning or evening workout I try to ease back on what sugary stuff I'm taking in. Caffeine for me is always good, whether it's straight coffee (my beverage of choice!) or unsweetened tea. And since tea usually has less caffeine for the amount of fluid taken in I can get plenty of water in at almost the same time. Some sports drinks, such as Hammer Nutrition's HEED, are becoming more subtle in their flavoring, which means you can take it during those two a.m. wake-up calls when you really feel the need to drop some fluid before the 5:30 swim.

I've engaged in the rare after work/before workout beer, but have found it - as you can guess - to be a bad idea, performance-wise. Better to save the beer for at least an hour after the workout is through. I've tried specialty recovery drinks, also, but they don't seem to work as well (when you go by bang for the buck) as chocolate milk. Even a Starbuck's Frappuccino in the bottle will do, but it's more expensive than the other two options...but you cannot beat the blend of caffeine, chocolate, sugar & plain, unadulterated milkfat.

As for the beer, once again...in the last month I've become a born-again believer in moderation. Having a knucklehead decide to leave a tavern by the path of most resistance through your paid off automobile will reinforce that decision. Two beers, of the relatively light sort, during the period of two hours after the workout...is enough for me. I don't have problems sleeping when I do that, any more than if I were to drink a pot of coffee. I just don't like practicing my drunken driving and putting my family's life at risk all in the name of socializing. If I feel the desire to have more, I'll do what the Germans call radler, that's a blend of lemon-lime soda and beer. It's light, refreshing, and much lower in alcohol content than the beer. Oh, and I get to have some sugar with my alcohol.

There's always the right tool for the job. The challenge is knowing what the job is & whether the tool is right for you.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

"You are the way you are because that's the way you want to be. If you really wanted to be any different, you'd be in the process of changing right now." - Fred Smith
The weather has not taken a complete turn toward autumn-like conditions, but the mornings have been absolutely glorious this last week. The afternoons, however, are more like summer. I figure another week or so will pass before we have autumn across the board.
Before running at the beach last Wednesday night, my friend George & I were trading training notes. We use the same training regimen as when we trained together under our coach, but with adjustments to fit our own idiosyncracies & ways of thinking. Funniest thing, though...when we compare notes we seem to be fairly well in synchronization. Who would have known? We both harbor the same degree of concern about folks who used to train with us & now have gone their own way, but wish them well & (almost always) leave the door open for their return. If not for the encouragement of my wife I probably would focus & fixate more on trying to draw them back; she reminds me there are still (6-to-8) persons making it to workouts at least once a week, & my energies are better served there than chasing after the ones who are off doing something else.

Of course, I always run into the ones doing something else at local races or other running venues. They say, 'oh, I'll be back out at the track soon, Coach, I'm not racing as well as I could be...' I used to get hyped up over the prospect, then disappointed when I figured the words were hollow. This month's Track Coach magazine had the Smith quote, which pretty much said it all. Change is a process, a continuous one, & one that requires a rational decision to be made.

That having been said, I didn't feel bad about not seeing anybody at the track last Saturday morning. '...that means more time for me to do what I need to in the gym.' So I hit the YMCA for a little treadmill/swim workout of two hours, during which I did some stoopid things for which my left hip is paying the price today. Nothing major. Just a good reason to take a day or two off from running or racing (I was going to run a local 5K this weekend as a speed workout...), maybe even do something around the house...
It did give me time to observe the track workout of one of my guys last night. I assigned 12 400s; first 8 at 75-80% effort with 100 walk (1:00) recovery, last 4 at 80-85% effort with 125-150 walk (1:30) recovery. He hit consistently two-to-three seconds faster than goal pace throughout the workout, but I shut it down after 11 because I could see his form deteriorate. He's been playing it smart; listening to his body, laying down a great base fitness, & it shows...especially on those days when I'm running cr*ppy & he's kicking butt.

Track Coach also had the obligatory 'here's why the Kenyans are kicking our butt' article, this one by an engineer-turned-evangelist. Not much different from Toby Tanser's thesis in his book, Train Hard, Win Easy: Running The Kenyan Way. Some of the reasons I took away include:
1. We don't build a sufficient aerobic base.
2. We don't structure our training toward a particular event.
3. We run on the wrong surfaces.
4. We fail to exercise patience.

5. We depend on (heavy, motion controlling) shoes to counter our biomechanical shortcomings, and...oh yeah,

6. Our diet s*cks.

Whether we really want to do anything about our weaknesses as athletes lies within us. Odds are good most of us would prefer not to, but if we're smart we can try. Even an eighty-percent solution would simplify our personal lives, allow us to live longer, run longer & (maybe even) run stronger.

Changing Courses in the Middle of the Stream

Ever have a training plan or a racing plan drafted out in the smallest detail, then suddenly - wham! - bad strangeness sets in? Often I find that what I've laid out works good for me, seemingly, then I encounter a friend or a teammate who says, 'hey, I'm planning on doing...' Next thing I know I'm sitting in front of a beer or two with my wife, trying to figure out how can I do this and not screw up my plan for that? Naturally, I have a number of choices:

One, I can choose to not do the particular activity with the friend/teammate. I might not have the opportunity to enjoy myself by being in their particular presence, but I definitely haven't screwed up on two fronts.

