A Good Trail, But Please, Not MY Blood...

Over the last year or two, I've become a fan of a semi-underground running activity. Some persons call it hare-and-hounds running; many call it hashing after the name of the international (semi-organized) running/social group, the Hash House Harriers (HHH or H3). It's drawn my interest for a number of reasons:

The (relatively) non-competitive nature of the activity - Walkers, joggers, and hard-core runners can all participate at the same time. Recognition (of a sort) only comes if you're the first male or female, the first walker, or the last person who finishes the trail. Besides, out on a back road or stretch of vacant lot or woods, cooperation is often necessary to keep from getting either hopelessly lost or worn out trying to find the true trail.

The (relatively) inexpensive cost - Why spend $50 per couple for a (perhaps accurate) 5K run with a cotton t-shirt, light beer and day-old bagels? My wife and I can spend $10-15 to run anywhere from three-to-five miles on terrain which may vary from paved bike trails to briar-choked woodlands (or worse!), stop for a cheap beer along the way, have a couple of brews and munchies at the end.

Terrain - The two kennels here are night-and-day when it comes to terrain choice for trails. One kennel focuses almost exclusively on paved roadways and sidewalks; hills and street crossings are probably the most hazardous natural features, as long as the hares - the person/s who set the trail for that particular run - don't get overambitious. We prepare to run with this kennel in pretty much the same manner as we prepare to run a 5K or 10K road race, or a training run.

When it comes to the other kennel, almost anything goes. I still have scars on my legs from my first (real) trail. My "hash name," which was given because of my typical response to whining athletes, also fit my typical response to this kennel's trails. After three trails I learned it's not a trail without either a water crossing or crashing through a thorn-laden wooded trail. I'm better now, in many ways. But the first five minutes or so are still entertaining.

I'm still learning what to wear, and what not to, on trail with this kennel. My friend Charley and I have talked at great lengths about the ideal and preferred gear for hard-core trail traipsing. Starting from the top and working downward:


Head, eyes, ears, nose and throat - After a couple of trails where I took shots to the forehead from thorny vines and low-hanging branches, I first considered cranial gear worn by aircraft carrier flight deck personnel. 'Overkill,' Charley said. 'A baseball or running cap with a stiff bill will keep the branches out of your eyes.' I mentioned the thorn branch which struck me directly in the dimple of my chin, to which he responded, 'A one-off situation.'

Depending on the time of the year, running or shooting glasses will aid in the visibility and keep the branch which the cap cannot stop out of the eye.

A bandana is optional, and cannot hurt to have if running in dusty, gritty or spider webby conditions...you don't always have the benefit of a taller runner to go in front of you, right?

Upper extremities - Charley's gone from the canvas gardening gloves to a pair of mechanic's work gloves, which are almost as thick and protect the fingers, palm and back of the hand almost as well. Sometimes it's better to move the branch out of the way with your hand than to try and duck around it.

Torso - Lightweight, layered clothing is a must except in the hottest summer conditions. The nylon ripstop military surplus camouflage shirts are good for carrying whistles (mandatory!), marking implements (semi-mandatory!), and (in case of very bad situations) identification. Fabric is a little tougher than skin where thorns are concerned.

Lower extremities - I've worn what is affectionately known as "shiggy socks" which cover everything from the kneecaps down since that first infamous trail. Compression socks (a little more expensive) or soccer socks (great color choices) are good if you don't want to order any from the H3-related on-line retailers. When it comes to the thighs/quads/hammies things get a little more challenging. There lies the challenge between balancing weight (especially when wet!) and protection from the sharper elements; do you choose nylon ripstop military surplus pants or something closer to a pair of jeans? My wife bought me a pair of tough but heavy camouflage-style cargo shorts which go down to just about my knees. Charley's got a pair which are filled with ripped knees, covered in mud and paint stains, and seem to serve him well.

Feet - Some hashers wear the same shoes for years. Running guys like me cry in horror at the thought of running in old shoes, but I've relegated shoes with more than 400 miles to trail hashing; road hashes merit a pair of training shoes, however. I made the supreme mistake of wearing a minimalist triathlon shoe with drainage holes once. Until a large stick punched through a drainage hole on trail I thought it wasn't a bad idea. And the folks who like the Vibram "toe" shoes or the barefoot running thing often have to keep their eyes open for the many hazards which lay often unseen on the trail. So do you go for foot and ankle protection or for drainage? We considered the merits of a trail-running shoe versus a canvas jungle-styled boot. Horses for courses; we have to be prepared to swim at a moment's notice.

Accessories - with the trail-focused hash it's a great idea to carry whatever you want to take with you but don't want trashed in a waterproof container. I have a DryCase for electronics but haven't used too many electronics on trail. Flashlights and whistles aren't just a good idea, they're a great idea.


And what about cutting devices to deal with otherwise recalcitrant plant matter on trail? Charley's got a machete, what about something a little smaller, like a pair of pruning shears? I'm not in favor of carrying anything on trail which can eventually punch a hole in someone else's body (bad juju) or my own (very bad juju) in the event gravity decides to exert itself. I wonder if something like a Leatherman tool would be better?

So maybe the protective gear is where the cost-effectiveness of hashing goes by the wayside. Not having all of the stuff doesn't mean you can't enjoy yourself while running a trail, but you might lose just a little blood out there. And it isn't a good trail unless a little blood is shed.

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.

Eat Healthy or Eat Cheap?

Place a Westerner - let's be more specific and say an American - in an environment where the number of fast food joints is severely decreased. Are they more likely or less likely to eat healthier? Or will they still choose dining establishments identified by "the clown", "the colonel", or "the king," as Anthony Bourdain described some in a recent episode of his Travel Channel series, 'No Reservations?'

I guess it depends. What drives you, a sense of familiarity or a sense of adventure? Who makes the final decision: your wallet, your stomach, or your mind?

I've always harbored the opinion it's more expensive to eat healthy than to eat "junk food." Go into any health food store or walk through the organic produce section of any supermarket and look at the foodstuffs. Then look at the menu board at the drive through of the burger barn a little farther down the street. It has always seemed to me that where fast food lacks in nutrition it makes up for in price. And vice versa.

Back in 2007 or so, researchers at the University of Washington looked at the price relationship (dollars and calories) for nutrient-dense ("healthy") and calorie-dense ("junk") foods. They found the amount of nutrient-dense foods which would make up 2000 calories (the baseline average adult diet) cost approximately ten times as much as that of calorie-dense foods making up the same baseline. Add to that the volatility of price for healthy foods - during the two years studied by U of W researchers, a 19-percent increase, compared to a near-two percent decrease for "junk" foods - and it's simple to see why many persons, especially those with fixed or lower incomes, would more likely turn to foods which are less healthy. It's more simple to know how much of one's income is going to go towards meal times.

The "eat good versus eat cheap" paradox during travel came to a head during our Singapore holiday. We stayed in the Chinatown district, about a mile from the central business district and the major shopping and entertainment areas. Our first meal was in a little "dining house" across the street from our hotel. Four dollars got Suzanne and myself each a serving of two organic vegetarian items with steamed rice. While I'm not a fan of vegetarian food, especially meat substitutes, I have to admit that when they are done well it's almost impossible to tell the difference from "real" meat. Add to that another five dollars for a 633-milliliter (21.4 ounce) bottle of Singapore-brewed beer, split between the two of us, and still the meal was fairly inexpensive.

As long as you keep in touch with your inner Andrew Zimmern ("if it looks good, eat it") and eat in locally-owned and locally-operated dining houses you can eat not only healthy but save a few bucks for souvenirs. Or tailored clothes.

Food courts at the malls and tourist destinations carry more familiar items and names, but at a price. A value meal at the McDonald's up the block from our hotel was six bucks...which we did once; we were jonesing for french fries. Otherwise we steered a wide path away from anything corporate.

And we really didn't worry about quality or cleanliness. Singapore, especially Singapore, is one of the most organized and controlled societies we've encountered in our travels. Everything is inspected and observed there. And I do mean everything. Probably one of the best, and most memorable, meals we had was on the last day of our trip, at the fruit market in Tanjong Pagar neighborhood, just off of Chinatown. Suzanne and I both had a bowl of (seriously house-rocking) noodle soup with (chili!) meatballs and fresh vegetables of all sorts...once again, about four or five dollars (not counting the beer!) filled us both to the gills.

Our greatest challenge during the week was finding coffee or beer at reasonable prices. No problems getting tea, though. I always was the loser when it came to ordering coffees: I'd want a regular coffee and have to settle for a "flat white;" Suzanne would order an "Americano." Hers was ALWAYS better. The least expensive beer, Tiger, is very good, and can be found for five to six dollars for a two-serving bottle, as long as you don't go into the touristy bars.

Oh, and for those who've heard the phrase "a pint's a pound the world around..." Starbucks was still four bucks.

Some things will always remain the same.

Like Christmas, Without The Bills

How neat. I have this bright, shiny, new Dell workstation where the old Dell used to be. Every couple of years the Navy decides to do a technical refresh of their computers; I believe this is part of the contract with EDS or something like that.

Oh, and a more-modern operating system, too? Quick. Someone pinch me.

I'm certain I'll be in a honeymoon period with this particular workstation for at least two weeks. After that, when NMCI decides to exert its influence by locking me out of Lets Run.com once again I'll probably be a screaming maniac once again. But in the meantime life is not too bad.

I only wish I was as happy with my running shoes right now.

When I started to lace up the training shoes at the track last night, there was this humongous gap between the sole of the shoe and my forefoot. Yes, humongous is a technical term...let's say probably somewhere between 1/8th-and-1/4 of an inch gap, with the left shoe larger than the right. I won't mention the specific brand of shoe, but it's one I haven't used in a long time. And the worst part, in my humble opinion, is that I have less than 300 training (or racing) miles on them. So, at around $85 a pair, give or take $10, that's about 90 cents per mile.