Two, I can choose the activity my friend is doing rather than my originally-planned 'thing to do.' Done that before and enjoyed the daylights out of it. In fact, I've never had (that I can rightly recall) a bad Plan-B-activity. I guess you can say that the social aspects of the event far outweighed the lost opportunity cost of the discarded event. It's not always perfect, you understand. Sometimes you pay the price for not doing what you know deep down you should be doing. There's a handful of x-rays in an orthopedic consultant's office and a velcro arm sling that can attest silently to this.

Three, I can find a way to do both...if I really want to do it. How many times have I jumped into a race at the absolute last minute and sucked bilge, or run two races on a single day and felt beat up afterward? Well, a couple of times. However, I think it's all in the perspective; if you do a particular event on a lark without any preconceived (unrealistic) expectations you'll probably have more fun than you expected to. And who knows? Sometimes that's when those fleeting personal best efforts come to pass.

I guess the lesson you can take from this commentary is to have a good idea when, where, how many, and how long a distance you intend to race during a season. Do what seems best to you, not to the friend who's trying to talk you into the Murky George 100-Kilometer Slog Through The Bog or something like that. Right now, I'm thinking about whether to take a year off from racing, outside of a half-iron distance triathlon or two. Whether or not the hiatus will sharpen my desire to toe the line once again is at question. Right now, the goal is to make it to the end of December...after that, I can start thinking about my racing future. Hey, it might not hurt to take a year and just be Coach.

Naked, Flag-Waving, Tour De France Fan Crazy

It's not the day-to-day activity of the typical coach that drives them insane. No, the driver for that John Daly-esque, seemingly-irrational desire for a fifth (or two) of single-malt whiskey is stuff that goes on outside the environment of the gym/pool/track/road. Newsletters, uniforms, parents/family members, travel/lodging/incidentals...you know, trying to make everyone friggin' happy, happy, happy is enough to make you look for that Borat-styled thong-like thing and wear it in public. Of course, I can't find the damned photo, but if I do it'll be here for your pleasure. Promise. It got my attention while I was watching the Tour de France.

And when you get to that point you have one of three choices:

a. Stay the course and set aside the money for the single-malt, or margaritas if you prefer. I am a hands-on kind of guy; something I think I learned this from my father. His mentality was one of 'If You Want The Job Done To Your Satisfaction, You're Going To Have To Do It Yourself.' His car always ran well, his garden was always growing, and whatever carpentry or electrical projects that were done around the house were PERFECT. He made certain of it. That's probably why I can't do carpentry, tune a car or wire a room. That's okay, Dad. I know what I am good at.

b. Delegate and prepare to chew some @$$ on a regular basis. Often, I try to be prescriptive in my instructions: 'do this part of the workout in this manner and this pace, life will be good and we'll have world peace...' It's the curse of being a former teacher-type. I want to teach so my athletes can eventually do some of the hard work themselves...then, all I'll have to do is the small details, right? Every coach has a butt monkey. I was my coach's butt monkey. That's how I learned to coach; by trial and (lots and lots of) error. Sometimes I can still see my coach's tooth marks. He still tried to take a nibble here and there now, but I give him regard and go on to do things (more or less) my way.

I have started to delegate details more often to an athlete I've trained with for the past two years. He's a personable, likeable guy, not a complete @$$ like me. Usually means he tries to think about how people will react to what he says, where I say it and deal with the fallout later. Sounds like the old good cop, bad cop scenarios, no?

c. Drop the issue and wait for the inevitable question, 'Coach, what happened to...?' The same folks who complain the loudest about how things are done are the ones who provide the least support in the first place. If there's no money for team trips, a possible root cause is a lack of dues being paid. No t-shirts or singlets available? Well, no one has a demand for them. E-mail, newsletters? Same thing; I can talk a lot about my point of view, because I live there. However, the laws of physics (an inability to be at more than one location at a single time) and economics (unlimited demands never equal limited supplies) tend to override lots of things I'd love to do...however, I only have one brain, one income, and 24 hours in a day. And this is not a full-time, salary-paying vocation. If it was, I'd be more (or maybe I'd be less) in control of all the factors. Or would I?

Since there are a handful of new athletes training, most of them female, it seemed like a good idea to let them look into a crop-style (or jog bra) top for races and runs...most of them aren't fond of the present singlet. The guys usually don't wear them, either, prefering to go shirtless. However, it's cheaper for me to screenprint women's tops than to take all the guys down to the local tattoo parlor and have the club logo slapped on their chest...besides, most of them would have to shave...hm...now there's an idea...

So, the missus sent out an e-mail to all the women about a shopping trip/lunch visit just over the state line. I told her that all I wanted was a single color/style top for all of the women; if they could do that I would take club funds and print the logo on there. There I go, delegating. I'm hoping they can agree on one top, but I have the sneaking suspicion they won't be able to agree.

And that's enough to make a guy like me - or any coach - go naked, flag-waving, Tour de France-fan crazy. Anyone got a margarita?