Could be worse. I haven't had to buy too many pairs of shoes this year because of the injury in the summer. But it kind of puts a bad taste in my mouth about that particular shoe, which I have to admit I did like...but not at that price.

No use b!tch!ng and moaning about the problem, though. Shoes die. Perhaps I did some things in these shoes I don't normally do. Just provides me a viable excuse to visit my local running store again this week.

Something Money Cannot Buy

Fresh back from a six-day respite in Key West. It was amazing to find out how much money it would take to do anything, from the morning coffee to the evening nightcap. A house that was no larger than my 1,000-something-square foot home, with less than one-tenth the yard space, just up the block from Ernest Hemingway's home, was going for a little over three times what I purchased my place for three years ago. Was it cute? Well, yes, it was a cute little cracker cottage house...enough space between you and your neighbor to hand across a cup of coffee in the morning. So what you're paying for is the privilege of not having a yard to mow. In a neighborhood where the wealthy and the poor live cheek-by-jowl. In a place where you have a big, honking bullseye on you from June 1 to December 1, just daring the tropical storm activity to come.

Since I talked at length about the hefty, hoary, hirsute herd spending $50 a whack, contending for the right to be called Hemingway's nickname, I won't go much further there.

It's pretty simple to understand why, during vacation, tourists wallets become slimmer as their waistlines expand. Especially in a place like KW, where the daytime and evening temperatures fluctuate by only a couple of degrees, and both just this side of infernal. All you want to do is nothing. And even nothing can make you hunger and thirst, which leaves you little choice but to take care of the need. I stepped on the scale this morning after my spinning class and nearly shrieked in horror; I'm the heaviest I've been in nearly 18 months, save for a time right after my first half-marathon when I took a week off and ate like a horse.

In spite of the horror, I realize this is a temporary situation. Consistent training, and not a small amount of dietary wisdom, over the next months, will get me back closer to the weight I was when I was racing well in the spring. Much like Mark Allen's advice to Chris McCormack: 'you need to be fat in July (read: early season), you need to be lean in October, when it really counts (read: Ironman world championship).'

You cannot buy thin. All you can do is be thin when it counts - race day.

Bug Bites

As a runner for over 15 years, I reveled in the simplicity of the sport. It doesn't take much to get started, nor to stay in. If you run 25 miles a week, you'll probably go through three pairs of shoes a year ($300), two pairs of shorts ($60), half a dozen socks - that sounds like a lot, but let me tell you, the dryer eats more running socks than dress ones ($50) and a couple of tops ($60). Toss in a race or two and you probably spend $500 a year on a healthy recreational/fitness running habit.

Now, here's where the small print comes in: Your mileage and desire to race can seriously increase the amount of time, energy and money invested in this sport. If you're a fanatic like me, the total purchases per year goes up another $200 for shoes, and perhaps $200 for races, not counting incidentals such as travel, meals, other expenses. Still, that's pretty small cost compared to NOT being a runner and having the risk of all those nasty chronic health issues resulting from a sedentary lifestyle.

Triathlon is a totally different story. Of course, you can start out with a $20 pair of goggles and a $20 Speedo for the swim, use a $200 steel-framed Sears-Roebuck special, a $20 helmet, then add the single pair of running shoes...so the healthy recreational/fitness running habit can get you through the door of a triathlon.

HOWEVER:

When you see all the slick, sexy gear that the top shelf tri-dudes and tri-chicks are using, and you watch just how quickly some of them are getting from swim to bike and from bike to run... Well, actually the bug bites not long after you do your first tri. After you revel in the joy of finishing all three disciplines without drowning, crashing or bonking (too badly!), you start to realize that getting faster is a result of two functions.

The first one is obvious. Gear. The wetsuit is great for flotation (the first time you get into one and into the water you'll be shocked at how buoyant you are), add another $100 at the very least. A tri-friendly (road racing or triathlon-specific) bike can cost as little as a couple of hundred dollars used. Tri-suits can cost up to a couple of hundred bucks, but usually are less...unless you're looking for a specific brand and aren't willing to settle for less.

Training is the second, and less obvious function. A $5,000 triathlon bike won't make up for a lack of biking skill, cardiovascular fitness or mental toughness. As my friend Robbie Mott says, it's all in the engine. Swimming with a masters' group can cost you in the lowest three-digit range per year, you have to get up in the morning and get it done. Membership with a triathlon group is also inexpensive and can get you hitched up with training and great advice...or at least words of warning on what NOT to do.

Let me tell you, when the triathlon bug bites, it bites hard. Exhibit "A" is posted at the top, a 1998 used triathlon/timetrialing bike...purchased for $770 on eBay. I tried to hold out for Robbie's order of a new Cervelo P2C triathlon bike, but the temptation was too great. Now I feel bad I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain. The only way I can make it up to him is by perhaps getting another set of wheels, I guess...there we go, more money...I am not certain there is a known cure outside of burnout or traumatic injury...maybe finishing an Ironman. Probably not, that's not like marathoning, where some folks say: 'been there, did it, received the t-shirt, no more.'